The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1866-12-08
must (if this gentleman will excuse me)

Mr.. Lamps demonstrated in actor
what this meant, by pulling out his oily
handkerchief rolled up in the form Of {
ball, and giving himself an elaborate
smear, from behind the right ear, uI
the cheek, across the forehead and down
the other cheek, to behind his left ear
After this operation, he shone exceed
ingly: ....,,..,,r ,,.,,-
particular-when particularly warmed
up by an agitation sir" he offered by
way of apology. "And really, l an
throwed into that state of amaze by
finding you brought acquainted with
Phoebe, that THAT I think will, il
you'll excuse me, take another rounder.'
Which he did, seeming to be greatly
restored by it.
They were now both standing by the
side Of her couch, and she was working
with her lace pillow. "Your daughter
tells me, "said Barbox Brothers, still in
q half reluctant, shamefaced way, "that
she never sits up"
"No sir, nor never has done. You see
her mother (who died when she was q
year and two months old) was subject
to very bad fits, and as she had never
mentioned to me that she was subject
to fits, they couldn't be guarded against
Consequently, she dropped the baby
when took, and this happened"
at was very wrong of her." said Bar
box Brothers, with a knitted brow, "tc
marry you, making a secret of her in
trinity"
,"Well, sir" pleaded Lamps, in behalf
of the long deceased. "You see, Phoebe
and me, we have talked that over too
And Lord bless us! Such a number on
us has our infrmities, what with hts,
and what with misfits, of one sort and
another, that if we confessed to 'em all
before we got married, most of us might
never get married" =
might that not be for the better'"
"Not in this case, sir" said Phebe,
giving her hand to her father.
"No, not in this case, sir" said her
father, patting it between his own.
"You correct me-" returned Barbo1
Brothers, with blush; "and l must
look so like a brute, that at all events
it would be superfous in mo to confess
to that infrmity. 1 wish you would tell
me a little more about yourselves. l
hardly know how to ask it of you, for |
am conscious that | have n bad, stltf
manner, a dull, discouraging way with
me, but l wish you would"
"With all our hearts, sir" returned
Lamps, gayly, for both. "And first OF
all, that you may know my name"
"Stayw interposed the visitor, with a
slight flush. What signifies your name!
Lamps is name enough for me. / like
it. 1t is bright and expressive. What
do want mOrei"
"Why to be sure, sir" returned Lamps.
~ have in general no other name down
at the functions; but l thought, on ac-
count of your being here as first-class
single, in a private character, that you
might"
The visitor waved the thought away
with his hand, and Lamps acknowledged
the mark of confidence by another
rOunder.
"You are worked, l take for
granted I" said BarbOx Brothers, when
the subject of the rounder came TOUT OF
it much dirtier than he went into it.
Lamps was beginning, "Not partic-
ular so," when his daughter took him
up,
30 yes, sir, lie is very hard-worked
Fourteen, fifteen, eighteen hours day
Sometimes twenty-four hours at a
time"
"A"h ;Erpu.n said Barbox Brothers,
what with your scnool, r1Iu0hO, .--I
what with your lace-makingp
"But my school is pleasure to me,
she interrupted, opening her brown
eyes wider. rs if surprised to find him SO
obtusc. 81 began it when | was but a
child, because it brought Inc and other
children into company, don't you see
That was not work. / carry it on still,
because it keeps children about me.
That is not work. / do it as love, not
as work. Then my lace-pillow"; her
busy hands had stopped, as if her argu-
ment required all her cheerful earnest
ness, but now went on again at the
name; "it goes with my thoughts when
| think, and it goes with my times
when hum any, and that's not work.
Why, you yourself thought it music,
YOU know, sir. And so it is. to me-"
"Everything isw cried Lamps, radi-
antly. "Everything is music to her,
sir"
"My father is, at any rate, said PhGbe,
exultingly pointing her thin forefnger
Mt him. "There is more music i'll my
father than there is in brass band"
81 say! My dear! It's very fillyillially
done, you know; but you are flattering
your father" he protested, sparkling.
''No am not, sir, assure you. No /
am not. If you could hear my father
sing, YOU would know am not. But
YOU will never hear him sing, because
he never sings to any one but me. How
ever tired he is, he always sings to me
when he comes home. When l lay here
long ago, quite poor little broken doll,
he used to sing to me. More than that,
he used to make songs, bringing in
whatever little jokes we had between
ms. More than that, he often does 80 to
this day. o, I'll tell of you, father, as
the gentleman has asked about you. He
is poet, sir" .....
'I shouldn't wish the gentleman, my
DEAR" observed Lamps, for the moment
turning grave, "to carry away that
opinion Of your father, because it might
look as if was given to asking the
stars in o mclloncolly manner what
they was up to. Which / wouldn't at
once waste the time, and take the iber-
ty, nv dear" "',.4sTg TS-.v'.
"My father" resumed Phoebe, amend
ing her text, "is always on the bright
side and the good side, You told me
Just now, I had q happy disposltion.
How can I help itr ''' '.'.-''
"well; but my dear" returned Lamps
argumentatively, chow can l help it !
Put it to yourself, sir. Look at her.
Always as you see her now. Always
working-and after all, sir, for but a
very few shillings week-always con.
tented, always lively, always interested
in Others, of all sorts. / said, this mo
ment, she was always as you see her
now. So she is, with a difference that
comes to much the same. For, when its
nv Sunday off and the morning bells
are done ringing, I hear the prayers and
thanks read in the touchingest way,
and / have the hymns sung to me-so
soft, sir, that you couldn't hear 'em ont
of this room-in notes that seem to me,
I am sure, to come from heaven and go
hack tn IL -