All goned afay mit de Lager Beer---- Afay in de Ewigkeit!

CHARLES G.o.dFREY LELAND.

FRANCES M. WHICHER

TIM CRANE AND THE WIDOW

"O, no, Mr. Crane, by no manner o' means, 'tain't a minnit tow soon for you to begin to talk about gittin' married agin. I am amazed you should be afeerd I'd think so. See--how long's Miss Crane ben dead? Six months!--land o' Goshen!--why, I've know'd a number of individdiwals get married in less time than that. There's Phil Bennett's widder 't I was a-talkin' about jest now--she 't was Louisy Perce--her husband hadent been dead but _three_ months, you know. I don't think it looks well for a _woman_ to be in such a hurry--but for a _man_ it's a different thing--circ.u.mstances alters cases, you know. And then, sittiwated as you be, Mr. Crane, it's a turrible thing for your family to be without a head to superintend the domestic consarns and tend to the children--to say nothin' o' yerself, Mr. Crane. You dew need a companion, and no mistake. Six months! Good grievous! Why, Squire t.i.tus dident wait but six _weeks_ arter he buried his fust wife afore he married his second. I thought ther wa'n't no partickler need o' his hurryin' so, seein' his family was all grow'd up. Such a critter as he pickt out, tew! 'twas very onsuitable--but every man to his taste--I hain't no dispersition to meddle with n.o.body's consarns. There's old farmer Dawson, tew--his pardner hain't ben dead but ten months. To be sure, he ain't married yet--but he would a-ben long enough ago if somebody I know on'd gin him any incurridgement. But 'tain't for me to speak o' that matter. He's a clever old critter and as rich as a Jew--but--lawful sakes! he's old enough to be my father. And there's Mr. Smith--Jubiter Smith; you know him, Mr. Crane--his wife (she 'twas Aurory Pike) she died last summer, and he's ben squintin' round among the wimmin ever since, and he _may_ squint for all the good it'll dew him so far as I'm consarned--tho' Mr.

Smith's a respectable man--quite young and hain't no family--very well off, tew, and quite intellectible--but I'm purty partickler. O, Mr.

Crane! it's ten year come Jinniwary sence I witnessed the expiration o'

my belovid companion--an oncommon long time to wait, to be sure--but 'tain't easy to find anybody to fill the place o' Hezekier Bedott. I think _you're_ the most like husband of ary individdiwal I ever see, Mr.

Crane. Six months Murderation! Curus you should be afeered I'd think't was tew soon--why, I've know'd----"

MR. CRANE. "Well, widder--I've been thinking about taking another companion--and I thought I'd ask you----"

WIDOW. "O, Mr. Crane, egscuse my commotion, it's so onexpected.

Jest hand me that are bottle of camfire off the mantletry shelf--I'm ruther faint--dew put a little mite on my handkercher and hold it to my nuz. There--that'll dew--I'm obleeged tew ye--now I'm ruther more composed--you may perceed, Mr. Crane."

MR. CRANE. "Well, widder, I was a-going to ask you whether--whether----"

WIDOW. "Continner, Mr. Crane--dew--I knew it's turrible embarrissin'. I remember when my dezeased husband made his suppositions to me he stammered and stuttered, and was so awfully fl.u.s.tered it did seems as if he'd never git it out in the world, and I s'pose it's ginnerally the case, at least it has been with all them that's made suppositions to me--you see they're ginerally oncerting about what kind of an answer they're a-gwine to git, and it kind o' makes 'em narvous.

But when an individdiwal has reason to suppose his attachment's reperated, I don't see what need there is o' his bein' fl.u.s.trated--tho'

I must say it's quite embarra.s.sin' to me--pray continner."

MR. C. "Well, then, I want to know if yu're willing I should have Melissy?"

WIDOW. "The dragon!"

