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draught that found its way through the crevices in the window, although a menance to our comfort, was, in its way, a blessing, for it blew the great clouds of smoke that emanated from the huge bowl of Daub's corn-cob into the back of the room and thereby saved the rest of us, who smoked nothing but harmless little cigarettes, from death by strangulation. The Author, as was often his custom, had just finished reading his latest production, a poem entitled "The Summer Breezes Blow," and had tenderly replaced the manuscript in his pocket. He had never overcome a certain timidness in reading his productions before us, and as he glanced at us inquiringly, Booth arose from his chair, plunged his hands into his pockets and began to pace the floor. Now, when Booth strikes this attitude there is something on his mind, and we always stop everything until Booth is relieved, lest he perish under the load. Grubb perceiving that Booth was agitated, divined instantly that his poem was the cause, and trembled in anticipation of the severe criticism that was sure to follow. Booth stopped in front of the stove, and sweeping his right arm aloft with an imperious jesture, opened his mouth as if to speak.
But before he had uttered a sound we were startled to hear loud footsteps climbing the stairs, and the heavy breathing of a man apparently almost exhausted. Now, if there is one thing in which we took particular pride, it was that we had succeeded in hiding ourselves from the rest of the world, and could enjoy our own society unmolested by those of the "herd" who knew not the joys and good-fellowship, the abandon and unconventionality of Bohemia; and savage indignation arose in every breast as the sounds continued to advance toward our retreat.
At last the door opened and the Old Man stood before us, looking like a huge bundle of dry goods. Indeed, the only thing about him that resembled a human being was the shaggy, snow-white beard that peeped through the folds of a seemingly endless muffler that was wound several times around his head and neck. Without even a pause of surprise he walked straight to the chair recently occupied by the Actor, who was still standing with his mouth open, and after having carefully undone his head, he removed his shoes, stretched his feet to the stove, dropped his head until his chin rested on his breast—and went to sleep. In two minutes he was snoring.
Daub, who was the first to recover from his astonishment, gave voice to his indignation by an explosive "Well!"
Grubb being aroused by Daub's remark, sighed and said, a little more mildly, "Well."
Perceiving that it was my turn to say something, I ventured a timid "Well?" and looked inquiringly at Booth who was still standing with mouth open and eyes glued to the face of the slumbering figure in his chair.
Booth seemed to understand that we had noticed and appreciated his dramatic pose, so relaxed from his attitude of astonishment and said with a face of inexpressible anger, "By the gods, it doth amaze me!" After having us delivered himself, he again paced the floor.
"Hamlet, there is thy father's ghost," said Grubb to Booth, pointing to the snoring Old Man. Grubb was in good spirits at having escaped Booth's invectives.
Horatio ceased his pacing and began:
"Now, by my faith, this is a queer old man that enters thus upon our privacy. 'Tis insult to our dignity to have a common, mortal man intrude himself in this our sacred Roost. Now had he even knocked before he entered, we might forgive this rude intrusion; but since he cometh unannounced and taketh up his place upon my chair, it is most fit, it seems to me, that we his cursed body take and cast it out yon window. Rise, valet, rise and say thy humble prayers, for instant death awaits thee!"
Whereupon he made for the Old Man as though to carry out his threat; but Grubb, Daub, and myself prevented any violence and finally persuaded Booth to sit down.
I had taken a liking to the old man somehow, and suggested that we wait until he awake, and then ask him about himself.