Gov. Bob. Taylors Tales | Page 9

us leave the "egg flip" of the country dance, and take a bowl of
egg-nog at the banquet. It was a modern banquet for men only. Music
flowed; wine sparkled; the night was far spent--it was in the wee sma'
hours. The banquet was given by Col. Punk who was the promoter of a
town boom, and who had persuaded the banqueters that "there were
millions in it." He had purchased some old sedge fields on the outskirts
of creation, from an old squatter on the domain of Dixie, at three
dollars an acre; and had stocked them at three hundred dollars an acre.
The old squatter was a partner with the Colonel, and with his part of the
boodle nicely done up in his wallet, was present with bouyant hopes
and feelings high. Countless yarns were spun; numberless jokes passed
'round the table until, in the ecstacy of their joy, the banqueters rose
from the table and clinked their glasses together, and sang to chorus:
"Landlord, fill the flowing bowl Until it doth run over; Landlord fill the
flowing bowl Until it doth run over; For to-night we'll merry merry be,
For to-night we'll merry merry be, For to-night we'll merry merry be;
And to-morrow we'll get sober."
The whole banquet was drunk (as banquets usually are), and the
principal stockholders finally succumbed to the music of "Old
Kentucky Bourbon," and sank to sleep under the table. The last toast on
the programme was announced. It was a wonderful toast--"Our mineral
resources:" The old squatter rose in his glory, about three o'clock in the
morning, to respond to this toast, and thus he responded:
"Mizzer Churman and Gent-tul-men of the Banquet: I have never made
mineralogy a study, nor zoology, nor any other kind of 'ology,' but if
there haint m-i-n-e-r-l in the deestrick which you gent-tul-men have jist
purchased from me at sitch magnifercent figers, then the imagernation
of man is a deception an' a snare. But gent-tul-men, you caint expect to
find m-i-n-e-r-l without plenty uv diggin'. I have been diggin' thar for

the past forty year fur it, an' haint never struck it yit, I hope you
gen-tul-men will strike it some time endurin' the next forty year." Here,
with winks and blinks and clinched teeth, the old Colonel pulled his
coat tail; he was spoiling the town boom. But he would not down. He
continued in the same eloquent strain: "Gent-tul-men, you caint expect
to find m-i-n-e-r-l without plenty uv diggin.' You caint expect to find
nothin' in this world without plenty uv diggin'. There is no excellence
without labor gent-tul-men. If old Vanderbilt hadn't a-been persevering
in his pertickler kind uv dig-gin', whar would he be to-day? He
wouldn't now be a rich man, a-ridin' the billers of old ocean in his
magnifercent 'yatchet.' If I hadn't a-been perseverin', an' hadn't a-kep on
a-dig-gin' an' a-diggin, whar would I have been to-day? I mout have
been seated like you gent-tul-men, at this stupenduous banquet, with
my pockets full of watered stock, and some other old American citizen
mout have been deliverin' this eulogy on our m-i-n-e-r-l resources.
Gent-tul-men, my injunction to you is never to stop diggin'. And while
you're a-diggin', cultivate a love for the beautiful, the true and the good.
Speakin' of the beautiful, the true, and the good, gent-tul-men, let us not
forgit woman at this magnifercent banquet--Oh! woman, woman,
woman! when the mornin' stars sung together for joy--an' woman--God
bless 'er----Great God, feller citerzens, caint you understand!!!!"
[Illustration: THE BANQUET.]
At the close of this great speech the curtain fell to slow music, and
there was a panic in land stocks.

THERE IS MUSIC ALL AROUND US.
There is music all around us, there is music everywhere. There is no
music so sweet to the American ear as the music of politics. There is
nothing that kindles the zeal of a modern patriot to a whiter heat than
the prospect of an office; there is nothing that cools it off so quickly as
the fading out of that prospect.
I stood on the stump in Tennessee as a candidate for Governor, and

thus I cut my eagle loose: "Fellow Citizens, we live in the grandest
country in the world. It stretches
From Maine's dark pines and crags of snow To where magnolia breezes
blow;
It stretches from the Atlantic Ocean on the east, to the Pacific Ocean on
the west"--and an old fellow jumped up in my crowd and threw his hat
in the air and shouted: "Let 'er stretch, durn 'er--hurrah for the Dimocrat
Party."
An old Dutchman had a beautiful boy of whom he was very proud; and
he decided to find out the bent of his mind. He adopted a very novel
method by which to test him.