Bedford inquirer. [volume] (Bedford, Pa.) 1857-1884, 1865-05-19

Il W ASiG diN 1Ou4 ctbGc
i don know, : said Tommy, with his
finger in his mouth.
II know said Pet, aptly revenging her
self for the hit at herdimunitive proportions
Tommy dropped them out Of the win
dow
Tommy is bad boy, said the vexed
pater-familias, crawling under the bed for
sundry little stockings that had been thrown
there, apparently, as balls. 'FWhere are
the clothes p
I'm the bureau, answered the child
But where?'
81 don know
Crash went fancy bottle of cologne off
the table, as Tommy groped for his elastic
garters, and bang fell Mrs. Carver's rose
wood writing desk to the floor, bursting off
the frail hinges, and scattering pens, enve-
lopes and postage stamps far and wide
Pet pounced upon the ruins like Vulture on
the battlefield, while Tommy burst into a
loud wall
Mr. Peter Carver was an affectionate faith
er In a general way, but human nature could
not endure all this. He promptly gave his
adhesion to Solomon Awisdom by admins
tering brisk personal chastisement. Tom
roared, and Pet joined in with treble scream
Of sympathy.
81 never saw such children in my life ~
said the chagrined parent 1T would take
one person whole time to keep them out of
mischief"
And he bundled the two little creatures
miscellaneously into whatever articles came
uppermost, rending off strings and fracturing
button-holes in frantic desperation.
There Now, see if you can behave
yourselves while | get breakfast
'Papa, snivelled Tommy, you have
buttoned my frock in front instead of be-
hind, and Pet has not had herface washed y
Il can't attend to you now said hlr.
Carver banging the door with a sigh of re-
lief. Children are great trial; | never
realized it before
The kitchen range looked black and cheer
less enough as he stood staring helplessly at
it.
II don't know much about making fire,
he pondered; but | suppose newspaper
and a lot of kindling are about the right
thing, with few shovelfuls Of coal ON top.
Bless me there 5 nothing you can't reduce
to theory.
But the fire obstinately refused to burn,
setting theoretical perfection utterly at de-
fance, although Mr. Carver opened the ov-
en- doors alternately and drew out all the
hampers he could spy
"Confound ..the fire u said Mr.. Carver,
wiping his wet forehead with the stove-cloth
it won't go. III have blaze of kindling,
and fry the breakfast on that.
He seized an oleaginious ham, carving
several thick slices which he transferred deft-
ly to a gridiron, and then, elated with his
success, broke several eggs over the ham.
Bless me, how they run he calculated
rather puzzled. But | know am right
because if the eggs don cook on the ham
how the deuce do they come there | won
der why this coffee don boil. III stick IN
a few more kindings-that the idea.
There are the children crying up stairs
hungry, [ suppose. | do believe they do
nothing but eat and cry Here-Pet, Tom
my-come here, and II give you some bread
and molasses
While the little creatures were gradually
becoming hopelessly sticky and begrimed on
the kitchen floor, Mr.. Carver rushed TO
attend the peremptory summons OF the milk
man.
''How much milk? l don't know-a
quart suppose. Fine morning, Mrs. Gray
he said, bowling chivalrously to a lady who
was tripping down the street, and adding,
sotto voice, but don't see anything to
laugh at in the remark. Some women are
''Papa, said Pet, innocently looking up,
''your nose is all black with charcoal.
"You look so funny, papa, said Tommy
with that big towel pinned round you.
lMr. Carver turned scarlet-this was the
mystery of Mrs Grey uncomfortable amuse-
ment.
"a man can't cook and keep himself
clean, said he pettishly.
Then he remembered with a remorseful
pang, how white Carry's collars and cuffs
always were, and how spotless and pure her
morning wrappers invariably looked. And
he sat down, tired and spiritless, to repast
of half cooked meat and liquid mud, by
courtesy termed coffee.
s'Stuff. y he calculated, throwing the cof-
fee spitefullv into the sink. Il wonder how
Carry did it I'm sure it seemed easy enough.
Now, / suppose have got to wash these
dishes
Helooked despairingly around at the chaos
that reigned in the kitchen.
''Nine o clock, as / live-and nothing
done. Well, [ see very plainly there's no
office for me to-day. Now, then, what is
wanting?
'aThe clothes for the wash, please, sir =
said little girl courtesying humbly at the
door.
''Up stairs and down stains, and in my la
dy's chamber" went Peter Carver, laying
hands on whatever he considered proper prey
for the wash-tub, rummaging in bureau
drawers, upheaving the contents Of trunks,
and turning wardrobes inside out for NOR
tai hour before he had completed the Tequi-
site search. The kitchen was empty when
he returned.
'sWhere are the children ? was his first
alarmed thought, expressing himself uncon-
seiously in words.
Il saw them go out of the door, please,
sir, said the little girl.
| "Was it long ago
No sir-not very it might be fifteen
minutes
Peter rent off the towel wherewith he
! had girdled himself, and set off hot haste
after the missing ones. The July sun was
beginning to glow intensely in the heavens,
the pavements reflected the ardent shine
with tenfold heat and poor Peter Carver
was nearly melted into nothingness ere he
espied, in the train of hand-organ and
monkey, his hopeful son and heir, with Pet
following, both nearly unreeognizable from
dust, perspiration and molasses.
Come home, this instant, you little
wretches - calculated Peter, quite forget
ting in his rage the emolument precepts in
culcated as the parents guide, and lavishing
a shower ofnot very caressing words on his
| offspring, as he promptly arrested them.
Neither Of them would walk-in fact, the
little wanderers were far too weary. So Mr..
! Carver mounted one on each arm and car
ried them, timber and unresisting, through