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Oh! John, go, John! there's Noodle's knock, I know, John; Tell him that all yesterday you sought him high and low, John.
Tell him, just before he came, you saw me mount the hill, John;
Say—you think I'm only gone to pay his little bill, John;
Hie, John! fly, John! I will tell you why, John—
Peeping into corners hardly fit to hold a mouse, John;
And I'll pop through the little door that opens on the mews,
One of the exhibitors at the recent Texas State Fair, at Houston, gave an amusing account of his experience at the hotel, which illustrates the crowded condition of the public houses at that time.
When I got there, I just said, " Captain, I wrote to you cbout six weeks ago to save me a room; I hope you have done so."
"Certainly I have. Show the gentleman to ninety-one."
I'm blessed if there wasn't forty others besides myself in the same apartment, and when they went to undress at night, the room looked like an arsenal, for every man had a knife and a six-shooter or two. My partner had an immense pistol, which he coolly took off and placed in bed between us.
"Say, stranger," says I," if I had to carry a thing like that, blamed if I wouldn't put it on wheels."
"Guess if I choose to wear it, it's nobody's business," he replied.
"Well," says I, " is all of this artillery company in this room?"
The next night, after we had all turned in there came a rap at the door; the beds were all full but one, and in this there was a tall Texan, who, after the rapping had been several times repeated, got up, and in a costume but little better than the Georgia full dress opened the door and demanded: "What do you mean by kicking up such an infernal row here?"
"They told me there was a vacant bed here," said a dapper-looking fellow, with a satchel in his hand, "and I came to occupy it."
"Come in," replied Texas, flourishing his pistol, " there ain't no vacant bed, but you can bunk with me."
"Thank you," said the new comer, at the same time evidently wishing himself out again.
I can tell you that young fellow wasn't long "changing" himself and sliding easily into bed; but he had no more than stretched himself out when his bedfellow said:
"You got any whiskey?"
"Y-e-s, sir; I was—afraid of the water, and—
"Water! if you've got any whiskey, behave like a man, and produce it."
The young fellow got out of bod and soon handed over a small wicker flask.
"It's your whiskey—drink first," said Texas. His companion poured out about three drops and took it, when the other put the flask to his head and drained it, and then coolly turned it bottom up, to show that it was dry, and handed it back.
About half the occupants were changed every day, and I could tell every new arrival the number of his room, as soon as I set eyes on him.
"Halloo, Colonel, just got in?" I would say.
"Yes, just in, and lucky enough to get a room."
"What's your number?" I would ask.
Ninety-one, was sure to be the reply.
I stayed there until they began to put the new arrivals in through the transom, and then I left the town.
THE MODERN CYMON— Bryan Waller Proctor.
"THE Ll'NATIC, THE LOVER, AND THE POET."
You bid me tell you why I rise
At midnight from my lonely bed;
And talk as though I saw the dead:
I've heard such idle jeers before:
And you shall deem me mad no more.
I was not born of noble race:
I know a peasant was my sire;
The milk that filled my blood with fire.
About the fields, for many years;
Sprang upward in a rain of tears.
A sudden chance (if chance it were)
Flung me across a marriage train;
Forced onward, while she wept in vain.
My eyes were hot within my head:
(By a brother] towards a brute—and wed.
I sought the hills—I sought the woods;
My heart was bursting in my breast:
And for a time I felt at rest.
The cloudy film that on them lay;
And knew I did behold the day.
Till then, I bad but been a beast,—
Had let mere savage will prevail;
(You have some fable, like my tale,)
Then all at once my spirit strong
And forced its furious way along.
I read—I learned—I thought—I loved!
(For love was all the motive then ;) And one who was a friend, gave help,
And I went forth and mixed with men: I talked with him they called her lord;
I talked with her—who was a bride Through fraud and force and rapine; Godl
She spoke:—I think I could have diedl
I heard her words; I saw her eyes,
Where patient mingled with the sad: I felt her breath upon my cheek;
Its perfume did not drive me mad. I listened dumbly to her wrongs—
Imprisoned, struck, despised, deceived; And, in my heart, I heard a voice
Cry out " Revenge! "—and I believed!
Still time wore on ; and efforts vain
Were made to bend the demon's will;
Hut he was base and cruel still.
The truth of many a hellish crime;
Of half that I could tell in rhyme.
Suffice it; all thhigs have an end.
There is an end where mortal pain
This limit did we now attain;
I did what she could never dare: / rnt the ennker from her side;
And bore her off—to healthier air!
Far—far away! She never knew
That I had blood upon my breast: And yet (although she loved me much,)
I know not wny she could not rest. I strove to cheer ner love,--to stir
Her pride—but, ah, she had no pride! We loved each other;—yet she pined:
We loved each other;—yet she died!
She died, as fading roses die,
Although the warm and healing air
Comes breathing forth, and wraps them round . She died, despite my love and care.
I placed her gently in the lead;
I soothed her hair, as it should he; And drew a promise —what she vowed
Is secret, 'tween my soul and me!
She died; and yet I have her still,—
Carved, softly, in Carrara stone;
Sitting m silence,—all alone;
Her calm and spotless bosom seeks;
And moves her marble lips—and speaks!
And this is why I restless seem;
And this is why I always rise
And look for comfort in the skies,
Awakens from her sleep of stone; And we exchange sweet hopes and thoughts,
In words unto the earth unknown.
Now,—tell me, am I mad ?—Who's he
That stares, and gibbers at me there? /know him: there's his crooked claw;
His glittering eye; his snaky hair; Begone!—he's gone! Excuse me, sir;
These fellows often pinch my brain; (I know full well who spurs them on;)
But—as you see—they tease in vain.
Through a window, old and broken,
True, the streets were full of people,