A Parody Outline of History Read online

  Ed.

  THE MIDNIGHT RIDE OF PAUL REVEAR

  “'& he says I am Paul Revear & I says well this is a h—ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out of their bed & he says the Brittish are comeing & I says o are they——'”

  Friend Ethen—

  Well Ethen this is a funny world & when I joined the minit men last mo. how was I to know that they called them minit men because they was lible to get shot any minit. & here I am riteing to you in a tent outside Boston & any minit a canon ball is lible to knock me for a continental loop & my house has been burnt & Prudence is up in Conk Cord with her sister the one who married that short skate dum bell Collins who has owed me 2 lbs. for a yr. & 1/2 well Ethen it never ranes but it pores & you can be glad you are liveing in a nice quiet place like Philly.

  Well the other night I and Prudence was sound asleep when I heard some body banging at the frt. door & I stuck my head out the up stares window & I says who are you & he says I am Paul Revear & I says well this is a h—ll of a time to be wakeing a peaceiful man out of their bed what do you want & he says the Brittish are comeing & I says o are they well this is the 19 of April not the 1st & I was going down stares to plank him 1 but he had rode away tow wards Lexington before I had a chanct & as it turned out after words the joke was on me O. K. Well who is it says Prudence Charley Davis again because you might as well come back to bed if it is & I says no it was some Boston smart alick trying to be funny & I guess they are soar down there on acct. what hapened to their prize fish up here last mo. & are trying to get even do you know a Paul Revear & she says yes there was a boy at school named Paul Revear who was crazy about me was he dark well Ethen if all the fellos she says has been crazy about her was layed end to end they would circum navygate the globe twicet & I says no he was yello & that had her stopt so we went back to sleep only I couldn't help laffing over the way I had slipt it across. About Revear being yello. Well along a bout A. M. there was a lot of gun firing tow wards Lexington & Prudence grabed me & says whats the shooting for & I says probably that fello Revear who was so crazy a bout you has got funny oncet to oft ten & it will teach them Boston doodes a lesson. Well Ethen I was wrong for oncet & the firing kept getting worse & I hitcht up old Bessy & drove over to Lexington Bessy is are horse & Ethen there was the h—ll to pay there because the g—d d—m Brittish redcotes had marcht up from Boston & had fired on the Lexington fellos & Charley Davis had been shot dead & a lot of the other fellos was wooned it & they said you had better get your wife to the h—ll out of your house because the g—d d—m Brittish redcotes are coming back & they will burn everything along the rode the——I guess you know what word goes there Ethen & I was so d—m mad at those g—d d—m Brittish redcotes on acct. shooting Charley Davis dead that I said give me a gun & show me the——who done it & they says no you had better get your wife to a safe place to go to & then you can come back because the——will be along this way again the——. Well I drove as fast as I could back to the farm & somebody had already told Prudence what had hapend & as soon as I drove into the yd. she come out with my muskit & hand it it to me & says dont you worry about me but you kill every d—m redcote you can see & I says the——s has killed Charley Davis & she says I know it & here is all the bullits I could find. Well when I got back to Lexington the redcotes was just coming along & Ethen I guess they wont forget that march back to Boston for a little whiles & I guess I wont either because the——s burnt down my house & barn & Prudence is gone to stay with her sister in Conk Cord & here I am camping in a tent with a lot of other minit men on the out skirts of Boston & there is a roomer a round camp that to morrow we are going to move over to Bunker Hill which is a good name for a Boston Hill Ill say & Ethen if you was to of told me a mo. ago that I would be fighting to get Boston away from the Brittish I would of planked you 1 because they could of had Boston for all I cared. Well Ethen I must go out and drill some more now & probably we will half to listen to some Boston bird makeing a speach they are great fellos for speaches about down with Brittish tirrany & give me liberty or give me death but if you was to ast me Ethen I would say give me back that house & barn what those lousie redcotes burnt & when this excitement is all over what I want to know is Ethen where do I get off at.

  Yrs

  Ed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE WHISKEY REBELLION.

