FullReads

Jones was loving drunk, a stage that terminates and is a near kin to total oblivion, in bacchanalian revels. Jones had not the remotest idea of where he was–time or persons; his tongue was thick, eyes dull, ideas monstrous foggy, and the few sentences he rather unintelligibly uttered, were highly spiced with–“my little (hic) angel, you (hic), you (hic) live ’bout (hic) here? Can’t you ta-take me (hic) home with you, eh? My-my old woman (hic) would raise-rai-raise old scratch if I (hic), I went home to-to-night. (Hic) I’ll, I’ll go home (hic) in the morning, and (hic) tell her, ha! ha! he! (hic) tell her I’ve be-be-been to a fire!”

“O, the villain,” said Mrs. J. to herself; “but I’ll be revenged. Come, sir, go home with me–I’ll take care of you. Come, sir, be careful; this way–in here.”

“Where the (hic) deuce are–are you going down this (hic) cellar, eh?”

“All right, sir. Come, be careful! don’t fall; rest on my arm–there, shut the door.”

“Why (hic), ha-hang it a–all; get a light–that’s a de–ar!”

“Yes, yes; wait a moment, I’ll bring you a light.”

Mrs. J. having gotten her game bagged, left it in the dark, and retired to her bed-chamber. Some of the servants, hearing a noise in the basement, got up, stuck their noses out of their rooms, and being convinced that a desperate scoundrel was in the house, raised the very old boy. Poor Jones, in his efforts to get out, run over pots, pans, and chairs, and through him and the servants, the police were alarmed! lights were raised, and Jones was arrested for a burglar!

Never was a man better pleased to find himself in his own domicil, than Jones! It was all Greek to the watchmen and servants; it was a mysterious matter to Jones for a full fortnight–but upon promise of ever after spending his new year’s at home, Mrs. J. let the cat out of the bag. Jones surrendered!