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Till; SEMI-WEEKLY SUMTER REPUBLICAN
ESTABLISHED IIV 1854,
Bv CM AS. W, HANCOCK.
VOL. 18.
The Sumter Republican.
Semi-Weekly, One Year - - • $4 00
W belt, One Year - - - - - 2.00
in Advance.^
All advertisements eminating from public
flices will be charged for in accordance with
an act passed by the late General Assembly
of Georgia—7s cents per hundred words for
each of the first four insertions, and 33 cents
for each subsequent insertion. Fractional
parts of one hundred are considered one
hundred words; each figure and initial, with
date and signature, is counted as a word.
The cash must accompany the copy of each
advertisement, unless different arrange
ments have been made.
Advertisings Kates.
One Square first insertion, - - - - 51.00
Each subsequent insertion, - - - - 50
Lines of Minion, type solid con
stitute a square.
All advertisements not contracted for will
be charged above rates.
Advertisements not specifying the length
of time for which they are to he inserted
will be continued until ordered out and
charged for accordingly.
Advertisements tooccupy fixed places will
be charged 25 per cent, above regular rates
Notices in local column inserted for ten
cent per hue eacli insertion.
Charles F. Crisp,
A i tornett at
AM UK 1C US, GA.
declfitf
B. P HOLLIS
Attorney at Law*
AMERICUS, GA.
Office, Forsyth Street, in National Bank
building. dec2otf
E. G. SIMMONS, -
Attorney at
AMERICUS GA.,
Office in Hawkins’ building, south side of
Lamar Street, in the old office of Fort &
Simmons. janGtf
.1. A. ANSLKY,
ATTORNEY AT LAW
AND SOLICITOR IN EQUITY,
Office on Public Square, Over Gyles’
Clothing Store, Ameiiicus, Ga.
After a brief respite I return again to the
practice of law. As in the past it will be
my earnest purpose to represent my clients
faithfully and look to their interests. The
commercial practice will receive close atten
tion and remittances promptly made. The
Equity practice, and cases involving titles of
land and real estate are my favorites. Will
practice ill the Courts of Southwest Georgia,
the Supreme Court and the United States
Courts. Thankful to my friends for their
patronage. Fees moderate. novlltf
CARD.
I offer my professional services again to the
good people of Americus. After thirty years’
of medical service, I have found It iliffieult
to withdraw entirely. Office next door to
Ur. Eldridge’s drugstore, on the Square
janl7tf It. C. BLACK, M. D.
Dr. D. P. HOLLOWAY,
DentisT,
Americus, - Georgia
Treatssuccessfully all diseases of the Den
tal organs. Fills teeth by the improved
method, and inserts artificial teetli on the
best material known to the profession.
t3F"OFFICE over Davenport and Son’s
Drug Store. marllt
Commercial Bar.
This well-established house will he kept
in the same first-class style that has always
characterized it. The
Choicest Liquor and Cigars,
Milwaukee, Budweiser and Aurora Beer,
constantly on hand, and all the best brands
of fine Brandies, Wines, &c. Good Billiard
Tables for the accommodation of customers,
mayfitf JOHN W. COTNEY, Clerk.
Commercial Hotel,
G. M. HAY, Proprietor.
This popular House is quite new and
handsomely furnished with new furniture,
bedding and all other articles. It is in the
centre of the business portion of the city,
convenient to depot, the banks, warehouses,
Ac., and enjoys a fine reputation, second to
none, among its permanent and transient
guests, on account of the excellence of its
cuisine.
Table Boarders Accommodated on
Reasonable Terms.
may9-tf G. M. HAY, Proprietor.
MEAT MARKET
AND
Provision Store
W. H. & T. M. COBB
Having purchased from HARE & COBB,
the Meat Market and Provision Store, on
COTTON AVENUE,
Keep on hand the VERY BEST CUTS of
BEEF, PORK, KID
AND SAUSAGE,
AND ALSO A FULL LINE OF
GREEN GROCERIES
Provisions, Etc.,
embracing all kinds of Vegetables and
Fruits in their season, Canned Goods, etc.
It is their aim to keep a first-class establish
ment, and give their customers good goods
at the lowest prices.
Highest price paid for CATTLE, HOGS,
and ail kinds of COUNTRY PRODUCE.
Americus, Ga., Dec. 16,1882. tf
Chlorinated Seine, solution Chlori
nated Soda, Darby’s Fluid and other
disinfectants, for use in sick rooms
and for other uses.
