White Sulphur papers; or, Life at the springs of Western Virginia

STORY OF A CRUTCH. 121
excursions with my new master, who was fast
recovering, into the city, and among the fashions of
Chestnut-street.
The lieutenant soon became as th ed of his quarters
as I was, and to our gratification, was invited
by a relation to remain in the city. I soon parted
from him, however, for, recovering from his wound,
he had no further service for me, and he made me
a present to an old friend, a sea captain, who had
just returned in a merchantman from a long cruise,
and was confined with the gout at the City hotel,
where I was condemned to undergo all the tortures
of his bad temper. My master would sit in his room
at night, drinking brandy and water, and, stirring me
around in the fire, would say, "I'll burn my crutch if
I don't have vengeance." He always swore by his
crutch.
One night he took it into
go to the theatre ;
his head that he would
whilst there, in the saloon, taking
imaginary offence from the remark of some by-stander,
he raised me, and struck the gentleman over the
head ; and, in the disturbance and row that followed,
crutch and captain were taken to the watch-house
forthwith. Here, while the evidence was being given,
I was handled by watchmen, and gazed at by
the crowd ; the captain all the time swearing like a
trooper.
Bail was given, and we were released from
11