University of California Berkeley The THEODORE H. KOUNDAKJIAN COLLECTION OF AMERICAN HUMOR THE DORCAS SOCIETY AND OTHER SKETCHES BY 7*. PAUL PASTNOR [HUMORIST OF THE BURLINGTON FREE PRESS] ST. JOHNSBURY CHARLES T. WALTER 1889 COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY CHAS. T. WALTER The St. Johnsbury (Vt.) Republican Press: Printed by The Caledonia County Publishing Company. Electrotyped by C. J. Peters & Son, Boston. PREFATORY NOTE. SOME of the following sketches have never before been published ; but most of them have appeared, during the last few years, in the columns of Pdck, Life, Tid Bits, Outing, Detroit Free Press, Drake's Magazine, Burlington Free Press, and other jour- nals. Most of the sketches have been hastily pre- pared, in intervals of newspaper work, and the reader is asked to kindly pardon a somewhat care- less style and rapid treatment of subject less faults, perhaps, in humorous writing than in any other. PAUL PASTNOR. Burlington, Vt., May 2, 1889. THE DORCAS SOCIETY, AND OTHER SKETCHES. THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWN- INGTON. THE FIRST MEETING. HE first meeting of the Dorcas Society of Brown ingtoii was held at the house of Mrs. Dustin Enos. Twenty ladies were present, and about fifteen of their hus- bands congregated in the barn, and swapped horses, during the time the ladies were engaged in their deliberations. Mrs. Dustin Enos, by courtesy, was called to the chair. "It is proposed, ladies," she said, " that, as the first business of importance, we elect officers to preside over us, and transact our executive affairs." " Do we need officers for a Dorcas Society ? " inquired Mrs. Bogwell. " It would be parliamentary," remarked Mrs. Tucker. 1 2 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. i " Well, I don't know, I think we could get along better without 'em," protested Mrs. Bogwell. Twenty minutes were exhausted in debating the question whether the society had better have any officers or not. It was finally decided, by a vote of twelve to eight, v that it would be advisable to have officers. A president, vice-president, and secretary were accordingly elected. Mrs. Enos, though not appointed president, continued to occupy the chair, until it was mildly suggested by the secretary that she vacate in favor of the president-elect. Mrs. Enos then flounced out of the big rocking-chair at the head of the table, blushing painfully. She remarked that it was " her house, anyway, and she thought it was real mean not to let her preside." Mrs. D. K. Crane, -the newly elected president, assumed the chair with becoming dignity. " We are met, ladies," she said, "to organize a Dorcas Society for the town of Brownington. It has been suggested that the society have a motto, embodying in poetical form its mission and its character. I believe Mrs. Zenas Skinner has drawn up something in this line, which she will 'be glad to submit to the ladies." Mrs. Zenas Skinner took out her spectacles and deliberately adjusted them on her nose. She then THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BKOWNINGTON. 3 opened her work-bag and drew thence a roll of paper, which she unfolded with much satisfaction. Then, in a high voice, and with a sing-song tone, she read the following, " MOTTO FOB THE DORCAS SOCIETT. " Little pairs of breeches, Little shirts and coats, ' Make the heathen happy, And reform the bloats. " I had some reluctance," continued the blushing poetess, when the storm of applause which followed her little effusion had died away, " I had some reluctance about penning the last line. I was very much perplexed to find a rhyme for ' coats,' so I took the poem to my husband and asked him if he could suggest one. He at once inquired if we intended to include temperance work in our pro- gram. I told him that we certainly did ; that our field was the world. Then he proposed that the last line should read thus, ' And reform the sots.' But I pointed out to him that sots,' was not a per- fect rhyme for * coats ' ; and said I, 4 Zenas, we must make this poem perfect, because it ain't going to be' 4 $HE bOKCAS SOCIETY. very long, and what there is of it must be without fleck or flaw.' " 4 Exactly,' says he. Then he scratched his head for a minute. ' I have it ! ' he cried, 4 a rhyme as good as if made to order by Tennyson ; listen, ' Little shirts and coats, Make the heathen happy, And reform the bloats. 9 " ' Is that an elegant term ? ' said I. " 4 Don't it make an elegant rhyme?' said he, * and isn't that what you're after ? ' So I concluded that I would submit it to you, ladies, and let your judgment decide the matter. If anybody can sug- gest a better, rhyme, I should be glad to hear it." Mrs. Skinner moistened the point of her pencil in her mouth, and awaited developments. "How would 4 boots ' do?" ventured a little lady in the corner. "A very poor rhyme and what sort of sense would it make?" sneered Mrs. Skinner. "'And reform the boots,' huh ! " " Mrs. President," cried an impulsive lady, " why hasn't anybody thought of throats? That would cover the whole ground, besides being an elegant and proper word." THE DOKCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 5 " Throats throats " reflected the poetess, scratching her head with the end of her pencil. " ' Make the heathen happy, and reform the throats.' No, I don't think it would do, Mrs. Pres- ident. It might refer to sore throats or tonsilitis or diphtheria, or any other legitimate disease of that kind. I still think that 4 bloats ' is the best word. There is nothing ambiguous about it." "Well, does any lady think of another rhyme?" queried Mrs. President Crane. A few moments of deep thought succeeded, but nobody seemed to capture a rhyme. " I think, then, the motto will have to stand as it is," said Mrs. President Crane. 44 Will have to stand, Mrs. President ! " ex- claimed the author. " Don't you think it is a good one?" This was a rather embarrassing question, but the president artfully dodged it by calling for " a vote of thanks to the talented lady who had so kindly and promptly furnished the society with a motto." The vote was made by acclamation, and Mrs.'Zenas Skinner was radiantly happy. She walked to the secretary's seat with a bland smile, and laying the precious roll of manuscript in the centre of the record book, suggested that " the motto be en- 6 THE DOBCAS SOCIETY. grossed by our secretary, as handsomely as possible, upon the first page of the records." The secretary was so instructed. But just then Mrs. Enos's hired girl eame to the door and said that the refreshments were all ready ; so the society adjourned to the dining-room without the formality of a vote. THE SECOND MEETING. The Dorcas Society of Brownington held its second meeting at the house of its president, Mrs. D. K. Crane. The day was drizzly and snowy, but Mr. Crane had laid out a track on the ice of the pond near by, and when the husbands of the members of the society drove up with their wives, he invited them down on the ice to have* a trot.' In fact, it was an opportunity he had long been waiting for, as he had a fast colt and wanted a chance to lay a few bits on it. The ladies took off their wraps, warmed them- selves, and then collected in the parlor, where the meeting was called to order at two o'clock. When the secretary was asked to read the minutes of the last meeting, she said that. there had been company at her house during the entire week, and, as the hired girl had seized the opportunity to leave. THE DOECAS SOCIETY OF BKOWNINGTON. 7 she had not had time to write her notes up. She promised, however, that she would take extra pains to make them interesting, and would read them the succeeding week. As a compromise, Mrs. Zenas Skinner suggested that the motto of the society should be read, at all events i but as nobody seconded the motion it was lost. Mrs. Skinner then wanted to know if the secretary had engrossed the motto in the record book, as instructed ? The secretary replied that her domestic cares had prevented the performance of any literary work, whatever, during the week past. Whereupon Mrs. Skinner proposed that a new secre- tary be elected who could devote some time, at least, to the duties of her office. This motion also was lost. Mrs. Enos inquired if the Society was to have a constitution ? The question was put to vote and it was decided that a constitution was not necessary. Mrs. Bogwell declared that she " didn't see what help a constitution, or officers either, would be in making shirts arid pants for the heathen and the poor." Mrs. Tucker replied that organization was always a great power for good, and that, in general, * the more intellectuality that could be infused into work of any kind, the better its products would be ; 8 THE DOECAS SOCIETY. and she instanced the great improvement in fashion plates since women had been admitted to colleges, and society had become freckled with Browning circles. Mrs. Zenas Skinner thought that the intellectual- ity of the Dorcas Society was equal to a poetical constitution, and she moved that such a constitution be drawn up. President Crane reminded her that the motion to have a constitution of any sort had been lost.' Mrs. Skinner acknowledged that it had, but professed her readiness to compose a poetical constitution at any time, and upon any subject. She already had, she said, the beginning of one m her mind, " The Dorcas Society of Brownington, The name of it shall be; Its object, to make shirts and pants; Its officers shall be three, President, vice-president, and sec " "Mrs. Zenas Skinner will please come to order ! " cried Mrs. President Crane. " It has been voted that we shall not have a constitution at all ; and as there is important business still to come before the soci- ety, and the hour is getting late, I think we had better postpone this "informal discussion until some future time." Mrs. Skinner moved that the matter be laid upon THE DOKCAS SOCIETY OP BROWNINGTON. the table until the next meeting; and it was so voted (with great reluctance) as the only feasible method of inducing Mrs. Skinner to subside. Mrs. Emory Watkins then rose and begged leave to inquire the object of the Dorcas Society? The President replied that it was very well and succinct- ly stated in the motto, " Little pairs of breeches, Little shirts and coats.'* 44 What about ' little pairs of breeches, little shirts and coats?' " persisted Mrs. Watkins. 44 Why make 'em, of course ! " cried Mrs. Deacon Tucker. " Anybody would know that was what was meant." 44 Well, then, why don't we do it?" demanded Mrs. Watkins. This was something of a poser, and was succeeded by a brief silence, during which the excited shouts and yells of the men-folks v-acing horses down on the pond could be distinctly heard. 44 1 suppose it is because we aren't fully organized yet," replied Mrs. President Crane. 44 Well, for mercy's sake, how much longer is it going to j take to get organized, I should like to know?" indignantly demanded Mrs. Bogwell, "I 10 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. - said in the first place that we could get along better and do more work without any organization." " But not without a motto ? " interposed Mrs. Zenas Skinner. " No," replied Mrs. Bogwell, doubtfully. " I sup- pose a motto is well enough, if we could only let it rest now that we have got it." " Order ! order, ladies ! " exclaimed the presi- dent. "We really must get to business, or we shan't have time to do a thing before refresh- ments. ("Well, I'm glad she's got us something to eat, anyway," whispered the practical Mrs. Bogwell to her next neighbor. " I'm sick and tired of all this intellectuality") " Well, what business is there to be done ? " in* quired the obstructionist, Mrs. Emory Watkins. " Why, I suppose we must get fully organized," replied the president. "I don't see but what we are fully organized," replied Mrs. Watkins. " We've got a motto and three officers, and if that ain't enough intellectuality for makin' a pair of pants, then I don't know anything about pants." Mrs. Skinner said in a low voice to Mrs. Deacon Tucker, that she didn't believe Mrs. Watkins did THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 11 know anything about pants, if her husband's clothes were anything to judge by. Just then there was a great hullabaloo in the yard, and the ladies distinctly heard Deacon Tucker call Mr. Crane a " condemned horse jockey, anyway ! " Whereupon Mr. Crane assured the deacon that his character was not altogether without blemish, and that it would afford him the greatest pleasure to met him (the deacon) behind the barn, or anywhere else, privately. The Deacon replied that if he were not a pillar of the church, he would be most happy to ac- commodate Mr. Crane, and had no doubt he should be able to return any compliments of his in the most satisfactory manner. This little altercation woke up the Dorcas Society like a mouse, and the worthy ladies rushed out to quiet the'ir lords, and separate the irascible Deacon Tucker and the wily Mr. Crane. THE THIRD MEETING. Mrs. Zenas Skinner entertained the Dorcas So- ciety of Brownington, at its third meeting. Mrs. Skinner had been petitioning for the honor ever since the organization of the society, but it was only by the utmost perseverance and importunity that she 12 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. obtained it at last ; for everybody feared that if the good lady once secured a sort of purchase on the Dorcas sisters, by virtue of her hospitality, she would use it with a royal vengeance, and perhaps inflict bushels of poetry and unlimited quantities of parliamentary advice upon them. The precedent set by Mrs. Dustin Enos who was unwilling to resign the chair, you will remember, because the first meet- ing of the society was held at her house lingered in the minds of the sisterhood. It was, therefore, with many misgivings, and no little apprehension, that . the worthy ladies who composed this most use- ful and benevolent body gathered on the afternoon of the appointed day, at the trim little cottage of Mrs. Skinner. That lady, resplendent in a new figured gown, and a darling little cap with pink bows, received them, all smiles and sweetness, and con- ducted them into her parloi*. Like almost all liter- ary ladies, however, she was so forgetful of the gentlemen as not to have provided a single resource for their entertainment ; and as Mr. Skinner had no iiorse to race, or swap, and not even a barn to keep a horse in, the lords of creation who brought their wives to the meeting were obliged to drive home again, without even an invitation to return in time for refreshments. Mrs. Skinner, however, was not THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 13 at all annoyed by their remarks. She cared not a fig for all the men and all masculine opinions, this side of the garden of Eden. If she could but get a choice company of female spirits together, it was immaterial to her by what accessory means they were assembled. Promptly on the stroke of two o'clock, Mrs. D. K. Crane called the meeting to order. Mi's. Skinner was observed to nod approvingly. This was encour- aging and discouraging, too. Mrs. Skinner had never been observed to make such a demonstration before ; it might mean good, it might bode evil. " At the close of our last meeting, I believe," said Mrs. President Crane, " tl\e question was before us, whether or not we were sufficiently organized. I presume it will be in order to make this question our first business." "Beg pardon, Mrs. President!" exclaimed the secretary, starting up. " I have got those notes written up at last, and " " O sure enough ! sure enough ! " cried the presi- dent, blushing. "I declare, I forgot all about the minutes. Will the secretary please read them." The secretary wiped her spectacles, hemmed and hawed, and began to read. The minutes slipped by five, ten, twelve, fifteen, slipped into the great 14 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. shoreless sea of the past. Still the secretary read on. She had evidently concentrated all her energies upon this literary performance. It was to be the crowning achievement of her life. She had never been a secretary before, and she did not know how long it would be before she would cease to be a sec- retary. She was bound to make the most of it while it lasted. Mrs. Skinner looked at the clock. Half an hour since the meeting was called to order. Half an hour ! and she had so much to say, to read, to suggest, to propound, to criticise ! Besides, Mrs. Skinner had always had a prejudice against the sec- retary, because the latter did not fall down and wor- ship the motto of the society. It was unendurable. " Mrs. President ! " exclaimed Mrs. Skinner, rising to her feet. The secretary looked over her spectacles in amaze- ment and vexation. " The secretary has the floor, Mrs. Skinner," said Mrs. President Crane, evasively. "Yes, but hasn't she had it long enough?" inquired Mrs. Skinner. " Question ! question ! " called a lady in .the back part of the room, who had heard her husband make such a remark in a public meeting. THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BEOWNINGTON. 15 "There's no question about it," said Mrs. Presi- dent Crane, decidedly. " The secretary has the floor, and she is entitled to it till she gets through." At this, the secretary, with great composure, re- sumed reading. This drove Mrs. Skinner nearly frantic. " Mrs. President ! " she screamed, " I'd like to know whose house this is, anyway ? " " Order ! order ! " cried Mrs. President Crane, pounding her chair. " Go on, Mrs. Secretary." " How near done are you, anyway ? " asked Mrs. Skinner, stepping forward to look in the book. 16 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. " Goodness gracious, ladies ! she's got two pages more of the stuff. I move that we elect a new secretary." " Second the motion ! " cried a voice from the rear of the room. Then arose such a hubbub as has not been heard since the bricklayers on the tower of Babel struck. It was undeniable that a motion had been made and seconded; but whether it was parliamentary to make a motion while somebody else had the floor that was the question. "I call for the question!" screamed Mrs. Skinner. " Hold on ; it isn't parliamentary ! " hooted Mrs. Watkins. "Tis too!" 'Tisn't ! " " Order ! " from the president. " Question ! " from five or six voices. " Order ! " from twice as many others. The sentiment of the meeting finally restored comparative quiet, in the midst of which it was observed that the secretary was putting on her things to leave, with an expression of mingled grief and rage upon her countenance which was simply heart-rending. " Why, where are you going, Mrs. Secretary ? " inquired the president, pathetically. THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BKOWHIKGTOtf. IT The secretary made no reply, but picking up her work-bag, full of personal stationery, and slamming together the record book upon the desk, 'sailed majestically out of the room. " Now, see what you have done ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bogwell. " See what who has done ? " demanded Mrs. Skinner. " You," retorted half a dozen of the secretary's private friends. " Well, I'd like to know whose house this is, any- way ? " exclaimed the insulted poetess, raising her voice. This was a poser. It seems to be a general impression among the gentler sex that a woman can do just about as she pleases in her own house. All laws of order and priority have to give way before the imperial rights of a woman under her own roof. " I think all this sort of thing has gone about far enough," said Mrs. Watkins, the obstructionist, ris- ing and addressing her crestfallen sisters. " Four weeks ago we started a benevolent society for the simple purpose of making clothes for the suffering poor in this town. That as I take it was our sole and only object ; if it wasn't, it ought to have been. Well, now, what have we accomplished? 18 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. "We have got a motto " (Mrs. Squires nodded approvingly), "we have got a president, a vice- president, and a well, no, I don't know as we have either. So far so good but meanwhile as to our avowed object. Have we made a single pair of pants? Have we made a single shirt or coat? much less reformed a single bloat? No? well, I guess we haven't. Yesterday, a poor woman came to me and asked me if our new Dorcas Society couldn't let her have a few little frocks and coats for her children, to keep 'em from freezing. What did I have to tell her, ladies ? I had to tell her that we weren't organized yet ! yes, I did. I told her that if she would come around some time next June, we might perhaps give her^a few warm frock^ and coats yes, I did. And meanwhile I gave her what I had in the house myself. Now, I submit that this sort of thing is scandalous ridiculous, ladies ! If we are going to have a debating or liter- ary society, why not " 44 The taters and sassengers is done to a turn, muin," interrupted Mrs. Skinner's hired girl, thrust- ing her head in at the door. " Very well ; ladies, we must adjourn," said Mrs. Skinner. " Cold fried potatoes aren't fit for a cat to eat." THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 19 THE FOURTH MEETING. The fourth meeting of the Dorcas Society of Brownington, at Mrs. Bogwell's house, was an occa- sion of mingled joy and sorrow. The organization had reached the fourth week of its existence, and still lived to prosecute its noble work; but it had lost its faithful secretary and also its vice-president. The latter a personal friend of the retiring sec- retary having taken umbrage at wha,t she con- sidered the society's shameful treatment of her coadjutor, had resigned her connection with the organization, not formally, for a woman never resigns or accepts an office formally, but by affirm- ing to several of its members in private, that she didn't want anything more to do with the nasty thing, so there ! With its. ranks thus decimated, and a depressing sense of trouble yet to come, the Dorcas Society assembled on a bleak Thursday in March, in the parlors of the hospitable Mrs. Bogwell. The hum of conversation was so low when Mrs. President Crane struck the table with the under side of her fist, that the crash of a large and valua - ble sea-shell falling off upon the floor was distinctly audible. So deep was the sense of apprehension 20 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. that the ladies came immediately to order, a thing never heard of before in a meeting of the gentler sex. Only the mournful click, click of the broken pieces of sea-shell, as Mrs. Bogwell gathered them into a plate, broke the silence. " Ladies," said Mrs. President Crane, " this is a solemn and important occasion. The deliberations of the present meeting will probably decide whether the Dorcas Society of Brownington shall continue its stormy existence, hoping for a quiet port and calm anchorage by and by, or shall founder here and now in the mid-ocean of trial and disappointment. We are still unorganized ; we have lost two of our most trusty and faithful officers ; there is a spirit, I am afraid, of dissatisfaction not to say mutiny among some of our members. The winter is rapidly passing, and we have not relieved the sufferings of the thinly clad of this village to any very great extent. I will admit that we have a motto and and a president ; but that is all we have left " At {his juncture Mrs. Skinner interrupted the remarks of the president with a motion to the effect that the motto of the society be read ; but the motion was overruled by spontaneous signs of dis- approbation on the part of the other ladies present, and the president continued her remarks. THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 21 " As I was saying, ladies, we have nothing but a motto and a president left. Now the question which comes before us to-day, and which will decide whether we sink or swim, survive or perish, is this, shall we elect new officers to fill the places of our departed sisters, or shall we forthwith adjourn sine die, and give up the project of establishing a Dorcas Society in Brownington ? " " I move you, Mrs. President, that we elect a new secretary ! " exclaimed Mrs. Zenas Skinner. There was a moment's pause, and then somebody seconded the motion. " It's parliamentary, you know," whispered Mrs. Skinner to her next neighbor, so loudly that she could be heard in the remotest corner of the room, " it's parliamentary to nominate first the one who makes the motion." "Is that so?" asked the president with an expression of deep concern and alarm, glancing around the circle of ladies. "Seems to me it is," said Mrs. Watkins, sadly. " I have a dim recollection of having read or heard something of the sort." Mrs. Skinner's face glowed like a Lake Cham- plain sunset. " I call for the motion ! " she cried. * 4 Well, ladies," said Mrs. President Crane, " it is. 22 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. moved and seconded that we elect a new secretary. As many of you as will so order, please raise the right hand." About two-thirds of the hands came up. " It is so ordered. Now whom will you nomi- nate for secretary ? " Mrs. Skinner looked sharply and ominously around the circle, as much as to say, " Now if you don't nominate me, ladies, I'll raise such a row as was never heard of in a parliamentary body be- fore I" "I nominate Mrs. Skinner," said a faint voice from under the mantel-piece. " Second the nomina- tion," said another faint voice from the corner. " Mrs. Skinner is nominated to fill the place of secretary in the society," said Mrs. President Crane. " As many of you as will so order, please raise your right hands." The same two-thirds' show of hands came up again, Mrs. Zenas Skinner's quickest and highest of all. < " Mrs. Zenas Skinner is elected." Mrs. Zenas Skinner rose, her face beaming with smiles, and, with little bows of acknowledgment right and left, threaded her way to 'the secretary's table. Here she proudly seated herself and drew forth an extensive collection of hers, pencils and paper, which showed that the result -of the election h.ad not been altogether unexpected pi*, ker part. - THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 23 Selecting a well-sharpened Faber, she laid a sheet of foolscap before her, and proceeded to chronicle her own election. " It will now be in order to elect a new vice-presi- dent," said Mrs. President Crane. "Whom will you nominate ? " " Mrs. President," said Mrs. Secretary Skinner, laying down her pen, and rising with dignity; "I would nominate a lady not present to-day, who, I think, possesses more qualifications for a vice-presi- dent than any other lady in this town, inasmuch as she has been twice divorced, has had lots of scandal attached to her name, and if there are any other vices peculiar to our sex, is not, so far as T am aware, destitute of any one of them." " For shame ! " exclaimed the whole society with one voice. "I should just like to know why? " screamed Mrs. Skinner, in the midst of the tumult. "Mrs. Presi- dent, I appeal to you is not that the popular deri- vation and meaning of the word vice-president? " " No, it is not ! " replied Mrs. President Crane, decidedly. " Well, I should just like to know what it is de- rived from, then ? " inquired the secretary. " Can you tell me, Mrs. President?" 24 THE DOHCAS SOCIETY. " Certainly, I well, let me see I think it comes from no, it doesn't either Can any lady present enlighten Mrs. Skinner with regard to the derivation of the word vice-president ? " Mrs. Skinner seized her pencil, and sat defiantly waiting. No reply was vouchsafed to the presi- dent's appeal. "Well, what does it come from?" urged the secretary. Silence was the only response. u Very well," said the unassailable secretary. "Nobody can tell what it comes from. How can anybody deny that it comes from what I said it did from itself, from the English word ' vice,' com- pounded with 'president ? ' ' Nobody could deny it. " Now Mrs. President," said Mrs. Zenas Skinner, " I present the name of Mrs. Elihu-Jonas Babcock, as the nominee for the office of vice-president of this society. " Second the nomination," said Mrs. Watkins, the obstructionist, who was completely overawed by the business capacity and tenacity of the new secretary. The nomination was put to vote, and the singu- larly suitable Mrs. Elihu-Jonas Babcock was elected vice-president of the Society. " Mrs. President," said Mrs. Watkins, rising, " J THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 25 have a long list of applications for clothing from the suffering poor of Brownington, which I should like to" " Ladies ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bogwell, who had stolen from the room a few moments previous, " I do hate to interrupt you, but it is either cold corn- cake or no more deliberation. Take your choice. " The society immediately adjourned. THE FIFTH AND LAST MEETING. Mrs. Deacon Tucker's hospitable home received the sisters of the Dorcas Society at their next meet- ing, which, owing to unforeseen events, did not occur until the first week in April. It was a beautiful sunshiny day, and spears of green were thrusting up everywhere amid the brown grass. The attendance, however, was not as large as usual, and the ladies, with the exception of Mrs. Skinner, seemed to be despondent and non-committal. The meeting was called to order by Mrs. President Crane, at the usual hour, two o'clock. When the minutes of last meeting were called for, Mrs. Skin- ner, the new secretary, responded with alarming promptness, and the ladies were horrified beyond measure, to hear her launch into hexameters with 26 THE DOKCAS SOCIETY. alternate rhymes, she having thrown her report into the sublime form of poetry. The reading of this metrical chronicle was, not completed until twenty minutes of three, and when the secretary at last sat down, a long-drawn sigh of relief escaped the bosoms of all present. Mrs. Watkins rose. " Mrs. President " she said, " I endeavored to present, at the last meeting, a list of applications for clothing from the suffering poor of this town, but was prevented by the sudden ad- journment of the society for refreshments. It was very late in the season then, and I now' rejoice to say that all necessity for extra clothing has been mercifully removed by the advancing spring, so that, as far as I can see, the mission of the Dorcas Society of Brownington is accomplished. I have the list of applications with me, but as it has now become obso- lete I shall ask the society's permission to destroy it.'* Mrs. President Crane blushed visibly. " We were so long getting organized," she said, " and attending to other necessary parliamentary matters, that I am afraid we did not get to work with our needles as early as we ought." "No, and we haven't done any very remarkable temperance work, either," said Mrs. Bogwell, more in sorrow than in anger. " In fact, I may say we THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BRO WNINGTON. 27 have done none at all. And if I should tell the whole truth, I am afraid I should be obliged to con- fess, that we have done nothing at all, in any direc- tion." " I think we have accomplished something in the literary line," remarked Mrs. Zenas Skinner, com- placently. "Well,/ don't!" exclaimed Mrs. Deacon Tucker, sotto voce. " I have done what I could during the winter to keep up the credit of the society," resumed Mrs. Bogwell, " and I must give Mrs. Watkins credit for having done as much, if not more. Together, I think we have given away at least a dozen pairs of pants and seven or eight coats, not to mention frocks for the children and underclothing. And this, too, without interfering seriously with our literary duties and privileges in this society. But we have not done what we might have done, and ought to have done, because we have allowed ourselves too many parliamentary and intellectual distractions. As for our temperance work, speaking for myself, I will say that that, unlike my charity, has been home work. I hesitate, of course, to speak of domestic matters in a public place like this, and yet it may be some en- couragement for the sisters to go and do likewise, 28 THE DOKCAS SOCIETY. if I tell you that during the winter I have spilled two barrels of cider and broken nine new bottles of Granite and Rye Tonic Bitters. I have also given my husband to understand that, if he does not wish to begin the use of Dr. Grougham's Hair Restorer before he is fifty years old, he must wear nothing heavier than a handkerchief in his hat. I think he understands me pretty well. And now, ladies, I have told you the practical work I have been en- gaged in during the winter. My only regret is that I have allowed the Dorcas Society to hamper my usefulness, and in order that it may do so in the future no more, I hereby tender my resignation from its membership, to take effect at the present moment. I wish you all good afternoon, ladies, and a pleasant parliamentary session." So saying, Mrs. Bogwell marched out of the room, got her shawl and bonnet, and went home. " I should also like to resign," said Mrs. Watkins, rising as Mrs. Bogwell left the room. "And me too ! and me too ! " exclaimed six or seven ladies in different parts of the room. " I hope, ladies," said Mrs. Deacon Tucker, with evident anxiety, "that you won't all leave before refreshments." At this, several of the ladies, who had risen to their feet, sat down again. THE DORCAS SOCIETY OF BROWNINGTON. 29 " There seems to be a general desire on the part of the members of the Dorcas Society," said Mrs. President Crane, " to resign the benevolent work for which we have organized ourselves, and pursue our charities and philanthropies individually instead of corporally." (Here Mrs. Skinner stopped writing, and looked at the president with intense admira- tion). "Such being the case, and the severe wea- ther being now past " "And house cleaning at hand," suggested Mrs. Watkins. . " True and house cleaning being at hand, I would suggest that we not exactly break up, but adjourn sine die." " Second the motion ! " exclaimid ten or twelve voices. " It isn't a motion ! " cried the president, excit- edly. " It would not be parliamentary for. the pre- siding officer to make a motion." "Well, then, /make it!" exclaimed one of the malcontents. "And I second it!" said Mrs. Watkins, with de- cided emphasis. "It is moved and seconded," said Mrs. President Crane, "that the Dorcas Society of Brownington adjourn sine die. All who will so order say aye." 30 THE DORCAS SOCIETY. " Hold on a minute ! " cried Mrs. Deacon Tucker. " What does sine die mean ? " " Without a day," replied Mrs. President Crane. " I move that the motion be amended to read 4 or night either,' " said Mrs'. Watkins. " We want to fix things so that we can't get together again on any pretext." " I accept the amendment ! " cried the lady who had made the motion. " Very well," said Mrs. President Crane. " It is moved that the Dorcas Society of Brownington, adjourn without day, or night either. All those in favor will say aye." "AYE!" " Contrary minded, no." " No ! " said Secretary Skinner. "The ayes have it, and the society will adjourn without day, or night." "And now, ladies," cried Mrs. Deacon Tucker, " if you will all adjourn to the dining-room " " One moment, please ! " It was Secretary Skin- ner, who had risen with a sheet of foolscap in her hand. " My husband said he thought like as not we would break up inside of two weeks, and one evening, while I was writing up the records and he was rocking the baby and mending his stockings, he DOECAS SOCIETY 01* EKOWNItfGtOtf. 31 said that a little piece of poetry had popped into his mind, which he would like to have me set down and read to the society when it 'collapsed.' I promised that I would, and here it is, 'EPITAPH FOB THE DORCAS SOCIETY. 'Here lies the Brownington Dorcas Society ; It's life was a fraud, it's death a propriety.' '' CAMPING. SUMMER is the season of the year when people go camping at least, some people do^ mostly those who have never been before. The typical camp is pretty familiar to the general reader. It consists mainly of a tent, a couple of, blankets, a hole in the ground and a dog. The tent is used to swelter in until it rains, and then it is the best place on the premises for anybody who wants to get wet. The blankets are intended for slumber- ing purposes; but after the first night they are generally required to keep the rain out of the meal, and the bugs out of the sugar. The hole in the ground is the kitchen. The cook- ing is done there. The cooking is a good deal like the hole. No particular use has ever been discov- ered for the dog. But he is always there. He makes himself useful, mainly, in eating up the lard and tipping over the milk-pail. These are the only refreshments that he ever has. His favorite occupa- tion in the night is to sit close by the tent door, with his mouth open, and keep the moon off. 32 CAMPING. 