Dr. Eldridge’s Drug Store. |
'DAIiiSYS
PROPHYLACTIC
FLUID.
A Household Article for Universal
Family Use.
BMSaHHBMnfIiFor Scarlet and
1 Eradicates
j malaria.
SMHhB Fox, Measles, and
all Contagious Diseases. Persons waiting on
the Sick should use it freely. Scarlet Fever has
never been known to spread where the Fluid was
used. Yellow Fever has boon cured with it after
black vomit had taken place. The worst
cases of Diphtheria yield to it.
Fevered and Sick Per- j SMALL-FOX
Rons refreshed and and
Bed Sores prevent- FITTING of Small
® d ' jy bathing with ■ I> ox PREVENTED
Darbys Flutd. . , . .
Impure Air made ! A member of my fam
harmless and purified. ,' vns ta ] cen
For Sore Throat it is a ‘2, 1 . 1 ., P°. x ‘ I used the
sure cure Fluid; the patient was
Contagion destroyed. : "? l d , gliri ™ s . was not
For Frosted l oot, ,P' ancl ’ “hmn
Chilblains, Piles, the house again in three
Chafing*, etc. i ' vc f ;5 > 3n t d ? °‘hers
Rheumatism cured, j lt - ~J- • Park-
Soft WldteComplex- I iksok, Philadelphia.
ions secured by its use. EHBSBHBHBHHH
Ship Fever prevented, gj
To purify the Breath, H DlttTl+TlPria. B
Cleanse tlio Teeth, H I
it can’t be surpassed. Bfl -a , . H
Catarrh relieved and | FreVOllted. B
I The Physicians here
FTI firv‘ 1 I usc Darbys Fluid very
j successfully in the treat-
j ment of Diphtheria.
Scur\y cured. A. Stom.hnwerck,
A o n r A C^ fo &! A,a -
Stings, etc. Tetter dried up.
I used the Fluid during Cholera prevented,
our present affliction with Ulcers purified and
SGarlct Fever with de- healed,
cidcd advantage. It is In cases of Death it
indispensable to the sick- should be used about
room. Wm. F. Sand- the corpse —it will
ford, Eyrie 41a. prevent any unpleas
k“ The eminent Pliy-
I Scarlet Fever § S’i’K
I* ~ . B York, says: “I am
II Cured. B con vince<fProf. Darbys
H gj Prophylactic Fluid is a
valuable disinfectant.”
Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn.
1 testify to the most excellent qualities of Prof.
Darbys Prophylactic Fluid. Asa disinfectant and
oetergent it is both theoretically and practically
superior to any preparation with which I am ac
quainted.— N. T. Lupton, Prof. Chemistry.
Darbys Fluid is Recommended by
Hott. Alrxandf.h H. Stei*hf.ns, of Georgia ■
Rev. Chas. F. Deems, D.D., Church Sf the
Strangers, N. Y.;
Jos. LeConte,Columbia, Prof.,University,S.C.
yi V " J’ Prof., Mercer University;
Kcv. Guo. Pierce, Bishop M. E. Church.
INDISPENSABLE TO EVERY IIOIIE.
1 cr.cctly harmless. Used internally or
externally for Man or Beast.
Ine Fluid has been thoroughly tested, and we
have abundant evidence that it has done everything
here claimed. Fn- Hiller information get of your
Druggist a pamph.et or send to the proprietors,
J FT. ZEIUN * CO..
nj..n::f.ir! . h,-.:s*.-, PHILADELPHIA.
The Bad and .Worthless
are never imitated or counterfeited.
This is especially true of a family medicine,
and it is positive proof that the remedy imi
tated is of the highest value. As soon as
it had been tested and proved by the whole
world that Ilop Hitters was the purest, best
and most valuable family medicine on earth
many imitations sprung up and began to
steal the notices in which the press and
people of the country had expressed the
merits of 11. 8., and in every way trying to
induce suffering invalids to use their stuff
instead, expecting to make money on the
credit and good name of IL. B. Many others
started nostrums put up in similar style t:>
11. 8., with variously devised names in
which the word “Hop” or “Hops” were
used in a way to induce people to believe
they were the same as Hop Bitters. All
such pretended remedies or cures, no mat
ter what their style or name is, and especi
ally those with the word “Hop” or “Hops”
in their name or in any way connected
with them or their name, are imitations or
counterfeits, Beware of them. Touch
none of them. Use nothing but genuine
Hop Bitters, with a bunch or cluster of
green Hopson the white label, Trust;noth
ing else. Druggists and dealers are warned
against dealing in imitations or counterfeits.
