A step at the door, and I wheeled, trembling. But it was only a Breton maid, who bore some letters on a salver of silver.
“For me?” I asked.
“If you please,” she said, demurely.
Two letters, and I knew the writing on one. The first I read standing:
“Buffalo, N. Y., Feb. 3, 1871.
“Mr. Scarlett, Dear Sir and Friend,—Trusting you’re well I am pleased to admit the same, the blind Goddess having smiled on me and the circus since we quit that damn terra firma for a more peeceful climb.
“We are enjoying winter quarters near to the majestic phenomena of Niagara, fodder is cheap and vittles bountiful.
“Would be pleased to have you entertain idees of joining us, and the same to Mr. Speed—you can take the horses. I have a lion man from Jersey City. We open in Charleston S. C. next week no more of La continong for me, savvy voo! home is good enough for me. That little Jacqueline left me I got a girl and am training her but she ain’t Jacqueline. Annimals are well Mrs. Grigg sends her love and is joined by all especially the ladies and others too numerous to mention. Hoping to hear from you soon about the horses I remain yours truly and courteously,
“H. Byram Esq.”
The second letter I opened carelessly, smiling a little: