American fiction -- 19th century; American poetry -- 19th century; American wit and humor; Short stories, American
"I'm a miserable, low-down, lying, good-for-nothing, slandering,
drunken, villainous, sacrilegious galoot, and I'm not fit to die. You
might ask the jailer, also, to bring little boys in to look at me
through the bars, while I gnash my teeth and curse in demoniac rage."
"We can't put you in jail unless you have committed some offense.
Can't you bring some more specific charge against yourself?"
"No, I just want to give myself up on general principles. You see, I
went to hear Sam Jones last night, and he saw me in the crowd and
diagnosed my case to a _T_. Up to that time I thought I was a
four-horse team with a yellow dog under the wagon, but Sam took the
negative side and won. I'm a danged old sore-eyed hound dog; I
wouldn't mind if you kicked me a few times before you locked me up,
and sent my wife word that the old villain that has been abusin' her
for twenty years has met his deserts."
"Aw, come now," said the officer, "I don't believe you are as bad as
you think you are. You don't know that Sam Jones was talking about you
at all. It might have been somebody else he was hitting. Brace up and
don't let it worry you."
"Lemme see," said the weary-looking man reflectively. "Come to think
of it there was one of my neighbors sitting right behind me who is the
meanest man in Houston. He is a mangy pup, and no mistake. He beats
his wife and has refused to loan me three dollars five different
times. What Sam said just fits his case exactly. If I thought now--"
"That's the way to look at it," said the officer. "The chances are Sam
wasn't thinking about you at all."
"Durned if I believe he was, now I remember about that neighbor of
mine," said the penitent, beginning to brighten up. "You don't know
what a weight you've taken off my mind. I was just feeling like I was
one of the worst sinners in the world. I'll bet any man ten dollars he
was talking right straight at that miserable, contemptible scalawag
that sat right behind me. Say, come on and let's go out and take
somethin', will you?"
The officer declined and the weary-looking man ran his finger down his
neck and pulled his collar up into sight and said:
"I'll never forget your kindness, sir, in helping me out of this
worry. It has made me feel bad all day. I am going out to the
racetrack now, and take the field against the favorite for a few
plunks. Good day, I shall always remember your kindness."
What It Was
There was something the matter with the electric lights Tuesday night,
and Houston was as dark as Egypt when Moses blew the gas out. They
were on Rusk Avenue, out on the lawn, taking advantage of the
situation, and were holding as close a session as possible.
Presently she said:
"George, I know you love me, and I am sure that nothing in the world
can change my affection for you, yet I feel that something has come
between us, and although I have hesitated long to tell you, it is
paining me very much."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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