Sketches New and Old


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was over. In five minutes there was silence, and the gory chief and I  
sat alone and surveyed the sanguinary ruin that strewed the floor around  
us.  
He said, "You'll like this place when you get used to it."  
I said, "I'll have to get you to excuse me; I think maybe I might write  
to suit you after a while; as soon as I had had some practice and learned  
the language I am confident I could. But, to speak the plain truth, that  
sort of energy of expression has its inconveniences, and a man is liable  
to interruption.  
"You see that yourself. Vigorous writing is calculated to elevate the  
public, no doubt, but then I do not like to attract so much attention as  
it calls forth. I can't write with comfort when I am interrupted so much  
as I have been to-day. I like this berth well enough, but I don't like  
to be left here to wait on the customers. The experiences are novel,  
I grant you, and entertaining, too, after a fashion, but they are not  
judiciously distributed. A gentleman shoots at you through the window  
and cripples me; a bombshell comes down the stove-pipe for your  
gratification and sends the stove door down my throat; a friend drops in  
to swap compliments with you, and freckles me with bullet-holes till my  
skin won't hold my principles; you go to dinner, and Jones comes with his  
cowhide, Gillespie throws me out of the window, Thompson tears all my  
clothes off, and an entire stranger takes my scalp with the easy freedom  
of an old acquaintance; and in less than five minutes all the blackguards  
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