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24 James Nack We can make neither head nor tail of the matter. Let’s go to dinner. “A most righteous verdict, in which I would readily concur, especially if the dinner was a good one. However, I would suggest that in the notice accompanying the plea, a professional pen appears to be still running riot in its accustomed luxuriance.” “A thorough reform cannot be expected all at once. I am a friend to gradual reform; like the Irishman, who being ordered by his master to cut his dog’s tail off, had not the heart to chop it all off at one blow, and humanely sliced it away little by little! But this is sorry amusement for such dismal weather, give your pen a moment’s repose, while I read this paper for you. c The Last Words of a Bachelor “DON’T YOU THINK it will hold up?” “Can’t say. There is a great holding up of umbrellas.” “O dear!” And I sauntered mournfully to the window for the fiftieth time within the last five minutes, and looked wistfully through the streaked panes as if to stare the rain out of countenance. “Stare away!” said the rain, as plain as it could speak. “There—look there—good news—don’t you see that man is carrying his umbrella folded up? It is evidently clearing off.” “I am glad to hear it, if you say so,” replied my cousin. “Why, don’t you see he has tied up his umbrella?” “Good reason why, it is blown to pieces!” “Oh dear!” “And look there at the procession of umbrellas, with dripping wretches sneaking along under them; red, blue, green black, brown; umbrella follows umbrella, presenting the variety of hues, but not the cheering promise of the rainbow.” “O dear! how I hate an umbrella!” “Then you will have no objection to lend me yours.” “Excuse me, my very good cousin; I will lend it you with all the pleasure in the world while you remain here, but cannot permit it to go out of the office.” “Well, then, I must try to do without,” said my cousin. “But it is time to be off. Pity you can’t come along!” “This intolerable influenza!” “The Last Words of a Bachelor” is from Earl Rupert and Other Tales and Poems (New York: George Adlard, 1839). The Last Words of a Bachelor 25 “I told you what would be the consequence, when you were sporting your new hat yesterday in the winds of March, ‘the sunny month of March,’ as Felicia Hemans terms it, with unfeeling irony. If you had only worn a cap!” And my cousin departed; and I was alone—yet not alone—the influenza remained to keep me company; and headache came—I could never see the use of headache. Did you ever experience a sensation as if a steam-engine of a hundred thousand horse power were at work within your pericranium, clicking and clacking, clinking and clanging, creaking and screeching, thumping and banging, crashing and crushing, and playing the very deuce with your unhappy brain? Do you feel the blood bubbling and boiling up, hissing and whizzing, swelling the veins of your head till they nigh burst with agony, and every throb tears like an earthquake? Does your cheek glow, your forehead redden? Do you start at every fall of pussy’s velvet foot on the soft carpet, as if a giant were trampling upon your brain? Do you strike your forehead with your right hand, and then try the left with the like result? and then resort to both fists, in unconscious imitation of Kean when he exclaimed: O Lear! Lear! Lear! Beat at this gate that let thy folly in, And thy dear judgment out! Do you first lean, and then beat your head against the wall? Do you fling yourself into a seat, fold your arms upon the table, recline your head upon them—and start up with a groan of despair? Do you dash yourself upon the floor and toss about in all the varieties of a posturemaster? Do you spring to your feet, snatch up “Beccaria on Crimes,” and study the chapter on suicide? If with all this you know not what is the matter, come to me and I will give it as my candid opinion, you have the headache or something like it. Such were my occupations and amusements after my cousin left me, while waiting the good pleasure of...

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