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VOLUME VI.
■
MISCELLANY.
SIMON AND SUSAN.
I lie Very Romantic Elopement
of a Very Romantic Couple.
' BY EBF.N E. REXFORD.
Simon B ngs told Sasan Hart
tliat ho loved, her he did it in such a
romantic way that her romantic heart
was tilled with rapture. It lifted their
hetrotlial entirely above the level of
ordinary betrothals. It took place in
this wise:
Simon was sitting on the sofa.—
U3an was also sitting on the sofa.—
Something had been said about the
It ml and cruel world. That suggested
311 idea to Susan, and she proceeded to
make sure of it before it could take
Wings.
I wish the world could always be
" s Peasant to me as—as —this sofa is,’
she finally managed to say, quite at a
oss * or a smile, after she had got well
under way.
f 011 mean because it's so soft, I
s * )f)Be said Simon enquiringly.
yes,’ admitte 1 Susan, but
somehow the word took some of the
poetry out of the idea. She wished he
la d chosen some other term by which
| ’ tx P r 6ss the peculiarly pleasing qual
1} of the piece of furniture in ques
tion.
. lon , Susan/ cried Simon—reach*-
ln S °ut for her hand—‘dear Susan, let
l!1 like this sofa to you for life.—
A * lue keep you from coming in con
tact with the hard world. Oh, Susan l’
atl 1 here the sentimental young man
l!n lM’cd upon his knees before her,
the last novel* and cried in touch*
| n r, accents : “If yon refuse me this
, 0)11 I shall have no faith in woman
lM, l* Oh, Susan, can you tell me no?*
Susan hadn't the least idea of
c ling him no. But it did sound so
romantic to have him say that ! Her
heart beat with a real romance—and
that romance, her own. She put her
handkerchief to her face and tried to
sob.
‘Speak, Susan 1’ implored Simon.—
If it cannot be, tell me so ; but spare
me this suspense/
‘I will be yours !' murmured she,
and fell into his arms.
W asn't that very far from being an
ordinary proposal 'l
Naturally the question of marriage
came up, Both agreed that it would
be the proper thing to elope. Not that
there was the elighest necessity for
doing it, however, Sudan's father and
mother and Sunon's father and mother
had seen how things Were going fir
six months past, and were perfectly
willing that they should enter the
matrimonial state if they wanted to
and had talked the matter over he'*
tween themselves.
But, being romantic, the young peo
ple naturally wanted to be [consistent,
and have their marriage as much re
moved as possible from the ordinarv.
So they talked it over, apd dec : ded on
an elopement, and after awhile .they
really got to imagining that no other
way oi getting married, would do.
‘To-morrow night 1' whispered Si
mon, as he clung fondly to Susan's
hand, in the shadow of the hack entry,
‘meet me by the old chestnut tree, at
3 o'clock, and we'll walk to Dover in
(time to catch the stage. Oh, Susan
be careful, and—don't fail me.' This
last in a tragical tone.
‘No, Simon, no,' answered Susan,
reassuringly, ‘lf I live I'll be there.
No cruel parents can keep from mak
ing good my promise, unless '
Susan left the sentence unfinished in
a way that hinted at dark transactions
on the part of the aforesaid ‘cruel par
ents '
‘Then good-by until three o'clock,
my dearest Susan,’ whispered Simon,
pressing a kiss upon her lips. ‘Sleep,
dearest girl, and dream of me,' he
sang, in a very thin tenor, without re
gard for tone or time, but very con
scientious regarding expiession : ‘Oh
sleep and dream of me—e — !'
‘Sleep l' cried Susan. ‘You don’t
know my heaii, Simon. Do you im*
agino I can sleep when such a step is
about to be taken ? No, Simon, I
shall not close my eyes to-night. I
wish—and here she heaved a great
sigh—l do really wish, Si non, that
your name wasn’t Bings. It sounds
awfully common. Don't you think so?’
‘I—I don't know hut it does,’ said,
Simon, in a tone which seemed to con
vey an apology for the fact, and the
sigh which accompanied it said as
plainly as words that he didn,t think
he ought to be held responsible for
something he had nothing to do with.
‘I s'pose we might spell it B-y-n-g-s,
if that would do any better/
‘Yes, we might do that,' said Susan.
‘I never thought of it before. And
you can spell yonr first name C-y-m o-n.
That'll be real nice, won't it, lovey ?'
‘Just the checker,’ answered Cymon,
as I shad henceforth call —or spell—
him, forgetting that the expresion he
made use of wasn't strictly romantic.
‘But the clock's striking 12, and I must
go. At 3, remember, by the chestnut
tree.'
‘I will be there, answered Susan.
And then they parted.
Three o'clock at the old chestnut
tree.
