The Charlotte Journal

MISCELLANEOUS.

Very Curious Adventure.
BY PAUL CREYTON.

"I never attended but one temperance lecture," said our friend B—— with a peculiar smile, "and I don't think I shall ever attend another."

"You probably found it dry?"

"Well—yes—but that isn't it. The lecture was well enough, but I got into such an awful scrape, after it was over, that I never think of temperance meetings, without a shudder. I'll tell you about it. It was in Jersey City, where I was something of a stranger; and the night was one of the worst of the season. Bores! how it blew! It was enough to take your breath away. Well, sir, the lecture was over, and making out with the crowd, I lingered in the doorway, contemplating the awful scene, when somebody took my arm.

"Where have you been?" said the sweetest voice in the world. "I have been looking for you everywhere."

Very much surprised I turned my head and saw—but I can't describe her! It makes me mad now to think how prodigiously pretty she was! With her left hand she leaned on my arm; she was arranging her veil with her right, and did not appear to observe my surprise. "You have been looking for me?" I faltered.

"Come—let us be going," was her reply, pressing my arm.

A thrill went to my heart. What to make of my lady's address, I did not know; but she was too charming a creature for me to refuse to accompany her. We started off in the midst of the tempest, the noise of which prevented any conversation. At length she said with a scream,

"Put your arm around me, I shall blow away!"

I need not describe to you my sensations, as I pressed her to my side and hurried on. It was very dark; nobody saw us; and allowing her to guide my steps, I followed her through two or three short streets, until she stopped before an elegant house.

"Have you your key?" she asked.

"My key," I stammered, "there must be some mistake."

"O, I have one."

And she opened the door. I stood waiting to bid her good night, or to have some explanation, when turning quickly, she said,

"How queer you act to-night! ain't you coming in?"

There was something very tempting in the suggestion. Was I going in? A warm house and a pretty woman were certainly objects of consideration, and it was dreary to think of facing the storm and of seeing her no more. It took me about three quarters of a second to make up my mind: and in I went.

There was a very dim light in the hall, and as my guide ran rapidly upstairs, why, I thought I could do nothing better than to run up too. I followed her into a dark room.

"Lock the door John," said she.

Now, as if I had been the only John in the world, I thought at once that she knew me. I felt for the key and turned it in the lock without hesitation, wondering all the time what was coming next. Then an awful suspicion of some horrid trick flashed upon my mind, for I had often heard of infatuated men being lured to their destruction by pretty women; and I was on the point of reopening the door, when my lady struck a light.

Then (being an excessively modest man) I discovered to my dismay that I was in a bed room! with a woman in a bed room! alone with a woman in her bed room! Oh, I can't describe my sensations! I said something, I don't know what it was, but the lady, having lighted a lamp, looked around, stared at me an instant, turned white as the pillow cases, and screamed,

"Who are you? How came you here?"

I made some sort of reply, by way of apology; then sinking on a chair she cried wildly—

"Go—quick—leave this room—I thought you were my husband!" And covering her face with her hands, she sobbed hysterically.

I was petrified. Of course I was quite as anxious to leave, as she to have me. But in my confusion, instead of going out by the door I came in at, I unlocked another door, and walked into a closet!

Before I could rectify my error, there came a terrible thundering at the first door. The lady screamed; the noise increased; and I felt peculiar, knowing very well that now the lady's real husband was coming, and that I was in rather a bad fix.

Well aware that it would not do to remain in that closet, and convinced of the danger of meeting a man who might fall into the vulgar weakness of being jealous, I was trying to collect my scattered senses in the dark recess, when the lady rushed to me, whispered in a wild manner—

"What shall I do! If you do not go he will kill me!"

"Oh—but consider—"

The thundering at the door drowned her voice. She flew to open it. Another wrathful husband bursts into the room, I thought I felt a little cold, and crept under some garments hanging in the closet.

A gruff voice roared and stormed. A tender, silver voice remonstrated. Othello was jealous and revengeful; Desdemona innocent and distressed, when I heard an ominous sound as of some one looking under the bed.

"I know he is here! I saw him come in to the house with you! You locked the door—or—I'll have his heart out!"

"Hear me! hear me! I will explain—"

As I was listening very anxiously for the explanation, the garments under which I was concealed were gently lifted and fancy my feelings, discovered in such a situation by such a husband! "Well, B——," we cried, deeply interested; for we knew that every word of his story was true; "how did you get out of the scrape?"

"I used a violent remedy for so violent a complaint. Drawn in a corner—my life in danger—perceiving at a glance that Othello was not as strong as I was; I threw myself upon him, fell with him to the floor, and held him there, until I had given a full explanation of the error, made him hear reason, and tamed him to be quiet as a lamb. Then I left rather unceremoniously, and I have never seen either Othello or Desdemona since."

"A little folly now and then,
Is relished by the wisest men."