33 We forgot to mention the campers. These are usually male and female either or both. They wear blue flannel day and night, and have sun- burned noses. They are generally better fed than the dog, and not quite so lean. They live on what- ever the cook gets up for them. Sometimes, he only gets up early in the morning. Then the campers are very indignant because he did not let them know that the provisions were out. The cook can alwa} r s be distinguished from the rest of the party by the crock on his nose and the way he skulks about among the trees. He and the dog are generally the most cordial enemies. This is not healthy for the dog; but he can't help it. Camping parties usually remain out until the first or second rain. Some of them stand it a week. A good deal depends on the cook. Most cooks can break up the longest-winded camping-party inside of ten days. Some can-do it in a day. The time in camp is usually spent in various ways. Some go a-fishing. But as those who catch the fish are expected to clean them, this sport is not considered very exciting. The best fun is boating without fishing, and bathing. Most campers' boats furnish bathing and 84 CAMPING. "' ^ % '' boating facilities at the same time. This is very convenient for those who are too lazy to undress. The generality of campers are desperately lazy. Their food has something to do with it. Where there are males and females, the bathing has to be done in bathing suits. This is very amusing, because you can never tell whether a camper is going bathing, or going out under the trees to write poetry. The bathing-suit and the camping-suit are just alike. As a rule, nobody ever falls in love while out camping. This is what makes mixed parties so safe. It looks awfully dangerous in theory, but when it comes to practice, there isn't anything dangerous about it. A creature who is perfectly lovely in a ball-dress, can't smite worth a cent in a blue flannel blouse, with a man's big straw hat tied down over her ears, and the skin peeling off the end of her nose. She's just a jolly little insignificant camper that's all. Nobody thinks of falling in love with a camper. And as for the males why, all you need is to just see one of them. You would think they were all looking for a job on the railroad. They wouldn't be allowed to walk single file with a squad of tramps. Camps are great places to cure love, too. If thg young man who goes away to a foreign land with a broken heart, trying to forget her trying in vain, while his heart-strings ache^ and his appetite dwindles down to a fine point if this poor love- sick young man could only camp for a week in a party with his dear idol, he would come home with an enormous hankering for roast-beef, and a big comfortable patch of contentment on his broken heart. Lots of married people have come mighty near curing their love in camp. It's a risky experi- ment, and all true lovers will be wisely advised to fight shy of it. If there is any day in 'camp which stands out in the memory of the happy tenters with peculiar delightfulness and brightness, it is breaking-up day. Oh, how glad they all are to start for home ! Not that they haven't had a pleasant time far from that ; but, after all, the chief charm of getting away anywhere is getting back again, you know. And then, think of a real cooked dinner, on a real table, without bugs ! It is enough to make the most bigoted camper lick his chops and relent. The happiest member of the party, when the tent comes down and goes into the bag, is the dog. The next happiest is the cook. Away goes the merry crowd in the lumber-wagon, 36 THE BABY IK THE CAB. singing "Home, Sweet Home" as if their hearts would burst. The dog gambols alongside ; the driver shouts and cracks his whip; the children laugh and whistle; and nothing appears to look very sad, except the face of the farmer of whom they have bought eggs and milk, and the big hole where the cook has crocked his nose and vented his long- dormant profanity. THE BABY IN THE CAE. " AH-AH-AH-AH w-a-g-h ! " There is a baby in the car ! The old gentleman on the fifth seat, front, turns around with the slow exasperation of age, arid fixes his filmy eyes full upon the scarlet face of the infant. His thin lips are slightly parted, and an expression of the most intense disgust is stamped upon his parchment-colored features. " Uh-uh-uh-uh a-h a-h-h ! " Two drummers spread out their overcoats, satchels and newspapers over a section of six seats on the pleasant side of the car, and dis- appear across the platform, holding tightty to their hats in the fierce wind. THE BABY IN THE CAB. 37 Aha-aha-aha a-h-h I " . " Drat the baby ! Can't you keep it still ? " asks the man in the second seat, front, as he throws down his paper in a badly-rumpled condition, and paces nervously back and forth, with his hands in his pockets, between his seat and that occupied by the infant aiid its mother. " Sh-sh there there ! " croons the poor woman, holding the baby close to her bosom, and rocking back arid forth : " There, there coo, coo." " W-a-g-h w-a-g-h ! " There is an old maid sitting eight seats in advance, on the opposite side of the car. Until now she has maintained a profile like a sphynx, as her stony eyes ran to and fro across the lines of a railroad library edition of the " History of the Nineteenth Century." Suddenly, she drops the book in her lap, and, turn- ing sharply about, fixes her cold, stern gaze, not upon the infant's suffused puff-ball, but upon the pale, weary face of the mother. There are volumes in that gaze ! Were it to be translated into full and adequate language, it could not be contained in nine portly folios of solid agate type. All the bitterness and the sweetness of single blessedness ; all the phariseeism of self-righteous irresponsibility ; all the indignation of comfort- 38 THE BABY IN THE CAB. able independence disturbed by the what-might- have-been-expected result of weak * sentimentality ; all the chanticleer-like exultation of triumphant Mary- Walker-ism ; all the meek mulishness of smoo th-haired, I-told-you-so, got - the - mittenedness. She looks straight at the faded-out little woman with the blooming infant, and the steel bows of her spectacles bristle with steel glances, like a couple of quivers full of barbed arrows. " That woman ought to be ashamed of herself ! " Then one of the drummers returned with an orange, which he put into the chubby hands of the infant. A look of utter astonishment passed into the small face, transforming a woful grimace into an expression half-way between a peach and a twinge of the colic. A solitary tear, which had been evolved during the spasm of lamentation, trickled down the puffy cheek, and the little nose was already twisted with the approach of another cyclone of grief. But the orange prevailed. A gleam of unutterable satis- faction fell upon the mournful territory of the tear like a sunbeam on a rainy landscape and the baby laughed ! Then there was great rejoicing in the car. The old gentleman went peacefully to sleep ; the bust- AMATEUR JUMPING. 39 ness man resumed his paper ; the old maid returned to the "Nineteenth Century"; and the drummer took the six reserved seats, with the blessings of all the passengers on his head. AMATEUR JUMPING. ONE day last week I sat on the piazza of a small summer hotel that stood within a few rods of the railroad station. It was a very hot afternoon, and I had almost dropped off to sleep, when I was aroused by the shriek and rumble of the approaching through express. I knew that the train would pass the station like lightning, and would probably bring with it a small but very grateful hurricane of cool air ; so I straightened up in my chair, took off my hat, and prepared to enjoy the momentary relief. With a prolonged, ear-piercing scream, the loco- motive dashed into sight, and behind it came the rocking, dust-enveloped train. As the coaches flashed by in front of me, I was amazed to see through the cloud of dust, a man standing on the lower step of one of the platforms, clinging with his left hand to the iron railing, and with one foot advanced, as though about to step off. Could it be 40 AMATEUR JUMPING. possible that he was going to try to jump from a train going at such terrific speed ? What I beheld, and am about to relate, was all transferred to my brain by nature's instantaneous photography in about two shakes of a meteor's tail. When the man reached the platform of the station, he stepped off or at least he thought he did. It was probably the longest step he ever took in his life, unless he was a married man and I don't believe a married man would be such a fool. The place where this man intended to step was doubt* less a very good place to do such a thing ; the only objection to it was, it didn't come to time as promptly as he expected. About ten yards farther down the platform was another good place to step which the man had not seen beforehand, and he stepped there. The instant he touched the plat- form and let go the train he seemed to be struck by a sudden idea, and that idea seemed to be that he had a very important engagement with a man, in the direction in which he was going. I never saw any- body in quite so much of a hurry in my life. He was in such a hurry that he couldn't stop to go afoot. The first thing that he did was to come down slap on his face with a cold, clammy thud, like a second-breakfast slapjack on a frozen plate. But AMATEUR JUMPING. 41 before you could say Jack Robinson, he had taken a couple of summersaults over a box of store crackers, and knocked a pile of hides to Plutoville, and gone. Then, leaving the hides to take care of themselves, he slid for about fifteen feet on that portion of his nether garments where the tailor wastes the most cloth, went through one of the wheels of a horse- rake, leaving four of his front teeth for the rent of his coat, and imprinting a deep phrenological impression upon a bale of hay, stood on his shoul- ders against a barrel of pork long enough to let his watch drop out and smash. He then rolled over five or six times, scratched off all the pleasant expression of his face on a lot of iron scraps, slid over a set of scales without stopping to be weighed, and brought up square against a shed at the other end of the platform with a bang that could be heard for a quarter of a mile. I supposed, of course, that the man was dead, and rushing into the hotel ordered, at the top of my voice, "A coroner for one ! " As I came out again, however, I was horrified to see the corpse sitting up, rubbing its elbows, and spitting blood. I went over as quick as I could, and asked the man if he felt bad anywhere. He said he guessed he did, but couldn't tell exactly where. Then I asked him if I coul$ 42 AMATEUR JUMPING. help him to hunt up his teeth, or be of assistance in any other way. He said if I would tell him the time of day, and where he was, he believed he could dispense with my services without dying of grief. Just then the landlord appeared upon the scene, and he and I picked up the man and carried him over to the hotel. He remarked on the way that he would walk if it were not for the condition of his trousers, but he was afraid he had been sitting down some- where against the grain. He wanted to know if he had been asleep, or what was the matter with him. I told him I guessed he hadn't been asleep, for I didn't see how a man could be as lively as he had been for the past few seconds and get much rest. We took the unfortunate creature into the hotel, and the landlord wanted him to register, but I sug- gested that we had better put him to bed, and give him a chance to rest and reflect a little. I sat down beside him, and was just getting him into a cheerful frame of mind, when it transpired from a statement of mine, that the station where he got off was Jones ville. **> " Good heavens ! " he exclaimed, " the place where I wanted to stop was Robinsontown ? " " That's four miles farther down the road," said I, " and the train stops there for wood and water." ABOUT WEATHER-PROPHETS. THE prophet is not an extinct bird, neither is it one which has but just chipped the shell of evolution, in these later days. There have been prophets in all ages. As long ago as the very venerable an- cients wrote in pon- derous prose and inter- minable hexameters, there were prophets oracles they called them who sat on three-legged milking stools and delivered, after much coaxing, such dark sayings that people could never tell whether they came true or not. (This, by the way, is the crowning attainment of the accomplished prophet ? to say things in such a way that nobody can tell, in the end, whether he 44 ABOUT WEATHER PROPHETS. is right or not. This is where weather-prophets fail.) But what is a weather-prophet ? A weather-prophet is a prophet who thinks that he has got the bulge on the weather, vulgarly speaking. He doesn't sit on a Jhree-legged stool, and he doesn't deliver dark sayings; but nevertheless he is a prophet. His way of doing things is somewhat like this : He takes a little notebook and he makes a little record of the weather for, say, six months this day pleasant, this day beautiful, this day fair, this day clouded, this day drizzly, this day rain, snow, slush, blizzard, storm, red-hot, blazing, etc. Then he turnb his pencil upside down, in the winter, and says, " Well, here's a lot of spring days in this column. Spring is coming. Now I will choose, say, the the eleventh of next March for my key-day. I will shut my eyes, swing my pencil in a circle three times, and then jab down with it. Where the butt rests, that is to be the weather for that day." He shuts his eyes and jabs. When lifting the reversed end of the pencil, he reads, " Great storm to-day. Lots of clothes lines stripped." " Very good," he says ; " storm it is ; but it mustn't be a local storm. That won't pay. I guess ABOUT "VPEAfHER-PKOPHEl 1 S. 45 I will put it into the papers, ' Great, destructive storm along the whole coast and inland. People who have ships and clothes out will do well to buy one of my almanacs, and then they will know exactly when to take 'em in.' ' This is the way the weather-prophet gets the bulge on the weather. It doesn't make any difference to him whether the storm comes or not, he has sold just so many almanacs, and his pockets stick out for fatness. Well, now, suppose that the weather-prophet, instead of being bogus, was a true prophet. Sup- pose he sat on a three-legged stool ; suppose he said things darkly, in this wise : " For the middle States fair weather, with local rains, northwest to southeast winds, and rising or falling barometer." He would be a genuine oracle, but he wouldn't sell many almanacs. No ; what the people want is a man with a very large bump of veracity on the same side with a very large cheek. They don't care a shuck what the weather turns out to be they want a man that knows all about it beforehand. There is all the difference in the world > bet ween a natural prognosticator of the weather and a profes- sional weather-prophet. The former only guesses what the weather is going to be to-morrow any- body can do that ; the latter knows just what it is 46 AfcOtJT WEATflEB PKOPHETS. going to be six weeks hence. The people will jpay liberally for this kind of knowledge. It is worth something to know when we are going to have a big storm, whether it comes or not. Tut! these little shotgun guessers aren't the fellows we want to hear from. Give us a long-range, infallible, rifle-barrelled prophet, who scorns to scatter small conjectures over large targets at short distances, but is always ready to project a single, compact dictum over vast meteorological ranges at barely distinguishable possibilities. Give us a Vennor or a Wiggins, and a small boy to sit behind the target and put in fresh bull's-eyes at every shot. Your meteorological priests, seers, oracles, sitting on their three-legged stools and delivering doubtful opinions, are well enough ; but after all they are pretty small fry compared with a pope of the weather like Wiggins. O Wiggins ! thou dost understand the meteorological mystery ! Thou hast the key of the weather, and dost understand the combination lock thereof. Immortal Wiggins ! What was the oracle at Delphi to thee? Thou dost not instruct by omens of wings and entrails. Thou sayest point-blank, ABOUT WEATHER-PROPHETS. 47 " TJiere will be a great storm," and' a great storm is not. Divine vaticination ! Would that all men were * weather-prophets! Smith, Jones, Robinson pub- lish an almanac. I have told you how the thing is done. Go in, and lard those thin pockets of yours with some fat buzzard dollars. You must go Wig- gins one better, of course. You must announce that on, well, say the sixteenth of June, there will come a red-hot trade wind out of the south, trimmed on the west edge with cyclones and on the northeast corner with a Minnesota blizzard, and lay every crop flatter than a fence-rail and shrivel it worse than a mother-in-law's grandmother, while every lake and pond and river in the United States will dry in its bed, and the whole country will smell like one perpetual Friday. If Wiggins has made fifty thousand dollars out of his almanacs, you will easily make a million. All it needs is an old maid's diary, a sheet of foolscap paper, and a stub pencil. It is a shame that the little Dominion of Canada should hold a monopoly on this lucrative recreation. Let the Great American Weather-Prophet arise. 48 HOW SAM PENNELL BAN AWAY. HOW SAM PENNELL EAN AWAY. " SAM PENNELL, hold out your hand ! " The pretty school ma'am was pale but firm, and when Sam Pennell clutched his hands defiantly be- hind him, she seized one arm in a quick, strong grasp, drew the doubled-up fist toward her and rapped the knuckles so sharply with the ruler that Sam howled with pain and spread out his palm. "That will do," said Miss Howe. "You may take your seat." Instead of taking his seat, Sam Pennell, with the hot tears scorching his eyes and a flaming of soul that seemed as though it would burn through his jacket, bolted for the door, slammed it in the teacher's face, and started hatless across the fields toward the woods. It was his first punishment be- fore the school, and it seemed more than he could stand, "I'll never go back now," he sobbed con- vulsively. " If they try to make me, I'll run away." He lay down under the shade of the cool woods and cried until his fountain of tears was dry. The leaves made a pleasant sound in the wind, the birds sang softly, and before Sam knew it, worn out by his emotions, he had fallen asleep. It was nearly HOW SAM fEKNELL RAtt AWAY. 43 mid-afternoon when he awoke. At first, he was utterly bewildered. Then the circumstances of the morning came rushing back in a bitter tide, and he realized that he was in some sense an outlaw and a fugitive from justice. " I'll go home, anyway," he said to himself, " and see what the folks say. Per- haps they haven't heard anything about it. Besides, I'm awfully hungry." A few minutes later, a hatless, tear-stainec? little fellow crept into the shed of Farmer Pennell's rambling old house. The kitchen door was open, and Sam stuck in his head, and looked around. " That you, Sam Pennell ? " came a sharp voice from the "buttry." "It's good you've got home. Your father's out in the medder back of the barn, and wants to see you. No, sir, you don't get any dinner to-day." So Cousin Bets had told on him. Sam more than half expected it. Bets didn't like Sam very well. Big girl cousins seldom do like little boy cousins and often with very good reason. Poor, hungry Sam slinked out into the orchard. The invitation to meet his father in the " medder" he understood perfectly well. He had kept such engagements before, and always regretted it. Be- sides, pirouetting in front of a strap on an empty 60 HOW SAM PENMLL RAN AWAY. stomach was too exhausting to be thought of. His mind was made up in a moment. He would run away from Woodsville and go to the city. There he would rapidly become rich, would be nominated as candidate for the Presidency of the United States and be elected by a rousing majority. His first official act \would be to banish the pretty school teacher and order out the State militia to raze the schoolhouse to the ground. He would then heap coals of fire upon his father's head by making him minister to England. Sam's programme was made out in a flash. All that remained to do was to put it into execution. Stuffing his pockets with apples, he climbed the fence and started for the railroad track, carefully keeping a row of elms between himself and the meadow back of the barn. '-The dear old house-dog, half blind with age, came nosing along his track. Sam hung around the old fellow's neck for a min- ute, kissed him on the curly head, and then with an aching heart drove him back to the house. A freight train was just passing when Sam reached the railroad. The locomotive was puffing- up-grade very slowly, and Sam waited until the last freight car came along, when he made a spurt as fast as his short legs could carry him, caught hold of the BOW SAM PEtf NELL flAN AWAY. 51 climbing-irons, and swuiig himself up. As the hat- less yellow head appeared over the top of the car, a brakeman sang out : "Hi, young man I The In- ter-State Commerce law's gone into operation." "What's that?" piped back Sam, breathlessly, seating himself on the end of the car. "No more free ri3.es for directors." "But I ain't a director," objected Sam* "Then you must be the president ?" " No, not yet," replied Sam modestly, " but I ex- pect to be. That's what I am going to the city for." " Well, I rather like your cheek ! " exclaimed the brakeman, sitting down beside Sam, " and I guess I won't put you off till we side-track, anyway. What are you doing running away ?" " I suppose I am," replied Sam, sadly. "Where do you live?" " In that house over yonder. That's father out in the medder, on the load of hay." "What's the difficulty between you arid the old gentleman incompatibility of temperament?" Sam looked up in astonishment. Even the pretty schoolma'am had never used such big words. "No," he answered, respectfully, " It