The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1867-03-23
MRS. CEUDLES CURTAIN LECTURES.
ontinuod from our last issue.
THE TWENTYEIGHTH LECTURE.

MRS. CAUDLE HAS RETURNED HoMR-THE uousE
(oF coURsE) "NoT FIT TO BE sBEN'-NR.
cAUDIE, IN sELF-DEFENsE, TAKES BOOK.
"After all, Caudle, it is something to get
into one own bed again. [ sduU sleep to-
night. What You're glad Of Il? That's
Ike your sneering; | know what you mean, of
course; l never can think of making myself
comfortable, but you wound my feelings. If
you cared for your own bed like any other
man, you'd not have staid out till this hour.
DON'T say that drove you out of the house as
soon as we came in it. | only just spoke about
the dirt and dust,-but the fact is, you'd be
happy in pig-sty | thought l could have
trusted that Mrs. Closepeg with untold gold;
and did you only see the hearth-rug? When
we left home there was tiger in it: | should
like to know who could make out the tiger
now Oh, it's very well for you to swear at
the tiger, but swearing won't revive the rug
again. Else you might swear.
"YOu could go out and make yourself
comfortable at your club. You little know
how many windows are broken. How many
do you think No; l sha'n't tell you to-
morrow-yOu shall know now. Pm sure
Talking about getting health at Margate All
my health went away directly | went into the
kitchen. There's dear mothers China bowl
cracked in two places. l could have sat down
and cried when l saw it, bowl l can recollect
when l was child. Eli I should hare
for anything of mine. | only wish it had
been your punch-bowl; but, thank goodness
Ithink that's Clipped.
Well, you haven't answered about the
windows-you can't guess how many. You
don't care Well, if anybody caught cold but
you, it would be little matter. Six windows
clean out and three cracked You can't
help at? l should like to know where the
moneys to come from to mend 'em They
sha'n't be mended, that's all Then you'll
see how respectable the house will look. But
l know very well what you think. Yes;
you're glad of it. You think that this will
keep me at home-but I'll never stir out
again. Then you can go to the sea-
side by yourself; then, perhaps, you can
be happy with Miss Prettyman Now, Cau-
die, if you knock the pillow with your
Est in that way, I'll get up. It's very odd
that | can't mention that PERSONS name but
you begin to fight the bolster, and do l know
not what. There must be something in it, or
you wouldn't kick about so. A guilty con-
science needs no-but you know what mean.
''She wasn't coming to town for a week;
and then, of a sudden, she'd had a letter. |
dare say she had. And then, as she said it
would be company for her to come with us.
No doubt. She though. | should be i'll again,
and down in the cabin; but with all her art,
she does not know the depth of me-quite.
Not but what was ILL., though like brute,
you wouldn't see it.
F'What do you say? GOod-niqht lore {?
Yes, you can be very tender dare say-lille
all of your sexzrto suit your own ends; but
can't go to sleep with my head full Of the
house. The fender in the parlor will never
come to itself again. haven't counted the
knives yet but I've made up my mind that
half of 'em are lost. No: don't always think
the worst; no, and don't make myself un-
happy before the time; but of course, that's
baDly
If there ar'n't spiders in the curtains as big
as nutmegs, Pm a wicked creature. Not
broom has the whole place seen since I've
been away. But as soon as l get up, won't
rummage the house out, that's all. hadn't
the heart to look at my pickles; but for all
left the door locked, Pm sure the jars have
been moved. Yes; you can swear at pickles
when you're in bed; but nobody makes more
noise about 'em when you want 'em.
90 / only hope they've been to the wine eel
lar: then you may know what my feelings
are. That poor cat too-What? You hate
cats? Yes, poor thing! because she's my
favorite-thats it. If that cat could only
speak-What? 1t isn't necessary? don't
know what you mean, Mr.. Caudle: but if that
cat could only speak, she'd tell me how she's
been cheated. Poor thing | know where
the moneys gone to that left for her milk
know. Why what have you got there, Mr.
Caudle? A book What i you arni
dLtOlCed to steep yOUU red1! Wen, now III Is
come to something! If that insulting wife
to bring a book to bed, | don't know what
wedlocll is. But you sha'n't read, Caudle; NJ
you sha'n't; not while I've strength to get III
and put out a candle.
''And that is like your feelings You car
think great deal of trumpery books; yes
you can't think too much of the stuff that's
put in print but for what's real and true
about you, why you've the heart of a stone
Ishould like to know what that books about
What Milton'S Paradise LoSt?' | though
some rubbish of the sort-something to insul
me. A nice book think, to read in bed; anC
very respectable person he was who wrot
it. What do kno1o Of him? Much more THAI
you think. very pretty fellow, indeed, will
his six wives. What lie hadn't Sir-he't
Onlg three? That's nothing to do with it bu
of course you'll take his part. Poor women
A nice time they had with him, l dare say
And Ive do doubt, Mr.. Caudle, you'd like t
follow Mr.. Miltons example else you wOuldn'
read the stuff he wrote. But you don't us
me as he treated the poor souls who marrie
him. Poets, indeed I'd make law agains
Y any of 'em having wives except upon paper
for goodness help the dear creatures tied I
! Them Like innocent moths lured by a can
die Talking of candles, you don't know tina
the lamp in the passage is split to bits
saw YOU don't-do you hear me, Mr.. Caudle
Won't YOU answer3 Do you know where yo
are What? In the Garden of Eden? Al
you? Then you've no business there at th
time of night.
"And saying this" writes Caudle, "sh
scrambled from the bed, and put out tn
light"
THE TWENTY-NINIH LECTURE.