Having Been Informed That A Shake-Down
Would Have Been Ready Had He Given Notice Of
His Visit, And That At Some Future Time, When Not
So Crowded, He Could Be Entertained Like A
Gentleman, He Drew Himself Up, Wrapped In The
Mantle Of Dignity, And Replied:
"None of that soft talk, my friend.
This
man is a traveller; let him take travellers'
luck - three in a bed to-night. I'm bound
to sleep with him to-night. Hall, where's the
bottle?"
I now retired to the back room, and, without
undressing, planted myself on the side of the
bed next the wall. Sleep was, however, an
unattainable luxury, with the squire's voice in the
next room, as he told how the country was going
to the dogs, because "niggers and white folks
wouldn't respect the laws. It took half a man's
time to larn it to 'em, and much thanks he ever
got by setting everybody to rights." He wound
up by lecturing Hall for being so temperate,
his diligent search in all directions for bottles or
jugs being rewarded by finding them filled with
unsatisfactory emptiness.
He then tumbled into the centre of the bed,
crowding me close against the wall. Poor Hall,
having the outside left to him, spent the night in
exercising his brain and muscles in vain attempts
to keep in his bed; for when his Majesty of the
law put his arms akimbo, the traveller went to
the wall, and the host to the floor.
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