isn't so bad as that. It's nothing but a strap.' ' 52 SOW SAM%EtfKLL RAN AWA. "Oh?" exclaimed the brakeman, laughing, "I have heard of such cases before. Now, young man, if my advice is worth anything, you will go back to the strap just as soon as you can get off this train Without breaking your neck. There's another up- grade just beyond Perryville Station, where you can drop off, apples and all, and I won't charge you a cent for helping you. I'm one of the strap boys myself, and I tell you it felt mighty nice after I had been away from home for about six weeks." " Did you run away ? " asked Sam, offering the brakeman an apple. " Yes> I did ; and I was better off than you are, too for I had a hat." " What did you do when you got to the city ? " persisted Sam, with intense interest. " I got a first-class job at starving, that lasted me as long as I was willing to keep the place. Did you ever try starving ? " "I I begin to feel a little that way now," admitted Sam, seriously. " Well, you will feel more so the further you travel away from the strap take my word for that. What did you expect to do in the city, anyway ? " Sam began to waver a little. "I I expected to HOW SAM FENNEL EAN AWAY. 53 make lots of money, and get to be President of the United States." "That's all?" " Y-e-s." " You are too modest by half. Most fellows want to be errand boys, at twenty -five cents a day, and sleep in a box -that is, after they get to the city. But very few of them succeed to that extent." Sam. dropped his apple, and sat buried in deep thought for several minutes. Finally, he looked up and asked : " How far are we from the up- grade ? " " About a mile. Here's the station." "Well," said Sam, "I've about made up my mind to get off. You haven't got an old musty slice of bread, or a hard doughnut, have you ? " "No," laughed the brakeman, "but I've got some boss sandwiches and gingerbread in my pail. Sit still, and hang on tight." The brakeman ran for- ward to the locomotive, and presently returned with a big slice of gingerbread and two sandwiches. " Give me your apples." he said, "and put these in your pocket. Here is the up-grade. Good by. Mind my word, and stick by the strap." Late in the evening, Sam Pennell put in an ap- pearance at the old farmhouse. As he stuck his 54 A MIXED AFFAIR. curly head in at the kitchen door, a pair of warm, motherly arms went around his neck, and a trembling voice exclaimed : " Sam Pennell, you don't know how you frightened me, and your father's most wild. He's out in the woods with a lantern, now. You poor, hungry child ! There, sit down and eat, while I blow the horn." A MIXED AFFAIR. THE Vanderbilt Ball was a thing of the past, so far as the ball itself was concerned ; but the papers "were full of it, and everybody was talking about it, and even the ministers were preaching about it; so what wonder that it was the topic of con- versation at the Foggett tea-table that Monday evening? Mr. Foggett sat on one side of the little snowy-covered table, and Mrs. Foggett sat on the side, and the baby sat at the end if a round table can be said to have an end. They were eating and drinking very daintily out of very dainty dishes, as young married people are apt to ; and the baby, tied with a towel into his high-chair, was beating the table with his rattle, A MIXED AFFAIR. 55 and celebrating his own Barmecide feast in the old immemorial way. " Cuthbert, love," said Mrs. Foggett : don't you think hush,- Cubbie, hush ! shh ! don't you think it would be nice to celebrate the second anniversary of our marriage by a little company of some sort? For instance, we might invite all our young married friends to come and spend the evening with us a company of young mar- ried people, exclusively." "But what would they do with their babies?" asked Mr. Foggett, dubiously. " You don't suppose they'd go out for all of four hours, both of 'em, do you, and leave their babies all alone with the servants ? Not much ! eh, Cubbie ? " " That's so," assented Mrs. Foggett, thoughtfully. " But look here, Cuthbert ! why couldn't we have it early, five o'clock, say, and invite them to bring their babies with them ? Wouldn't that be nice. A real young people's party, with their babies ; do let's have it, Cuthbert!," " Well, my dear, we will, if you say so," replied Mr. Foggett. " Let's see, Thursday's the day, isn't it ? Well, you go to work and make out your invi- tations to-day, and I'll deliver 'em to-morrow, and see about the refreshments and things. Is it a bargain ? " 56 A MIXED AFFAIB. - : The bargain was made, and on Tuesday afternoon Mr. Foggett took a small pasteboard box under his arm, and walked briskly about town for two hours and a half, delivering some forty invitations, which read as follows : " Mr. and Mrs. Cuthbert F. Foggett request the presence of yourself and husband and baby, on the occasion of the second anniversary of their mar- riage, next Thursday eve, at five o'clock. Be sure and bring the baby." The cards, of course, were delivered only to those young married people whom the italicized clauses concerned. If it was to be a baby party in idea, why of course it wouldn't do to have any couples there unprovided with credentials. It would be embarrassing for them. The eventful evening came, and Mr. Foggett hur- ried home early from business. He found the house in a state of dazzling attractiveness and expectation. The very statuettes seemed to lean forward eagerly on their pedestals, to listen for the hesitating foot- step of the first guest, and the hot-house flowers seemed to throb and perspire with a sort of hot- blooded fragrance, like a girl when she gives her first ball, and waits, all on fire with eagerness, the coming of the gay throng, At five o'clock, Mr, A MIXED AFFAIR. 5T Foggett and Mrs. Foggett and Cubbie were all down in the parlor, dressed in holiday costume. Cubbie sat up in his high chair, as usual, and sucked his fist and pounded with his rattle, as unconcernedly as though nothing in the world was treed, unless we dust. This is the hotel. Stand here at the corner of the piazza and look down its long vista. What a show of little ankles and dainty slippers ! You must know that fashion culminates in foot-wear this season, or else the dear creatures would not be so delightfully vain. The four hundred and ninety-eight odd slip- pers which we at this moment gaze upon, should their aggregate cost be computed, would probably reach the pretty sum of sixty thousand dollars, and the accompanying hose would not fall far short. Let us enter the large hall. 68 SEASIDE LIFE. No, that is not an electric-light. It is the Alaska diamond on the shirt-front of the urbane clerk. He is expected to smoke fifty-cent cigars and look grand. Occasionally he condescends to answer a THE BABY AT THE TABLE. 69 question, if it comes from a millionaire or a member of the presidential party. We may look at him, but not long. Splendor is not good for the eyes. Ah ! there is the gong for dinner. We must not get caught inside the hotel after the dining-room doors are opened, or we shall lose all our money. Let us depart. Take care ! do not step on those long-pointed things ! What are they ? They are the toes of a dude's shoes. You will see him coming in at the door presently. I declare ! it is the young man who did not rescue the drowning maiden. How ruddy his cheeks are, after his sea-bath, and he has got " a beastly appetite, y'knaouw." After dinner he will smoke a prime cigar and flirt with one of the owners of the pretty ankles on the front piazza. Such is seaside life it would almost make me willing to be a dude. THE BABY AT THE TABLE. The meeting was called to order at eight o'clock A. M., with the baby in the chair. After rapping the table violently to secure the attention of those present, the chairman made a motion to upset the 70 THE BABY AT THE TABLE. butter. The motion was seconded, but not in time, and the butter was carried. The minutes of the last meeting were then read and disapproved. During the recital, the chairman emphasized his displeasure by throwing a muffin at the secretary. The report, however, was completed, and the muffin laid on the table. The regular business of the meeting was then taken up. It was voted to allow the chairman a glass of milk, a muffin, and a small piece of steak. Exception being taken to the latter, it was allowed to take the floor in its own defence". The chairman demanded a larger piece, and, after fa brief consulta- tion, the demand was granted. The matter of a bib for the chairman having been brought up by the discovery that that article had been surreptitiously removed and deposited under the table, the nurse was requested to replace the same. The chairman objected, on the ground that bibs were unnecessary and undignified. Objection overruled, and bib replaced. At this point the chairman called attention to a large existing deficit in the supply of milk, and sug- gested an assessment on the cream-pjtcher. It was thought best, however, to supply the deficiency from the diurnal endowment in the pantry, and the mat- THE ADVANTAGES OF POVERTY. 71 ter was discussed in a very animated manner by the chairman and several members of the convention. The chairman's objection was finally overruled as a veto for cream only, and the bill was passed. On motion of the nurse, the chairman was tied into his chair, to prevent his taking the floor a very unparliamentary proceeding. Upon discover- ing this piece of strategy on the part of the opposi- tion, the chairman was very indignant, and objected with such force and vehemence that his countenance became fairly florid. While emphasizing his remarks by successive gestures, he removed the cutlery, crock- ery, and glassware from his immediate vicinity, and drew a large section of the tablecloth into his lap. A motion to adjourn was hastily made by the nurse, and was participated in by the chairman. The meeting, being thus left without a quorum, was declared adjourned by the secretary, subject to the call of the chairman. THE ADVANTAGES OF POVERTY. FEW people seem to appreciate the advantages of poverty. Perhaps this is because so many people are poor. At all events, you seldom see a man who really enjoys dodging his creditors, or wearing old 72 THE ADVANTAGES OF POVERTY. clothes, or eating corned-beef. Occasionally you do meet such a man, but it is generally in jail. Poverty is not a beautiful thing to look at that is, close to. But a man can stand a good way off from it, with his hands in his pockets, and discover a great many attractive features about the thing. In the first place, poverty makes a man industrious very industrious, sometimes and, according to the great majority of people who write essays on in- dustry, there are few things more desirable in this world. I must admit that nothing makes a more pleasing impression upon my mind than to see a fellow-being engaged in labor. It is a beautiful sight, I can sit for hours wondering why blind prejudice prevents that man from seeing that he is one of the most highly blessed and fortunate of human creatures. Ah, industry is a great virtue, a great blessing, an inestimable privilege ! It is one of the shining ad- vantages of poverty, without which the state of the impecunious would be pitiful indeed. A tramp asleep in an orchard, with his pockets full of pears, and the soft light of the summer afternoon dancing, with the breeze-stirred leaves, upon his somewhat bronzed and peaceful countenance, may be more ideally picturesque than the horny-handed far- THE ADVANTAGES OF POVERTY. 73 m:;< r 140 BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPEES. as I do tempted me, standing upright in a dainty glass vase. However, I touched neither cigar nor paper ; but sat down in my easy chair before the fire, and, fixing my eyes on Big Slippers and Little Slippers, began to muse, and, finally, to talk out loud. " Let me see, Big Slippers," said I ; " how old are you? that is, how long have you kept company with Little Slippers?" Big Slippers moved uneasily on the rug, and pres- ently, with a very shame-faced expression, replied : " 1 don't remember." "Oh, don't remember, eh? Well, that's a pretty admission for a fellow of your apparent affection and devotion to make. How long has it been, Little Slippers ? " The red rosettes on Little Slippers blushed all over. The blush made them all the rosier in the firelight, as she answered, sweetly, " It is just four years to-day since Big Slippers and Little Slippers were married." " The deuce it is ! " I exclaimed, jumping up, and hitting the table a savage rap. Then I sat down again, and said, softly : " I had forgotten it, Little Slippers yes, I had forgotten it, selfish fellow that I am." Just then I looked at Big Slippers, and he was laughing. BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPERSv 141 " You rascal, what do you mean by laughing ? " I shouted, in a terrible rage : " This is a fine time for you to laugh ! " " I was just thinking," said Big Slippers,, respect- fully, "concerning what you have just said, that it was a ' pretty admission for a fellow of your appar- ent affection and devotion to make.' ." " Big Slippers ! " I cried, with considerable emo- tion, "you are a person of a great deal of discretion, and some brains. Suppose we never mention this, matter outside of Little Slippers's hearing ? " "Agreed!" said Big Slippers. I leaned back in my easy-chair with a sigh of relief, and was much gratified to see that, in spite of the ragged old fellow's brief and treacherous mem- ory, Little Slippers snuggled all the closer to Big- Slippers on the rug. "Well," said I, complacently, after lighting the^ cigar that stood in the vase, and puffing a few rings of smoke toward the* ceiling, "you two people seem to be pretty well satisfied with each other, although you have been married four years." Little Slippers blushed again, perceiving that my remark was (naturally enough) addressed to her. Looking very modestly down at her toes, she replied, in tones that made; the; blood, pour in floods of wine- 142 BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPERS. and music through all my veins, " I think Big Slip- pers is the dearest, sweetest, kindest, handsomest husband there is in the whole world ! " I choked a little, and my eyes were a trifle damp, as I turned to Big Slippers, and cried, " Now, sir, what have you to say to that? " "It is very pretty and very nice," said Big Slip- pers, complacently. "Sirrah!" I exclaimed, starting forward, as though to trample him in my wrath, "is that all you have to offer in return for sweet Little Slippers's love, you ingrate, you selfish, egotistical, unsympa- thetic, puffed-up, meagre-souled brute? " " Oh, don't ! " cried Little Slippers, beginning to cry. " Big Slippers is just as noble and good and warm-hearted and unselfish and sympathetic as he can be, and he loves me dearly ; only, perhaps, he doesn't like to show it before others." " Well, if he doesn't like to show it before oth- ers," I replied, still with some warmth, "he doesn't deserve to enjoy such an experience. Now, if he was my husband, I'd I'd " But just at this point I suddenly became aware that my cigar was going out, and it ^ became neces- sary for me to stop and puff vigorously for quite a while. Once or twice I thought I caught Big BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPERS. 143 Slippers looking at me with a significant and some- what annoying expression ; but I said nothing, for I had no breath to spare. When my cigar was burn- ing again, I threw myself back in my chair, and puffed thoughtfully for some minutes without looking at Big Slippers and Little Slippers. At length I resumed the talk, asking, with some vexation, "Big Slippers, why is it that you look so much more shabby than Little Slippers out at the toes, and rusty along the sides, and ragged at the edges, and all that? You have been married no longer than she has." Big Slippers sulked at this, and would not answer ; but Little Slippers exclaimed, quite hotly for her: 44 1 do think you are too bad ! Big Slippers doesn't look that way. He is as spruce as any gentleman, and twice as handsome as most of them. As for being worn more than I am, he might be (for he does such a lot of work !), but he isn't. If you will be so good as to examine me very closely, you will see that I am as thin as a wafer in a good many places, and my heels are beginning to turn side- ways." " You dear Little Slippers ! " I cried : " you aren't getting worn a bit nonsense ! You are as fresh, and handsome, and straight, and strong as the day 144 BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPERS. you left the shop to get married; and you can pinch just as tightly as ever you did. But as for Big Slip- pers, look how he has spread out what a great, ungainly, sprawling fellow he is ! He doesn't de- serve to stand on the same rug with a neat, trim little beauty, like his wife. I declare, I have half " " Now, now, now ! " came a merry voice from behind my chair, while a soft hand was laid upon my lips, and peals of happy laughter filled all the house : " What is this nonsense that my ridiculous, foolish, delightfully inconsistent, dear, funny, old, worn-out husband has been talking to himself all this time ? How long do you suppose I have been standing behind your chair, holding my poor sides with all my might and main ? Oh, dear, dear dear! Oh! my!" I did not jump up. I did not even rise. I did not know what to do. Little wife was bending over the top of the chair, laughing, sobbing I could not tell which. Pretty soon a tear came plashing down on my hand. I couldn't stand it any longer. I just held out my arms, and some- thing or, rather, somebody stole into them, and nestled there. " Little Slippers," I asked, in as severe a tone BIG SLIPPERS AND LITTLE SLIPPERS. 