A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. "'Faith, an' you may say that," returned a watchman, who was wiping a ruddy stream from his brow; "they've broken the paice, and our pates into the bargain. This was in Texas.
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