A Cure for the Blues Part 10

It will hardly be believed that after all this thunder and lightning
not a drop of rain fell; but such is the fact. Elfonzo and his
gang stood up and black-guarded Mr. Valeer with vigor all night,
getting their outlay back with interest; then in the early
morning the army and its general retired from the field,
leaving the victory with their solitary adversary and his crowbar.
This is the first time this has happened in romantic literature.
The invention is original. Everything in this book is original;
there is nothing hackneyed about it anywhere. Always, in other
romances, when you find the author leading up to a climax,
you know what is going to happen. But in this book it is different;
the thing which seems inevitable and unavoidable never happens;
it is circumvented by the art of the author every time.

Another elopement was attempted. It failed.

We have now arrived at the end. But it is not exciting.
McClintock thinks it is; but it isn't. One day Elfonzo sent Ambulinia
another note--a note proposing elopement No. 16. This time the plan
is admirable; admirable, sagacious, ingenious, imaginative, deep--
oh, everything, and perfectly easy. One wonders why it was never
thought of before. This is the scheme. Ambulinia is to leave the
breakfast-table, ostensibly to "attend to the placing of those flowers,
which should have been done a week ago"--artificial ones, of course;
the others wouldn't keep so long--and then, instead of fixing
the flowers, she is to walk out to the grove, and go off with Elfonzo.
The invention of this plan overstrained the author that is plain,
for he straightway shows failing powers. The details of the plan
are not many or elaborate. The author shall state them himself--
this good soul, whose intentions are always better than his English:


"You walk carelessly toward the academy grove, where you will find
me with a lightning steed, elegantly equipped to bear you off
where we shall be joined in wedlock with the first connubial rights."


Last scene of all, which the author, now much enfeebled,
tries to smarten up and make acceptable to his spectacular heart
by introducing some new properties--silver bow, golden harp,
olive branch--things that can all come good in an elopement,
no doubt, yet are not to be compared to an umbrella for real
handiness and reliability in an excursion of that kind.


And away she ran to the sacred grove, surrounded with glittering pearls,
that indicated her coming. Elfonzo hails her with his silver bow
and his golden harp. They meet--Ambulinia's countenance brightens--
Elfonzo leads up the winged steed. "Mount," said he, "ye true-hearted,
ye fearless soul--the day is ours." She sprang upon the back
of the young thunderbolt, a brilliant star sparkles upon her head,
with one hand she grasps the reins, and with the other she holds
an olive branch. "Lend thy aid, ye strong winds," they exclaimed,
"ye moon, ye sun, and all ye fair host of heaven, witness the
enemy conquered." "Hold," said Elfonzo, "thy dashing steed."
"Ride on," said Ambulinia, "the voice of thunder is behind us."
And onward they went, with such rapidity that they very soon arrived
at Rural Retreat, where they dismounted, and were united with all
the solemnities that usually attended such divine operations.


There is but one Homer, there is but one Shakespeare, there is but
one McClintock--and his immortal book is before you. Homer could
not have written this book, Shakespeare could not have written it,
I could not have done it myself. There is nothing just like it
in the literature of any country or of any epoch. It stands alone;
it is monumental. It adds G. Ragsdale McClintock's to the sum of
the republic's imperishable names.

- - -

1. The name here given is a substitute for the one actually
attached to the pamphlet.

2. Further on it will be seen that he is a country expert
on the fiddle, and has a three-township fame.

3. It is a crowbar.