Shaw. Do you want any assistance, Sir? I will willingly help you to get these poor fellows to their rooms.
Rustics. He’s the cunningest we ever seen.
Doctor. Yes, he would deceive any one. Wait a minute my men.
Shaw. If you don’t need me I’ll bid you good day; I can’t stay any longer.
Doctor. Oh no, we can’t let you go, in common humanity, till we have communicated with your friends.
Professor Shaw, in the utmost alarm, attempted to plunge out of the room. He was laid violent hands on by all three; his indignation boiled over; he struggled most desperately, knocked down the doctor, and attempted to jump out of the window, but in the end was overcome, a straight-jacket put on him, the stones were taken out of his pocket, he was conducted to a separate apartment, and as the shades of night fell around him, he almost doubted himself whether he was in his sound mind. His wits seemed to be indeed scattered. In vain he tried to collect them, and to realize his present position, which was the most false and unfortunate one in which he had ever been placed. He charged the Devil with conspiracy. He had already sneered at the suggestion of having friends; how should he be the victim and laughter of his enemies! He imagined them holding their gaunt sides and shaking with a spectre-like malignity. Then he thought of the fair girl whom he had seen in the garden shedding tears on roses, and strove to weave a chaplet of verse which should be more unfading than flowers. What a strange destiny was his! The victim of untoward accidents, persecuted by some evil spirit, and leading an aimless, desultory life, which he yet feared would lead on to lunacy. What should he do in the present instance? Be patient? Yes, he would be calm, forgiving, philosophical as ever. Footsteps are approaching; the door of his cell opens; perhaps it is already the token of his release. Yes, one of his own townsmen enters. Alas! he owed the professor a grudge, and assured the doctor that he was cracked, and begged him to hold on to him by all means; he would go and inform his friends. ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ exclaimed Shaw, as the door closed; ‘there it is again; in luck as usual; ha! ha! ha!—ha! ha! ha!’
As it grew dark, and he lay on his pallet, a crowd of thoughts and imaginations pursued him through a long sleep, and when he opened his eyes to the morning light, he gazed around the strange place with astonishment, and tried in vain to persuade himself that his present position was not a dream.
In three days he was released from limbo; retracing his steps, with all the bugs and specimens which he had collected. And, for those who feel an interest in Professor Shaw, it may be agreeable to know, that in his wanderings, having discovered in a green lane, on the margin of a duck-pond, a district school in want of a pedagogue, he forthwith assumed the birch, and may be now seen at almost any hour of the day, in the midst of his noisy populace, commanding silence, or dusting them on their least honorable parts. ‘Tough, are you? I’ll see if I can find a tender spot. Come, no bawling, or I’ll flog you till you stop. Thomas Jones, take your book, and stick your nose in the c-o-rner. First division may go out. First class in geography——’
F. W. S.