mayi7-lm
&ITtK S
There has never been an instance in which
this sterling invigorant and anti-febrile
medicine lias failed to ward off the com
plaint, when taken duly as a protection
against malaria. Hundreds of physicians
have abandoned all the officinal specifics,
and now prescribe this harmless vegetable
tonic for chills and fever, as well as dpspep
sia and nervous affections. Hostetter’s Bit
ters Is tlie specific you need.
For sale by all Druggists and Dealers
generally.
Georgia
FOUTZ’S
HORSE AND CATTLE POWDERS
No Horse will (lie of COLIO, Rots or Liiiio Fe
tbb. If Foutz-s Powders are used in time.
FouL'/s Jowders will cure and prevent llogCiiolzr a.
Foutz s I owders will prevent Gaprs in Fowls.
I'outz s I owders will increase the quantity of milk
and cream twenty per cent., and make the butter firm
and sweet.
Foutz’s Powders will cure or prevent almost every
Disease to which Horses and Cattle are subject.
Foutz s Powders will give Satisfaction.
Sold everywhere.
DAVID IP. FOUTZ, Proprietor.
L GEORGE ANDREWS,
BOOT Ml) SHOE MAKER,
At liis shop in the rear of J. Waxelbaum
& Co.’s store, adjoining the livery stables,
on Lamar St., invites the public to give him
their work. He can make and repair all
work at short notice. Is sober and always
on hand to await on customers. Work
guaranteed to be honest and good.
apr!4-tf
INDEPENDENT IN POLITICS, AND DEVOTED TO NEWS, LITERATURE, SCIENCE AND GENERAL PROGRESS,
AMERICUS, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 30, 1883.
VtVV/t' \Y\ .
CONFESSION OF A DUDE,
X winder what there Is in me
That makes folks smile as I go by,
My air is good, my clothes fit well;
They cannot think I am a guy,
And yet they smile. How very rude!
I may have faults; but I’m a Dude.
They are not Dudes themselves. Ah, there
The trouble is. We Dudes are horn;
Wo stir the envy of the throng,
To which, thank Heav’n we don’t belong,
Not of the vulgar multitude
Are we. Who would not be a Dude?
It is my comfort and my pride
To know that what I am I am,
And what we are—what are we
Anyhow? By Jove, I’d have to cram
To learn; and learning’s not my mood,
Who learns can never be a Dude.
I know I have no brains—
They must be very hard to get—
And brains would never, never take
In our select, exclusive set,
We care tor better things, imbued
With all that glorifies the Dude.
The german I can lead; I bang
My hair; I wear my trousers tight;
I dote on Ohambertin; I hate
To read or think: 1 pass (lie night
At clubs; in short, I love the nude,
Though art is not the dudest Dude.
To he a Dude is my whole aim,
A Dude is chic, is nobby swell,
To feel that life’s a dreadful bore,
Creation’s self an awful sell,
The sweetest thing, from our point view’d,
Is to recede from man to Dude.
Some Sound Advice.
ABOUT BOYS WHO DRINK AND THE GIRLS
THEY MARRY.
Peck’s Sun.
A mother who resides in a small
city at the North writes to know if the
editor of this paper can’t say something
that will induce her daughter to quit
keeping company with a young man
who gets drunk every time he takes
the girl to a party. If a mother can
not say anything that will induce her
daughter to give up an escort who in
sults her, a poor, weak newspaper can
not do any good. The girl has got
fever too bad, if she will not break off
an engagement with such a young man.
