The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1867-09-19
BOB POLLINGER'S ROSE-COLORED
- SPECTACLES.

BOB POLLINGER's ROSE-OOLOREDl
SPECTACLES.
Iron cassell's Magazine; Republished in Every
Saturday.
CHRISTMAS EVE, 49,, was, in point
OF weather, q miserable day A cold,
drenehing rain, with occasional intervals
OF sieet, was falling. while every now and
then the wind blew in fierce, pitiless gusts,
so that feeble and elderly persons, en-
countering Boreas In this unexpected
manner at street corners, were nearly TAX
en- OH their legs by MS rudeness In-
doors, provided there were plenty of Goals
on the ire, and plenty of food in the
iarder, the weather was pleasant enough.
But, unfortunately, everybody in this
great city was not SO happily situated
The PulInger family, for example, who
rented the front and back attics at num-
Der eight, Warner street, Blackfriars
road, could have borne a good MANY
more Goals on the fire without fear Of
being over-roasted. There was only a
tiny little bit of red heat in one corner of
the small crate, to which Mrs. Pulliuger
added fuel occasionly, with such stern
eye Tor economy, that she might have
put 1t on with tablespoon Mothers are
apt to be selfish so Mrs. Pullinger sat
by the window, declaring stoutly that it
wasn't at all cold, and that she wanted
all the light she could get that dismal day
to mend her husband coat IT, how
ever, you had cross-questioned Lizzie,
the eldest daughter, demure, anxious
faced little creature of eight, she would
have told you that mother sat at the win
dow on purpose that the little les might
snuggle over the fire. And the little
ones, three in number, girl and two
boys were smuggling over the fire, stretch
ing out their mites of hands, and making
believe that the heat was very intense !;
making believe, also, that an old wooden
horse, who, though he had lost his head
and both torelegs, was still prime fa,ni-
~ tavorlte, -making believe that this
venerable nag was suffering exceedingly
from the furnace like character of the
heat to which he was subjected, and that
from this cause he had contracted sundry
diseases beyond the reach of veterinary
skill. 1t might be inferred, from the
glib way Of which the children prattled
stable talk: and also from colored print
OF the celebrating horse Gondolier, which
hung over the mantel piece, that their
father earned his living among horses.
and the Inference would be correct; but
OF this We will say more hereafter and
rather observe for the present that the
room was scrupulously clean, and that
there were various little ornaments on the
walls and on the mantel piece betokening
home loving husband and wife. The
furniture, however, was painfully scanty.
{.,vs ftn ri. -
the clothes which they contained, had
been coufded to the guardianship of
commercial philanthropist in the Black
frlars road-with three golden balls over
his doorway-until better times come
around. And now let US listen to Mrs
Pullinger, pretty dark haired little
woman of six-and- twenty. with a pale,
thin face. She looks up from her work,
with sad smile, and says gently:
1t s no use, Lizzie, securing out the
big saucepan; we shall have no pudding
this Christmas.
1t may as well be clean as dirty" an
swers the little housewife cheerfully, as
she continues her polishing.
But these few words had attracted the
attention of the little ones, who looked
up with large round eyes Of disappointed
wonderment.
mo pudding9'' cried little Alice.
No pudding whimpered Bod, drop
ping tear on the wooden horse ragged
name.
Even baby, twenty months old, and
the family pet stammered out regretfully
as If recalling the remembrance of many
previous Christmas festivities, Me want
puddeny, me muss haye puddcny
Hush, children, exclaimed Lizzie
with severity, holding up an authoritative
finger; you ought to be thankful that
there's two loaves of bread in the cup
board, and pot of nice dripping" Then.
turning to her mother, she said, Il hear
father step on the stairs.
In a few moments Mr.. Pullinger made
his appearance, a short, bow-legged man.
with broad, good humored face, and a
pair of twinkling brown eyes. He took
from his shoulders a corn sack, which he
wore by way OF overcoat, and hung 1t Oh
the bannisters to dry.
Dear Bob, how wet you are.' said
his wife, anxiously.
"Well, it is rather dampish, answer
ed Mr.. Pullinger, calmly, as he shook
himself on the stairhead, like a New
foundland dog; but | amt going to
stop at home, so it don't m ;tter How
about tomorrow dinner, Polly ?'i
That depends upon you, Bob.
because | do like bit of s,lmmat
nice at Christmas, pursued Mr. Pulling
er rehectively. Here he opened the cup
board and peered at its contents I'VE
don't show well in the provision line, do
we, Polly?"
The wife replied by sigh.
And | haven't brought alf-penny
home with me. All this blessed day | We
only had three fares, and one OF them
was a sixpenny touch. How folks can
reconcile it to their consciences TO offer
man q slxpence for seventeen hundred
yards OF carriage airing on day like this,
| don't know. The chaps on the rank
laugh at me, and say IN a soft, to take
1t; but can bully, and can go agin
the Act of Parliament. So here | am
eighteen pence in debt for cab hire to
Mr.. Wilkinson. But don't We get down
hearted, Polly; l shall ask master to let
me have another horse, and ia Ike night
job. Yves sure to have fine night arter
this rain, and if don't pick up summat
good before morning, | m Dutchman "
hope you've had some dinner to-
day, Bob?' asked Mrs. Pullinger
Well, no, | haven't replied her hus-
band. cheerily. That bread Ia the cup
board smelt SO savory that | thought |
wouldn't Spite my appetite by getting
any commonplace grub at cook shop.
So Lizzie, just cut me bunch off the
loaf, and butter it we'll; can t do with
out butter, he said this with a jocose
wink--'then I'll be off to the gard and
hear what Mr.. Wilkinson has to say
So Mr. Pullinger walked up and down
the tito, beating his arms on his chest to
keep himself warm, and each time that
he passed the table he took a bite of his