Jones talks about his mashes and Mirabeau B. Lamar, daily.  Yet there is hope.  Cholera infantum; Walsh’s crutch; Harvey, or softening of the brain may carry him off yet.

Society notes are few.  Bill Stacey is undecided where to spend the summer.  Henry Harrison will resort at Wayland and Crisers.  Charlie Cook will not go near a watering place if he can help it.

If you don’t strike a good thing out West, I hope we will see you soon.

Yours as ever,
W. S. P.

AUSTIN, Texas, April 28, 1885

Dear Dave:  I received your letter in answer to mine, which you never got till sometime after you had written.

I snatch a few moments from my arduous labors to reply.  The Colorado has been on the biggest boom I have seen since ’39.  In the pyrotechnical and not strictly grammatical language of the Statesman—­“The cruel, devastating flood swept, on a dreadful holocaust of swollen, turbid waters, surging and dashing in mad fury which have never been equalled in human history.  A pitiable sight was seen the morning after the flood.  Six hundred men, out of employment, were seen standing on the banks of the river, gazing at the rushing stream, laden with debris of every description.  A wealthy New York Banker, who was present, noticing the forlorn appearance of these men, at once began to collect a subscription for them, appealing in eloquent terms for help for these poor sufferers by the flood.  He collected one dollar, and five horn buttons.  The dollar he had given himself.  He learned on inquiry that these men had not been at any employment in six years, and all they had lost by the flood was a few fishing poles.  The Banker put his dollar in his pocket and stepped up to the Pearl Saloon.”

As you will see by this morning’s paper, there is to be a minstrel show next Wednesday for benefit of Austin Grays.

I attended the rehearsal last night, but am better this morning, and the doctor thinks I will pull through with careful attention.

The jokes are mostly mildewed, rockribbed, and ancient as the sun.  I can give you no better idea of the tout ensemble and sine die of the affair than to state that Scuddy is going to sing a song.

* * * * * *

Mrs. Harrell brought a lot of crystallized fruits from New Orleans for you.  She wants to know if she shall send them around on Bois d’arc or keep them ’til you return.  Answer.

Write to your father.  He thinks you are leaving him out, writing to everybody else first.  Write.

We have the boss trick here now.  Have sold about ten boxes of cigars betting on it in the store.