‘A shadowy form' stole along the
road, and stopped beneath the wide
branches by the trvsting place.
‘ls that you, Cymon ?’ asked a voice
whi ch had an anguish sound in it
from behind the trunk of the tree.
Tla-k ! I hear a voice !' cried Cy
mon, dramatically. ‘Ti.s her's !’
‘Yes, it’s mine,' answered Susan,
while her teeth chattered with the
cold, as she came up to him. ‘l've been
here half an hour. It must be that our
clock’s faster than yours. I'm awful
chilly. I've got another of them colds
in my head, !am afraid lit I have
mv nose'll be as red as a poppy,’ she
added mentally.) ‘Are you ready,
Cymon V
‘Yes, we're ready/ answered Cy
mon, who, not having been obliged to
EASTMAN, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, MAY 9, 1878.
stand waiting for her, was in a much
more comfortable frame of mind and
body than she was. ‘Lean on my arm
dearest, and we‘ll go.‘
She tried to follow his advice, but it
proved to be difficult work to get over
the road while leaning on his arm, and
pretty soon, to his great relief, she
concluded to walk without any assist
ance from him.
‘How the stars smile upon us,' re
marked Susan, as the exercise warmed
her up and caused her spirit to rise.
‘That awful big one—oh, Lord ! Cy
mon !'
The sudden termination in her apos
trophe to the big star was caused by
her walking into a mudpuddle in
which the water was half-knee deep.
Cymon rescued her, doing it with as
important an air as if he were saving
her from a watery graf e.
My feet are just soaking wet/
groaned poor Susan. ‘l*ll have an
other spell with my teeth. I wish I
had a pair of dry stockings/ This she
wished to herself. Cymon began to
reply, but a violent fit of sneezing
nipped the remarks in the bud.
‘I think it/s awful disagreeable wea
the'r/ said Susan shivering all over,
‘especially for June. How far is it to
Dover V
‘About four miles,' answered Cy
mon. 'I am afraid we wont get there
in time to catch the stage. Hark 1—
there's a wagon coming down the
eross'road. Maybe we can get a ride.'
‘I hope so,' said Susr.n, forlornly.—
The truth was she was beginning to
get oyer her romantic ardor.
Pretty soon a man cam ? in sight,
driving a rickety old horse before a
more rickety old buggy.
‘Hallo J‘ called out Cymon. ‘Cau we
ride ?‘
‘Well, I dunno but you can,' ans
swered the man, ‘This 'ere waggin
aint the stoutest I ever see, but rnebbe
it‘l! carry three.
Cymon helped Susan in, and climb
ed in alter her.
‘Goin to visit some refaytives, I
shouldn't wonder ? said the man.—
‘Where mout you be bound for ’
The sentence was never finished, for
at that juncture the buggy gave a
kind of shiver, and then one of the
wheels lopped over, and down went
one corner of the old box, and with it
the driver and botli his passengers,
bringing up in a demoralized condition
on the ground.
‘That ere old thing's gi‘n out at last,
I vum, exclaimed the man, as he pick
ed himself up. ‘lve been afeard on‘t
some time. I guess ye‘ll have to foot
it arter all/
Cymon and Susan started out in
anything but a comfortable frame of
mind. He was beginnimg to feel de
cidedly cross. She felt chilly and
draggled, and the need of something
to fill that aching void in her little
stomach.
‘Bow, wow, wow ! A great dog
came rushing out at them as they
came opposite a house. Susan yelled
and made for a great rock by the
road side. Cymon followed suit.—
Here they were safe, but the dog
evidently inclined to consider them
his prisoners, for he kept marching
around tneir rock of refuge, growling
and showing his teeth in anything
but a pleasant manner.
‘Poor do<rgy,‘ and ‘good doggy,
said Cymon in a wheedling tone. —
But the dog couldnt be won over by
any such chaff as that.
Dear me, I'd bke to know bow long
we've got to stay here 1‘ said Susan
rather peevishly. ‘Can't you get a
club and drive him away, Cymon ?
‘Where‘s the club to come from ?
asked Cymon, casting a discouraged
glance about the rock. ‘lt wouldnt
be safe to try to get one, Susan That
dog will bit?, I should judge, The
sun‘U be up pretty soon and then it
will be quite comfortable here; and
somebody‘ll conic along most likely
before a great while and I get them
to drive him off*.
There was a rumble of wheels up
the road. A man drove around the
corner, and when lie was in hailing
distance Cymon sung out :
'Hello, there ! Hey/
all, I swow 1' exclaimed the man
bringing his horse to a halt. 'What's
upj mister ?'
I it's father 1' groaned Cy
mon There being no way of escape,
he resolved to put on a brave face,
and answered :
‘We are in a little difficulty. Can't
you drive off this dog ?