145 as I could : " how much did you hear of my foolish talk ? I thought you were out." "I was out, but I came directly after you did, Big Slippers." " Then you heard it all ? " " I'm afraid so." " Did I say anything I ought not to have said, Little Slippers ? " Ye s." "What was it?" " You said that you at least, you said that Big Slippers was a selfish, forgetful, shabby, unsympa- thetic, ungainly brute ! " " And isn't he ? " 44 No ! " (prolonged and accompanied with an em- phatic hug.) " What is he, then ? " " He is noble, and good, and warm-hearted, and unselfish, and sympathetic. He is the dearest, sweetest, kindest, handsomest husband there is in the whole world ! " (Instead of stars^ slip in kisses /) " Little Slippers, what shall it be ? " 44 A sealskin sacque and a new muff for Christmas ! " 44 And what am I to have now ? " 146 , JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S KTTSE. Without a word, Little Slippers reached down, took something from beneath the chair, and laid it in my hands. I unwrapped the parcel. It was a new pair of Big Slippers. JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S KTJSE. Now that the sun rises so early in the morning, Johnny Dumpsey has developed a baleful habit of deserting his downy couch long before the rest of the family have finished their peaceful morning slumbers. For several days it was a great grief to the young man to have to wander about the house in loneliness and quiet, waiting for the god of slumber to finish his session with the folks ; but a few mornings ago he made a discovery, and put into execution a plan which temporarily filled his youthful soul with rapture. He found that when the cook seized the cleaver, and with thick-raining and re-echoing blows, like the anvil solo of old Vulcan, assailed the elastic steak which was destined to tax the Dumpseyan digestive apparatus at breakfast, the various mem- JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S RUSE. 147 bers of the family, with, sighs and yawns, stirred in their respective couches, and presently, with infinite reluctance, arose. Johnny's fertile brain conceived a scheme. The next morning at six o'clock he crept from the bosom of Morpheus, donned his garments, and secur- ing a rubber blanket and a hatchet, went down into the shed and began to pound. Drowsy snorts and groans presently arose from the Dumpseyan bowers of sleep, and as Johnny ceased from his labors, and went outside to lay a banana skin in the place where the milkman was wont to come running round the corner of the house, can in hand, he saw a glimmer of white in the window of the parental chamber, and his cup of joy was full. How pleasant it was to have company in the dole- ful hours of early morn, while the house still reeked with the penetrating odor of kerosene, and the cook wept for very smoke ! Johnny hung around in the shed until he saw the milkman step oh the banana peel, sprawl frantically forward, sling four gallons of milk into the wood pile, and mop up a mud puddle with the front of his overcoat.. The little Samaritan then came out, wiped the poor man's blinded eyes with a handkerchief, snapped the 148 JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S RUSE. bell-crowned hat back into shape, and brought the battered and empty milk can from the wood pile. The milkman thanked him tenderly and gave him five cents; and Johnny went upstairs, his bosom almost bursting with a sense of his own goodness. "Johnny," cried Mr. Dumpsey, from the bed- room ; " how near is breakfast ready ? Have I got time for a shave ? " "Yes if you hurry like lightning," replied Johnny. And then he sat down on a trunk by the door to watch the blood flow. Mr. Dumpsey flew around and concocted a lather, honed his razor a few times, and laid on. All went well for a few strokes, and then Johnny kicked one of his father's slippers under the bed and remarked, " Golly ! the steak smells good, don't it? " This upset Mr. Dumpsey's nerves, and he gave himself a slash under the right ear. " Get out of the room, you ! What are you looking at me so for ? " yelled Mr. Dumpsey. Johnny slid quickly off the trunk and went into the sitting-room. Presently his mother, clad in 'her role de nuit, with her hair falling down her back, poked her head into the room. JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S RUSE. 149 " You there, Johnny ? " "Yes, 'm." " Well, I guess you can tell Julia to bring up my breakfast this morning. I don't believe I shall have time to dress." This tickled Johnny immensely; but he only giggled and kept his secret to himself. Pretty soon Mr. Dumpsey came paddling around, looking for his odd slipper, and Johnny became intensely absorbed in a cook book. Mr. Dumpsey's face was gory, and his clean shirt-bosom was disfig- ured by two or three large spots of sanguinary lather. He scowled at Johnny, and went poking his slipperless foot under the lounge and the table and the bookcase ; and in the course of his peregri- nations his eyes fell upon the clock. " Well, I declare ! " he exclaimed: "she ran down last night, didn't she ? First time in three years." He went back into the bedroom to get his watch and see what time it was, and Johnny rose, whist- ling unconcernedly, and went downstairs. " What be all the folks up at this time of day for, I'd like , to know?" inquired the cook, wiping her red eyes and nose on her apron. " Oh, they are going to get up earlier right along now," explained Johnny : " I guess pa's come to the 150 JOHNNY DUMPSEY'S KUSE. conclusion that he can't afford to be so lazy. Say, Mary, what makes the wood so wet this morning? Has it been rainin' ? " The cook looked sharply at Johnny, but said nothing; and the young man concluded that his benefactor of the morning had imposed a vow of eternal secrecy upon that voluble domestic. " Well, when Julia gets up, you tell her that ma wants her breakfast brought to her, will you? " he said, and was going out into the shed, when his father entered the kitchen. " Is John here ? John come with me ! " It passes Johnny Dumpsey's comprehension the divining power of a parent. An hour later, when the actual steak was pounded, J. Dumpsey, Jr., cringed. His mother's breakfast was not carried up ; Johnny's was three slices of bread and a small glass of water. PIANO PLAYING. T [HERE seems to be a differ- ence of opinion > /"about pianos. I know a poet who thinks he gets his inspirations from the tones of a grand square, and I also know an editor who is unable to write a puff for the grocery man, if he hears a cer- tain young lady in the apartments across the street strike the premonitory chords of a waltz. Some men just adore the cadence of the diamond- ringed fingers of the fair sex upon the ivory keys, while others, in .the language of the immortal para- graphist, " curse and howl and swear." It seems to be altogether a matter of individual taste. One cannot tell beforehand how this magic instrument is going to affect the listener. Some one suggests that it can be determined by knowing in advance whether the listener is a musi- cian or not. The writer begs leave to doubt. The 151 152 PIANO PLAYING. best musician he ever knew made up the most awful faces, and squirmed the most atrociously of all, in a little circle of music lovers invited by a certain rich papa to come and hear his boarding-school daughter play. I was charmed,, of course ; but then the girl had a remarkably pretty profile, and was worth, prospectively, a few millions. It became me to be charmed. I really do not think that the effect of piano playing can be determined, definitely, until the subject has been experimented upon. I once was told of a most ferociously brave Indian, who had captured an innumerable number of scalps, and was well known to all the hair-dealers west of Chicago I heard that he one day crept into a Montana settler's cabin, while the folks were all away except the daughter of the house, with the laudable- inten- tion of increasing his stock-in-trade by inducing the said young lady to part with her luxuriant tresses. He discovered her seated at what he supposed to be a new-fangled kind of a meat chopper, and stealing softly up behind her, was just reaching out his sanguinary fist to grasp her long scalp-lock, when, with all the energy of a Western girl, she brought down her floury fingers upon the first chord of " Johnny Comes Marching Home Again." PIANO PLAYING. 153 This was too much for the unsuspecting red man. With a wild yell of terror, he dropped his butcher- knife, and sprang through the window, carrying sash and all with him. The belle of the prairie jumped up just in time to see Ochewochee (which, being translated, signifies " Fundamental Barber " ) disappearing over the crest of a neighboring swell, with the sash dangling down his back and slapping his legs at every spring. It will be readily admitted that the young lady could not have foreseen this enthusiastic reception of her musical effort; neither could she with cer- tainty have counted upon an opposite effect. There are Indians, no doubt, who would have just sunk into a chair and permitted their ravished souls to melt in tears of rapture and sympathy. On the other hand, we may safely assume that had the male relatives of the young lady been com- pelled to listen to the same palpitating strains, they would indignantly have called for the frying-pan and assuaged their souls with the more seductive andante of frying pork. It will be seen, therefore, that piano playing is one of the things which the sage Josh Billings would call " onsartin," There are those whose souls yearn for it, as the soul of the youthful artist 154 PIANO PLAYING. yearns for a paiirt pot and a square yard of board fence. There are thbse who can sit by the hour listening to the strains beg pardon, the endeavors of a young lady in a pink satin waist and a pearl necklace, as she hammers away at the divine har- monies of a Mendelssohn or a Beethoven. But there are others who would rather not. Tastes certainly do differ. It is with music as it is with onions some like 'em and some don't. Occasionally, there will rise upon the horizon of art a being whose very presence breathes the soul of light and beauty a divine, unapproachable, foreordained genius. And when such an one ex- pends the energies of youth and the devotion of maturity upon the n^steries of the many-keyed instrument, practising early and late, and inflicting untold agonies upon innumerable brain-workers, at last at last, mind you when the wrinkles of toil and care begin to seam the fresh young brow, and the days of youth are floating out into the shadowy past like a sunset cloud in the gathering dusk then it will be said of that one, by those who have true artist souls, that he or she knows how to play the piano. But as for the much-enduring editor, and the money-making citizen, and the man of prosaic tend- ON DOGS. 155 encies in general will he be able to detect the difference? Not much! All piano playing is alike to him, a vexation of soul, and a vain reaching after the unattainable. ON DOGS. THE man who has never owned a dog is not fit to die. He has not had his legitimate share of fun in this present life. He may have run through the whole catalogue of mortal pleasures besides ; but if he has neglected this one supreme privilege of man, he has left at least one-half of the contents of the cup of human happiness untasted. And why ? Because, in the first place, a dog is funny in- trinsically and necessarily funny. He can't help it ; he is born so. He has just enough of human nature in him to make him delightfully and irresistibly ridiculous. If monkeys were as intelligent as dogs, we should be sending them to school and buying their votes at the poles. But, unfortunately, the intelligence of the dog is in such a form that he doesn't get the advantage of it. A dog can be im- mensely pleased, as well as anybody ; but what a misfortune to have to hi ugh or applaud with a tail I 156 ON DOGS. Again, nobody can enjoy companionship better than a dog; and yet, what a whimsical perplexity he has in trying to convince you of it ! His finest expression of the joys of good fellowship consists in planting his muddy feet on the most sacred portion of your raiment, and attacking your face with the moist caresses of his tongue. Can any one, I ask, who has a soul for humor, fail to find inexhaustible merriment in this embryotic humanity of the dog ? He is most irresistibly funny when you try to interpret him, to settle down and have a conversation with him, and get a peep into that curious inner nature of his, which one really does not know whether to call a soul or a nerve- centre. He is vastly obliged to you for your con- descension, and yet, I fancy, he suspects all the time that you are making game of him. There ! did you catch that quick, subtle, whimsical side- glance from the corner of his eye? That means that he understands you pretty well, but thinks so much of you and your sense of delicacy that he wouldn't have you suspect it for the world. There is vastly more fun in talking to a dog than in talking to a fool because a dog is no fool. He appreciates everything you say, and would give a precious year or two of his brief earthly existence to 6tf DOGS. 157 be able to put his own sentiments into words. But as he cannot do this, he gets along the best way he can with those wonderfully expressive eyes of his and the eloquence of that ecstatic tail. Scold him, and he wilts; praise him, and he. is too delighted to keep still ; talk to him, and I warrant you will have no better listener, whether the subject be within the range of his comprehension or not. Only, do not laugh out rudely at his interest, because that grieves him, and the best and most delightful sort of laugh- ter never breaks from the lips. One can be im- mensely amused with a dog, and yet never let him suspect it. And then there is another reason why no man is fit to die who has never owned a dog. A dog tests a man's saintliness very thoroughly. I always have my doubts about a person's getting to heaven, be he ever so good, who has not become acquainted with the propensities of the canine race. I look upon it as the supreme indorsement of character to be good and own a dog. For let it not be supposed that the ordinary dog, however amiable his disposition may be, is altogether blameless and without fault. On the contrary, he has several faults, and it is seldom that they are all dormant at the same time. And, strange as it may seem, the dog's chief fault grows 158 ON DOGS. out of the superabundance of his chief grace viz., affection. It is not always amusing, for instance, to have the pet of the household track the family to church, and come bounding up the aisle just as the minister is folding his hands over the velvet desk for the long prayer. Nor is it altogether conducive to the growth of personal piety to have your dog meet you at the door when you are arrayed for a grand party, and bedaub your doeskins or silks with loving impres- sions of his muddy paws. And there are other faults peculiar to the dog. If he is a dog of impulsive temperament as most dogs are he will bark vociferously, and oftentimes spitefully, at everybody who comes near the house, from the butcher or the milkman, to the fine lady who calls in a carriage, or the reverend gentleman who comes to pay his ministerial respects. A dog is verily no respecter of persons. He is also no re- spector of neighbors' rights. He will pursue, and, if possible, annihilate a cat or chicken on the other side of the fence just as readily as on this side. If there is a fresh garden-bed anywhere in the vicinity, he will be almost sure to bury his bones and other victims therein, to the great detriment of the various germinal bodies previously interred upon the spot. He is sometimes pettish where he does not fancy, thievish where he does, and indolent where he doesn't care. And yet, in spite of all these faults, the dog is one of the most lovable creatures under the sun. You must know him to appreciate him, and in order to know him you must own him. You can't get much fun out of somebody else's dog. He won't give himself away to you worth a cent. But the beauty of it is, poverty is no barrier to the possession of a dog. In fact, the more ex- treme a man's poverty is, the more dogs he can afford to keep. This seems to be the general rule. It is one of the compensations for being poor. A dog may cost six hundred dollars, and yet be no more of a dog than one you may have for the asking. A little curly-tailed fyke is just as good for companion- able purposes as a high-bred setter or pug. No man need hang back on the score of expense. Then let me advise every reader who is in search of genuine unadulterated, lasting fun, to invest in a dog. It is an investment which will yield him one hundred and ten per cent, annually, besides dividends on the profits, and plenty of chances to speculate on margins. 160 THE. FISHING SEASON. THE FISHING SEASON. IT is the first of May. The fishing "season is now in full blast, and the immodest prevarication appears in public in low neck and short sleeves. Two essential qualifications are necessary for a man to be a good fisherman. He must have a sublime disregard for exact moral distinctions, and a sun- burned nose. Any piscatorial sportsman who does not possess these qualifications is a dude and a Pharisee. The best time to fish is early in the morning, just before sunrise. This is the time of day when a man feels hilarious and full of energy. Later in the day he may be just as hilarious, but he is gener- ally full of something else which is apt to interfere with his success. As for bait, the fly of commerce undoubtedly holds the palm for beauty, but the humble angle-worm can crawl all around it in point of effectiveness. "The only objection to the latter is, that it some- times has a tendency to develop in proportions most astonishingly before the day is over, and it often happens that a mere pepper-box full of this plebeian bait will fill the entire bottom of a boat, in the THE FISHING SEASOtf. 161 course of a few hours, with reptiles the size of a man's arm. But as this never happens except when a man has ceased to care whether the fish bite or not, the sudden development of -his bait is a matter of little consequence. The man who has an insane idea that the only proper way to fish is with a fly, is to be pitied. He is a good deal like the man who abstains from hug- ging while making love, for fear that he may get too much fun out of life. The Barmecide idea robs men of a good deal of legitimate enjoyment in this world. The fly-fisherman is a very honorable, high- minded person, but that does not prevent his buying a string of fish from the small boy with the bent pin and the angle-worm, and palming them off for his own. He would not condescend to capture a trout with a common earthworm that would be dishonorable but his conscience does not shrink from letting somebody else capture the prize in this contemptible way, and selling it to him to make false representations with. Fly-fishing is undoubtedly a very beautiful pastime, but it is mostly all fly. The chief pleasure of going fishing comes before and afterward. A man can have lots of fun getting his tackle cready and attending to the putting-up of his own luncheon. He can also take great pride 162 THE FISHING SEASON. and satisfaction in, relating his exploits after lie gets home provided no eyewitness is present. But while he is actually engaged in depleting the finny tribe, a man generally looks upon himself with less self-complacency than at any other time. And when the sun gets low enough to take him full in the nose, he is sure that he is a fool. THE AMATEUR CARPENTER. I . j T is great fun to watch an amateur car- penter. He usually knows how to use tools just about as well as a hen turkey knows how to paint a rose. He may be a good, honest, and even virtuous citizen in other respects, but when he retires to his work- room, and strips off his coat and vest for a little recreation with edged tools, it is just as well not to have any of the women folks or children within- hearing. The dog may come in, if he wants to, but it must be with the understanding that it is at his own risk. It is said that dogs are intelligent. Some dogs are ; but the dog that persists in hang- ing around an amateur carpenter isn't worth the leather it takes to make his collar. The amateur carpenter always wants to make something, right off. He is never content to go through with a course of experimental processes in wood. If he saws a board, it is not to see how well or how straight he can learn to do it, but to make it fit into some mechanical creation of his fertile brain. 163 164 THE AMATEUR CARPENTER. If he drives a nail, it is not to discover the mystery of doing it without splitting either of the surfaces which it joins, or how to keep it from staggering around like a lamp-post on a club night. He, drives it, of course, to make the sides of a box stick on, or to seal up. a crack in a pine bootjack. It is this insatiable constructive passion which gets the ama- teur carpenter into trouble. If he would be con- tent with using his tools, at first, to find out how to use them, and afterward to find out what to use them for, he would get along much better. But no ; he must make something right away. He has an ideal in his head,'and he immediately sets to work to carve it out in cold pine and nails. By and by, after a great deal of sweating and internal profanity, he gets the pieces, the constituent parts, of the thing blocked out ; 'and here he takes a rest, and contemplates his blistered palms with con- siderable self-satisfaction. It looks as though the chief difficulty had been conquered, and all that remains to do is to put the pieces together, and the thing will be done. But alas for his short-lived con- fidence ! The trials of the amateur carpenter have but just begun. When he buckles to work again, he is astonished to find that the constituent parts of his conception THE AMATEUR, CARPENTER. 