His First Step — 171
We extract the following from a popular story. It narrates the early experience of a bashful boy:—“Well, my sister Lib gave a party one night, and I stayed away from home because I was too bashful to face the music. I hung around the house, whistling ‘Old Dan Tucker,’ dancing to keep my feet warm, watching heads bobbing up and down behind the window-curtains, and wishing the thundering party would break up so I could get to my room. I smoked up a bunch of cigars, and as it was getting late and mighty uncomfortable, I concluded to climb up the door-post. No sooner said than done, and I found myself snug in bed. ‘Now,’ says I, ‘let her rip! Dance till your wind is out!’ And, cuddled under the quilts, Morpheus grabbed me. I was dreaming of soft-shelled crabs and stewed tripe, and having a good time, when somebody knocked at my room-door and woke me up. ‘Rap,’ again. I laid low. ‘Rap, rap, rap!’ Then I heard a whispering, and I knew there was a whole raft of girls outside. ‘Rap, rap!’ Then Lib sings out, ‘Jack, are you in there?’ ‘Yes,’ says I; and then came a roar of laughter. ‘Let us in,’ says she. ‘I won’t,’ says I. Then came another laugh. By thunder, I began to get riled! ‘Get out, you petticoated scarecrows!’ I cried; ‘can’t you get a beau without hauling a fellow out of bed? I won’t go home with you—I won’t—so you may clear out!’ And sending a boot at the door, I felt better. But presently—O mortal buttons!—I heard a still small voice, very like sister Lib’s, and it said, ‘Jack, you’ll have to get up, for all the girls’ things are in there!’ Oh dear, what a pickle! Think of me in bed, all covered with shawls, muffs, bonnets, and cloaks, and twenty girls outside waiting to get in. As it was, I rolled out among the ribbons in a hurry. Smash went the millinery in every direction. I had to dress in the dark, and the way I fumbled about was death on straw hats. The critical moment at last came. I opened the door, and found myself right among the women! ‘Oh, my Leghorn!’ cries one. ‘My dear winter velvet!’ cries another. And they pinched in—they piled me this way and that—boxed my ears; and one little bright-eyed piece—Sal ——, her name was—put her arms right round my neck and kissed me right on my lips! Human nature couldn’t stand that, and I gave her as good as she sent. It was the first time I had ever got a taste, and it was powerful good. I believe I could have kissed that gal from Julius Cæsar to the Fourth of July. ‘Jack,’ said she, ‘we are sorry to disturb you, but won’t you see me home?’ ‘Yes,’ says I, ‘I will.’ I did do it, and had another smack at the gate, too. After that we took a kinder turtle-doving after each other, both of us sighing like a barrel of new cider when we were away from each other.”