The girl should look about her and
make inquiries and see if she can find
a case in the experience of her friends
where such a young man ever made a
decent husband. She will find such a
ease. The mere fact of a young man
taking a girl to a party or a sleigh ride
and getting drunk and humiliating
her, and causing her to depend upon
others for her escort home, is one evi
dence that he has no respect for her,
and she should break off her engage
ment and cut him entirely. If she
puts up with such insults now bafore
she is married, when she is his wife he
will be liable to leave her to look out
for herself, and he will get drunk from
habit. Twenty years ago there were
hundreds of y oung fellows in this State
who thought it was smart to take re
respectable girls to dances and get
drunk, and let the girls ride home with
somebody who kept sober. The girls
would be vexed at the time, but as the
boys were rich, and went in good so
ciety, the girls got to looking upon the
sprees as good jokes, and they would
laugh about it. We know some of
those girls to-day who are earning a
living for several little children by
hard work, while the smart fellowß
that got drank have filled drunkard’s
graves, or have left their wives and are
wanderers on the face of the earth. If
a young man loves a gill as he shonld
love her to marry hei, a look of disap
probation from her of any act of his
will be enough to break him of any
habit that he has that she does not
like. If the words: “Please don’t
drink, Charley,” from the lips of Char
ley’s girl, a.e not enough to spoil his
appetite for benzine, “Farewell Char
lie, forever,” should be the next and
last remark she should evet make to
him. Marrying a man to reform him
has never been a successful enterprise
on the part of woman. Girls are worth
toe much unmarried to sacrifice their
lives to beat sense into the head of any
man on God’s foot-stool. Too many
girls take the chances of marrying a
young man who has an uncontrolable
appetite for liquor, thinking that the
surroundings of a home will wean him.
Such a man does not wean as easy as
a calf. He will go home only to sober
up, and then not till the other places
are closed. Five years of such a mar
ried life will make a middle-aged wo
man out of the handsomest, sweetest
dispositioned girl that a mother was
ever proud of. A girl will marry such
a pian hoping that next year he will
be better, but next year he will be
worse. The nose will get red, the eyes
bleared, the clothes carelessly worn,
and the wife who would have been
such a proud and happy iuotheu; With
a husband that had sense, becomes
ashamed to look at herself in the glass,
and had almost rather havo a fit of
sickness than be visited by any of her
friends for fear her husband will give
them all away. Whiskey may be right
in its place, and we hope it is, but the
place for it is not iu the stomach of a
young man who contemplates matri
mony, and the girl who takes such a
man for life, for fear the young men
will all be gone makes a foolishness of
herself, and will regret it as long as she
lives. There are sure to be sober boys
enough for all the girls, and there is no
need of marrying a drunkard, and the
girl who does bo, against the advice
of her mother, will deserve the unhap
piness she marries.
Ayer’s Sarsaparilla has such con
centrated curative power, that it is
bv far the best, cheapest, and surest
blood-purifier known.
Memory Bells—A Soliloquy.
EY NELLIE.
From the Baltimorean.
Memory bells! How sweet and clear,
yet sadly, too, they chime within my
heart to-day, swelling, rising, falling,
as memories of by-gone days are
brought back to me, by these old let
ters which Lave lain undisturbed with
in the closed lid of my desk for many,
many years. My name is Grace—
Grace Everett—and this is my birth
day. Sixty-one to-day, and I have
entered on the second decade of the last
half of the centuTy. How like my life
has been this April day! Sunshine
and clouds, deepening into misty rain,
like tailing tears, and now at eventide
the west is all aglow with amber light,
and the night which comes is fresh and
fair and sweet. Even so as my life
draws near its close, the sunshine of
my Father’s love falls over me, and
when the night of death shall come, as
seon it must, it will seem to me as fair.
An “old maid,” they call me—a
happy old maid, too. Well, Ido not
dispute it, for though I have not what
once I thought could only constitute
happiness, yet, I am at peace, and—
not -unhappy. Looking back upon my
life, I can say, it is well.
Rut those old days of long ago: how
bright they were: how full of joy and
mirth, and these letters tell something
of the story. Here is a little packet
from Bessie Sherwood, written from
the Western town to which her hus
band took her. What a rattling mad
cap that girl was, to be sure—the lead
er in all our frolics, and many a prank
have we played together. But she
sobered soon enough after her marriage;
and poor Bessie, with her tender, loving
heart, now lies sleeping ihe dreamless
slumber that knows no waking, far
from her old home. Here is her pic
ture, given me just before she left us.
How pretty she was, with her curly
hair cropped short like a boy’s, and
her blue eyes filled with dancing light.
Tom has married again, but he has
never come back to his native place
since he left it with sweet Bessie as his
bride.