'Laud of deliverance !' exclaimed
Mr. Bings in much surprise. 'ls that
you Simon ? What on earth got you
up and out at this airy time of day ?
I supp sed you was abed, an’ would
be for two hours yit. And is that
yon, Susan—you look most beat out,
I swow. Git out there, you old houn,
and make yourself scaic<g or I'll lay
this ere horse whip onto ye.'
The old dog beat a liasty retreat,
and Cymon assisted Susan to de
scend.
'We were going to Dover, explained
Cymon. We thought—'
'I see through it all # ' declared his
father, chuckling, 'Going off to get
trried, to s'pi ise us, i'll bet a cooky.
Jump right into the wagon. I am go
ing to town arter some soap and
things, and you can hunt up a parson
and hev the job done up while lam
trading, and be ready to ride back
with me. Guess ye'll hev quite an
appetite for somethin to eat by time
we git hum. Lucky yer mother cooked
up somethin yisi'day. Git up, Jim,
g'lang.
It was very different from what Su
san acticipated—this wedding journey
of their ; but her wet feet, draggled
dress, empty stomach, and general
sense of demoralization were antago
n stic to all romantic sentiment, and
she concluded that it would be well to
accept her prospective father-in-law's
advice.
Half an hour later he drove out of
town with his purchases and Mr. and
Mrs. Bings—Mr. and Mrs. Cymon
Byngs, I ought to say, perhaps—in
his wagon.
‘How good them vittles do seem to
taste to the poor thing,' declared Si
mon's mother to her husband, as Su
san sat at her wedding breakfast.—
Simon, pass her some more of them
sassidge.
Got What He Called Eor.
Len Smith's tavern at Waltham
used to be, in da}’s gone by, a favorite
stopping place for the farmers who
from further up the road were accuse
tomed to bring their truck to Boston
for a market Some of the knowiner
ones who were a ‘little near' would
manage to get around just about the
time breakfavSt or dinner was nearly
over, and calling for a ‘cold bite,'would
be seated at the table and for h lf the
price of a dinner would get as ‘square’
a meal as those who came early and
paid full price. One old chap, who
got his dinners in this manner for sev
eral months, and who was never
known to spend an unnecessary cent
in the house, was marked by the jolly
landlord for a victim. On a certain
day in winter, when he was known to
be coming, a boiled dinner was pre
pared and set out the night bef >re to
cool. Punctually the next day ‘Barkis'
put in appearnce and called for a ‘cold
bite/ A goodly plate fall of frozen
beef, potatoes, etc., was set before
him. The first dab at a potato with
his fork sent that article flying across
the table, and a turnip shied from un
dei his knife quite as rapidly. Feeling
that he had been caught, he worried
through thoughtfully and sihmtly.
Having finished Lis meal he walked up
to the bar (behind which was the smi
ling landloid) to settle, and thus uu
bosomed himself: ‘Look a’ here, Len,
I’ve been stopping at your tavern to
fodder for the last three months, and
I’ll be hanged if to-day ain’t the first
time I've ever got what I called for.’—
Boston Transcript.
‘Ah, me,’ said a pious lady, ‘our
minister was a ‘powerful' preacher;
for the short time lie ministered the
word of God among us, he kicked
three pulpits to pieces and banged the
innards out of five Bibles.
An Arizona Incident.
An interesting story comes from
Arizona. Kellogg and Carter owned
a mining claim, and foolishly quarreled
about it. Kellogg was a man of few
words ; " light and free was his touch
UDoruhis revolver/ With a little ado
he fired at his partner, and supposed
he had sent a bullet through his breast
—but behold : Carter was a good
young man, and had a Bib’e in the
pocket ofh>s grey working shirt. The
ball struck upon the sacred book, its
course was turned, and Carter was
unhurt. Then the good young man
whipped out his little gleaming bowie
knife, sprung upon Kellogg and carved
him so artistically that his hold upon
his revolver relaxed, and he was like
to die The good young man stanched
his opponent's wounds, and rode away
for a physician, returning within 24
hours, having made a total distance of
over 90 miles. Kellogg is recovering.
Carter, to avoid arrest, sought to
cross the river, and this time the Bible
didn't save him. He was drowned.
I he moral of this recital is very intri
ente, but it is plain that Carter wasn't
born to be hinged
Can this be True ?
The New Y r ork Sun contains the fob
lowing account of a very remarkable
event :
'The twelve year old daughter of J
B. Doremus of Willis St., Patterson,
died on Tuesday of last week, as was
supposed. The body was prepared
and laid out in the coffin, and all the
arrangements completed for a funeral
on Fiiday afternoon. The father sat
alone in his house on Friday evening #
The preparations were all ready, the
doctor's certificate filed, and the coffin
sat upon the benches in the adjoining
room. The door silently opened, and
in her shroud and grave clothes the
girl he had supposed to be dead tot
tered towards him, threw her arms
around his neck, kissed him passion-
and then fell back unconscious
in his arms. A physician was called
with haste, but this time she was
dead.