165 don't harmonize, as you may say, worth a cent. This was surely the end of the thing, but it doesn't match the beginning, opposite, any more than a bad egg matches the complexion of a delicate appetite. One slants to the north, and the other to the south; one is bigger at the top, and the other at the bottom. Change them around, and it works just the other way, but for the life of him he can't fix them so that they will come out even. He tries the sides, and they are four times as bad. One laps over the two ends about an inch each way, and the other one is about an inch too short each way. The top and bottom of the concern are away off from the ideal as much as four miles. The top is so small that it falls in, and the bottom is so big that it won't fit in. It would take an architectural genius greater than that of Sir Christopher 'Wren to make the six parts of that ideal box coalesce. Then the amateur carpenter pours out the vials of his wrath. With one mighty kick he sends the ingredients of his first masterpiece flying across the room. The dog gets the piece that is full of half- driven nails just in that portion of his anatomy most vitalty connected with his howling apparatus, and the chorus of curses and yells that ascends from that small back chamber is something awful. To add 166 THE AMATEUR CARPENTER. to his boiling rage, the amateur carpenter has severely sprained and otherwise inconvenienced his two most efficient toes, from having forgotten the fact that he had his slippers on, instead of his boots, when his emotions got the better of him. On the whole, his first effort cannot be set down as an unqualified success. Still, he does not wish to give up so easily ; so, after hobbling around and kicking the dog three or four times with his well foot, to even things up, he sits down and tries to think of something simple to make. How, for instance, would a doll table for the little girl do? A square bit of board, with four holes bored at the four corners, and rounded sticks driven into them, would be the general plan of it. Simple enough, surely. He can do that without any trouble. So up he gets, selects his board, and proceeds to saw off the requisite portion of it. When about half way through the board the saw sticks, and will not move either way. The ama- teur carpenter tugs away for a few moments, and then his choler begins to rise not his paper collar ; that was up about his ears a good while ago. He jumps up on the bench, plants both feet on the board, grabs the saw-handle, and jerks backward with all his might. THE AMATEUR CARPENTER. 167 The saw comes out with a rush, and the amateur carpenter swoops down off the bench and plunges the back of his head into the nail box. Fortunately, his collar protects his scalp somewhat, and he escapes with a vision of two .billion stars and a long, raw scratch on the neck. Again the poor dog howls in sympathy with his afflicted master, and vainly seeks an exit from the chamber of horrors. The saw, however, is now out of the board, and a brilliant thought occurs to the amateur car- penter. He has heard that lard or tallow rubbed on a refractory saw will cause it to glide with the most charming smoothness through the tightest kind of a btfard. So he goes and hunts up the servant, and persuades her to let him take the lard pail. Armed with this, he returns to his stronghold, and the dog like a thick-headed fool returns with him. The amateur carpenter besmears the saw, for its entire length, on both sides, with lard, an inch deep, and then goes for the board again. The saw runs easier ; but the lard covers up his guiding-mark, and he works off on a sort of tangent, so that when the board end at last drops off, its shape reminds him of the drawings he used to make on his slate when he was a schoolboy. It will do, however, for such "a rude and simple affair as a home-made doll 168 THE AMATEUR CARPENTER. table. Now he must bore the holes in the four corners. He selects a bit of about the right size, screws it into the bit-brace, put his block over a hole in the bench, weights it, and proceeds to bore. For a few moments the chips fly right lively ; then there is* an ominous cracking sound, the bit goes through with a rush, and the amateur carpenter, unable to recover himself, comes down slap on the bench, knocking all the wind out of him, and giving himself a sanguin- ary nose, by banging that member against the tool-chest. This ends his recreation for the first day. With a howl of anguish and rage he darts from the room, holding his nose in his hand and yelling for a hand- kerchief. Finally, after his devoted wife has dropped half a dozen bunches of cold keys down his back, and has cut up a quire of note-paper for him to hold under his tongue, and gone through the whole list of superstitious remedies for nose-bleed, he re- covers, bathes, clothes himself, and returns to his right mind. Then he goes back to his business, thanking Heaven that the hour for recreation comes but once a day. THE INTELLIGENCE OF CATS. MUCH has been said and written about the in- telligence of cats. From personal observa- tion I am enabled to offer, as an humble contribution to this great subject, the following instances of re- markable feline intelligence. I once knew a cat which would invariably come into the house every time it rained. No matter how suddenly the shower might come up, or how con- fusing might be the flash and crash and commotion of the elements, this sagacious animal, instead of standing with its tail between its legs, and allowing the raindrops to percolate through its silken fur, would actually select an open door or window and this, too, when there were closed doors and windows in its immediate vicinity and bound through it with the intelligence and presence of mind of a much superior being. k Nor was this wonderful exhibition of reason and sagacity a semi-occasional occurrence. On the con- trary, this intelligent cat would pursue the same course of action with almost as much regularity as the rain itself, so that it was always possible to tell 169 170 THE INTELLIGENCE OF CATS. when it was damp weather outside, by the presence of a draggled form in the best parlor chair, or on the whitest bedspread ; and the family which owned the cat, to my certain knowledge, never owned, and never cared to own, any other barometer. And they did not own this one above the space of six weeks. Next in order, I recall the case of a cat which I once owned myself, and which I attempted to shoot. The first time I shot at it was when it was a kitten. I laid it down on the trunk of a fallen tree, took long and deliberate aim, and fired. When the smoke cleared away, the kitten was seen placidly crawling along on the tree trunk, looking for a place to get down. I examined it carefully all over, but could not find the mark of a single shot. This instance of remarkable sagacity so overpowered me for the time being that I was unable to reload my gun, and I respectfully carried the kitten into the house and set up the milk half a pint warm. Two years afterward I again attempted to shoot the same cat with another gun. When the cat saw the muzzle of the gun pointed at her she sat down and began to lick her paws. This piece of strategy completely unmanned me, and I was obliged to lay down my gun, so greatly were my nerves affected. The wise cat lived on for six months THE INTELLIGENCE OF CATS. 171 longer, when some instance of intellectual suprem- acy on her part made me jealous, and I determined to shoot her yet once more. I took her out by the barn and set her down. An ordinary cat would have sat still until after I shot; but this extraordinarily gifted animal no sooner observed that I had nothing further to offer in the way of caresses, than she made a bolt for a hole under the barn, and escaped a tremendous charge of number two shot by about three feet and 172 THE INTELLIGENCE OF CATS. four inches. A neat and commodious grave was dug very expeditiously on the spot where she ought to have been, but it is unnecessary to add that she did not occupy it. That cat finally died of old age, aggravated by mental overwork. Her brain is preserved in alcohol. The third cat was one of the Thomas variety. He belonged to four or five different feline minstrel troops, and had by all odds^ the largest and most carefully polished voice in the neighborhood. It was really amusing to see how intelligent this Thomas cat was. When rudely knocked from the ridgepole of a shed, or the top-board of a back fence, by a well-aimed bootjack, he never used to crawl meekly back in the same spot, as & cat with a one- horse brain would be expected to do. On the contrary, he would sling all his musical soul into his tail, and cavort around the neighborhood like a materialized streak of blue profanity, until he had collected a whole orchestra of Thomases, and then they would all go and sit behind some row of barrels, or in the shadow of the woodpile, and lift up their united voices in unpremeditated derision. And yet what an oily hypocrite this same Thomas was by daylight ! Oh, but he was wise! He would go purring around the very bootleg that SPRING OK THE FAKM. 173 had whistled past his ears early in the morning, and leave great, affectionate clots of gray hair on the pantaloons of his would-be destroyer. And all this while he was planning the jubilee of the succeeding P. M., and calculating how long a stream of yells would be equivalent to the parabola of a descending, bootjack. And yet some people say that cats are not intelli- gent. They are nothing if they aren't intelligent and goodness knows they are not the former. Shoot the cat I SPRING ON THE FAEM. THE season has again arrived when the cheerful granger hies him afield to commune with Nature in her more genial moods,' and to consign to the loamy embraces of the soil, the prolific potato and the long- eared maize. As he looks abroad upon the smiling expanse of woodland and meadow, and suffers his eye to follow the fleecy clouds sailing in the ocean of sunlight above, his spirit swells with joy, and he enters upon a mental calculation as to the com- parative producing powers of the Early Rose and Burbank's seedling. The latter, he concludes, is of too retiring a dis- 174 SPRING ON THE FARM. position, and produces too few to the hill, to compare with its exuberant and watery rival. He smiles as he calculates the profits which will accrue from every bushel of the neatly sliced tubers, which he has so carefully prepared for the ministry of Nature. The voice of the turtle's next-door neighbor, the bullfrog, wakes no poetical response within his soul, as he whacks the off-horse with the hoe, and goes bouncing across the field with the potato baskets dancing about his feet. All the morning long the gladsome granger labors with planter and hoe. The smell of the soil is in his nostrils and upon his garments, and his feet grow heavy with the voluntary contributions of mother earth. At noon he starts like the war-horse at the bray of the trumpet, as the hoarse toot of the dinner horn is wafted across the fields, and, dropping the instruments of agriculture, t as Cincinnatus dropped the plough-handles when summoned by the couriers from Rome, he claps his steeds to his chariot, and sniffs the battle from afar. Nature in vain appeals to him with her myriad voices; he lingers not. Arrived at the back porch, with his "hired help/' the tin wash-dish is dug out from behind the woodpile, where it has lain all winter, a tub of soft soap is broached, and in turn the stalwart ON THE FAKM. 175 sons of the soil divest themselves of the evidences of their family relationship. Meanwhile, the fragrant pork has been acquiring that rich brown tinge which marks the top-notch of its palatable ness, and the milk-gravy, mottled with streaks. of grease, swims in the earthenware bowl. Now to the feast. Fill high the foaming tankard with the acidulated cider, and let joy and the potato dish go round. The good housewife, with cheeks flushed red as the coals over which she has been bending, slices the huge loaf of bread in sections that would crush an ordinary stomach, and deals them right and left with unstinted hand. The balmy air of spring steals in at the open window, and gently dallying with the farmer's fluttering shirt sleeves, sows the seeds of rheumatism broadcast through his stalwart frame. There is a wealth of poetry in country life in the springtime of the year. Besides the allurements of the field, there are a thousand and one inferior charms which cluster about the granger's home life. There is the setting hen to be branded with the tra- ditional red rag, and five or six litters of kittens to be drowned. There are the young pigs to be ten- derly watched, and rescued from the rolling pro- clivities of the sow-mother. There are the calves to 176 THE COLLEGE STtTDENT. be fed, and the lambs to be nursed, and the hens' eggs to be hunted up in all sorts of inaccessible places ; and any quantity of poetical tasks of a kindred nature, which sound a great deal better in rhyme than they do in prose. And yet, after all, the farmer's life is not one unending heydey at least, not until July comes. He has his cares and troubles, like all other mortals; and one of the chief of these is that he did not leave the farm while too young not to know better, and apprentice himself to a grocer at fifty cents a week. THE COLLEGE STUDENT. IN some respects the college student is the eighth wonder of the world. While of merely ordinary proportions in a miscellaneous crowd, in his own proper domain and sphere he overtops the great statue at Rhodes. There is probably only one occa- sion upon which the college student realizes his normal size, and that is when he finds himself in the grip of a little Milesian policeman with an abnor- mally developed brogue, and chin-whiskers twice the, length of his wits. Culture is then obliged to take THE COLLEGE STUDENT. 177 a back seat, while the embodied majesty of the law sits up with the driver and carries the whip. Besides his magnified opinion of himself, the col- lege student is also remarkable for his microscopic distinctions between right and wrong. The first injunction of his decalogue is, " Thou shalt not pre- vent my doing what I want to " ; and the last is, " Thou shalt not make a fool of thyself." It is hardly necessary to say that the student seldom reads as far down the page as the tenth commandment. The college student's idea of doing what he wants to is very broad very nearly as comprehensive as^ his self-esteem. It is rather dangerous to oppose the young man in this matter, because he is so thoroughly and heartily convinced of the moral rectitude of his own inclinations. A rose by any other name would not smell -as sweet, this is the principle upon which the college student's lark is conducted. Neither the ethical nor the sesthetical propriety of placing an undertaker's sign over a doctor's office seems to .enter into the calculation at all. It would be far from my purpose, however, to insinuate that the college student exists solely to perpetrate mischief. Ah, no ; that were a sad mis- conception he exists also to devise it. Enter the 178 ME COLLEGE STtJDEOT. dormitory of the student at any time before the witching hour of midnight, and you will fin'd him with an open volume spread out 'neath the glimmer- ing light of his eighty-five-cent lamp, laboriously soiling the margins with his heels, while tilted 'back in his easy-chair blowing contemplative clouds of smoke to the ceiling. This is the student's hour for study. Deep within that busy brain, what mighty thoughts are moving ! Plato's theories, the philoso- phy of quaint old Socrates, apothegms from Plautus, pastoral visions from the odes of Horace not one of these ! He is studying the intricate problem how to conceal a wad of shoemaker's wax in the presi- dent's chair, so that that dignitary shall be obliged to preside at chapel exercises handicapped by the intimate confidence existing between the *seat of his trousers and the baize cushion of his chair of % state. But, after all, what were the college without the college student ? To be sure, the institution would have a better standing in the community where it is located were there no undergraduates connected with it, and it is highly probable that the learned faculty could do more good in the world by writing books and helping their wives with the baby, than by distributing diplomas ; but still, such an institu- MBS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. 179 tion would not be a real live college. What we want in this country are real live colleges. We lose half our time sleeping nights. MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. SCENE I. The Popinjay's Kitchen. Cook, Maid, and Man-of- all-Work. Hour, 9 P. M. COOK [yawning]* Oh, now! will yez shtop pa- laverin' thegither behind the clooz-bars and go to wurr.uk ? I'm shure I'm tired to death of yer whilly- wallyin's and smackings. Jinny, come and help me to iron these shirt collars, ye lazy thing. Hinery, go and fetch me in some kindlin's, and tind to yer chores. Here it is, nine o'clock, and ye haven't done a blissid thing but sit and howld Jinny on yer lap since tay. Bad cess to the both of yez ! JENNY. Oh, Henery ! let go my hand, let go ! You're squeezing all my fingers out of joint. Le' g-o-o ! I . >, HENRY. Toopsy-woopsy tiddle-de {Enter MR. POPINJAY.] MR. POPINJAY. What does all this noise mean ? Henry, have you attended to the furnace ? HENRY. No, sir; I was just ,.,,,.. ISO MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. MR. POPINJAY. Have you bedded down the horse ? HENRY. Not just yet, sir ; but MR. POPINJAY. Did you shake out that hay for the cow that I told you to ? HENRY. I was going to the barn, sir, this MR. POPINJAY. No! You were going to the furnace. Now, mind ; if I ever catch you like this again, you get your walking-ticket. D'ye hear. HENRY [sheepishly]. Yes, sir. MR. POPINJAY [severely]. Well! [Exit MR. POPINJAY.] COOK [with immense satisfaction']. How are yez, Hinery ? [Exit HENRY, slamming the door] * JENNY. Oh, now, Bridget ! BRIDGET. Well, Miss Jinny, didn't I warrun yez long ago ? '/ \ , JENNY. No, you didn't ; it wasn't five minutes ago. BRIDGET. Well, anyways, I was a-gapin' and makin' a noise wid my fut for two hours. JENNY [ironing]. Oh, Biddy, you are a queer, old girl ! [Sings] Hi-did-a-tiddy-hit-a-diddy ! Bridget looks up, uncertainly, and resumes her ironing with a thoughtful expression. Jenny suddenly drops her iron, and starts * from the table. MBS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. 