n washing my face and
hands.

How many, in this life, forget the plug!

And how many, ah! how many, who passed through, and are passing through
Skull Terrace, commenced life as confidently, carefree, and clear
headed, and with such easily exercised, careful, intelligent, practised,
and methodical attention to details as I did the bath business
arrangements--and forgot to put in the plug.

And many because they were handicapped physically.

INSTINCT GONE WRONG

Old Mac used to sleep in his wagon in fine weather, when he had no load,
on his blankets spread out on the feed-bags; but one time he struck
Croydon, flush from a lucky and good back trip, and looked in at the
(say) Royal Hotel to wet his luck--as some men do with their sorrow--and
he "got there all right." Next morning he had breakfast in the
dining-room, was waited on as a star boarder, and became thoroughly
demoralized; and his mind was made up (independent of himself, as it
were) to be a gentleman for once in his life. He went over to the store
and bought the sloppiest suit of reach-me-downs of glossiest black, and
the stiffest and stickiest white shirt they had to show--also four bone
studs, two for the collar and two for the cuffs. Then he gave his
worn "larstins" to the stable-boy (with half a crown) to clean,
and--proceeded. He put the boots on during the day, one at a time
between drinks, gassing all the time, and continued. He concluded about
midnight, after a very noisy time and interviews with everyone on sight
(slightly interrupted by drinks) concerning "his room." It was show
time, you see, and all the rooms were as full as he was--he was too full
even to share the parlour or billiard room with others; but he consented
at last to a shake-down on the balcony, the barmaid volunteering to
spread the couch with her own fair hands.

Towards daylight he woke, for one of the reasons why men do wake. It is
well known, to people who know, that old campers-out (and young men new
to it, too) will wake _once_--if in a party, each at different times--to
tend to their cattle, or listen for the hobbles of their horses, or
simply to rise on their elbows and have a look round--the last, I
suppose, from an instinct born in old dangerous times. Mac woke up, and
it was dark. He reached out and his hand fell, instinctively, on the
rail of the balcony, which was to him (instinctively--and that shows
how instinct errs) the rail of the side of his wagon, in