The summer and greater

The summer and greater part of the autumn after the “’gater” incident, I spent at the Mississippi Springs, and, while there, received a letter from a friend, who, next to myself, was the most ardent admirer Tim ever had. It was the last word relating to my comical four-footed intimate, and I cannot close this truthful narration more appropriately than by quoting from it:

“You will sympathize with me in our mutual loss. Probably, we have seen the last of our old friend Tim; he departed from his well scratched pole about two weeks ago, and is now on the road as an important item in ‘The Most Colossal Show Ever Known.’ He had grown so large, and his appetite for strong drink had increased to 108 such an alarming extent, that the attending darkies lost confidence in their ability to handle him. During his later days at the Lake, he appeared to have but one idea, and that related to opportunities for intoxication. Whenever his pen door opened, no matter for what purpose, he would make a rush for whoever came in, and demand to be led to the bar-room, and, if disappointed, would make a most furious demonstration.

“‘Captain Dan’ was immensely attached to him, but felt that the time had arrived when some disposition must be made of him. The menagerie at Algiers was the opportunity. A bargain was struck, and the time fixed for his departure.

“‘Captain Dan’ decided to give him a regular ‘Fourth of July’ send-off, and, to that end, invited a few of his most intimate friends and admirers to be 109 present at the performance. The guests were assembled, and Tim was released from his pole. He made a tremendous rush for the open bar-room door dragging two stalwart Africans after him at a break-neck pace. He went direct to his old corner where he found a large tin pan filled with a milk-punch such as he had never tasted before. He emptied it in short order and then, taking it between his paws, sat up, licked the last reminiscence of the punch out of it, and in a few moments became the most comical object imaginable. In fact he was never known to be more funny. He was laughed at, poked with sticks, had his ears pulled, but all to no purpose; he was too happy to be offended. He made a few efforts to stand erect and to appear sober and dignified, but ended each attempt by rolling over upon his back a helpless lump of limp intoxication.
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“In that condition, our old friend was bundled into a box on wheels, and made ready for his departure to the new life. Before going we all shook him by the paw, patted his head, and wished him a happy future, and, as he disappeared in the distance, there was a general expression of regret that we had seen the last of poor Tim. ‘Captain Dan’s’ lip trembled, and I feel sure if he had had it to do over again, he wouldn’t have done it.”

This parting with Tim proved to be the end of his connection with the friends of his babyhood and youth: none of them so far as I know, ever saw him again.