And here are some love letters to
“My dearest Grace,” and signed
“Charlie.” “Bonnie Prince Charlie,”
we used to call him, for he seemed both
in those days, or, so we thought. How
well I liked him, and do yet; and how
he used to vow undying love for me,
but I never believed him. He was
such a flirt, attracted by every new
face, especially dark beauties, for
Charlie was as fair as myself, sol only
laughed at his protestations, thongh 1
often wondered how much he meant in
earnest. He used to say, with such a
serious manner, yet with such a laugh
ing light in his blue eyes, that he loved
but me, and if I would be kind to him,
he would be true to me only; and
often lectured him, too, on his propen
sity, he generally came back to make
love to me between each new flirtation.
Dear Charlie, he is married now,
and happy, 1 trust, with his dark
haired wife. 1 met him only last week
—a tall, portly old gentleman, and he
greeted me with the genial manner and
courtly grace of long ago, and seemed
as glad to see me as in days of old.
“Bonnie Prince Charlie,” who could
help liking him—so kind, so generous,
so affectionate. But true! Well, let
us hope so, and the bells within my
heart sing with sweet melody as I lay
aside this packet.
Louie’s—a school girl’s unformed
hand penned these lines, for she entered
the seminary the year I left it. Happy
Louie. Love of parents, husband, chil
dren and friends, have all combined to
render her life as nearly perfect as ’tie
possible for human to be, and right
well have they succeeded.
Love letters again, and these prom
ises were true, for Robert has never
married; he has been true to me all
these years, and even yet says “Grace,”
with a tenderness in her voice. Such
a good friend as he has been; but I
could not love him, though once I tried;
bnt love comes “unsought, unsent,”
and it could not he.
And these are Will’s—bright, care
less, happy-go-lucky 'Will, and the
I bells chime sadly and low, as memory
brings back with vividness the scenes
in which he was the central figure. He
was my love, too, for I was pretty and
attractive enough in those days to have
many lovers. 1 can say it now with
out vanity, when my face is old and
wrinkled, and my hair is silver white.
Will used to call me the prettiest girl
in the Yale, but that was only love’s
blindness. I loved him as I would a
brother, and wept sorely when he bade
me good-bye, and went to try his fort
une in far-off California, A crowd of
girls, and.l among them, went to see
him off, but bis last look and word
were for me, and he wore my picture
on his breast, for I could not refuse it
to him when he begged so earnestly,
for it as a parting gift. He declared
that I shonld yet his wife, it was
twenty years to come. Poor boy! he
went with a heart filled with bright
hopes of future wealth and greatness,
and in less than two Bhort years, he
was laid low with tever, and ere hfe
mother could reach his side, he was be
yond all sound of her voice. They (
told me that my name was the last
upon his lips, and the little picture, at
his own request, was buried with him.
Thak was more than forty years ago,
bnt even now, I cannot think of bright,
debonair Wild, with his large gray
eyes and chestnut hair, without a sad
ness of the heart and a tear for his
untimely end.
Ah! thes ate from Alice Blair, myi
childhood’s playmate, and the friend of
my old age. “Sweet Alice, with hair
so brown.” She, too, is an “old maid,”
for her lover was false as fair, and her
heart was not one to know a second
love. Her home is still in the lovely
southland, where once was mine as
well, and letters come occasionally
laden with the scent of the magnolia
blooms.
And now the bells ring out with a
bitter wailing sound, yet withal an un
dertone of sweetness, for “ ’tis better
to hare loved and lost, than never to
have loved at all,” and oh! how well
I loved him, my noble Harry! He
wrote me these few letters during a
brief absence on a business trip that
one happy summer, which stands out
alone from all the rest—the summer
that crowned my life with love’s pure
joy. How happy I was, and how
bright and fair seemed all the world.
From among these yellow papers,
worn with handling, and stained with
tear drops, there falls a faded flower—
a purple.golden-eyed pansy—our flow
er, and here at the top of this one is
fastened another to the scented sheet,
seemingly as fresh as when culled Irom
the parent stem. How dearly we lov
ed each other the story of the past can
tell, and in all the dark days of trou
ble and despair that came with the
winter snow, chilling my heart, even
as the biting frosts and winds blighted
the summer buds and flowers, I never
once doubted Harry’s love lor me.
No, that was ever true and steadfast
and mine! Even now my heart will
beat faster at the sound ol his name,
and my old wrinkled face will blush
as in younger, fairer days. Loved him!
I loved him with all the passionate
strength of my nature; with the love
that comes but once in life to my heart,
and—l love him yet, The bitter pain,
the unavailing regret, comeback as the
memory bells chime softly, as though
weighted with the tears of long ago.
