The evening light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1881-1883, 1883-02-20
In DURANGO MOST VILE.
MIR. Baker Rusticates at the San Antonio
Bat Cave and Tells Interested Audi
tors How he Got There.
The Modern Sclonic Typo Describes His
Experience and Asks for Necessary
improvements.

Mr.. Baker was absent from his case. None
knew why. Some suggested that he had been
won in the matrimonial lottery he was organ
izing, and was spending his honeymoon in
rustication. Others that, tired of his life, he
had polluted the dark, muddy waters of the
San Antonio by suiciding, whilst many had
the opinion that he had skipped to fresh fields
and pastures new. A few, knowing his true
bohemian prediction in favor of whisky
straight, suggested that Bacchius had en-
shaved him, and that he was now enchanted
by the luscious god. When lists of the Re-
corder's court returns were handed in all
read it eagerly, but there were few before the
Great Mogul on that day, and the name of
Baker was conspicuous by its absence.
Days passed and still there was no
intelligence of Baker, and his disappearance
was an unsolvable mystery. He had evil
IDENTIFY passed away from the busy world Of
San Antonio and had made no sign. There
was some talk of asking the business manager
to offer a reward for the recovery of the
remains of the supposed deceased, which the
Typographical union, not having had funeral
for long time, were anxious to bury, and
they thought it would keep them experienced
in that mournful part of their fraternal under
taking.
The excitement was at its height when, TO
the great surprise of the boys, Mr. Baker
walked into the office. There was 4 blurred,
worn and seedy look about his countenance;
his clothes were creased in all directions, as if
he had slept in them, or just released them
upon
A HYPOTHECATION BOND
from Mr.. Emerson, and his whole
appearance indicated considerable weakness
and languor; moreover, the genial spirits of
Baker were considerably douched, and as
Baker is nothing if not genial this detracted
considerably from his general demeanor.
Still it was Baker in his habit as he stood,
and the boys crowded around him making a
thousand and one inquiries as to where he
had been. Borrowing chew of tobacco from
one OF his brother typos, which he evidently
relished, Mr.. Baker cleared his throat and
proceeded in sad and melancholy tone, i'll
suitng the joyial Baker: "Boys, thank you
for your kind inquiries, and for the cordial
way in which you welcome me on nay return.
You behold in me a melancholy man whose
life is wrecked. You ask where have been.
Listen, and Twill tell you. In the northwest
corner Of the Military plaza, made conspicu-
Gus by its presence, stands an ugly building
which has various names. To refined va
grants it is known as the Hotel Shar-
dein, SO called from the gentleman who
has charge of it. Others call it the Bat Cave.
Why, for reasons readily understood. In
city parlance it has the uneuphonious name
of the city Jail. There have |, for FIVE whole
days, been compulsory tenant what did
go there for? Hear him boySn did not
go there-they took me. What was l there
for? 'Vagrancy, Ell = The next varlet who
suggests such thing dies upon the spot, or
better still, stands drinks for the crowd and a
double dose for Baker. | am poor, but am
honest, and willing to work when can. No,
boys, it was drink, accused drink, that was
the primary cause of my incarceration in that
vile place. oh! that man, as Shakespeare
says, should put an enemy in his mouth to
steal away his brains;' but the enemy is so
Internally pleasant and insidious. es-
pecialy during these confounded uorthers.
thought after my lecture on the effects Of
drink that was proof against temptation.
intended well, but as hell is paved with good
intentions, so is the road to the Bat Cave, and
it is the
ONLY GOOD PAVEMENT IN THE CITY.
l was out with some boys; the norther bit
hercely, and, to homeless man like myself,
the saloon fire and whisky straight
were desirable necessities. | remember
that | felt comfortable and happy. A Jay
Gould or a Vanderbilt in all their untold
wealth were not happier than |. Did not
sing and dance, and spout to my hearts con-
tent before a crowd of interested spectators?
Then remember falling down in the midst of
Marc Antony'S Grafton. As Cesar fell at the
base of Pompey's statue, l, even /, fell at the
base of the stove and became oblivious to all
the applauding multitude. When l came to
myself | was in dark and by no means
pleasant smelling place. Where was 1? Could
it be hell? 1t was bad enough for that
Presently something passed over me like cat.
'Puss,' cried |. But o, horror! touched it
and found it was Shiny and like rat, and |
cried, 'Avant, thou evil spirit in loud and
agonized tones. This awoke man near me,
whose existence the darkness had hitherto
yelled from me, and he shouted, 'Why can't
you let a fellow sleep?' Friend said /,
where are wei? WHY, you idiot, you're in
the Bat Cave; you came in as drunk as lord,
last night Don't say so,' replied |; what
are these things crawling about here?' Rats
replied by unknown friend. Rats echoed
|, call them rats why they're as large as
an ordinary cat That's nothirg' answered
the unknown, aiming his boot at one who had
kissed him, perhaps for his mother, these are
young 'uns. | believe they get n sDecial