The Old Soldier's Story. as Told before the…

Explore "The Old Soldier's Story. as Told before the New England Society in New York City" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian.

Since we have had no stories to-night I will venture, Mr. President, to tell a story that I have heretofore heard at nearly all the banquets I have ever attended. It is a story simply, and you must bear with it kindly. It is a story as told by a friend of us all, who is found in all parts of all countries, who is immoderately fond of a funny story, and who, unfortunately, attempts to tell a funny story himself -- one that he has been particularly delighted with. Well, he is not a story-teller, and especially he is not a funny story-teller. His funny stories, indeed, are oftentimes touchingly pathetic. But to such a story as he tells, being a good-natured man and kindly disposed, we have to listen, because we do not want to wound his feelings by telling him that we have heard that story a great number of times, and that we have heard it ably told by a great number of people from the time we were children. But, as I say, we can not hurt his feelings. We can not stop him. We can not kill him; and so the story generally proceeds. He selects a very old story always, and generally tells it in about this fashion:

I heerd an awful funny thing the other day -- ha! ha! I don't know whether I kin git it off er not, but, anyhow, I'll tell it to you. Well! -- le's see now how the fool-thing goes. Oh, yes! -- W'y, there was a feller one time -- it was during the army and this feller that I started in to tell you about was in the war and -- ha! ha! -- there was a big fight a-goin' on, and this feller was in the fight, and it was a big battle and bullets a-flyin' ever' which way, and bomb- shells a-bu'stin', and cannon-balls a-flyin' 'round promiskus; and this feller right in the midst of it, you know, and all excited and het up, and chargin' away; and the fust thing you know along come a cannon-ball and shot his head off -- ha! ha! ha! Hold on here a minute! -- no, sir; I'm a-gittin' ahead of my story; no, no; it didn't shoot his HEAD off -- I'm gittin' the cart before the horse there -- shot his LEG off; that was the way; shot his leg off; and down the poor feller drapped, and, of course, in that condition was perfectly he'pless, you know, but yit with presence o' mind enough to know that he was in a dangerous condition ef somepin' wasn't done fer him right away. So he seen a comrade a-chargin', by that he knowed, and he hollers to him and called him by name -- I disremember now what the feller's name was. .

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