But why recall it? The past so sadly
sweet. I was jealous, selfish and ex
acting; he, proud and sensitive. The
fault lav most with me, as did the suf
fering. A careless jest taken in earn
est—jealous, angry words on one side;
and pride and wounded feeling on the
other. So the end came and we part
ed. I little thought forever. But so
it proved. I waited, watched and
hoped through weary days for his re
turn, and the agony I endured, only
God and my own heart ever knew.
When I wrote, to ask the forgiveness
for which I longed, my letter was re
turned unopened. Harry had gone—
none know whither, for he had no ties
of home or kindred to bind him to the
town.
‘‘l think he sailed to a far-off shore,
For he came not hack tome.”
Ah! me, and the tears tell like the
early rain. These few letters, filled
with loving, tender words, and the
picture that rests still above my old
heart, is all that I have left of my
dream of love. Y'et, lam not unhap
py—no, for God has been good to me.
He has granted mo many blessings, in
the love of those who make bright my
last days by theii thoughtfulness for
my comfort, and in the good that I am
able to do for those around me. When
my chair is vacant, and my head laid
low beneath the grassy sod, some will
miss and shed a tear of regret for the
“old maid.” Ido not ask to go. I
am content to wait my Father’s will,
but the hour that gives me my release
will be gladly welcomed, for beyond
the river, I feel sure that my loved
ones await my coming, and Harry will
be the first to greet me. Although
there is “neither marriage nor giving
in marriage” in that heavenly country,
there is love forevermore.
A Slim Banquet.
MR. SPOOPENDYKE FORGETS THAT IT is
WASH DAY.
From the Brooklyn Eagle.
“Say, my dear,” whispered Mr.
Spoopendyke. closing the door careful
ly and approaching his wife with a
broad grin on his visage. “Say, my
dear Specklewottle’s down stairs in the
parlor. He has come to take dinner
with us!”
“Great gracious!” exclaimed Mrs.
Spoopendyke, dropping her work and
bustling up to the glass to arrange her
hair. “What did he come to-day for?
Don’t he know it’s wash day?”
“He came for dinner!” retorted Mr.
Spoopendyke, turning pale around the
lips. “What d’ye s’pose he came for,
tobewashed? What’s wash day got
to da with it? Think the man can be
soaked in a tub and hung over a clothes
line with a measly wooden pin astride
the small of his back? Well, he didn’t
he came for grub, and you want to hus
tle around and get it pretty lively for
him, or I’ll begin to serve up things
myself before long!”
“But.my dear!” remonstrated Mrs.
Spoopendyke, “there’s nothing in the
house! The clothes—”
“Then serve up the clothes!” roared
Mr. Spoopendyke, who had utterly for
gotten the day of the week when he
invited his friend, and now wanted his
wife to get him out of the scrape some
how, and at the same time not let him
with Specklewottle. “Just put
the clothes on a platter ana set ’em be
fore him! You can explain to him that
we only eat three times a week, like a
dog in hot weather! That’ll satisfy
him, so long as he has the clothes to
eat!”
“You don't imagine he would want
to eat the clothes, do you?” aßked Mrs.
Spoopendyke, innocently.
“Just try him!” yelled Mr. Spoopen
dyke, enraged at the idea of being ta
ken literally. “Just try him and sling
in some ot the natural grace you always
put on at the table! ‘Mr. Specklewot
tle, have some of this fricaseed petti
coat?” and Mr. Spoopendyke held out
the legs of his trousers as a woman
holds her skirts and waltzed around
the room. “Mr. Specklewottle, have
a-little of this poached nightshirt. Now
Mr. Specklewottle, do try one of these
fried socks and a slice of the pillow
sham! Dear Mr. Specklewottle, pray
let me help you to a piece of this shirt
collar and Ja pair of stuffed cuffs! I
made them myself, and though they
are not as good as—’ that’s the way
to do it!” continued Mr. Spoopendyke,
suddenly concluding his remarks with
a war whoop, and presenting himself
before his wife all out of breath. “Think ■
you’ve got that bill of fare all right?
See your way clear to a successful din
ner party now?”
