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Page 100
There is a bazaar to-night in the representatives' hall. You people out
in Colorado don't know anything. A bazaar is cedar and tacks and girls
and raw-cake and step-ladders and Austin Grays and a bass solo by Bill
Stacy, and net profits $2.65.
Albert has got his new uniform and Alf Menille is in town, and tile
store needs the "fine Italian hand" of the bookkeeper very much, besides
some of his plain Anglo-Saxon conversation.
Was interviewed yesterday by Gen'l Smith, Clay's father. He wants Jim S.
and me to represent a manufactory in Jeff. City: Convict labor. Says
parties in Galveston and Houston are making good thing of it. Have taken
him up. Hope to be at work soon. Glad, by jingo! Shake. What'll you
have? Claret and sugar? Better come home. Colorado no good.
Strange thing happened in Episcopal Church Sunday Big crowd. Choir had
sung jolly tune and preacher come from behind scenes. Everything quiet.
Suddenly fellow comes down aisle. Late. Everybody looks. Disappointment.
It is a stranger. Jones and I didn't go. Service proceeds.
Jones talks about his mashes and Mirabeau B. Lamar, daily. Yet there is
hope. Cholera infantum; Walsh's crutch; Harvey, or softening of the
brain may carry him off yet.
Society notes are few. Bill Stacey is undecided where to spend the
summer. Henry Harrison will resort at Wayland and Crisers. Charlie Cook
will not go near a watering place if he can help it.
If you don't strike a good thing out West, I hope we will see you soon.
Yours as ever,
W. S. P.
* * * *
Austin, Texas, April 28, 1885
Dear Dave: I received your letter in answer to mine, which you never got
till sometime after you had written.
I snatch a few moments from my arduous labors to reply. The Colorado has
been on the biggest boom I have seen since '39. In the pyrotechnical and
not strictly grammatical language of the Statesman--"The cruel,
devastating flood swept, on a dreadful holocaust of swollen, turbid
waters, surging and dashing in mad fury which have never been equalled
in human history. A pitiable sight was seen the morning after the flood.
Six hundred men, out of employment, were seen standing on the banks of
the river, gazing at the rushing stream, laden with debris of every
description. A wealthy New York Banker, who was present, noticing the
forlorn appearance of these men, at once began to collect a subscription
for them, appealing in eloquent terms for help for these poor sufferers
by the flood. He collected one dollar, and five horn buttons. The dollar
he had given himself. He learned on inquiry that these men had not been
at any employment in six years, and all they had lost by the flood was a
few fishing poles. The Banker put his dollar in his pocket and stepped
up to the Pearl Saloon."
As you will see by this morning's paper, there is to be a minstrel show
next Wednesday for benefit of Austin Grays.
I attended the rehearsal last night, but am better this morning, and the
doctor thinks I will pull through with careful attention.
The jokes are mostly mildewed, rockribbed, and ancient as the sun. I can
give you no better idea of the tout ensemble and sine die of the affair
than to state that Scuddy is going to sing a song.
Mrs. Harrell brought a lot of crystallized fruits from New Orleans for
you. She wants to know if she shall send them around on Bois d'arc or
keep them 'til you return. Answer.
Write to your father. He thinks you are leaving him out, writing to
everybody else first. Write.
We have the boss trick here now. Have sold about ten boxes of cigars
betting on it in the store.
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