Galusha the Magnificent

Galusha the Magnificent

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Lincoln (#10 in our series by Joseph C. Lincoln)
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Title: Galusha the Magnificent
Author: Joseph C. Lincoln
Release Date: January, 2004 [EBook #4905] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on March 24,
2002]
Edition: 10

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, GALUSHA
THE MAGNIFICENT ***

This etext was produced by Don Lainson.

GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT
by
JOSEPH C. LINCOLN

GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT

CHAPTER I
Mr. Horatio Pulcifer was on his way home. It was half-past five of a
foggy, gray afternoon in early October; it had rained the previous day
and a part of the day before that and it looked extremely likely to rain
again at any moment. The road between Wellmouth Centre, the village
in which Mr. Pulcifer had been spending the afternoon, and East
Wellmouth, the community which he honored with his residence, was
wet and sloppy; there were little puddles in the hollows of the macadam
and the ruts and depressions in the sand on either side were miniature
lakes. The groves of pitch pines and the bare, brown fields and knolls
dimly seen through the fog looked moist and forsaken and dismal.
There were no houses in sight; along the East Wellmouth road there are
few dwellings, for no one but a misanthrope or a hermit would select
that particular section as a place in which to live. Night was coming on
and, to accent the loneliness, from somewhere in the dusky dimness a
great foghorn groaned at intervals.
It was a sad and deserted outlook, that from the seat of Mr. Pulcifer's
"flivver" as it bounced and squeaked and rattled and splashed its way
along. But Mr. Pulcifer himself was not sad, at least his appearance

certainly was not. Swinging jauntily, if a trifle ponderously, with the
roll of the little car, his clutch upon the steering wheel expressed serene
confidence and his manner self-satisfaction quite as serene. His plaid
cap was tilted carelessly down toward his right ear, the tilt being
balanced by the upward cock of his cigar toward his left ear. The light-
colored topcoat with the soiled collar was open sufficiently at the throat
to show its wearer's chins and a tasty section of tie and cameo scarf-pin
below them. And from the corner of Mr. Pulcifer's mouth opposite that
occupied by the cigar came the words and some of the tune of a song
which had been the hit of a "Follies" show two seasons before. No,
there was nothing dismal or gloomy in Mr. Horatio Pulcifer's
appearance as he piloted his automobile toward home at the close of
that October afternoon.
And his outward seeming did not belie his feelings. He had spent a
pleasant day. At South Wellmouth, his first port of call, he had
strengthened his political fences by dropping in upon and chatting with
several acquaintances who prided themselves upon being "in the know"
concerning local political opinion and drift. Mr. "Raish" Pulcifer--no
one in Ostable county ever referred to him as Horatio-- had already
held the positions of town clerk, selectman, constable and postmaster.
Now, owing to an unfortunate shift in the party vote, the public was,
temporarily, deprived of his services. However, it was rumored that he
might be persuaded to accept the nomination for state representative if
it were offered to him. His acquaintances at South Wellmouth had that
day assured him there was "a good, fair fightin' chance" that it might
be.
Then, after leaving South Wellmouth, he had dined at the Rogers'
House in Wellmouth Centre, "matching" a friend for the dinners and
"sticking" the said friend for them and for the cigars afterward.
Following this he had joined other friends in a little game in Elmer
Rogers' back room and had emerged from