Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1861-06-07
RACHELOR'S LOVE MAKING.


in the door, Blue spicy wreaths of cigar
smoke circulating up to the ceiling-news-
papers under the table-Castile soap in a
tiny bronze card receiver-slippers on the
mantal piece, and general confusion every
where. And yet Mr.. Thompson-poor
deluded mortal-solemnly believed his
room was in the most perfect order. For
hadn't he poked the empty champagne bot
tells under the bed, and sent the wood box
to bear them company, and hung his
morning gown over the damp towels, and
busted the ashes sprinkled hearth with his
best pocket handkerchief! He'd like to
see room in better trim than that
guessed he would and now was mend
ing himself up, preparatory to go calling,
to call on the prettiest girl in New York.
Not that he was particularly fond of the
needle, but when flows whole foot goes
through hole in the northeast corner of
his stocking, and there isn't button on
his shirt, it's time to repair damage.
Now, that Mr.. Thornbrookes whole
stock of industrial implements consisted of
lump of wax and an enormous pair of
scissors, and one needle, the mending
didn't progress rapidly--his way of man
aging the button question, too, necessa-
rily involved some delay he had to cut
all those little appendages from another
shirt and sew them on, apd next, when
the second shirt was wanted, why it was
easy enough to make transfer again
It never occurred to him to buy few
buttons extra!
Buttons are not much trouble" said
Mr.. Thornbrooke to himself, as he wiped
the pcrspiration from his brow; "but when
it comes to coat sleeves, what the mischief
is fellow to do? | havn't any black
thread either" and he looked dolorously
at a small tear just at his elbow, where
some vicious nail had caught in the broad
cloth. "a black pin may do for tonight,
and tomorrow I'll send it to the tailor,
The fact is, ought to be married and
50 would if | dared to ask Lillian. Oh
dear! know she wouldn't have me-
and vet I'm not so certain either--if |
only could muster the courage boldly to
put the question But just as sure as
approach the dangerous ground, my heart
fails nc! And then that puppy Jones,
with his cu-led moustache and hair part
ed in the middle-always hanging round
Lillian, and quoting poetry to her-if
cauld only have the privilege of kicking
him across the street. I'd be happy if
somebody would only invent new way of
popping the question-somcthing that
wasn't quite so embarrassing?"
Our hero gave his black glossy curls an
extra brush, surveyed himself critically
in the glass, and then, with a deep sigh,
set forth to call on the identical Lillian
Raymond, resolving, as he had a thousand
times before, that if-perhaps-may be
Oh the bashfulness of bachelors
When Mr.. Thornbrooke arrived within
the charmed precincts of Mr.. Raymond's
handsome parlors, velvet carpeted, and
chandeliered with gold and ormulu, crowd.
ed to the very doors with those charming
knick-knacks that only woman's TASTE
provides Miss Lily was sat home" in 6
bewildering pink merino dress, edged with
white lace round the pearly shoulders anc
crimson moss rose twisted in among tht
ripping waves of her soft brown hair
She never looked half so pretty; and
thank Providence, Jones wasn't on hand
for once in his life, But, what was al
most as bad, Lilys cousin was there;
tall, slender, black eyed girl, with arcl
lips, and cheeks as red as September!
apple O how Thornbrooke wished tha
Miss Esther Allen was at the bottom o
the Red Sea, or anywhere else except IL
that particular parlor. And then he
eyes were SO sharp--he hadn't been doinI
the agreeable more than four minute
and half before she exclaimed: y.r a.,
Dear me, Mr.. Thornbrooke--pray ex
cuseme, but what on earth is the matte
With x,our alhow ov ;. Fl