ession iv despair on th' face iv this godlike
man as he came into Casey's saloon wan starry July avenin' an'
staggered into his familyar seat, holdin' in his hand a bit iv
soiled paper which he tore into fragmints an' hurled into th' coal
scuttle. On that crumpled parchmint findin' a sombre grave among
th' disinterred relics iv an age long past, to wit, th' cariboniferious
or coal age, was written th' iver-mim'rable pome: "Ode to Gin."
Our frind had scribbled it hastily at th' dinner iv th'
Betther-thin-Shakespere Club, an' had attimpted to read it to his
wife through th' keyhole iv her bedroom dure an' met no response
fr'm th' fillystein but a pitcher iv wather through th' thransom.
Forchnitly he had presarved a copy on his cuff an' th' gem was
not lost to posterity. But such was th' home life iv wan iv th'
gr-reatest iv lithry masters, a man indowed be nachure with all
that shud make a woman adore him as is proved be his tindher
varses: 'To Carrie,' 'To Maude,' 'To Flossie,' 'To Angehel,' 'To
Queenie,' an' so foorth. De Bonipoort in his cillybrated 'Mimores,'
in which he tells ivrything unpleasant he see or heerd in his
frinds' houses, gives a sthrikin' pitcher iv a scene that happened
befure his eyes. 'Afther a few basins iv absceenthe in th' reev
gosh,' says he, 'Parnassy invited us home to dinner. Sivral iv
th' bum vivonts was hard to wake up, but fin'lly we arrived at th'
handsome cellar where our gr-reat frind had installed his unworthy
fam'ly. Ivrything pinted to th' admirable taste iv th' thrue
artist. Th' tub, th' washboard, th' biler singin' on th' fire,
th' neighbor's washin' dancin' on the clothes rack, were all in
keepin' with th' best ideels iv what a pote's home shud be. Th'
wife, a faded but still pretty woman, welcomed us more or less,
an' with th' assistance iv sivral bottles iv paint we had brought
with us, we was soon launched on a feast iv raison an' a flow iv
soul. Unhappily befure th' raypast was con-cluded a mis'rable
scene took place. Amid cries iv approval, Parnassy read his
mim'rable pome intitled: 'I wisht I nivir got marrid.' Afther
finishin' in a perfect roar of applause, he happened to look up
an' see his wife callously rockin' th' baby. With th' impetchosity
so charackteristic iv th' man, he broke a soup plate over her head
an' burst into tears on th' flure, where gentle sleep soon soothed
th' pangs iv a weary heart. We left as quitely as we cud,
considherin' th' way th' cha