Andy Plade
damned knave--no mistake! No living soul been to see me, except
letter from Hon. Mr. Slidell. He has got sixteen thousand dollars
in specie for Simp. Where's Simp, dogorn him! Hon. S. sent to
Simp's house; understood he'd sailed for America. Requested Hon. S.
to give me small part of money as Simp's next friend. Hon. S.
declined. Population of prison very great. Damned scrub stock!
Don't object to imprisonment as much as the fleas. Fleas bent on
aiding my escape. If they crawl with me to-morrow night as far
again as last night I'll be clear--no mistake! Live on soup,
chiefly. Abhor soup. Had forty francs here first day, but debtor
with one boot and spectacles won it at _picquet_. Restaurateur says
bound to keep me here a thousand years if I don't sock--shall
die--no mistake! Come see me, _toute suite_. Fetch pocket-comb,
soap, and English Bible.
"Yours, in deep waters, FRECKLE."
"The whole world is in deep waters," said Pisgah, dismally. "So much the
better for them; here goes for something stronger!"
He repaired to the nearest drinking-saloon, and demanded a glass brimful
of absinthe, at which all the garcons and patrons held up their hands
while he drank it to the dregs.
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