“ ‘Murder—off—help—oh! you vile, deceiving, wicked monster,’ shrieked the bride, pushing away Tim with both her hands, ‘you’ve ruined me forever. And to call me a hag—oh! oh!’ and she went off almost into hysterics.
“ ‘Blood and ages—who have we here indeed?’ thundered Tim, all at once recognizing the now shrill tones of his companion, and kicking open the coach door, he saw, for the first time, by the faint light of the chaise-lamps, the face of the speaker, ‘it’s the aunt herself—the owld serpent take her! A pretty mess I’m in, running off with ye, ye apology for a skeleton, instead of with the niece. Pray, madam,’ and he bowed sarcastically, ‘was it ye I honored with my proposal?’
“ ‘Didn’t you send me a note—a—asking me to elope?’ hysterically sobbed the aunt. ‘Oh! you vile wretch.’
“ ‘Ou—u—h! I see it all,’ whistled Tim. ‘The dumb baste of a messenger gave it to ye instead of to the other.’
“ ‘You said before, too,’ sobbed the aunt, ‘that you a—a—dored me.’
“ ‘The Lord forgive my sins,’ muttered Tim betwixt his teeth. ‘But may-be,’ he said coaxingly, as a new thought struck him, ‘ye’re the heiress after all.’
“Tim got no answer but a new burst of hysteric tears, mingled with ejaculations, among which he could distinguish a whole dictionary of reproaches.
“ ‘I’m thinking,’ said Tim, after awhile, ‘ye’d better be getting home as soon as convanient. This is a bit of a mistake,’ and then, in an under tone he groaned, ‘oh! but it’s ruined I am with the chaise hire intirely.’
“The horses’ heads were soon turned, and just as morning dawned, the runaways drove up to the lane leading to Mr. Wheeler’s residence, where the bride expectant alighted, and Tim, cursing his blunder, kept on to his quarters. What became of the aunt, I never cared to inquire. As for Tim, he had sense enough to know that the game was up for him in that quarter. Though he strove to keep his elopement a secret, the joke soon leaked out, and he was the banter of the whole regiment. An order to repair to Florida was hailed as a God-send, as it saved him from the quizzing of his mess, which to this day has for a standing toast, O’Donnell’s Prize.”
Many a burst of laughter interrupted the President during the recital of this story, which loses half of its effect when deprived of his inimitable mimicry of the conversations.