I went up and lay on my bed, and was so tired and misty and far away
that I went to sleep without undressing, or even washing my face and
hands.
How many, in this life, forget the plug!
And how many, ah! how many, who passed through, and are passing
through Skull Terrace, commenced life as confidently, carefree, and
clear headed, and with such easily exercised, careful, intelligent,
practised, and methodical attention to details as I did the bath
business arrangements--and forgot to put in the plug.
And many because they were handicapped physically.
INSTINCT GONE WRONG
Old Mac used to sleep in his wagon in fine weather, when he had no
load, on his blankets spread out on the feed-bags; but one time he
struck Croydon, flush from a lucky and good back trip, and looked in
at the (say) Royal Hotel to wet his luck--as some men do with their
sorrow--and he "got there all right." Next morning he had breakfast
in the dining-room, was waited on as a star boarder, and became
thoroughly demoralized; and his mind was made up (independent of
himself, as it were) to be a gentleman for once in his life. He went
over to the store and bought the sloppiest suit of reach-me-downs of
glossiest black, and the stiffest and stickiest white shirt they had
to show--also four bone studs, two for the collar and two for the
cuffs. Then he gave his worn "larstins" to the stable-boy (with
half a crown) to clean, and--proceeded. He put the boots on during
the day, one at a time between drinks, gassing all the time, and
continued.
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