Newspaper Page Text
n ; 7
urs SESOND WIFE.
.l ¥ COMPLETELY CONQUERED
i £R HUSBAND.
\<a Bell, in vew York Ledger.
' awell, I never!” said Miss Peggerell,
Avhat is this world coming to?”
«Much the same that it a.lv.vays was, I
appose,” retorted Agatl.xa Simplex.
g e “w .~ the village tailoress; a reso
u;e. Lt ¢li-eyed woman of seven or
icht and twenty.
I wouldn't have believed -it, unless
ou had told me with your owa lips,”
4id Miss Peggerell, dolefully.
“Why not?” said Agatha.
slt's just selling yourself, that’s all,”’
niffed Miss Peggerell.
Yo, it's not,”’ said Agatha Simplex,
rusqtiely. “He's a very nice man.”
«He's twenty years older than you
r?-\\'ell." said)Miss Simplex, ‘“‘and what
ifference does that make? I'm solitary
nd alone in the world—and Mr. Mixsell
s willing to give me a home, and I res
ect him very highiy—and I've no doubt
e shall be very happy togetber.”
“«Humph !’ commented Miss Peggerell.
gatha turned sharply around.
“What does this mean?”’ said she.
“Nothing,” saia Miss Peggerell, “only
e bullied his last wife into her grave.”
“He'll not bully me into mine,”
hrewdly remarked Miss Simplex.
“I'm not sure of that.”
St am.’!
“Well, at all events,”” added Miss
eggerell, ‘“‘you can’t .say you've not
een fairly warned.”
“No, I won't,”” said Agatha Simplex,
nd she married Moses Mixsell before
he moon was a fortnight older.
Mr. Mixsell was a very worthy mem:-
er of society, bald-headed, double
hinned, and rather spoiled, in conse
uence of always having his own way.
'he late Mrs. Mixsell had been one of
Lose meek, retiring little persons who
ever seem quite certain whether their
ouls belong to themselves or somebody
lse, and there were those who, like Miss
Peggerell, did not hesitate boldly to as
ert that her brief space of life had been
hortened py the domineering will and
tern discipline of Moses, her lord and
lasterv,
But all these reports Mrs. Mixsell,
be second, neither heeded nor be
ieved.
“My dear,” said she to her husband,
fter they had been married about three
ecks, ‘‘the Hutchison family is going
0 givea concert here on Wednesday
vening."’
“Are they?” said Moses, ‘‘well what
f that.”
“I'should like to go,’”” said Mrs. Mix
ell,
“I'shouldn’t,”” said§Mr. Mixsell.
“I mean to go,” said Mrs. Mixsell.
“And Imean you shan’t,” said Mr.
lixsell,
Agatha’s cheeks crimsoned; her eyes
parkled with ominous luster.
“Why not, Moses,” said she?
“I don’t approve of concerts.” said
oses. “It's my opinion that a mar
el woman is better off at home
arning her husband’s stockings, than
adding off to public places.”
“Don’t I keep your stockings well
arned?"
"l don’t say but that you do,” admit
d the bridegroum, s'‘But I don’t mean
tncourage this fancy of yours for run
ing to every wild-beast show and pub
¢ exhibiton there is in town! And not
' Mmince matters, I intend to put it
own'" with great emphasis on the last
ree words,
"I shall go! gaid Agatha, |
“You shall not!” said Moses.
l"”OW will you prevent it?"’ said Mrs.
xsell, “unless, indeed, you lock me in-
My room!” with a little laugh.
"1 shall do that if it proves necessary,”’
id Mr, Mixsell, ‘“‘Andj keep you there
L bread and water, my fine madam.”
“You dare not!” said Agatha,
;}'\ ou shall see!” said Mr. Mix-
And 5o the married couple came to
Igh words within a month,
Agatha wag putting on her bonnet and
‘4%l in her own room on the Wednes-
AY evening, when Mr., Mixsell came to \
i“‘tluur, and eyed her with extreme se
ity,
“Yow're determined to make a fool of l
WlSelf, eh?? gaid he,
“L am determined to go to the con
rt'!’ etorted Agatha,
LTy a 0 entorss my mar
f"f'kc](;mttlfé isald Mr. Mixsell, A.x.xd
b e door and put the key in
“I}“l‘c.ynu shall remain madam,” said
" 'oxlxl:;hl you preak that stubborn will
sinall p‘ut‘iint snlx o’clock in the morning
i a loaf of bread and a pitch
)Sl;:n dMls:ell made no reply, and her
b Ban to fear that the task of
& herto subjection was not go-
ing to be as easy as he had anticipa
ted.
He stalked off and spent the evening
comfortably by the fire.
The next morning, Ebenezer Hillgrove,
who was going to lay a halfa dozen
yards or so of stone wall for the Mix
sel’s came bright and early for breakfast.
Mr. Mixsell himself was frying ham and
€2gs over the kitchen fire,
“‘Where's your wife?’’ demanded Ebe
nezer, :
“‘She hasn't left her room yet,” said
Mr. Mixsell, adhering to the letter of the
truth, if not to its spirit.
“She was up pretty late at the concert
last night, eh?"’ said Ebenezer.
‘At the—concert!” said Mr. Mixsell,
forgetting in his surprise to turn the
last slice of ham which lay frizzling in
the pan,
“‘I saw her there,” said Ebenezer, ‘“in
a black silk gown and a hat with blue
feathers onto it. Laughed awful at the
comic parts, and cried at the ‘Farewell
Hymn,’ ”
Mr. Mixsell, with a last gleam of pres
ence of mind, rescued the ham from its
firey ordeal, and put it on the plate.
