Sketches New and Old


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At last a policeman came along, and arrested me for disturbing the peace  
by yelling at people on shore for help. The judge fined me, but I had the  
advantage of him. My money was with my pantaloons, and my pantaloons  
were with the Indians.  
Thus I escaped. I am now lying in a very critical condition. At least I  
am lying anyway---critical or not critical. I am hurt all over, but I  
cannot tell the full extent yet, because the doctor is not done taking  
inventory. He will make out my manifest this evening. However, thus far  
he thinks only sixteen of my wounds are fatal. I don't mind the others.  
Upon regaining my right mind, I said:  
"It is an awful savage tribe of Indians that do the beadwork and  
moccasins for Niagara Falls, doctor. Where are they from?"  
"Limerick, my son."  
ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS--[Written about 1865.]  
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Page
74 75 76 77 78

Quick Jump
1 101 201 302 402