The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-03-11
MRS. CNUpLE,s CURTAIN LECTURES.
Continued from our last issue.
THE ,SIXT'H LECTURE.

''That's the third umbrella gone since
Christmas. What 5Cere you to do? Why, let
him 90 home in the rain, to be sure. Pm
very certain there was nothing about him
that could spoil Take cold, indeed He
doesn't look like one of the sort to take cold
Besides, he'd have better taken cold than take
our only umbrella Do you hear the rain
Mr.. Caudlel l say, do you hear the rain /
And as Pm alive, if it isn't st. Swithin's
Day DO you hear it against the windows ?
Nonsense; you don't impose upon me. You
a can't be asleep with such a shower as that I
sDo you hear it, say Oh, you do hear it |
Well, that's a pretty flood, think, to last for
sixV-eeks 'tnd no stirring all the time out of
the house Pooh don't think me fool
Mr.. Caude. Don't insult me. lie return the
umbrella Any body would think you we're
Aborn yesterday. As if anybody ever did re-
turn an umbrella There-do you hear IL ?
Worse and worse Cats and dogs, and for six
weeks-always six weeks. And no UNI
brella
81 should like to know how the children are
. go to school tomorrow They sha'n't go
Il through such weather, Pm determined. No !:
II they shall stop at home, and never learn any
thing-the blessed creatures -sooner than go
and get wet. And when they grow up
wonder who they'll have to thank for know
ling nothing-whO, indeed, but their father?
People who can't feel for their own children
ought never to be fathers.
''But | know why you lent the umbrella.
On, yes ; | know very well. | was going out
to tea at dear mothers to-morrow-you
knew that and you did it on purpose. Don't
tell me; you hate me to go there, and take
every mean advantage to hinder me- But
don't you think it, Mr.. Caudle. No, sir if it
comes down in buckets full, I'll 60 all the more.
No: and | won't have a cab. Where do you
think the moneys to come from {? You've got
nice high notions at that club of yours. A
cab, indeed Cost me sixteen-pence at least
sixteen-pence two-and- d-eightence, for there's
back again. Cabs, indeed! should like to
know who's 20 pay for 'em / can't pay for
I" 'en, and I'm sure you can't, if you go on as
you do; throwing away your property, and
beggaring your children-buying umbrellas
"DO you hear the rain, Mr.. Caudle l
say, do you hear it But l don't care--Ill
60 to mothers tomorrow, will A; and what's
more, I'll walk every step of the way-and
you know that will give me my death. Don't
call me foolish woman; it's you that's the
foolish man. You know | can't wear clogs
and, with no umbrella the vets sure to give
me cOld--it always does. But what do you
care for that Nothing at all. l may be laid
up for what you care, as l dare say shall
and pretty doctors bill there'll be. hope
there will 1t will teach you to lend your
umbrellas again. l shouldn't wonder if
caught my death yes and that's what you
lent the umbrella for. OF course
"Nice clothes | shall get too, trapseing
through weather like this. My gown and
bonnet will be spoilt quite. Needn't 1 ,oear
'em then ? Indeed, Mr.. Caudle, l shall wear
'em. No, sir Pm not going out a dowdy to
please you or anybody else Gracious knows
it isn't often that step over the threshold
indeed, might as well be a slave at once
better, | should say. But when do go out,
Mr.. Caudle choose to go like a lady. Oh
that rain-if it isn't enough to break in the
windows.
''Ugh! do look forward with dread for
Tomorrow How am to go to mothers Pm
sure can't tell. But if die, I'll do it. No.
sir won't borrow an umbrella. No; and
you sha'n't buy one. Now, Mr.. Caudle, only
listen to this: if you bring home another
umbrella, I'll throw it in the street. I'll have
my own umbrella, or none at all.
'Ha and it was only last week had a new
nozzle put to that umbrella. Pm sure, if I'd
have known as much as / do now, it might
have gone without one for me. Paying for
new nOzzes, for other people to laugh at you.
Oh, it's all very well for yOu-you can go to
sleep. You've no thought of your poor
patient wife, and your own dear children.
You think of nothing but lending umbrellas
'Men, indeed !-call themselves lords OF
the creation pretty lords, when they can't
even take care of an umbrella
death of me. But that's what you want-then
you may go to your club, and do as you like
and then, nicely my poor dear children will
be used-but then, sir, then you'll be happy.
Oh, don't tell mel know you will. Else
you'd never have lent the umbrella
''You have to go on Thursday about that
summons and, of course, you can't go. No,
indeed, you don't go without the umbrella.
You may lose the debt for what l care-it
won't be so much as spelling your clothes
better lose it people deserve to lose debts
who lend umbrellas
"And l should like to know how I'm to go
to mothers without the umbrella Oh, don't
tell me that said Voutd go--that's nothing tC
do with it nothing at all. She'll think Pm
neglecting her. and the little money we were
to have we sha'n't have at all-because we've
no umbrella.
''The children, too Dear things They'll
be sopping wet for they sha'n't stop at home
they sha'nt lose their learning it's al
their father will leave em, Pm sure. Blu
they shall go to school. Don't tell me | sai6
they shouldn't: you are so aggravating
Caudle; you'd spoil the temper of an angel
They shall go to school; mark that. And
they get their deaths of cold, it's not my
fault didn't lend the umbrella"
"At length" :" writes Caudle, 81 fell asleep
and dreamt that the sky was turned int
green calico, with whalebone ribs that, il
fact, the whole world turned round under
Tremendous um brella ln