■.
The Difference.
The other day, Little English, the
bootblack, thought he had struck a
big thing. He was blacking the boots
of a stranger who had the look of a
dead beat, and was wondering whether
the man would run for a street car or
pass a lead nickel on him, when the
stranger said:
‘Boy, if I didn't pay you, what
would you do?'
‘When 1 said my prayers to-night
I’d kindly put in a word for you/ was
the innocent reply.
The stranger's heart was touched,
and he gave the lad double price.
Yesterday a similar case turned up.
The stranger asked the same question
and the boy made the same answer
expecting a reward, when the man
went off, saying:
‘All right; you can kinder put in
two words for me. I’d like to get a
drink on the same plan.’ —Free Press.
‘I say, my boy, whose horse is that
you're riding V
‘Why dady's ‘
‘Who is your dady
'Don‘t you know ? Why Uncle
Pete Jones.'
‘So you are the son of your uncle ?'
Why, yes, I calculate I am. You
see dad got to be widower, and mar
ried mother's sister, so I reckon he‘s
my uncle/
‘Boy, you are not far removed from
a fool.
'Well, as we are not more than
three feet apart, I think it is just as
you say.‘
The killephone is the reverse of the
telephone; by using it you can avoid
hearing a chatter-box not a foot dis
tant, and cats may howl all night on
your ridgepole without your knowing
it. Even your neighbor's cornet be
comes innoxious, aud the hand-organ
loses its stiug.
'J o make a monkey wrench, feed
him the first green apples.
‘Thanksgiving is good/ said the
venerable Philip Henry to his children,
‘but thanksgiving is better.’
‘I am thy father's spirit/ as the bot
tle said to the little boy when he found
it hidden under the wood-pile.
Three things that never agree—two
cats over one mouse; two wives in
one house; two lovers after one girl.
‘We have to pay for everything/ asr
the man said when a dmsquito, after
a voluntary serenade, sent his ‘bill'
into him.
—■ - •
A uegro once gave the following
toast: ‘De late Gubernor ob de State;
him come in wid berry little opposi
tion—him go out wid none at all.'
Speaking of dancing, a clergyman
hits the nail on the head with the re
mark that ‘people usually do more
evil with their tongues than with their
toes/
Why is a dandy like a mushroom?
Because he is a regular sap-head, his
w r aist is remarkably slender, his growth
is exceedingly rapid, and his top is
uncommonly tender.
It is easy enough to pick up a horse
if you know how. The best way is
to let the lines get under his and
then lift. And it will surprise yon to
see how easy you can raise the horse
clear over the dashboard and iuto your
lap/
4 ...
‘Wife/ said a tyrannical husband to
his much-abused consort, ‘I wish you
to make me a pair of false bosoms/
‘I should think/ replied his wife, ‘that
one bosom as false as yours is, would
be sufficient/ Exit husband in a
brown study.
‘Madam/ said a cross-tempered phy
sician to a patient, ‘if women were ad
mitted to paradise, their tongues would
soon make it a purgatory.' ‘And
some physicians, if allowed to practice
there/ said the lady, ‘would soon make
it a desert.'
.
V learned young lady the other
evening astonished the company by
asking for the loan of ‘a diminutive
argentiferous, truncate cone, convex
on its summit, and semiperforated with
symmetrical indentations.' She want
ed a thimble.
Brown tried to quarrel with his
mother-in-law the other evening. He
married the eldest of seven girls.
Said she: ‘Brown, my son, 1 am not
going to ruin my reputatiou by quar
relling with you. Wait till all the
girls are married. At present, as a
mother-in-law, I’m an amateur/
There is a precocious six-year-old
boy who is wonderful on spelling and
definition. The other day his teacher
asked him to spell ‘matrimony/ ‘Ma-t
--r-i-rn-o-n-y/ said the youngster prompt
ly. ‘Now define it/ said the teacher.
‘Well/ replied the boy, ‘1 don't know
exactly what it means, but I know
mother's got enough of it.*
An electrician of Austin, Texas, has
invented an improvement on the tele
phone, which he calls the ‘kissograpb/
It works on the principle of magnetic
attraction, and by its means an absent
husband can kiss his own wife at a dis
tance of a thousand miles. To make
use of it for kissing another m m’s
wife disarranges the instrument and
creates a current which sets the steam
whistles to blowing aid the fire b> l!s
to ring : ng.
NO. I<.