“There’s some cold shad down stairs,
and I think there is a raw ham in the
cellar,” ruminated Mrs. Spoopendyke,
regarding her husband with a started
look of inquiry, as if asking if he
thought Specklewottle would mind the
meat being raw and the fish a trifle
cold. “I don’t think he has anything
at home on Mondays except cabbage
and beans. Or perhaps he may have
doughnuts and pie,” she continued,
hastily, seeing her husband swelling
with a retort. “And I’m sure dough
nuts and pie are good.”
“That’s what ho wanted!” howled
Mr. Spoopendyke. “Bring forth the
shad that froze to death in the house of
Spoopendyke! Develop the measly
banquet and let joy be unconfined!
Ain’t ye got any more sense than a
bunghole? Think I’m going to bring
the aristocracy here to fatten on dead
fish and live hogs! How long are you
going to let that man sit downstairs in
a state of starvation? Where’s that
roast of beef I brought home the other
day?”
“I think we ate that all up the day
it came home,” sighed Mrs. Spoopen
dyke. “Do you mean that roast with
the queer little sticks in it?”
“The same,” replied Mr. Spoopen
dyke nerving himself for another ordeal.
“Did we eat the sticks? Am Ito un
derstand thatjthere is notone little dod
gasted stick left of all that affluent lux
uriousness? Lift the impenetrable veil
of obscurity off the secluded bower of
the shrinking sticks,” he yelled, as it
dawned on him that Specklewottle was
in the parlor waiting to be fed, and
that the social problem was no nearer
solution than when he started. “Let
us unraveb the mystery that hangs like
a pall over the fate of the unhappy
sticks, that they may come forth and
fructify Speckewottle,” and in the ex
cess of his emotion Mr. Spoopendyke
gasped for breath,and resting his hands
on his knees, looked as if he were in
viting his wife to a little game of leap
frog.
“There’s some lettuce in the house,
and I bought some strawberries to-day,
and I could cook the steak I had saved
over for breakfast.” murmured Mrs.
Spoopendyke, coming out triumphant
ly in the end, woman like. “And I
will put on my new wine colored satin,
and we will give him a nice supper.”
“Going to pnt that wine colored
satin on the shad or the ham?” howl
ed Mr. Spoopendyke, who had a man’s
idea that a dinner is not a dinner until
it’s roasted. “Think I brought that
man here at f> o’clock in the afternoon
to take breakfast? Got some kind of
a notion that cold fish, ram ham,
wormy lettuce, green strawberries, and
a fried cow are going to satisfy the
cravings of a man who has just
a bet of a dinner on”—but here Mr.
Spoopendyke stopped short. The last
revelation was unintentional.
“Was it a bet, dear?” asked Mrs.
Spoopendyke, opening her eyes in as
tonishment. “Did you bring Mr.
Specklewottle home here on a bet? If
I had known that and you had given
me time, I would have bad a nice sup-1
per for you. I don’t suppose that he
would care f,r a cold meal, under the
circumstances. 1 really think”—
“That settles it,” squealed Mr.
Spoopendyke, mad at himself for what
he had divulged, and angrier till as
he saw that he must explain to Speck
lewottle how he was fixed. “When
you commence to think the free list i6
entirely suspended. Some day when
I catch you thinking I’m going to
drive a spiggot in your bead and adver
tise science on tap; book science a dime
extra; freeiunch from 11 to 1.”
And with this prospectus Mr. Spoop
esiyke dashed down stairs and ex
plained to Mr. Specklewgttle that,
owing to Mrs. Spookendyke having a
severe headache, they had better post
pone the dinner, or go to a restaurant.
“I don’t care,” murmured Mrs.
Spoopendyke, drawing a paper of can
dies from an upper bureau drawer. “I
don’t care. It must have been a very
important thing they bet on, when cold
shad warmed over, and a nice be fsteak
isn’t good enough to pay it. Anyway,
he’ll be glad of it for breakfast, and
the next t'me he brings a man here to
dinner, he’ll pick out some other day
than Monday. Though I suppose that
Mr. Specklewottle will go home and
tell his wife that we don’t have any
thing to eat here from i ne week’s end
to the other. Anyhow, she owes me a
call, and I hear that the dressmaker
disappointed her all last week, so she
won’t pay much attention to what he
does say!” and Mrs. Spoopendyke
went down to her supper of strawber
ries and lettuce, while her husband
took it out with Specklewottle in fillets
of beef and yellow Cliquot,
Anew way of paying old debts—
With cash of course.
FOUR DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
NO. 71.
MeetMeßy Moonlight
ALONE 1
Dn’t 7n Dj M
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