court-plaster, that had made quite a reputation for itself under the
nom-de-plume of "Towel," tried to warm ourselves at a pocket inkstand
stove, that gave out heat like a dark lantern and had a deformed elbow
at the back of it.

The chambermaid is very versatile, and waits on the table while not
engaged in agitating the overworked mattresses and puny pillows
up-stairs. In this way she imparts the odor of fried pork to the
pillow-cases and kerosene to the pie.

She has a wild, nervous and apprehensive look in her eye, as though she
feared that some herculean guest might seize her in his great strong
arms and bear her away to a justice of the peace and marry her. She
certainly cannot fully realize how thoroughly secure she is from such a
calamity. She is just as safe as she was forty years ago, when she
promised her aged mother that she would never elope with any one.

Still, she is sociable at times and converses freely with me at table,
as she leans over my shoulder, pensively brushing the crumbs into my lap
with a general utility towel, which accompanies her in her various
rambles through the house, and she asks what we would rather have--"tea
or eggs?"

This afternoon we will pay our bill, in accordance with a life-long
custom of ours, and go away to permeate the busy haunts of men. It will
be sad to tear ourselves away from the Fifth Avenue Hotel at this place;
still, there is no great loss without some small gain, and at our next
hotel we may not have to chop our own wood and bring it up stairs when
we want to rest. The landlord of a hotel who goes away to a political
meeting and leaves his guests to chop their own wood, and then charges
them full price for the rent of a boisterous and tempest-tossed bed,
will never endear himself to those with whom he is thrown in contact.

We leave at 2:30 this afternoon, hoping that the two railroads may
continue to fork here just the same as though we had remained.

McFeeters' Fourth

[Illustration]

It was needless to say 'twas a glorious day,
And to boast of it all in that spread-eagle way
That our forefathers had since the hour of the birth
Of this most patriotic republic on earth!
But 'twas justice, of course, to admit that the sight
Of the old Stars-and-Stripes was a thing of delight
In the eyes of a fellow, however he tried
To look on the day with a dignified pride
That meant not to brook any turbulent glee