He was gone.I shuddered.At the end of the next three hours I had been through perils so awful that all peace of mind and all cheerfulness were gone from me.Gillespie had called and thrown me out of the window.Jones arrived promptly，and when I got ready to do the cowhiding he took the job off my hands.In an encounter with a stranger，not in the bill of fare，I had lost my scalp.Another stranger，by the name of Thompson，left me a mere wreck and ruin of chaotic rags.And at last，at bay in the corner，and beset by an infuriated mob of editors，blacklegs，politicians，and desperadoes，who raved and swore and flourished their weapons about my head till the air shimmered with glancing flashes of steel，I was in the act of resigning my berth on the paper when the chief arrived，and with him a rabble of charmed and enthusiastic friends.Then ensued a scene of riot and carnage such as no human pen，or steel one either，could describe.People were shot，probed，dismembered，blown up，thrown out of the window.There was a brief tornado of murky blasphemy，with a confused and frantic war-dance glimmering through it，and then all was over.In five minutes there was silence，and the gory chief and I sat alone and surveyed the sanguinary ruin that strewed the floor around us.
He said，“You'll like this place when you get used to it.”
I said，“I'll have to get you to excuse me；I think maybe I might write to suit you after a while；as soon as I had had some practice and learned the language I am confident I could.But，to speak the plain truth，that sort of energy of expression has its inconveniences，and a man is liable to interruption.You see that yourself.Vigorous writing is calculated to elevate the public，no doubt，but then I do not like to attract so much attention as it calls forth.I can't write with comfort when I am interrupted so much as I have been to-day.I like this berth well enough，but I don't like to be left here to wait on the customers.The experiences are novel，I grant you，and entertaining，too，after a fashion，but they are not judiciously distributed.A gentleman shoots at you through the window and cripples me；a bombshell comes down the stove-pipe for your gratification and sends the stove door down my throat；a friend drops in to swap compliments with you，and freckles me with bullet-holes till my skin won't hold my principles；you go to dinner，and Jones comes with his cowhide，Gillespie throws me out of the window，Thompson tears all my clothes off，and an entire stranger takes my scalp with the easy freedom of an old acquaintance；and in less than five minutes all the blackguards in the country arrive in their warpaint，and proceed to scare the rest of me to death with their tomahawks.Take it altogether，I never had such a spirited time in all my life as I have had to-day.No；I like you，and I like your calm unruffled way of explaining things to the customers，but you see I am not used to it.The Southern heart is too impulsive；Southern hospitality is too lavish with the stranger.The paragraphs which I have written to-day，and into whose cold sentences your masterly hand has infused the fervent spirit of Tennesseean journalism，will wake up another nest of hornets.All that mob of editors will come—and they will come hungry，too，and want somebody for breakfast.I shall have to bid you adieu.I decline to be present at these festivities.I came South for my health，I will go back on the same errand，and suddenly.Tennesseean journalism is too stirring for me.”
After which we parted with mutual regret，and I took apartments at the hospital.
1869