  In the Bedtime Story Manner of Thornton W. Burgess

  “Just the day for a Whisky Rebellion,” said Aunt Polly and off she ran, lipperty-lipperty-lip, to get a few shooting rifles.

  “Oh goody goody,” cried little Emily. “Now we can all shoot at those horrid Revenue Officers,” for the collectors of internal revenue were far from popular with these kindly Pennsylvania folk and Aunt Polly Pinkwood had often promised the children that if they were good some day they would be allowed to take a shot at a Revenue Officer.

  Soon she returned, bearing in her arms a number of bright shiny new guns. The children crowded around in glee and soon all were supplied with weapons except little Frank who of course was too young to use a gun and was given a two-gallon jug of nice, old whisky to carry. Jed hitched up old Taylor, the faithful farm horse, and as quick as you could say Jack Robinson the little ones had piled into the old carryall. Round Mr. Sun was just peeping over the Purple Hills when the merry little party started on its way, singing and laughing at the prospect of the day's sport.

  “I bet I kill five Revenue Officers,” said little Edgar.

  “Ha Ha Ha—you boaster, you,” laughed Aunt Polly. “You will be lucky if you kill two, for I fear they will be hard to find today.”

  “Oh do you think so, Aunt Polly?” said little Elinor and she began to cry, for Elinor dearly loved to shoot.

  LITTLE ELMER'S FATHER'S D.T.'S DELIGHT THE CHILDREN

  “And what do you suppose he saw?” said Aunt Polly Pinkwood.

  “'Pink elephants!' cried little Elmer, whose father had often had delirium tremens, greatly to the delight of his children.”

  “Hush dear,” said Miss Pinkwood with a kindly pat, for she loved her little charges and it hurt her to see them unhappy. “I was only joking. And now children I will tell you a story.”

  “Oh goody goody,” cried they all. “Tell us a true story.”

  “All right,” said Aunt Polly. “I shall tell you a true story,” and she began.

  “Once there was a brave handsome man—”

  “Mr. Welsbach,” cried the children with one voice, for it was well known in the neighborhood that Aunt Polly had long been sweet on Julius Welsbach, the popular superintendent of the Sabbath School and the best whisky maker for miles around.

  “Hush children,” said Aunt Polly blushing in vexation. “Of course not. And if you interrupt me I shall not tell my story at all.” But she was not really angry.

  “And one day this brave handsome man was out making whisky and he had just sampled some when he looked up and what do you suppose he saw?”

  “Snakes,” cried little Elmer whose father had often had delirium tremens, greatly to the delight of his children.

  “No, Elmer,” said Miss Pinkwood, “not snakes.”

  “Pink lizards,” cried little Esther, Elmer's sister.

  “No,” said Aunt Polly, with a hearty laugh, “he saw a—stranger. And what do you suppose the stranger had?”

  “A snoot full,” chorused the Schultz twins. “He was pie-eyed.”

  “No,” replied Miss Pinkwood laughing merrily. “It was before noon. Guess again children. What did the stranger have?”

  “Blind staggers,” suggested little Faith whose mother had recently been adjudged insane.

  “Come children,” replied Aunt Polly. “You are not very wide awake this morning. The stranger had a gun. And when the brave handsome man offered the stranger a drink what do you suppose the stranger said?”

  “I know,” cried little Prudence eagerly. “He said, 'Why yes I don't care if I do.' That's what they all say.”

  “No, Prudence,”
replied Miss Pinkwood. “The stranger refused a drink.”

  “Oh come now, Aunt Polly,” chorused the boys and girls. “You said you were going to tell us a true story.” And their little faces fell.

  “Children,” said Miss Polly, “the stranger refused the drink because he was a Revenue Officer. And he pointed his gun at the brave handsome man and said he would have to go to jail because he had not paid the tax on his whisky. And the brave handsome man would have had to have gone to jail, too; but fortunately his brother came up just at the right time and—”

  “Shot the Revenuer dead,” cried the children in glee.

  “Yes children,” said Miss Polly. “He shot the Revenue Officer dead.”