MR. C. "I hain't said anything to her about it yet--thought the proper way was to get your consent first. I remember when I courted Trypheny, we were engaged some time before mother Kenipe knew anything about it, and when she found it out she was quite put out because I dident go to her first. So when I made up my mind about Melissy, thinks me, I'll dew it right this time and speak to the old woman first----"

WIDOW. "_Old woman_, hey! That's a purty name to call me!--amazin' perlite, tew! Want Melissy, hey! Tribbleation! Gracious sakes alive! Well, I'll give it up now! I always know'd you was a simpleton, Tim Crane, but I _must_ confess I dident think you was _quite_ so big a fool! Want Melissy, dew ye? If that don't beat all!

What an everlastin' old calf you must be to s'pose she'd _look_ at _you_. Why, you're old enough to be her father, and more tew--Melissy ain't only in her twenty-oneth year. What a reed.i.c.kilous idee for a man o' your age! as gray as a rat, tew! I wonder what this world _is_ a-comin' tew: 'tis astonishin' what fools old widdiwers will make o'

themselves! Have Melissy! Melissy!"

MR. C. "Why, widder, you surprise me. I'd no idee of being treated in this way after you'd been so polite to me, and made such a fuss over me and the girls."

WIDOW. "Shet yer head, Tim Crane--nun o' yer sa.s.s to me.

_There's_ yer hat on that are table, and _here's_ the door--and the sooner you put on _one_ and march out o' t'other, the better it'll be for you. And I advise you afore you try to git married agin, to go out West and see 'f yet wife's cold--and arter ye're satisfied on that pint, jest put a little lampblack on yer hair--'twould add to yer appearance undoubtedly, and be of sarvice tew you when you want to flourish round among the gals--and when ye've got yer hair fixt, jest splinter the spine o' yerback--'twould'n' hurt yer looks a mite--you'd be intirely unresistible if you was a _leetle_ grain straiter."

MR. C. "Well, I never!"

WIDOW. "Hold yer tongue--you consarned old coot you. I tell ye _there's_ your hat, and _there's_ the door--be off with yerself, quick metre, or I'll give ye a hyst with the broomstick."

MR. C. "Gimmeni!"

WIDOW (_rising_). "Git out, I say--I ain't a-gwine to start'

here and be insulted under my own ruff--and so git along--and if ever you darken my door again, or say a word to Melissy, it'll be the woss for you--that's all."

MR. C. "Treemenjous! What a buster!"

WIDOW. "Go 'long--go 'long--go 'long, you everlastin' old gum.

I won't hear another word" [stops her ears]. "I won't, I won't, I won't."

[_Exit Mr. Crane._

(_Enter Melissa, accompanied by Captain Canoot._)

"Good-evenin', Cappen Well, Melissy, hum at last, hey? Why didn't you stay till mornin'? Party business keepin' me up here so late waitin' for you--when I'm eny most tired to death ironin' and workin' like a slave all day--ought to ben abed an hour ago. Thought ye left me with agreeable company, hey? I should like to know what arthly reason you had to s'pose old Crane was agreeable to me? I always despised the critter; always thought he wuz a turrible fool--and now I'm convinced on't. I'm completely disgusted wit him--and I let him know it to-night. I gin him a piece o' my mind 't I guess he'll be apt to remember for a spell. I ruther think he went off with a flea in his ear. Why, Cappen--did ye ever hear of such a piece of audacity in all yer born days? for _him_--_Tim Crane_--to durst to expire to my hand--the widder o' Deacon Bedott, jest as if _I'd_ condescen' to look at _him_--the old numbskull!

He don't know B from a broomstick; but if he'd a-stayed much longer I'd a-teached him the difference, I guess. He's got his _walkin' ticket_ now--I hope he'll lemme alone in futur. And where's Kier? Gun hum with the Cranes, hey! Well, I guess it's the last time. And now, Melissy Bedott, you ain't to have nothin' more to dew with them gals--d'ye hear?

