Sioux City register. [volume] (Sioux City, Iowa) 1858-1871, 1860-11-10

"Not at all like my friend Burley, c
the Grange thought he. "The la
does mt weigh more than ten stone, an,
Burley is sixteen and then he's as thil
as hurdle He won't do for son-in-las
that's certain"
Merton was, in truth, a young man Of
fine taste and elegant accomplishments
but by no means likely to conciliate tn,
squire by forward or presuming exhi
bition Of proficiency in the peculiar prac-
tees or teats with which the old gentle
man had been prone to invest his imagi
xary idals. But recently arrived from the
West Indies, he had not yet divested him
self of those habits of luxurious Incidence
and enjoyment common to the natives Of
Barbados, and he could no more recon-
cle to his inclination to assume the gloves
with pugilistc veteran, or to dive into
the mysteries of the third bottle, than to
encounter triumvirate of Titans, or to
see Silenus himself under the table. It
may readily be conceived then thht the
two new friends were at first sight, far
from feeling that perfect cordality and
good will toward each other, so little ex-
pe"ted, but so anxiously hoped for by the
ladiss.
As they sat over their wine, however,
after the retirement Of Mrs. Harbotte
and her daughter, the squire thought it
would be favorable opportunity of sound.
ing the West Indian, touching these indis.
pensib'e requirements, which he preceded
by an elaborate survey of his victim.
"Why, you don't drink, my good sir,
said he, pushing the decanter toward
him. "No evasion, no heeltaps-fair play,
you know and he tipped wink of
meaning,
mo, sir" replied Merton, 81 am but a
poor drinker at all times
"Ah poor drnker--I thought so,
growled the squire, with a glace of pity,
"but it's the fashion, hear, to drink no.
thing nova days. and you of course follow
the fashion,
"No, Indeed said the young man fash
ion is but a"
=" suppose interrupted Harbottle,
you never put on the gloves, eh p
Put on the gloves ?--I wear gloves,
certaialy," answered the other, with an
smile.
Wear gloves pshaw r shouted the old
gentleman, testify "Put on the gloves, |
say-exercise yourself in sparring-in the
manly exercise Of self defence"
"My dear sir, | never DO put on those
gloves ; assure you,' said Merton, grave
y, with voice that would have graced
"4ou don't hunt, l presume p asked
the squire, drumming his fingers upon the
table. as he elevated one eyebrow and di.
rected an oblique look at his companion,
which seemed as though his voice pro-
,eeded from his eye-"You don't hunt ?
Prefer the road to cross-country %
81 have never been used to hunting,
confess
"Ah very well--T see how It s.' And
bitterly sardonc grin deformed the fea-
ures of the squire. Look ye, sir" said
he, after long pause, 81 have daugh-
er-Mabel. Mabel is fine girl, SIR
"Miss Harbottle,' said Merton, with a
upturous emphasis, sis indeed young
ady, not only of the greatest beauty, but
If the most elegant taste, and the most
Exemplary principles. Might l but hope
No, no, you must not hope, sir, bv any
neans,' quoth the squire, doggedly, Gun
ess you are prepared to make yourself
master of these requisite accomplishments
without which the prince himself might
NC for her hand in vain"
What, sir y cried the astounded youth
espatchng bumper down his throat,
nd falling back in his chair-what, sir,
'ould you have me groveling under your
able, nightly? Would you have me sa-
nrate myself with wine, until my visage
ut on the imperial purple during the un-
appy reign of my existence Would
ou have me drown myself, like Clarence,
4 butt Of Malmsley, before you could
eem me worthy Of your daughter ~
nd he swallowed second glass.
The squire nodded assent.
Would you delight to see me- he con.
nued, rushing madly over your acres
Ike the wild huntsman of Bohemia, or the
ero of Wordsworth's "Hartleap Well,' or
oursing through the air like him of The
'ondrous Horse of Brass ~
"Why, yes, should like to see it very
'uch,' qaoth the squire, complaeently.
"Would you qualify ne for marriage"
roceeded the novice, "by breaking every
onc in my body-by pounding me more
lthlessly than physical pain was meted
1t to Don Quixotte, or educng pastine
ON my person, whereto the tortures of
haarsis in his "Brazen Bull" were but
'ft and exquisite delights ?'
Nothing less, | assure you" roared
10 squire in transport raising himself
his chair, and rubbing his hands with
eight. "Thsse are the conditions, my
sar boy, and 50 you may make cho,ce
stantly.'
Whereupon the old gentleman be.ook
mself to his evening slumber, and the
nhappy Merton again had recourse to the