The Council Bluffs nonpareil. [volume] (Council Bluffs [Iowa]) 1857-1867, 1858-08-21

Yes, I'm Mrs. Peter Snow, an EDITORS
wife. well remember the day when Mr..
Snow asked me to become his. | confess
like Mr.. Snow, and thinking it would be a
very fine thing to be the wife of an editor, |
said yes as pretty as knew how, and |
became Mrs. Snow. have seen ten years
of married life, and find my husband to be
IN amiable, good natured man. He always
spends his evenings at homo, and is in that
respect, model man; but he always brings
apple Of exchanges which is limited only by
the length of his arms, and reads, while
patch the knees and elbows Of our boys
pantaloons and coat. After we have had n
Quaker meeting of an hours length, |
break the silence by asking:
'Mr. Snow, did you order that coal spoke
to you about?'
'What did you say, my DEAR he asks, af-
ter few minutes silence.
'Did you order that coal, spoke to you
about?'
Indeed, my dear, I'm sorry, but forgot
oil about it. 1t shall come to. morrow.''
Another hours silence which is relieved
by the baby crying; and rather liking to hear
noise of some sort, made no effort to
quiet him.
'My DEAR said Mr.: s., after-hc had cried
minute or so, hadn't you better give the
baby some catnip tea to quiet it. lie
troubles me-
The baby is still, another hour passes
without breath of noise. Becoming tired
of silence, take lamp and retire for the
night, leaving Mr.. S. engaged with his pa
pers that he does not see Inc leave the room.
Towards midnight he comes to bed, and
Just as he has fallen to sleep, the baby takes
n notion to cry again. | rise as quick as
possible and try to still him. While | am
waking the room with the small Snow in
my arms, our next-a boy of three years
begins to scream at the top of his lungs
What can do! There is no other course
but to call Mr.. S., SO called out:
'Mr. Snow! Mr.. Snow.'
The third time he starts up and replies:
sWhat, Tim, more copy:'
As though was Tim. that little imp run
ming about his office. replied, rather tart
ly.
sNo. don't want any more copy-Ive
had enough of that to last me my life time.
Iwant yon to see what Tommy is crying
about
Mr.. Snow makes a desperate effort to
souse himself; as Tommy stops to take
breath, he falls asleep again, leaving me
pacing the room in as much vexation as
can comfortably contain.
The next morning at breakfast, when
gave Mr.. Snow an account Of last nights
adventure, he replies:
'Indeed, my dear, ain sorry the children
trouble YOU"
THAT is always the way. If | complain
1t is indeed, my dear, am very sorrv.'
But should the very same thing occur the
subsequent night, directly before his eyes.
very likely he would not see or know any
thing about it, unless it happened to inter
rupt the train of his ideas. Then he would
propose catnip tea; but before | can get it
into the infants stomach, he will be far away
in the realms Of thought, leaving me not a
little vexed at his apparent stupidity.
MIR. Snow knows the nature of every pa
per published in England and the United
States, but he can't for the life of him tell
the names of his children. He knows inst
the age of every American journal, but he
does not know the age of his own baby. He
knows how every contributor looks, but I
don't believe he can tell whether nv ewes Are
black or blue.
The world says Mr.. Snow is getting rich
All | know is, he gives me money to cIotbe
and feed our boys, and that too, without n
complaint Of poverty. | hope the world is
right IN opinion, and when | am satisfied
that it is, l shall advise him to resign his
editorial honors, and spend few months in
becoming acquainted with his wife and
children. The little ones will feel much
fattered at making the acquaintance of so lit.
erary gentleman.
"a young lady that lives near rail-
road crossing, appears to have no occupa-
ton except perpetualy pokins her head out
OF the window. A wag, the other morning
hailed her from the street.
"Hallo, Miss -
"What do you want" said she, after the
hrst flush OF indignation at being thus ac
costed.
"The bell amt rung yet," was the an
swer.
"What do you mean :" asked Miss.
"Why," was the reply, ''that sign saws
you're to 'iook OUT when the belt rings,
but you are looking out all the time.'
The young lady's head disappeared with
jerk, and the window went down with
n sl,vp