re went up, and the neighborhood suddenly
whitened with night-capped heads. I heard a crash of glass, and felt
convinced that this time the ventilator had gone for certain. There was
a fresh rush from the street, and, finally, seated on a shutter (borne
on the shoulders of four stout men) and complacently swinging his legs,
appeared the little cobbler. A radiant joy in his face, and a knowing
wink in his eye, told plainly the combined influence of triumph and
unlimited libation. Reeling profoundly to the assembled company, and
casting a drunken leer at Mrs. Lawk, he exclaimed, "Mary Ann,--'s--no
use, I'm--'s--good--as--he--is. I'm--an (hic)--an--Alderman.
Butterby--embrace--your poor ol'--father--'n--law."

Of the conclusion of this episode, I fear I am somewhat confused. I have
an indistinct recollection that Mrs. Lawk and Malinda Jane were both
carried off in a fainting condition; and that my enthusiastic friends
gave three rousing cheers for Alderman Lawk, and three more for me. I
remember my father-in-law insisted on holding a meeting then and there
and nominating me for Governor. His constituents considered the idea
most judicious, and warmly applauded it. Mrs. Lawk's friends disappeared
precipitately through the back way, amid renewed sounds of crashing
glass and breaking china, while I hovered around the unterrified
Democracy of the ---- ward, earnestly beseeching them to go into the
street. My efforts were at last crowned with success. I was left alone
amid the wreck of my household gods; but for an hour afterward, as I lay
cowering on the sofa, I could hear disconnected speeches from my
door-steps, encouraged from time to time with tremendous cheers for
Lawk, cheers for Butterby, and cheers for "Jinny." The same general
mystification and uncertainty regarding my actions pervaded the entire
night; but morning brought relief, and in more ways than one. Mrs. Lawk
had disappeared, and her chattels were following. The victory was as
sudden as it was unexpected.

Who would have thought that out of this storm of mortification was to
spring the bow of promise? The day after witnessed the exit of my most
respected mother-in-law and her amiable husband, for Cheyenne City; from
which place we have recently heard from them as ornamenting the first
Comanche and Blackfeet circles.

Her reason for concealing the relationship was never developed. Indeed,
I was too much overcome with joy ever to inquire. Undisturbed by
disco