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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
132
For
a
moment
Colonel
Hogshead's
eye
became
misty
with
doubt,
but
he
was
not
the
man
to
admit
himself
in
error:
"Tut,
tut!
young
man,"
he
said
with
a
frown,
"don't
skim
through
your
books
in
that
way.
No
Saloonio?
Why,
of
course
there's
a
Saloonio!"
"But
I
tell
you,
Colonel,"
I
rejoined,
"I've
just
been
reading
the
play
and
studying
it,
and
I
know
there's
no
such
character--"
"Nonsense,
sir,
nonsense!"
said
the
Colonel,
"why
he
comes
in
all
through;
don't
tell
me,
young
man,
I've
read
that
play
myself.
Yes,
and
seen
it
played,
too,
out
in
Wyoming,
before
you
were
born,
by
fellers,
sir,
that
could
act.
No
Saloonio,
indeed!
why,
who
is
it
that
is
Antonio's
friend
all
through
and
won't
leave
him
when
Bassoonio
turns
against
him?
Who
rescues
Clarissa
from
Sherlock,
and
steals
the
casket
of
flesh
from
the
Prince
of
Aragon?
Who
shouts
at
the
Prince
of
Morocco,
'Out,
out,
you
damned
candlestick'?
Who
loads
up
the
jury
in
the
trial
scene
and
fixes
the
doge?
No
Saloonio!
By
gad!
in
my
opinion,
he's
the
most
important
character
in
the
play--"
"Colonel
Hogshead,"
I
said
very
firmly,
"there
isn't
any
Saloonio
and
you
know
it."
But
the
old
man
had
got
fairly
started
on
whatever
dim
recollection
had
given
birth
to
Saloonio;
the
character
seemed
to
grow
more
and
more
luminous
in
the
Colonel's
mind,
and
he
continued
with
increasing
animation:
"I'll
just
tell
you
what
Saloonio
is:
he's
a
type.
Shakespeare
means
him
to
embody
the
type
of
the
perfect
Italian
gentleman.
He's
an
idea,
that's
what
he
is,
he's
a
symbol,
he's
a
unit--"
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