You ain't to 'sociate with 'em at all arter this--twould only be incurridgin' th' old man to come a-pesterin' me agin--and I won't have him round--d'ye hear? Don't be in a hurry, Cappen--and don't be alarmed at my gittin' in such pa.s.sion about old Crane's presumption. Mabby you think 'twas onfeelin' in me to use him so--an' I don't say but what 'twas _ruther_, but then he's so awful disagreeable tew me, you know--'tain't _everybody_ I'd treat in such a way. Well, if you _must_ go, good-evenin'! Give my love to Hanner when you write agin--dew call frequently, Cappen Canoot, dew."--_The Bedott Papers._

THE STAMMERING WIFE

When deeply in love with Miss Emily Pryne, I vowed, if, the maiden would only be mine, I would always endeavor to please her.

She blushed her consent, though the stuttering la.s.s Said never a word except "You're an a.s.s---- An a.s.s--an a.s.s-iduous teaser!"

But when we were married, I found to my ruth, The stammering lady had spoken the truth; For often, in obvious dudgeon, She'd say, if I ventured to give her a jog In the way of reproof--"You're a dog--you're a dog---- A dog--a dog-matic curmudgeon!"

And once when I said, "We can hardly afford This extravagant style, with our moderate h.o.a.rd, And hinted we ought to be wiser.

She looked, I a.s.sure you, exceedingly blue, And fretfully cried, 'You're a Jew--you're a Jew---- A very ju-dicious adviser!'"

Again, when it happened that, wishing to shirk Some rather unpleasant and arduous work, I begged her to go to a neighbor, She wanted to know why I made such a fuss, And saucily said, "You're a cuss--cuss--cuss---- You were always ac-cus-tomed to labor!"

Out of temper at last with the insolent dame, And feeling that madam was greatly to blame To scold me instead of caressing, I mimicked her speech--like a churl that I am-- And angrily said, "You're a dam--dam--dam A dam-age instead of a blessing!"

JOHN G.o.dFREY SAXE.

HE ROSE TO THE OCCASION

Several years ago there labored in one of the Western villages of Minnesota a preacher who was always in the habit of selecting his texts from the Old Testament, and particularly some portion of the history of Noah. No matter what the occasion was, he would always find some parallel incident from the history of this great character that would readily serve as a text or ill.u.s.tration.

At one time he was called upon to unite the daughter of the village mayor and a prominent attorney in the holy bonds of matrimony. Two little boys, knowing his determination to give them a portion of the sacred history touching Noah's marriage, hit upon the novel idea of pasting together two leaves in the family Bible so as to connect, without any apparent break, the marriage of Noah and the description of the Ark of the Covenant.

When the noted guests were all a.s.sembled and the contracting parties with attendants in their respective stations, the preacher began the ceremonies by reading the following text: "And when Noah was one hundred and forty years old, he took unto himself a wife" (then turning the page he continued) "three hundred cubits in length, fifty cubits in width, and thirty cubits in depth, and within and without besmeared with pitch." The story seemed a little strong, but he could not doubt the Bible, and after reading it once more and reflecting a moment, he turned to the startled a.s.semblage with these remarks: "My beloved brethren, this is the first time in the history of my life that my attention has been called to this important pa.s.sage of the Scriptures, but it seems to me that it is one of the most forcible ill.u.s.trations of that grand eternal truth, that the nature of woman is exceedingly difficult to comprehend."

POLITE

In her "Abandoning an Adopted Farm," Miss Kate Sanborn tells of her annoyance at being besieged by agents, reporters and curiosity seekers.

She says: "I was so perpetually hara.s.sed that I dreaded to see a stranger approach with an air of business. The other day I was just starting out for a drive when I noticed the usual stranger hurrying on.

Putting my head out of the carriage, I said in a petulant and weary tone, 'Do you want to see me?' The young man stopped, smiled, and replied courteously, 'It gives me pleasure to look at you, madam, but I was going farther on.'"