The Potter journal. [volume] (Coudersport, Pa.) 1857-1872, 1867-03-12

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runaway horse ou the street just below, and
Ipaused at the window to seewhat was 60
ing on. Then a group of gayIy dressed
girls, some of my old. friends, Haunting ont
IN new RIG, caught my eye. | forgot all
about supper for several moments, and stood
drumming against the glass, and hummlng
an opera air to myself Just then an awfui
sound broke on my ear, hssing spluiter
from below. | went down three steps at
bound. The kitchen was black with smoke,
and the odor of the burning trout almost
drove me back. Bat de ernined to save
them, seized the pan, dropping it the in
slant after with cry of pain. The red hot
hand had crisped my hand to the bone;
The hlssing grease and burned fish flew in
every direction, spelling my pretty oil
cloth and soiling my new evening wrnpper
beyond redemption. In the meantime my
cotf.e was foaming over, aul the rolls were
burning To Goals, an1 every instant the
stove, which | had literally crammtd with
wood, was increasing its heat. | felt as If
| should 90 mad. Every attempt made
to rescue nay supper left its mark upon my
poor hands; and. to cap the climax, IN the
very heat hf the fray there came a rap at
the door | smoothed my hair and wiped
the per<piration from Ey fre AMI hurried
cut The conner was no other than aunt
I Drbbie. If ever gave utterance to any
thing like profanity in my heart, L feel sure
that infinite Justice will not hold me ac-
.countaIIe; for there are moments in life, |
think when we sin involuutariy-sin be-
cause our souls are too Weak, too sorely
tried - hpln it.
Aunt Delbie followed me into the par
lor, removed her shaw aud bonnet, smooth
ed down her silk apron, and took out her
roll of knitting.
81 heard Dorcas had left yon," she said,
in her pleasanleSt, even voic", land |
thought I'd dr. P in and see if YOU wanted
hep"
mo, no.' l lroke ont passion ely, Il
can do well enough myself I'm cooking
supper now. SIT down here please; Owen
will lie home Directly
She acquiesced, and I hurried back to
the Kitchen. Ovens pointer was helping
! himself to the scattered trout, / gave him
punch that sent him imping out on three
/ legs, and then rushed at the stove. The
fire had gone down; and the foaming cof
fee sut,sidpd and the heavy, black toppel
rolls smoked in the oven. But had no
time to waste in repining. 1t was almost
six o'clock, aal my husband vas a pune
tual man.
/ [ went to work and gathered up the
broken fish, Pacing them on a dish and
peeling off the burnt skin; then selected
/ the best of the rolls, and set about M,
/ Spanish buns. hal seen Dnrcas make
them, AMI followed her example to the
letter. As the stove WAS moderately warm.
;hry baked pretty fairly. and dried my
eyes and began to Sc: the table with some
thing like reviving hope. Six o'clock
found everything in readiness, and my
handsome husband in hi seat with his OH
friend on enc hand, and aunt Debbie on
he other.
"These are capital trout, Wat" he said,
as he helped him to them. Il ordered
them burposeIy when heard You We're IN
town Do them justice now; and take a
rol-my wife is famous for making good
bread"
| could hear my heart halpitate, AMI my
hand lremhIed so that coui scarcely ponr
out the muAdy, unsettled coff4e. Mr.. Sry-
mour put out his small, de icate hand, and
took roll, broke off It's black top, glanced
at its heavy, spongy middle, and pushed il
aside. 1t WAS rather heavy he thought,
and he was compelled to avoid everything
nllgeStble. lie was 50 prone /" dyspepsia
Owen swallowed a bitter mou hiul o.
burned trout with look of excessive all
noyance
The rolls are heavy" he said; "yonr
yeast must have failed, Mag; but try bun,
Vat Mag makes prime buns
Mr. Seymour took one. tasted it, and
laid 1t beside his roll Owen, no bad tax
IN one, so,looked up in utter astOnishment.
Why, Mag"
well. what now3" Iretorte', petttshIy.
You've male mistake, child" sail
aunt D.bbie, qm'tIy; you've put salt III
Your bnns instead Of sugar. Wait mo
ment. Mr. Seymour, till slice sone cold
bread"
She rose with cent'e dignity, while |.
utterly unable to control my feelings burst
into tears.
"Maggie, sail my husband, severely. "if
you're going to act like chill, you'd bet
t'r 90 to your room"
nee lel M second hint. The next in
slant found me in my chamber, AMI the
lonr double locked. WAS too deeply
hurt, too much mortified, too angry to be
reasonable; so | threw myself on the rug
hefrre the fire, AMI eli d myself into lit
of nervous headache. lay there, hour
after hour, with that one thought in mya
mini Al last | haarl his Stan unnn the