  “Oh goody goody,” cried all. “Now tell us another story. Tell us about the time your father killed a Revenue Officer with an ax.”

  “Oh you don't want to hear that again, do you children?” said Aunt Polly.

  “Oh yes—yes—please,” they cried, and Aunt Polly was just going to begin when Jed the driver stopped his horses and said:

  “This hilltop is as good a place to shoot from as I know of, Miss Pinkwood. You can see both roads, and nobody can see you.”

  “Thank you, Jed,” said Aunt Polly giving him a kindly smile, and without more ado the children clambered out of the carryall and filled their guns with powder and bullets.

  “I get first shot,” proudly announced Robert, the oldest boy, and somewhat of a bully.

  “Robert!” said Aunt Polly severely, and she looked almost ready to cry, for Aunt Polly had tried hard to teach the boys to be true knights of chivalry and it hurt her to have Robert wish to shoot a Revenue Officer before the girls had had a chance. Robert had not meant to hurt Aunt Polly's feelings but had only been thoughtless, and soon all was sunshine again as little Ellen the youngest made ready to fire the first shot.

  TEACHING THE YOUNG IDEA HOW TO SHOOT

  “But little Ellen did not miss.

  ”'Bang!' went her gun, and the merry little Breezes echoed back and forth, 'She got him! She got him' Sure enough, when old Mr. Smoke cleared away, there was a nice dead Revenue Officer lying in the road.“

  The children waited patiently and soon they were rewarded by the sight of a Revenue Officer riding on horseback in the distant valley, as pretty a target as one could wish.

  “Now do be careful, dear,” whispered Miss Pinkwood, “for if you miss, he may take alarm and be off.” But little Ellen did not miss. “Bang” went her gun and the little Merry Breezes echoed back and forth, “She got him. She got him”, and old Mother West Wind smiled down at the happy sport. Sure enough, when old Mr. Smoke had cleared away there was a nice dead Revenue Officer lying in the road. “Well done, Ellen,” said Miss Pinkwood, patting her little charge affectionately which caused the happy girl to coo with childish delight.

  Mary had next shot and soon all were popping away in great glee. All the merry wood folk gathered near to watch the children at their sport. There was Johnny Chuck and Reddy Fox and Jimmy Skunk and Bobby Coon and oh everybody.

  Soon round Mr. Sun was high in the Blue Sky and the children began to tire somewhat of their sport. “I'm as hungry as a bear,” said little Dick. “I'm as hungry as two bears,” said Emily. “Ha Ha Ha,” laughed Miss Pinkwood, “I know what will fix that,” and soon she had spread out a delicious repast.

  “Now children,” said Miss Pinkwood when all had washed their faces and hands, “while you were busy washing I prepared a surprise for you,” and from a large jug, before their delighted gaze, she poured out—what do you think? “Bronxes,” cried little Harriet. “Oh goody goody.” And sure enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious Bronx cocktails which all pronounced excellent.

  And after that there were sandwiches and olives and pie and good three year old whisky, too.

  HOW THE DEAR CHILDREN LOVE THEIR LIQUOR!

  “And sure enough Aunt Polly had prepared a jug of delicious Bronx cocktails, which all pronounced excellent.

  ”'That's awfully smooth stuff,' said little Prudence, smacking her two red lips. 'I think I'll have another shot.'“

  “That's awfully smooth rye, Aunt Polly,” said little Prudence smacking her two red lips. “I think I'll have another shot.”

  “No dear,” said Miss Pinkwood, pleased by the compliment, but firm withal. “Not now. Perhaps on the way home, if there is any left,” for Aunt Polly knew that too much alcohol in the middle of the day is bad for growing children, and she had seen many a promising child spoiled by over-indulgent parents.

  After lunch those children who could stand helped Aunt Polly to clear away the dishes and then all went sound asleep, as is the custom in Pennsylvania.

  When they awoke round Mr. Sun was just sinking behind the Purple Hills and so, after taking a few more scattered shots at Revenue Officers, they piled once more into the carryall and drove back to town. And as they passed Mrs. Oliphant's house (Aunt Polly's sister) Aunt Flo Oliphant came out on the porch and waved her handkerchief at the merry party.

