wore at the button of his left suspender a large bowie-knife, and had in his leathern belt a couple of pistols half the length of his gun.  He was tall, straight as an arrow, active as a panther in his motions, with dark complexion, and luxuriant, jetty hair, with a severe, iron-like countenance, that seemed never to have known a smile, and eyes of intense, vivid black, wild and rolling, and piercing as the point of a dagger.  His strange advent inspired a thrill of involuntary fear, and many present unconsciously grasped the handles of their side-arms.

“Who are you, that thus presumes to intrude among gentlemen, without invitation?” demanded Colonel Morton, ferociously essaying to cow down the stranger with his eye.

The latter returned his stare with compound interest, and laid his long, bony finger on his lip, as a sign—­but of what, the spectators could not imagine.

“Who are you?  Speak! or I will cut an answer out of your heart!” shouted Morton, almost distracted with rage, by the cool, sneering gaze of the other, who now removed his finger from his lip, and laid it on the hilt of his monstrous knife.

The fiery colonel then drew his dagger, and was in the act of advancing upon the stranger, when several caught him and held him back, remonstrating.  “Let him alone, Morton, for God’s sake.  Do you not perceive that he is crazy?”

At the moment, Judge Webb, a man of shrewd intellect and courteous manners, stepped forward, and addressed the intruder in a most respectful manner: 

“My good friend, I presume you have made a mistake in the house.  This is a private meeting, where none but members are admitted.”

The stranger did not appear to comprehend the words; but he could not fail to understand the mild and deprecatory manner.  His rigid features relaxed, and moving to a table in the center of the hall, where there were materials and implements for writing, he seized a pen, and traced one line:  “I am deaf.”  He then held it up before the spectators, as a sort of natural apology for his own want of politeness.

Judge Webb took the paper, and wrote a question:  “Dear sir, will you be so obliging as to inform us what is your business with the present meeting?”

The other responded by delivering a letter, inscribed on the back, “To the citizens of Austin.”  They broke the seal and read it aloud.  It was from Houston, and showed the usual terse brevity of his style: 

“Fellow citizens:—­Though in error, and deceived by the arts of traitors, I will give you three days more to decide whether you will surrender the public archives.  At the end of that time you will please let me know your decision.”

Sam.  Houston.

After the reading, the deaf man waited a few seconds, as if for a reply, and then turned and was about to leave the hall, when Colonel Morton, interposed, and sternly beckoned him back to the table.  The stranger obeyed, and Morton wrote:  “You were brave enough to insult me by your threatening looks ten minutes ago; are you brave enough now to give me satisfaction?”