181 JENNY. Mercy ! I forgot to bring down the beans to soak ! BRIDGET [somewhat bewildered]. Whatsook? JENNY. The beans ; for breakfast. BRIDGET. Oh, the banes, ye mane ! Run up in the storeroom, like a good gurrul, and bring down a quart av 'em. [Exit JENNY; but presently returns with headlong haste, and no beans. BRIDGET. Jinny, what is the matter av ye ? JENNY. Oh ! oh ! there was a mouse a great big O-o-h o-o-h ! BRIDGET. A mouse? Ugh! ugh! Did he get up your skirruts, darlin' ? JENNY. Oh! don't speak of it. He ran one way, and I ran the other. Oh, Henery, how you scairt me ! [HENRY passes sullenly through the room, and goes down cellar. ~\ Biddy, dear, won't you go up with me for the beans ? BRIDGET. Hinery JENNY. Oh, Henery won't do anything. He's mad. BRIDGET. Well, darlin', I will go up wid yez, 182 MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. and carry the cat under me arrum. Kitty, kitty ; come, kitty! Now, be jabers, we'll see if the mouse '11 go up our skirruts, Jinny ! Jenny and Bridget go upstairs to the storeroom. Bridget marches in first, with the cat; Jenny tiptoes to the bag of beans, holding up her skirts with one hand. BRIDGET. Have ye got the banes, Jinny ? JENNY. Yes, I've got 'em ; come I BRIDGET. Did }^e see the mouse, Jinny ? JENNY. No, not yet. Come ! BRIDGET. Well, now, that's too- bad ! Jinny ^ sh'pose we la've the cat here all night to catch the thafe? Would the misthriss be displased, think yez? JENNY. Oh, I guess not. Come ! BRIDGET. Kitty, bedad, now kape still and catch the thafe o' the wurruld. Bridget places the purring cat on the floor; the girls go silently out, closing the door, and return to the kitchen. SCENE II. Sleeping apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Popinjay, at the end of the hall leading to the storeroom. Hour, midnight. Snoring. Suddenly a terrible crash echoes through the house. Mrs. Popinjay jumps from her pillow with a scream. Mr. Popinjay emits a gurgling snort, and turns over. MRS. POPINJAY. Socrates ! /Socrates ! t MR. POPINJAY [indistinctly']. Whajewa \The sound blends with a snore.^ MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. 183 * MRS. POPINJAY. Socrates ! Socrates ! wake up ! [She punches him.'] MR. POPINJAY. Whasmatter? whajewant? MRS. POPINJAY. Sh ! sh ! There's a 'burglar in the house. Didn't you hear him break through the window ? MR. POPINJAY. Burglar, eh? Whajeburgl-wa [MR. POPINJAY resumes his dream.'] MRS. POPINJAY [shaking him"}. Socrates, didn't you hear that awful crash ? MR. POPINJAY. Awful crash, eh? Heardsumf- tumblecatsumf [Snores.] MRS. POPINJAY [in a terrible whisper]. Socrates K. Popinjay ! MR. POPINJAY. Oh, hum whajewant, anyway? MRS. POPINJAY. Are you a man, or are you a log, Socrates Popinjay ? I tell you there is a burglar in the house ! I heard him break through the win- dow. I can hear him prowling around now. There listen ! Some rustling sounds are beard from the direction of the store- room. MRS. POPINJAY. Quick, Socrates !' Get up and speak to him. He will steal all our new silver, and murder every one of us ! 184 MES. POPINJAY AND THE BUBGLAB. MB. POPINJAY [now thoroughly awake] . I I guess it'll be just as well for us to stay in bed. I I guess he won't find the silver. MBS. POPINJAY. Socrates Popinjay! are you afraid ? MB. POPINJAY. Keep still keep still, can't you! He's coming this way. MBS. POPINJAY. Socrates Popinjay, I'm ashamed of you, I am. [Aloud.] Ahem ! ahem! I'll let him know that somebody's awake here, anyway. [A dead silence prevails."] There, now, I know he's gone downstairs after the silver. Oh, Socrates, are you a man ? MB. POPINJAY [reassured]. Pshaw! I tell you it's only the cat. Lie down, and go to sleep. MBS. POPINJAY. The cat! Mr. Popinjay, the cat is shut down cellar every night. MB. POPINJAY. Well, then, it was a mouse. MBS. POPINJAY. A mouse ! How could a mouse make such a crash as that ? There hark ! I know that is the silver rattling. Mr. Popinjay, if you don't get up and put on your trousers and go downstairs, /shall do it, mind you ! MB. POPINJAY. Oh, come now ; don't be foolish. MBS. POPINJAY. Mr. Popinjay, are you going to get up, or are you not ? MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. 185 MB. POPINJAY. I am not, Mrs. Popinjay. I don't propose to traipse around the house in my night clothes and catch my death of cold because the cat is loose, mind you that ! MRS. POPINJAY. Well, then, Mr. Popinjay, you may stay in bed. I have my opinion of you. Mrs. Popinjay crawls out of bed, and gropes around for the matches. Finds them, and lights a small hand lamp. Goes out into the hall, and creeps slowly to the head of the stairs. The carpet makes aii intolerable rustling under her bare feet. MRS. POPINJAY. Ahem ! ahem ! MR. POPINJAY. Better come back to bed ! No answer. Presently the sound of the cautious feet is heard on the stairs. In a few moments there is silence, and then another ahem ! this time very much feebler, and less aggressive. Soon the rustling steps are heard again, returning. MRS. POPINJAY. Socrates, he's down there ! MR. POPINJAY. Well, why didn't you go ahead, then? MRS. POPINJAY. Go ahead, you great cowardly man ! Let's see you get up and go as far as the head of the stairs. MR. POPINJAY. I don't propose to get up at all, Mrs. Popinjay. I ain't quite so big a fool as you are. Coming back to bed ? MRS. POPINJAY. Yes, sir, I am coming back to bed. The burglar can have all the silver in the 186 MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. house for aught of me. / haven't got to pay for a new set. Huh ! tell me you aren't frightened ! Your face is as white as the pillow. Mr. Popinjay quickly turns his back to his wife, with a con- temptuous sneer. She sets her lamp down on a chair near the door, turns it, as she supposes, quite out, and then crawls into bed and covers up her head. Both lie and listen intently for some minutes. Finally a board creaks out in the hall as boards will after they have been trodden on in the night. Mrs. Popinjay can- not resist the horrible fascination. She uncovers her head, and looks out. There, right in the doorway, appears to her distended eyes a slender gleam of light, like that escaping from a dark- lantern." A terrific scream causes Mr. Popinjay's blood to freeze in his veins. MRS. POPINJAY. Oh, Socrates, Socrates ! help He is coming into the room ! Mr. Popinjay tears himself from his wife's grasp, rolls out upon the floor, and crawls precipitately under the bed. MRS. POPINJAY. Oh, Mr. Burglar ! Mr. Burglar ! Please go away ! You can have all the silver in the house, and there's lots of money in the desk in. the library. .Only please, please spare our lives ! Oh, please, dear Mr. Burglar. Oh, c?o, now. Don't kill us, Mr. Burglar ! The faint flicker of light continues immovable; sullenly, re- flectively immovable. Mrs. Popinjay renews her supplications, and keeps them up for several minutes. Then she subsides, and wonders why the light doesn't move. Finally, it seems to her that it is rather low down for a burglar to carry a dark-lantern- Could it be can it be the thought is heavenly! A sickening MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. 187 smell of charred wick fills the room. Mrs. Popinjay puts one foot out of bed the light does not stir; she puts two out it is still stationary. Then she rises, gropes toward it, puts her hand upon it. MRS. POPINJAY. It is it is my own lamp, Socrates ! SCENE III The kitchen. Very early in the morning. The Cook pouring kerosene oil on the kindlings in the stove. Enter MRS. POPINJAY, very pale, in a wrapper. MRS. POPINJAY. Oh, Bridget, you don't know what a scare I had last night ! BRIDGET. A scare, ma'm? Who scared yez, ma'm ? MRS. POPINJAY. Why, a burglar broke a win- dow and got into the house, and such a racket you never heard in your life. But he didn't take a thing. I've been all around, and can't find a thing missing. I must have frightened him away. I got up in the night, Bridget, and went half way down- stairs after him ! BRIDGET. Oh, ma'm, how brave ! But did yez foind the broken windy? MRS. POPINJAY. I declare ! I didn't think to look. 33 ut I will go now, Bridget. [Returns presently.] MRS. POPINJAY. There isn't a broken window in the house ! 188 MRS. POPINJAY AND THE BURGLAR. BRIDGET \fromforce of habit"]. It must have been the' cat, ma'm. MRS. POPINJAY. The cat? I thought the cat was shut down cellar every night? [Bridget regrets exceedingly having spoken."] BRIDGET. Oh, ma'm, I must be afther makin' a little opology, ma'm. It was mesilf and Jinny shut the cat into the stoorroom lasht night, to catch a great big thafe of a mouse, ma'm ; and, be the howly prophets, I niver thought of her again till this very minute, ma'm ! MRS. POPINJAY. The cat in the storeroom? How dared you, without my permission ! Oh, that accounts for it that accounts for it. i Mrs. Popinjay runs hastily upstairs, followed by Bridget, im- precating and wringing her hands. They open the door, and out walks the cat, purring, with upright tail and every indication of extreme satisfaction. Under one of the shelves lies a large platter, smashed into a dozen bits, and near it the broken pieces of a student-lamp shade. MRS. POPINJAY. Oh, kitty, kitty! you little realize the cost of what you have done this night. It has shortened my life by many years, I know, and sprinkled your dear master's head with gray ! BRIDGET [weeping'] . Oh, ye thafe of the wurruld, ye thafe of the wurruld ! THE GREAT RALLY. ME. POPINJAY ASTONISHES HIS FELLOW-CITIZENS BY HIS REMARKABLE ORATORICAL GIFTS. ONE morning, when Mr. Popinjay came down to breakfast, it was observed that his stand-up collar was adorned with two neckties underneath, a black cravat tied in a double bow, and over that a yellow tailor-made scarf. A ripple of amusement ran around the assembled family, but Mr. Popinjay was so absorbed in thought that he did not seem to notice it. At last Mrs. Popinjay slyly remarked, " Socrates, it seems to me that you are rather overdressed, this morning." Mr. Popinjay looked up in surprise. " How so ? " he asked, surveying his apparel with a hasty glance. " I'm wearing my ordinary business suit." , " " Yes," tittered Angelina, " but you've got on two neckties Tie, he, he ! " A sheepish smile stole across Mr. Popinjay's face, as he put up his hand and found that it was indeed as his daughter said. " What makes you so absent-minded lately, Soc- 190 THE CHEAT 1 RALLY. rates?" asked Mrs. Popinjay, as her husband removed the yellow scarf and dropped it under the table. " Only yesterday I sent you out to fix up the clothes-lines, and you walked half a mile to Mrs. Rollins's and borrowed some butter. There must be something on your mind." "Well, yes, there is," confessed Mr. Popinjay. "I have been invited by the Republican Club of Buttonville to deliver an address at the big rally, next week. This is election year, you know, and the campaign is going to be a hot one. I have been thinking over my speech for the past fort- night, and guess I shall begin to write it out to- night. So you must all keep away from the library and not disturb me in any way. And, Angelina/' added Mr. Popinjay, " if your young man comes to- night, I wish you would tell him that your father is engaged upon a literary matter of deep impor- tance, and if he would be willing to keep off that creaky sofa for a few evenings, it would be a great accommodation." Mr. Popinjay spoke seriously, but Angelina's face was suffused with blushes, and she made no audible reply. It was remarkable how quiet the house kept during the week while Mr. Popinjay was compos- ing his great speech. Everybody walked on tiptoe THE GREAT RALLY?. 191 and closed the doors as softly as though it was a case of life and death. Angelina's young man came as usual th,e first evening, but his stay was quiet and brief, and after that his visits were discontinued entirely for about- ten days (which shows that the average young lady in love is not so selfish a creature as some people suppose). At last the speech was completed, and Mr. Popin- jay began to look and act more like himself. A . THE GfcEAT RALLY. large ink spot on the left side of his nose gradually faded out, and the far-away expression in his eyes slid down to a focus not more than a thousand miles distant. The family began to brighten up and talk in their natural voices again ; and one day Ange- lina's young man walked four times past the house, as though looking for a signal. On the morning of the great day when the rally was to come off, Mr. Popinjay was so agitated that he could not go down to the office. He accordingly despatched Tom with a note to Mr. Hopstock, stat- ing that his speech would require his undivided attention that day, and retired to the library, where he alternately paced up and down, reciting passages from the oration, and smoking cigars to quiet his nerves. " Do you think we had better attend the rally, Socrates ? " asked Mrs. Popinjay, at dinner. " Certainly," replied the orator. " It would not look well for you to stay away. I want every mem- ber of the family to be there early ; and it would be best, I think, for all of you to sit together in one of the front seats." " But wouldn't it emb ." Tom Popinjay con- cluded not to finish the sentence. Promptly at half -past seven o'clock, the Popinjays* GKEAT RALLY. 193 With the exception of the orator who had started an hour previously, without eating a bit of supper appeared at the door of the Town Hall. After looking over the ground, Augustus spied an unoc- cupied seat very near the front, and they all filed into it. At a quarter of eight the Buttonville Brass Band marched on the stage, taking seats at the ex- treme left. Then from the anteroom came the offi- cers of the Republican Club, the orators of the evening, and " distinguished citizens," all of whom took seats at the centre and rear of the stage. When all were comfortably settled, the band struck up, " Hail Columbia," and a very serious matter they made of it, nearly every musician, be- ing bathed in perspiration at the completion of the piece. The trombone player, who came out about half a bar behind the others, was so ex- hausted with the manipulation of his long instru- ment that he could hardly swallow the glass of water which was hastily procured for him by the leader of the band. The president of the Club then stepped forward to the table and said: "Ladies and gentlemen of Buttonville (Mrs. Popinjay and Angelina were the only ladies present) : I thank you, in behalf of the organization, of which I am the honored 194 THE GREAT BALLY. representative I should say, which I N have the honor to represent, for your attendance here this evening. As you all know, we are on the verge of a great struggle. (Here Mr. Popinjay mopped his brow.) In a few months the momentous ques- tion is -to be decided, as to which of the two leading parties shall control the offices and 'distribute the patronage of this great and glorious republic. We believe that the Republican party is the party of great ideas, the party of reform and of progress. GREAT BALLY. 195 Consequently, we should like to see a Republican president in the White House at Washington - " (Voice : " And a Republican postmaster in But- tonville ! " Loud applause.) "Yes, and a Republican postmaster in Button- ville. We should like to see the public service purged and reconstructed. The Democratic ad- ministration has been a disgrace to the country. We have been steadily going down hill for the past four years, and unless something is done about it this fall, the whole country is sure to plunge into the gulf of ruin. The crisis approaches. The battle will be a terrific one, but if every Repub- lican in the country does his duty, victory must perch upon our banner. It is the object of the But- tonville Republican Club to kindle and keep alive, the fire of of party spirit in the bosoms of the Republican voters of this town. We trust that the distinguished gentlemen who have consented to address you to-night will inflame you all with zeal for the great cause represented by the Republi- can party in this campaign. And now I will not longer detain you with preliminary remarks, but will introduce to you the Honorable I beg pardon ! The leader of the band calls my attention to the fact that a cornet solo is next on the programme. 196 THE GHEAO? EALLY. Mr. Colby, the leader of our excellent brass band, will now favor the audience with a cornet solo." Mr. Colby stepped forward, with his cornet in his left hand, bowed to the audience, and then, turning to his fellow-musicians, beat time while they strug- gled through the preliminary measures of the com- position and approached the comparatively easy ac- companiment. Suddenly the leader wheeled around, clapped the cornet to his mouth, expanded his bosom, and blew a note which made the very rafters vibrate. After clinging to this note until his face was as red as a beet, Mr. Colby gradually began to reel off from it, as from a spool, the melody of " Home, Sweet Home." First he performed^ the simple air from beginning to end. Then he took it up again and began to decorate it with a few grace notes, trills, and other modest adornments. Then he snatched a longer breath and began to deliver the text in its classical simplicity with a running dis- quisition and foot-notes, almost as elaborate as. the accompaniment of the entire band. Finally, he con- centrated all his energies, distended his cheeks to their utmost capacity, gripped his instrument with the grip of desperation, and commenced to weave all the melodic web and woof which had gone before into a most bewilderingly complicated tex- THE GREAT RALLY. 197 ture of sound so complicated, in fact, that not only the chief musician, but also the band and the audience, became entangled in its meshes and lost track of the theme altogether. After tum-tumming discordantly for a few minutes longer, the band stopped playing, and presently, the soloist himself came down like a stick, leaving the air full of demi- semi quavers, grace notes, trills, forty-second notes, and other pyrotechnic musical phenomena. Never- theless, Mr. Colby was applauded to the echo, and retired to his seat covered with smiles, and beads of perspiration. As soon as the sound of clapping and stamping had ceased, the president of the Club again advanced to the table, and succeeded in introducing to the audience " The Honorable Mr. Partridge, member of the State Legislature from Hucklebury, who will now address you." The Hon. Mr. Partridge, who was a tall, spare man, with a clean-shaven face, and whose voice appeared to be drawn up by hydraulic suction from his boot heels, addressed the assembly for an hour and fifteen minutes; and as what he didn't say about the future of this republic, the politics of this nation, and the great underlying principles of human society would hardly be worth repeating here, no 198 THE GREAT KALLY. attempt will be made to do so. When the orator finally did sit down, the building fairly rocked with acclamation, and the president of the Club himself stamped with such enthusiasm that for half an hour afterward it was plain to see, by the expression of his face, that he felt like a victim of the chill- blains. * The next speaker was Colonel Connor, of Paines- borough. The colonel was one of those quiet, inof- fensive, intensely civilian-looking persons whom a military title fits about as well as a Winchester rifle would fit a Quaker. Nobody knew where he had obtained the title of colonel, and it is doubtful if Mr. Connor himself did. It was probably conferred upon him by some sarcastic newspaper reporter, and ever afterwards clung to his reputation, as a sort of burr, which he did not know whether to pick off or not. Colonel Connor made a much better speech than the Honorable Mr. Partridge ; but as he did not seem to think so himself, the audience politely accepted his own estimate of the effort, and did not enthuse. He sat down, in the midst of some feeble and inter- mittent clapping, and the president again started forward. " I now have the pleasure," he said, " of intro- THE GREAT KALLY. 