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      Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens - 1835-1910) said James Whitcomb Riley's "Old Soldier's Story"  was the funniest story he ever listened to and considered Riley America's number one humorist.  He heard Riley tell "The Old Soldier's Story" before three thousand people in the Tremont Temple, Boston.  In Mark Twain's chapter on "How To Tell a Story," he uses Riley as his example. "In comic-story form the story is not worth the telling.  Put into the humorous- story form it takes ten minutes, and is about the funniest thing I ever listened to - as James Whitcomb Riley tells it. He tells it in the character of a dull-witted old farmer who has just heard it for the first time, who is innocent and happy and pleased with himself, and as to stop every little while to hold himself in and keep from laughing outright; and does hold in, but his body quakes in a jelly-like way with interior chuckles and at the end of the ten minutes the audience laughed until they are exhausted, and the tears ran down their faces. The  simplicity and innocence and sincerity and unconsciousness of the old farmer are perfectly simulated, and the result is a performance which is thoroughly charming and delicious.  This is art - and fine and beautiful, and only a master can compass it; but a machine could tell the other story "

THE OLD SOLDIER'S STORY
James Whitcomb Riley

As told by James Whitcomb Riley before the New England Society in New York City

Since we have had no stories tonight, 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 simple story 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 either. So, the story generally proceeds.

He selects a very old story always, and generally tells it in about this fashion –!

"I heerd an awful funny thing the other day – Ha! Ha! I don’t know whether I kin git it off or not, but, anyhow, I’ll tell it to you. Well! – let's see now how the fool thing goes.

Oh, yes! Why, there was a feller one time – it was during the army and this feller that I started in to tell you about was in the war and – Ha! Ha! – there was a big fight agoin’ one, and this feller was in the fight, and it was a big battle and bullets aflyin’ ever’ which way, and bombshells abustin’ and cannon balls aflyin' ‘round promiscuous; and this feller right in the midst of it, you know, and all excited and heated up, and chargin'’ away; and the first thing you know along comes a cannon-ball and shot his head off – Ha! Ha! Ha!

Hold on here a minute! No, sir! I’m agettin’ ahead of my story.

No No! It didn’t shoot his head off. I’m gettin’ ahead of my story.

Shot his leg off. That was the way. Shot his leg off.

And down the poor feller dropped and of course in that condition was perfectly helpless, you know. But he did have the presence of mind enough to know that he was in a dangerous condition if something wasn’t done for him right away.

So he seen a comrade achargin’ by that he knowed, and he hollers to him and called him by name – I don’t remember now what the feller’s name was… Well, that’s got nothin’ to do with the story anyway.

He hollers at him, he did, and says, "Hello, there," he says to him; "Here! I want you to come here and give me a lift. I got my leg shot off and I want you to pack me back to the rear of the battle." That’s where the doctors is during a fight you know.

And he says, "I need attention or I'm a dead man for I got my leg shot off," he says, "and I want you to pack me back there so’s the surgeons can take care of me."

Well – the feller, as luck would have it, recognized him and run to him and throwed down his own musket so’s he could pick him up.

And he stooped down and picked him up and kind of half-way shouldered him and half-way held him between his arms like, and then he turned and started back with him – Ha! Ha!

Now, mind, the fight was still agoin’ on – and right at the hot of the fight, and the feller all excited you know like he was, and the soldier that had his leg shot off getting kinda fainty like, and his head kinda stuck back over the feller’s shoulder that was carryin' him.

And he hadn’t got more more’n a couple of rods with him when another cannon ball come along and took his head off, shore enough!

And the most curious thing about it was – Ha! Ha! – that the feller was apackin’ him didn’t know that he had been hit again at all, and back he went – still carryin’ the deceased back – Ha! Ha! Ha! – to where the doctors could take care of him – as he thought.

Well, his captain happened to see him, and he thought it was a rather curious proceedings – a solder carryin’ a dead body out of the fight – don’t you see?
And so the captain hollers at him, and he says to the soldier the captain did. He says, "Hello there. Where you goin’ with that thing?" That is what the captain said to the solder who was acarryin’ away the feller that had his leg shot off. Well, his head too, by that time.

"So he says, "Where you going with that thing?"

Well the soldier he stopped – kinda halted – you know like a private soldier will when his presidin’ officer speaks to him – and he says to him, "Why," he says, "Cap. It’s a comrade of mine and the poor feller has got his leg shot off, and I’m a packin’ him back to where the doctors is . And there was nobody to help him, and the feller would have died in his tracks – or track rather – if it hadn’t been for me. I’m packin' him back where the surgeons can take care of him, where he can get medical attendance or else his wife’s a widow for sure," he says.

Then captain says, "You blame fool you. He’s got his head shot off."

So then the feller slacked his grip on the body and let it slide down to the ground, and looked at it a minute, all puzzled, you know, and says, "Why he told me it was his leg!""