“Sit down and eat, Ebenezer,” said he,
““while I go and see after Mrs. Mixsell.”
And off he trudged with his square
loaf of bread and pitcher of water.
Arriving at the door, he unlocked it
and peeped in.
There, leaning against the windowsill,
with its back to him, was the wellknown
figure in the black dress and scarlet
shawl, with a white worsted scarf half
conceal its face.
‘‘Mrs, Mixsell,” said he. .
No answer was returned.
“‘Sulking, eh?"’ siid he.
Still no reply was vouchsafed.
“Well, you can have it out at your
leisure,” grimly commented her lord
and master. ‘‘Here is your break
fast.”
And he went his way firmly convinced
that Ebenezea Hillgrove had been mis
taken in the fact of Mrs. Mixsell’s pres
ence at the concert.
But no sooner was the morning meal
concluded than in walked Miss Pegger
ell,
““Mornin’ Mr. Mixsell. How did Agatha
enjoy the concert last night?"’
‘‘She .idn’t enjoy it at all,”’ said Mr.
Mixsell. ‘‘She wasn’t there.”
“Not there!” echoed Miss Pegger
ell.
‘‘But she was, and she sat next to me,
and I walked home as far as Chicken
Lane under her umbrella. You'll tell
me next I wasn’t there myself!”
Mr. Mixsell excused himself and went
hurriedly upstairs.
“‘l'll be jat the bottom of this mys
tery,” |said he, “‘or I'll know the reascn
why!"
He unlocked the bedroom door and
flung it open.
‘‘Agatha!” said he, sternly; ‘“Aga
tha!”’
And then he saw that the figure by the
window with its immovable white face
and , unalterable smirk was only that of
the dummy which had decorated Miss
Agatha Simplex’s windows when sh:
took jin tailoring, dress-making and the
general millinery business. And the
window was wide open; and the bed had
not been slept in. ;
“Goodness me!” tragically cried
out Mr. Mixsell. ‘*‘She has—left me’’!
Just then he heard the sound of puff
ing and loud breathing behind him, and
turning, beheld the portly form of Miss
Peggerell herself. |
“What a dreadfully quick-motioned ‘
man you be,”” panted Miss Peggerell.
“Why couldn’t you have stood still l
long ,enough to let me tell you her mes
sage?"’ l
““What message?”’ breathlessly demand
ed Mr. Mixeell.
“That she was gone back to her shop,
and if you wanted to see her you'd find
her there.”
Mr. Mixsell considered. Should he go
or should he not? True, his pride was
concerned; but then, again how nicely
Agatha ironed his shirts and cooked his
supper! how pleasant was her welcom
ing smile when he came home a little
late of frosty October night.
“Yes,” said Mr. Mixsell, “I'll go.”
And he did go. The late Miss Simplex
sat cbehind the big ‘To Let’ in the bay
window, composed and calm. She greet
ed Mr. Mixsell with an icy politeness
that went to his heart.
‘‘Agatha!” said the ex-widower; “you
—you're not going to leave me?”’
“I'll stay with no man that treats me
like a child,” said she.
‘*But, 1 won’t treat you so.”
“I'll live in no house whose proprietor
locks me up,” went on Agatha. -
“I’ll never do it any more, my dear.”
‘*“And forbids me to go to concerts!"”
h“I’ll take you myself next time, Aga
tha.”
~_And upon this understanding, Mrs.
Mixsell returned to the conjuga home
and Mr, Mixsell chopped up the abomi
nable dummy for firewood. .
Agatha Simplex had conquered, and
Mr. Mixsell never was the same man
again,
THE PRESS. 3
Soul of the woria ! i"le Press! the Press,
What wonders hast thou wrought!
Thou rainbow realm of mental bliss;
Thou starry sky of thought!
As dew unto the :thirsty flowers;
As the diessed light of heaven;
And widely as the summer showers,
. Thy sitent »id is given.
Yet canst thou flame upon the earth
Like the dread volcano’s glow;
And tyrants tremble at thy birth
As at an earthquake’s throe.
Thy nod can lop the proudest head;
The world thy scepter owns;
The path thou dost to glory tread,
The path is paved with thrones.
Yet thou art gentle as the breeze—
The latest breath of day,
But chainless as the mighty seas,
In thy resistless sway.
At thy command the seals were broke
That bound the mighty deep,
And liberty and truth awoke
From centuries of sieep.
Then first on every sinful shore,
That man in darkness trod,
Thy bright and speeding pinions bore
The beacon w~rd of God.
‘The sage’s lamp, the muses’ lyre,
Thou brought’st o’er ocean’s foam;
The steller light of vestal five;
The eloquence of Rome.
Thou flag of truth! thy folds have
streamed
O’er many a field of blood;
And o'er the wreck of empires gleamed
Like the rainbow o’er the flood ;
The patriot’s eye still turns to thee,
And hails thee from afar, |
As the wanderer of the trackless sea ;
Hath hailed hls guiding star. |
: |
While on the hearth-stone of the hall, ‘
And to the cottage hearth, |
Thou bx’in%’st a daily festival ‘
Of nameless, priceless worth. |
Thou lightest up the pallid cheek |
Of the deserted poor,
And to the captive, worn and weak,
Openest the prison door.
Oh! ever in thy colums bright,
Let the truth and virtue blend!
Be ever, ever in the right!
Be it ever labor’s friend.
‘His strong and honest arm shall be
Thy bulwark in distress;
‘God bless the land of liberty!
- God save our countr’s press!
- —G. W. Cutter, in New York Weekly.
k 7 oy o c7vmhe
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——‘-__
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fi_ |
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—'_.
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\
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.“____.._________________._6______..-_______
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