Boots unconscious of the existence of a door-mat speedily graced the hall-floor with a perfect cushion of mud.  Their wearers, rapidly dividing into groups, plunged into earnest conversation concerning the events of the day.  The candid manner in which my own character was discussed, and their frankness in touching on my peculiarities, was not the least gratifying feature of the visit.  In the course of two or three minutes, one would have supposed my residence a political club-room, and my uninvited guests in the peaceful enjoyment of their inalienable rights.

At length there was a cry of “Here he is! here he is!”

Every window on the square 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.