Any annoyance in that precious sense!
Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible!”
It will be perceived that the two lines in italics are my (John Smith’s) own production: the rest is Shakspeare’s. I will not venture to predict what critics will say of the relative merits of the two authors in this case.
As the trains from Philadelphia enter Baltimore, they cross a wide, clean, quiet street, called “Broadway.” It bears no resemblance to the Broadway of New York, as it is occupied chiefly by private dwellings. The trains always stop there a minute or two to allow those who wish to get off. This street runs north and south and of course crosses Baltimore street, the principal business thoroughfare, which runs east and west. The Baltimore-street railway extends down Broadway, and as several cars are always in waiting when trains arrive, many passengers get off the train here, take a street-car, and ride into the heart of the city. I always do so when I visit the “Monumental city.” I did so on this occasion, having first instructed the baggage-express agent to send my trunk to my hotel.
As I jumped from the train, (before it had quite stopped,) and walked toward the street-car that stood waiting on Broadway, a soldier approached me, and tapping me familiarly on the shoulder, said:
“Why, Locke! how are you?”
I saw at a glance that he had mistaken me for some one else, and soberly replied:
“I believe this isn’t I.”
“O, so it isn’t! Excuse me,” he said, perceiving his mistake and laughing at my joke.