The Old Soldier's Story

Since we have had no stories to-night I will venture, Mr. President, to tell a
story that I have heretofore heard at nearly all the banquets I have ever
attended. It is a story simply, and you must bear with it kindly. It is a story as
told by a friend of us all, who is found in all parts of all countries, who is
immoderately fond of a funny story, and who, unfortunately, attempts to tell a
funny story himself—one that he has been particularly delighted with. Well, he
is not a story-teller, and especially he is not a funny story-teller. His funny
stories, indeed, are oftentimes touchingly pathetic. But to such a story as he
tells, being a good-natured man and kindly disposed, we have to listen,
because we do not want to wound his feelings by telling him that we have
heard that story a great number of times, and that we have heard it ably told
by a great number of people from the time we were children. But, as I say, we
can not hurt his feelings. We can not stop him. We can not kill him; and so the
story generally proceeds.