The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-03-08

answer for themselves when they get boosting
one with another. They never think of their
poor wives, who are grieving and wearing
themselves out at home. A nice headache
you'll have tomorrow morning-or rather
this morning; for it must be past twelve. You
Don't hare a heddache? It's very well for you to
say SO, but | know you will and then you may
nurse yourself for me. Ha that filthy tobacco
again No; shall not go to sleep like good
soul. HOw's people to go to sleep when
they're suilocated
eyes, Mr.. Caudle you'll be nice and i'll in
the morning But don't you think Pm going to
let you have your breakfast in bed, like Mrs.
Prettyman. I'll not be such a fool. No: nor
/ won't have discredit brought upon the house
by sending for soda-water early, for all the
neighborhood to say, 'Caudle was drunk last
night Mo- Pve some regard for the dear
children, if you haven't. No: nor you sha'nt
have broth for dinner. Not a neck of mutton
crosses my threshold, can tell you.
You 'oon't rant soda, and you ,oon't hare
broth? All the better. You wouldn't get 'em
if you did, can assure you. Dear dear, dear
The filthy tobacco! Pm sure it's enough to
make me as bad as you are. Talking about
getting divorced-'m sure tobacco ought to
be good grounds. How little does a woman
think, when she marries, that she gives her
self up to be poisoned You men cOntrive to
have it all Of your own side, you do. Now if
was to 60 and leave you and the children, a
pretty noise there'd bel You, however, can
60 and smoke no end of pipes, and You didn't
smoke! It's all the same, Mr.. Caudle, if you
60 among smoking people. Folks are known
by their company. You'd better smoke your
self, than bring home the pipes of all the
world.
eyes see how it will be. Now you've once
gone to tavern, you'll always be going.
You'll be coming home tipsy every night; and
| tumbing down and breaking your leg, and
putting out your shoulder; and bringing all
| sorts of disgrace and expense upon us. And
then you'll be getting into street fight-oh
know your temper too well to doubt it, Mr..
Caudle-and be knocking down some of the
police. And then | know what will follow. 1t
must follow. Yes, you'll be sent for month or
| six weeks to the tread-mill. Pretty thing that,
| for a respectable tradesman, Mr.. Caudle, to be
| put upon the tread-mill with all sorts of
| thieves and vagabonds, and-there, again, that
horrible tobacco and rifraff of every kind.
should like to know how your children are to
hold up their heads, after their father has been
upon the tread d-mill No; | Uon't go to sleep.
And I'm not talking of what's impossible.
know it will all happen-every bit of it. If it
wasn't for the dear children, you might be
ruined, and wouldn't so much as speak about
it, but-Oh dear, dear! at least you might go
where they smoke good tobacco-but l can't
forget that Pm their mother. At least, they
shall have one parent.
'"Taverns Never did man go to a tavern
who didn't die beggar And how your pot
companions will laugh at you when they see
your name in the Gazette = For it must hap
pen. Your business is sure to fall off, for
what respectable people will buy toys for their
children of drunkardY You're not q drunk
ard No: but you will belts all the same.
you've begun by staying out till midnight.
By-and-by twill be all night. But don't you
think, Mr.. Caudle you shall ever have a key.
know you. Yes you'd do exactly like that
| Prettyman, and what did he do, only last
| Wednesday Why, he let himself in about
| four in the morning, and brought home with
him his pot-companion, Puffy. His dear wife
woke at six, and saw Prettyman's dirty boots
! at her bedside. And where was the wretch
her husbands Why, he was drinking down
stairs-swilling. Yes; worse than midnight
| robber, he'd taken the keys out of his dear
wifes pocket-ha what that poor creature
has to bear land had got at the brandy. A
pretty thing for a wife to wake at six in the
morning and instead of her husband to see
| his dirty boots
''But I'll not be made your victim, Mr..
keys, for they shall lie under my pillow
under my own head, Mr.. Caudle.
you'll be ruined, but if l can help it, you
shall ruin nobody but yourself.
ooh that hor-hor-hOr-i-ble tob-ac-
cot"
To this lecture Caudle afixes no comment.
A certain proof, we think, that the man had
nothing to say for himself.
Mrs, CaudleS Curtain Lectures aOiU be continued
daily in The Evening Telegraph, until COM
fItotoNt'