Wright.
IN the last chapter of this veritable history is related the unexpected and unusually thorough inebriation of Mr. John I. Cake, from
the verdant prairies of Illinois. The alcoholically-saturated condition of Johnny's corporosity, on the occasion herein-before-mentioned, surprised the thirsty brotherhood far more than would a similar state of facts in which any other one of the fraternity should have been implicated, because as Johnny had always perched himself upon the aqueous pinnacle of misanthropic teetotalism, it was not reasonable to suppose that he should, by one single dive, precipitate himself at once to the lowest depth of inebriation—for his profession's sake, he should have come down easier.
As his new-made friends had taken his moral culture under their especial guardianship, he was duly required, the next evening, to give, for the instruction and edification of the club, a full account of his night's experience.
Having first premised that he only complied with this desire in obedience to that imperative rule of the club, to which he had solemnly, affixed his name, which, in the most awful language, pledges every member who takes that terrible obligation to do exactly as he pleases, unless his own pleasure shall influence him otherwise, or unless, upon mature consideration, he shall decide that he had rather do something else, he proceeded to enlighten the anxious Elephantine expectants.
"When I left you yesterday," said he, "I had no more idea that I should so far overstep the bounds of my customary propriety, and make my next appearance before you in a state of alcoholic disguise, than I have at this present moment that the setting sun will see me under arrest for picking somebody's pocket of a steam saw-mill. Strolling about yesterday for some time, I became tired of the monotonous hurry of Broadway, and eventually strayed into that delightful rural locality which you call, I think, the Bowery.