199 ducing to the audience a gentleman who needs no introduction in this community, one of our most distinguished and honored citizens; a man of the highest business ability, combined with the most ardent patriotism. I have the great pleasure of pre- senting to you Mr. Socrates Popinjay, Esq., of the firm of Popinjay & Hopstock." Mr. Popinjay, who was by this time in such a whirl of excitement and perturbation that he could hardly remember the initials of his own name, disengaged himself from his chair, and came for- ward. Again the building tottered with applause, and Mr. Popinjay was obliged to bow twice before the uproar ceased ; and even then Augustus Pop^ in jay came very near starting it up again. The orator looked down upon the sea of expectant, upturned faces, out of which stood, like animated exclamation points, the countenances of the mem- bers of hi's own family. It seemed to Mr. Popinjay that he had never before beheld, with so clear and penetrating vision, the various editions of himself there represented. As her husband came forward, Mrs. Popinjay's first thought was, " Is it possible that Socrates has on his own boots? " And her second, "I declare, he has forgotten one of his cuffs ! " 200 THE GEEAT KALLY. " Doesn't he logk scared, though ! " was Tom's mental comment. " Who would have thought it?" " Fellow citizens, and loyal Republicans of Button- ville," began Mr. Popinjay, in a voice which he hardly recognized himself. It was his first appear- ance as an orator, upon any stage, and he felt as agitated and out of place as a potato-bug on a hot shovel. "We are assembled here to-night for the purpose of in order that We are assembled, I say, to " Here Mr. Popinjay stopped, and looked with an agonized expression at his family. Augustus couldn't stand the appealing glance, and almost before he knew it he had suggested, aloud, " To talk politics." An expression of profound relief and gratitude came into Mr. Popinjay's face, and he resumed : " Yes, fellow-citizens, we are assembled here to-night to talk politics. The American eagle, which you see perched above yonder furled flags, represents rep- resents ah er the the " " The work of the taxidermist Hovey," interpo- lated a voice in the audience, which only those in the immediate vicinity knew proceeded from that enterprising and thrifty artist himself. THE GREAT RALLY. 201 "Represents," continued Mr. Popinjay, with a mechanical flourish, " the work of the taxidermist Hovey. No loftier cause could inspire the patriot and the lover of his country than the purification of the public service and the protection of the ballot against against And the protection of the ballot, I say, against " " Against women ? " queried the president of the club, in an agitated whisper. "Against women. We, the members of the Re- publican party, have a sublime mission to perform in this respect. We stand directly in line with that long succession of statesmen, soldiers, and patriots whose names have in past times adorned our our adorned our " "Tax lists," murmured the town clerk, who sat within a few feet of the orator. "Whose names have in past times adorned our tax lists. Therefore it behooves us to acquit our- selves like men in the approaching struggle. The great principles of national unity, civil service re- form, protection of infant industries, and temperance must be supported if if must be supported if" " If it takes a leg ! " yelled a small boy on the back seat. 202 THE GKEAT RALLY. " If it takes a leg," repeated Mr. Popinjay. " Fel- low citizens, we are to determine by our ballots whether or not the Constitution of these United States stands or falls within the next twenty-five years. If the Democratic party remains in power, our doom is certain. But I trust that the glo- rious old Republican party will rise from her ashes like the -- like the fabled sphinx, and resume her and resume her will rise from her the glorious old Republican party will rise from her I trust, I say, that the " Here Mr. Popinjay gave up the struggle, and retired to his seat amidst thunders of applause, which did not cease until the orator had risen and bowed his acknowledgments. The exercises of the evening then closed with another severe ordeal for the band, and the audience dispersed. Mr. Popinjay joined his family at the door, and they all walked together in silence until they had nearly reached the corner, when Mr. Popinjay suddenly said, " I would give a hundred-dollar bill to be kicked into the middle of next Christmas ! " No one answered a word, for Mr. Popinjay's feel- ings were such as deserved respect. As they reached the front gate of their home, Mr. Popinjay's COURTING. 203 anguished spirit again broke forth, and he exclaimed, fiercely, "If anybody ever comes to ask me to make a speech again, I will make him wish that he had been born a wooden Indian ! " " Hush ! hush ! " said Mrs. Popinjay, soothingly. " I don't believe that any one will ever come." COURTING. IT happened in this wise. Feeling in a very sociable mood on a certain evening, I arrayed myself in doeskin and stiff linen, and set out to make a call upon a lady who, by-the-way, is about twenty- two years my senior. Now, I did not know, of course, that Wednesday was the very evening when this dear lady's sweet daughter entertained her adorable admirer, so I was not to blame for what followed. Well, I was directed to take a seat in the front parlor which was as dark as Tophet, by-the-way while the maid bore my card upstairs to her mistress. Just as I subsided into a dark-colored easy-chair in the extremest twilight corner of the apartment, I distinctly heard a twitch at the door-bell a pecu- 204 COURTING. liar twitch, with a sort of personal inflection to it, as you might say a " Duckie-this-is-I-come-to-the- door-yourself " kind of twitch. I knew in a minute that it was Bessie's young man; for, don't you know, I had been there myself when I was yes, when /was in love with Bessie ! A sort of prophetic tremor ran through all my bones, and my heart began to drum against' my sounding shirt-bosom till it made the diamond stud rattle. My first impulse, was to dodge out into the hall, and get behind an overcoat on the hat-rack. But hark ! the quick, palpitating rustle of a girl's summer evening drapery fell upon my ear, and pres- ently the patter of little feet on the rugs in the hall ; and then a swift, gauzy vision glided by the half- open door, and a moment later the red gaslight glared upon the rugs in the hall, and Smack ! s-m-a-c-k ! c-1-i-i-i-n-g ! Talk about peaches and cream ! talk about honey ! talk about anything you please that kiss would make sawdust of ambrosia ! I actually caught myself smacking my lips in the dark for very sym- pathy, the deliciousness of it was so superabundant and all-pervading. " Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Charlie ! " " Are you, duckie ? Well, so am I." COURTING. 205 (Gurgle-gurgle smack !) " Come, now come right into the parlor. I've got so much to tell you. Don't stop to fix your hair. You're just as nice as you can be, and besides, I'm not going to light the gas, and mamma has gone out un- expectedly to spend the evening." Horrors ! The door was pushed open, and they came in. Her little arm, bare to the elbow, was doubled up and reposed gracefully on his shoulder ; his arm was around her waist. (My eyes, you see, were getting accustomed to the twilight.) I shrank back as far behind the window drapery as I could, and they brushed by me and sat down on the big sofa in the opposite corner. For a moment or two there was a blissful silence, as they nestled down together in the hollow where the springs had given out. When all was nicely settled, and he had got a good staying grip on the small part of her corsets, she began, " Charlie, have you got rid of it ? " " What, darling ? " " That pimple on the left side of your nose." " Oh, yes, that's gone." " Goody, goody ! You can go to the party to- morrow night, then, can't you ? " 206 COUKTING. "Well, yes, I might, I suppose but " "But what, dearie?" " Why, dang it all, I haven't got a bid ! " (Drawing back.) " Not been invited, Charlie I you not invited? Why, I wouldn't go to her hateful, nasty party for anything ! " " Wouldn't you, duckie, really ? Then take that and that and th-a-a-t ! " More spasmodic action of my lips behind the cur- tains, and a frantic desire to steal up behind and punch Charlie's head. "Whose party is it, anyway, Bess?" " Why, Mrs. Prentiss's. Everybody's going to be there. I wonder how in the world she happened to leave you out, the hateful thing ! " " Oh" (with a sigh), " I suppose she don't think I'm nice enough. I measure cloth, you know, and " " Why, what if you do, poor fellow ! " (There are tears in Bessie's eyes, and her little bare arms steal up around the young man's neck, and her soft cheek is pressed against his in the most exasperating man- ner, to me.) " It isn't anything bad to measure cloth. Why," with a sudden burst of logic "I wear cloth, and so does Mrs. Prentiss, and so does everybody. The idea of being so stuck up bah ! " In my sympathetic indignation, I must have 207 stirred the window hangings, for the girl suddenly withdrew her arms and looked around. " Hark ! Let go, Charlie. Didn't you hear some- thing ? Do you suppose anybody is watching us ? " " Oh, pshaw, pet, pshaw ! It was the wind in the curtains. Sit still." " Well, I'm going to go and look, anyway." (Endeavors to rise, but Charlie holds her back.) " Fudge, fudge ! Sit down. I'll kiss you six times if you don't." " Well, I won't then, anyway." " I shall kiss, if you don't behave." " Kiss away ! " The danger passed. By the time the six kisses were given, with interest, simple and compound, and the principal added to the bank account, and some- thing more with it, Bessie had forgotten all about the noise in the curtains. She subsided, panting and flushed, in the cavity of the sofa and brushed down her disordered bangs. Silence for a few moments. " What was it that you were so anxious to tell me when I first came ? " asked Charlie. " Oh, I don't know about the party, I suppose. But I wouldn't speak of the hateful thing again for five dollars. Oh, say, Charlie, Bob . Smith is going 208 COURTING. to be there the fellow I met at the seaside, you know. Oh, he's so nice. I do wish you knew him." Stern silence on the part of Charles. He loosens his arm, and draws it painfully out between her back and the back of the sofa. " Why, Charlie, what is the matter ? Are you going?" "Oh, nothing yes, I guess-I must be going." " Oh, don't ; it isn't nine o'clock. Tell me what it is, Charlie,* won't you, please ? " They had advanced into the middle of the hall. It was quite dark iiow, and their figures only made a confused blur to my eyes. But I could hear the young man twirling his hat in his hand, sullenly, defiantly. " Dear Charlie, won't you tell me what is the matter ? Do ! " Again the soft cheek, this time on his shoulder. A moment's glum silence, and then, " Dang Bob Smith ! " Only three short words ; but if I should write all day I could not convey one tithe of the volume of red-hot meaning that was thrown into them. " Why, you aren't jealous, are you, Charlie ? " " No ! I ain't ! " Silence. COURTING. 209 Charlie. " Well, I'm going." Bessie. " I'm sorry." Charlie. " You won't take back what you said ? " Bessie. " Why I didn't say anything ! " Charlie. " Good-night." Bessie. " Good-night." I heard Bessie crying as she went upstairs, and I stole softly out at the front door. N. H. Downs' Vegetable Balsamic Elixir Is a positive cure for Coughs, Colds, Croup, Whooping-Cough, Catarrh, Hoarseness, Influenza, Spitting Blood, Bronchitis, Asthma, Lung Fever, Pleurisy, and all diseases of the Throat Chest and Lungs. 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When order- ing the magazine ask for a prospectus of THE WRITER'S LITERARY BUREAU, which aids writers in finding the best market for their MSS., and gives honest advice and tinprejiidiced criticism of MSS. when desired. Address, THE WRITER, Box 1905, Boston, Mass. No sample copies of THE WRITER are sent free. THE BEST ILLUSTRATED HUMOROUS NEWSPAPER. The effect of the illustrations is hightened by the use 0/4 colors. Time is Staunchly Republican, it vigorously advocates the maintenance of a Protective Tariff: and it speaks in no uncertain voice for Republican principles, and for doctrines of the party as set forth in the Repub- lican Platform ofiSSS. Single copies, 10 cts ; Subscription, 3 mos. $1 ; 6 mos. $2 ; 1 year $4. Ask your News Dealer for Time. Sample Copy by Request. TIME PUBLISHING COMPANY, 142-144 Worth Street, - ' , - '. New York. John C. Njoiw, art p. . Nfoaa, *,* VI. A. J^oss. zy*or. "2. II 09 WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY, WI ?f TE N B T S?D T E H X OUT A Dictionary, 118,000 Words, 3000 Engravings. A Gazetteer of the World locat- ing and describing 25,000 places. A Biographical Dictionary of nearly 10,000 Noted Persons. A Dictionary of Fiction found 3000 more Words and nearly 2000 more II- only in Webster. lustrations than any other American Diction- ._ T _ AVli , nnnir " ary. "Invaluable in schools and families." ALL IN ONE B >OK ' Webster is Standard Authority in the Government Printing Office, and with the U. S. Supreme Court. It is recommended by State Supts. of Schools of 36 states Published by G. & . MERRIAM & CO., Springfield, Mass. Pamphlet free. Advice to Mothers. MRS. WINSLOW'S~SOOTHING SYRUP should always be used for children teething. It soothes the child, softens the gums, allays all pain, cures wind colic, and is the best remedy for diarrhoea. Twenty-five cents a bottle. Thirty Years' Successful Experience. Clean Record. Unquestionable Responsibility. GUARANTEED Per Ooxit. :MC o r* t ^ * S' o 6 PER CENT. GOLD DEBENTURES. Tlie Western Farm Of Lawrence, Kan. The Capital of this Company is ONE MILLION OF DOLLARS. It guarantees absolutely the principal and interest of its securities AND IT HAS A CAPITAL TO MAKE ITS GUARANTEE GOOD. It has invested many millions of dollars for Savings Banks, Life Insur- ance Companies, Churches, Colleges, Guardians and persons of large and small means, and not one of its investors (and they number in the thousands ) has been obliged to wait one day for interest or prin- cipal. Customers have the benefit of the wisdom and judgment growing out of more than thirty years' experience in this business, not in some other locality, but right there on the spot. All having money which they desire to safely and profitably invest, are invited to call or send for circulars, books, etc., etc., giving complete history of these favor- ite securities. J5L. 3j Xj IE 3XT , Merchants National Bank, _ St. Johnsbury, Vermont. Security Investment Co. INCORPOBATED. CAPITAL, $100,000. 7 i^er Ooixt. GUARANTEED WESTERN FA1 MORTGAGES 6 per Cent, Debentures Specially Secured, FISCAL AGENT AND TRUSTEE, AMERICAN LOAN AND TRUST COMPANY, BOSTON, MASS. State, County and Municipal Bonds Constantly on Hand. THOMAS M. BABSON, President. EDWIN T. WHITE, Vice President. FRANCIS I. MESTON, Sec'y. HERBERT N. SMITH, Treas. BOARD OF DIRECTORS: Jonas H. French, Pres. Cape Ann Granite Co , Boston; Wm. E. Murdock, of Sampson, Murdock & Co., Boston; Thomas M. Babson, Asst. City Solicitor, Boston; Herbert N. Smith, Boston; Francis I. Meston, Boston; James C. McVay, Pres. First Nat'l Bank; E. A. Odiorne, oi Cox, Odiorne & Co., and E. T. White, Yankton, Dakota. BOSTON OFFICE, 35 CONGRESS STREET. Capital, $500,000. Surplus, $644,975. This company does strictly an investment business and shares with investors the results of conservative and profitable investments. They offer a fixed income, large profits, and abso- lute security. Nearly $200,000,000 net profits paid investors since 1883, fr m Kansas City (Mo.) real estate investments. At the present time opportunity is offered to invest in desirable Kansas City real estate, secured by a first mortgage bond, bearing eight per cent, guaranteed interest in amounts of $500 and its multiple. ONE-HALF the net profits given to purchasers of the bonds. Write for full information. 10 Per Cent Syndicate Investments, KANSAS CITY, MO., REALTY. Kansas City is the best point in America for investment. All the opportunities of the next ten years are in the territory radi- ating around Kansas City for 300 miles. Send for Syndicate record. GUARANTEED FIRST MORTGAGES on Kansas City real estate always on hand, based on an actual selling price, principal and semi-annual interest absolutely guar- anteed, payable at maturity, and 25 per cent, deposited with the American Loan and Trust Company of Boston as additional security. No safer investment possible. Guarantee limited to amount of its cash assets. Amounts $250 and upwards. WILLIAM H. PARMENTER, General Agent, MASSACHUSETTS HOSPITAL 'LIFE INSURANCE COMPANY BUILDING, So STATE STREET, BOSTON, MASS. WESTERN OFFICE, TOPEKA, KANSAS. Paid Up Capital and Surplus, $600,000. Value of Guaranty Against Loss, $1,100,000. FARM AND CITY MORTGAGES, Principal and Interest Guaranteed. . . . AND . . . 6 per Cent. Gold Debenture Bonds INTEREST PAYABLE QUARTERLY. A Deposit of $105,000 in First Mortgages placed with the Boston Safe Deposit & Trust Co. as Trustee, secures each series of $100,000 of Deben- ture Bonds. SEND FOR INVESTOR'S BOOK. 1O1 Devonshire St., cor. Water St., Boston. H. E. BALL, President. GEO. C. MORRELL, Vice President. B. R. WHEELER, Secretary. P. T. BARTLETT, Asst. Secretary. 6 Per Cent Safe Investments! THE HEW HHMIIE HOST - IST. Sears Building, 201 Washington St., Boston, CASH CAPITAL, - $300,000. The liabilities of this Company are limited by law. Its affairs are annually examined by the Bank Commissioners, and their findings published in the Annual Bank Report. Its capital was paid up in cash. Its stockholders cannot borrow its funds. It loans through SALARIED EMPLOYES upon improved real estate only. The leading Financial Institutions of New England are among its stockholders. Guaranteed Farm and City First Mortgages, The Company offers for investment 6 per cent First Mort- gages on Real Estate with its guaranty, covering principal and interest, in amounts from $200 upwards, running from three to five years. -:SIX PER CENT BONDS:- Also its otvn 6 per cent Bonds running 10 years, coupons payable semi-annually, amounts from $100 to $1000 each. These bonds besides being the direct obligation of the Company are 'further secured by First Mortgages on real estate, pledged with the Boston Safe Deposit and Trust Company as Trustee for the payment of these bonds, and for no other purpose. The bonds are listed on the Boston Stock Exchange ; they can be registered in the owner's name if desired ; can be held without publicity and transferred without trouble ; they are as safe as any security can be and combine a good rate of interest without the risk at- tending the ordinary Western investments. . '- j Call or Write for Circular. HIRAM D. UPTON, Treasurer, City Hall Building, Manchester, N. H. LEONARD P. FOSTER, Secretary. 201 Washington St., Boston, Mass. ELEGANT AND USEFUL U O LL IL O U tt O IL The Johnson Revolving Book Ca$e. With Independent Shelves Adjustable to Books of Any Height. .A. STJFEKLB FE-ESEISTT. Invaluable to Lawyers, Clergymen, Physicians, Editors, Bankers, Teachers, Merchants, Students, and all who read Books. Olo.o*V3oosst ! JSti-oixsosit 2 ZOost ! Made of Iron, finished in black, with beautiful gilt ornamenta- tion, it cannot warp, check or split, get out of order or wear out. Each shelf, 16 in. square, will hold 16 volumes size of Appleton's Cyclopaedia. Holds more books in less space than any other device. No. 1, For Table, -to hold i tier of books $ 7 50 " 2x, " " " 2tiers " 9 OO " 2, " Floor, 2 " " 10 OO " 3, " " " 3 " " 1200 " 4, " " " 4 " " 1400 The best size for general use is No. 3. Shipped, carefully packed, on receipt of price. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. Descriptive price list containing testimonials Free. Illustrated Catalogue of Stationery and Novelties, nearly 200 pages, sent on receipt of 25c. AKDERSON & KKUM STATIONERY CO., 667 BROADWAY, - - NEW YORK, N. Y.