  “Let's give her a cheer,” said Fred.

  “Agreed,” cried they all, and so twelve little throats united in three lusty “huzzahs” which made Auntie Flo very happy you may be sure.

  And as they drove up before the Pinkwoods' modest home twelve tired but happy children with one accord voted the Whisky Rebellion capital fun and Aunt Polly a brick.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HOW LOVE CAME TO GENERAL GRANT

  In the Manner of Harold Bell Wright

  On a brisk winter evening in the winter of 1864 the palatial Fifth Avenue “palace” of Cornelius van der Griff was brilliantly lighted with many brilliant lights. Outside the imposing front entrance a small group of pedestrians had gathered to gape enviously at the invited guests of the “four hundred” who were beginning to arrive in elegant equipages, expensive ball-dresses and fashionable “swallowtails”.

  “Hully gee!” exclaimed little Frank, a crippled newsboy who was the only support of an aged mother, as a particularly sumptuous carriage drove up and a stylishly dressed lady of fifty-five or sixty stepped out accompanied by a haughty society girl and an elderly gentleman in clerical dress. It was Mrs. Rhinelander, a social leader, and her daughter Geraldine, together with the Rev. Dr. Gedney, pastor of an exclusive Fifth Avenue church.

  “What common looking people,” said Mrs. Rhinelander, surveying the crowd aristocratically with her lorgnette.

  “Yes, aren't they?” replied the clergyman with a condescending glance which ill befit his clerical garb.

  “I'm glad you don't have people like that dans votre eglise, Dr. Gedney,” said young Geraldine, who thought it was “smart” to display her proficiency in the stylish French tongue. At this moment the door of the van der Griff residence was opened for them by an imposing footman in scarlet livery and they passed into the abode of the “elect”.

  “Hully gee!” repeated little Frank.

  “What's going on to-night?” asked a newcomer.

  “Gee—don't youse know?” answered the newsboy. “Dis is de van der Griffs' and tonight dey are giving a swell dinner for General Grant. Dat lady wot just went in was old Mrs. Rhinelander. I seen her pitcher in de last Harper's Weekly and dere was a story in de paper dis morning dat her daughter Geraldine was going to marry de General.”

  “That isn't so,” broke in another. “It was just a rumor.”

  “Well, anyway,” said Frank, “I wisht de General would hurry up and come—it's getting cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey.” The onlookers laughed merrily at his humorous reference to the frigid temperature, although many cast sympathetic looks at his thin threadbare garments and registered a kindly thought for this brave boy who so philosophically accepted the buffets of fate.

  “I bet this is him now,” cried Frank, and all waited expectantly as a vehicle drove up. The cabman jumped off his box and held the carriage door open.

  “Here you are, Miss Flowers,” he said, touching his hat resp
ectfully.

  A silver peal of rippling laughter sounded from the interior of the carriage.

  “Why Jerry,” came in velvet tones addressed to the coachman, “You mustn't be so formal just because I have come to New York to live. Call me 'Miss Ella,' of course, just like you did when we lived out in Kansas,” and with these words Miss Ella Flowers, for it was she, stepped out of the carriage.

  MISS ELLA FLOWERS ARRIVES AT THE PARTY

  “A hush fell on the crowd—a hush of silent tribute to the clear, sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. And well might these city people be affected by the sweet, noble virtue which shone forth so radiently in this Kansas girl's countenance.”

  A hush fell on the crowd as they caught sight of her face—a hush of silent tribute to the clear sweet womanhood of that pure countenance. A young man on the edge of the crowd who was on the verge of becoming a drunkard burst into tears and walked rapidly away to join the nearest church. A pr-st—te who had been plying her nefarious trade on the avenue, sank to her knees to pray for strength to go back to her aged parents on the farm. Another young man, catching sight of Ella's pure face, vowed to write home to his old mother and send her the money he had been expending in the city on drinks and dissipation.