A Rough Bedfellow — 518
A man in Arkansas had been drinking until a late hour at night, and then started for home in a state of sweet obliviousness. Upon reaching his own premises he was too far gone to discover any door to the domicile he was wont to inhabit, and, therefore, laid himself down in a shed which was a favourite rendezvous for swine. They happened to be out when the new comer arrived, but soon returned to their bed. The weather being rather cold, they, in the utmost kindness, and with the truest hospitality, gave their biped companion the middle of the bed, some lying on either side of him, and others acting the part of quilt. Their warmth prevented him from being injured by exposure. Towards morning he awoke. Finding himself comfortable, in blissful ignorance of his whereabouts, he supposed himself enjoying the accommodation of a tavern, in company with other gentlemen. He reached out his hand, and catching hold of the stiff bristles of an old hog, exclaimed: “Hallo, my good friend, you’ve got a deuce of a beard! When did you shave last?”