Part 5 (1/2)
”Explain myself--apologize!” I scornfully repeated--”you are a fool, and don't know to whom you are talking. Let me go.”
”No!” pa.s.sionately screamed my enraged antagonist, who was somewhat intoxicated--”you must stay and hear me out. I may as well throw off the mask at once. Know, then, that I hate you like h.e.l.l-fire, and that, the very first time I saw you, I resolved to make you as bad as myself.
Therefore did I induce you to drink, and visit disreputable places. The cool contempt with which you have always treated me, had increased my hatred ten-fold. I thirst for vengeance, and _I'll fix you yet_!”
”Do your worst,” said I, contemptuously; and again did I essay to take my departure. Meanwhile, during the quarrel, the frequents of the saloon had gathered around and appeared to enjoy the scene highly.
”If he has given you any cause of offence, Jack, why don't you pitch into him?” suggested a half-drunken fellow who bore the enviable reputation of being a most expert pickpocket.
Jack unfortunately adopted the suggestion, and struck me with all his force. I of course returned the blow, with very tolerable effect.--Had the row commenced and terminated in mere _fisticuffs_ all would have been well, and I should not now be called upon to write down the details of a b.l.o.o.d.y tragedy.
Drawing a dirk-knife from his breast, Jack attacked me with the utmost fury. I then did what any other person, situated as I was, would have done--I acted in my own defence. ”Self-defence” is universally acknowledged to be the ”first law of nature.” There was I, a stranger, savagely attacked by a young man armed with a dangerous weapon, and surrounded by his friends and a.s.sociates--a desperate set, who seemed disposed to a.s.sist in the task of demolis.h.i.+ng me.
I quickly drew from my pocket a pistol, without which, at that time, I never travelled. Before, however, I could c.o.c.k and level it, my infuriated enemy dashed his dirk-knife into my face, and the point entered my right eye. It was fortunate that the weapon did not penetrate the brain, and cause my instant death.
Maddened by the horrible pain which I suffered, and believing myself to be mortally wounded, I raised the pistol and discharged it. Jack Slack fell to the floor, a corpse, his head being shattered to pieces. _I never regretted the act._
A cry of horror and dismay burst from the lips of all present, on witnessing this dreadful but justifiable deed of retribution.
”Gentlemen,” said I, as the blood was trickling down my face--”I call upon you all to witness that I slew this young man in self-defence. He drove me to commit the deed, and I could not avoid it. I am willing and anxious to abide the decision of a jury of my countrymen; therefore, send for an officer, and I will voluntarily surrender myself into his custody.”
Scarcely had I uttered these words, when the excruciating torment which I suffered caused me to faint away. When I recovered, I found myself in a prison-cell, with a bandage over my damaged optic, and a physician feeling my pulse.
”Ah!” said I, looking around, ”I am in _limbo_, I see. Well, I do not fear the result. But, doctor, am I seriously injured--am I likely to kick the bucket?”
”Not at all,” was the doctor's encouraging reply--”but you have lost the sight of your eye.”
”Oh, is _that_ all?” said I with a laugh--”well, I believe that it is said in the Bible somewhere, that it is better to enter the kingdom of heaven with one eye than to go to the devil with two.”
The physician departed for his home, and I departed for the land of dreams. The pain of my wound had considerably mitigated, and I slept quite comfortably.
I have always been somewhat of a philosopher in the way of enduring the ills of life, and I tried to reconcile myself to my misfortune and situation with as good a grace as possible. In this I succeeded much better than might have been expected. When a person loses an eye and is at the same time imprisoned for killing another individual, it is certainly natural for that unfortunate person to yield to despair; but, seeing the uselessness of grief, I resolved to ”face the music” with all the courage of which I was possessed.
Two or three days pa.s.sed away, and I became almost well--for, to use a common expression, I owned the const.i.tution of a horse. The newspapers which I was allowed to send out and purchase, made me acquainted with something that rather surprised me, for they communicated to me the information that Jack Slack, the young gentleman to whom I had presented a ticket of admission to the other world, was a person whose _real_ name was John Shaffer, _alias_ Slippery Jack, _alias_ Jack Slack. His profession was that of a pickpocket, in which avocation he had always been singularly expert. He was well known to the police, and had been frequently imprisoned. I was gratified to see that the newspapers all justified me in what I had done, and predicted my honorable discharge from custody. That prediction proved correct; for, after I had been in confinement a week, the Grand Jury failed to bring a bill of indictment against me, and I was consequently set at liberty.
Tired of Philadelphia, I went to Was.h.i.+ngton. A New York member of Congress, with whom I was well acquainted, volunteered to show me the ”lions;” and I had the honor of a personal introduction to Mr. Van Buren and other distinguished official personages. Some people would be surprised if they did but know of the splendid dissipation that prevails among the ”dignitaries of the nation” at Was.h.i.+ngton.
I have seen more than one member of the United States Senate staggering through the streets, from what cause the reader will have no difficulty in judging. I have seen a great statesman, since deceased, carried from an after-dinner table to his chamber. I have seen the honorable Secretary of one of the National departments engaged in a brawl in a brothel. I have seen Representatives fighting in a bar-room like so many rowdies, and I have heard them use language that would disgrace a beggar in his drink. I need not allude to the many outrageous scenes which have been enacted in the councils of the nation; for the newspapers have already given them sufficient publicity.
Leaving Was.h.i.+ngton, I journeyed South, and, after many adventures which the limits of this work will not permit me to describe, I arrived in the City of New Orleans. I had no difficulty in procuring a lucrative situation as reporter on a popular daily newspaper; and enjoyed free access to all the theatres and other places of amus.e.m.e.nt.--I remained in New Orleans just one year; but, not liking the climate,--and finding, moreover, that I was living too ”_fast_,” and acc.u.mulating no money,--I resolved to ”pull up stakes” and start in a Northerly direction.
Accordingly, I returned to Philadelphia.
It would have been much better for me had I remained in New Orleans, for the hardest kind of times prevailed in the ”Quaker City,” on my arrival there. It was almost impossible to obtain employment of any description; and many actors, authors and artists, as well as mechanics, were most confoundedly ”hard up.” I soon exhausted the contents of my purse; and, like the Prodigal Son, ”began to be in want.”
One fine day, in a very disconsolate mood, I was wandering through an obscure street, when I encountered a former lady acquaintance, whom, I trust, the reader has not forgotten.
But the particulars of that unexpected encounter, and the details of what subsequently transpired, are worthy of a separate chapter.
FOOTNOTES:
[E] It is singular, but it is true, that a few nights prior to the tragical occurrences which I am about to relate, I saw, in a dream, a perfect and exact fore-shadow of the whole melancholy affair! Who can explain this mystery?