The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1868-04-18

"Oh yes! so poor Charlie Gray always said:
and yet" she would add, with an air of tri-
umph, "he died when he was only twenty
five.
And it made no sort of difference to Mrs.
Lumpkln that he died because he was accl-
dentally shot.
Can YOU blame me, then, for trying my
next experiment on those unlucky bumps OF
prejudice, impulse, etc., that so disturbed the
balance OF her mind?
''My dear what are you reading?" inquired
Mrs Lumpkin, the next morning, as l turned
over the leaves of Il thin pamphlet between
the sips of my coffee.
"The prospectus of the Washoff Mining
Company"
Now, in the old times, that is before the
DAYS of "Charactagent," Mrs. Lumkln would
have pouted, which she does very prettily,
and then she would have laughed, which she
is fond of doing, because she has dimples,
and then she would have cried petuantly,
"The tiresome thingw meaning the pamphlet,
and presently L would find the ''tiresome
thingr" snatched from my hand and waved
aloit in triumph. She has done it a hun
bred times. But now she simply said "Ahw
in judicial tone, as if she was waiting for
the evidence.
"Nash gave it to me-" l explained, some
what uneasily. "He says the mine is good
thing"
And wants you to take his share?" queried
my wife, sharply.
"Why-yes! that is"
"Why not keep it himself?"
"His business leaves him no time to attend
to it."
"Oh! then. of course, Mr.. Nash must find
his regular business more profitable than the
silver mine"
Il don't see that"
81 do, very clearly, Mr. Lumpkin. Mr.. Nash
is business man. Business men stick to
what will bring the most money. Mr.. Nash
sticks to ordinary trade. would advise you
to do the same"
"But, my dear, you do not understand
these matters"
81 understand this much" answered my
wife, stoutly. Let us call Mr.. Nash, or rath-
er his business, A and yours B. Your profits
are pretty nearly equal; SO Alb. Let us
call the silver mine &C. Mr.. Nash has tried q,
and finds that &C is less than B; SO we have
A-G. Now, as B=A, if you should try &C,
in my opinion you will find that the result
will be b "a with you too"
There is no more severe test of mans
temper than to find that his wife has the best
OF the argument; but, to have her demon
strate it alphabetically, why it is simply fright
full
my DEAR" said /, slyly, remember Mr..
Williams and the Police report"
| This had nothing to do with the case in point
1t was simply bit of domestic abracadabra,
| which no doubt all discerning husbands
| know how to use on occasion. The case of
| Mr.. Williams was one in which my wife had
been so woetully in the wrong that to men
ton it was, if the ladies' will pardon me so
vile a comparison, like shaking red rag at
bull. My wife never failed to redden at once
and argue the case all over again, involving
| herself finally in tangle OF explanations,
and quite losing sight of the case in hand
| Not so on this occasion.
"The dispute about Mr. Williams has no
bearing on the case in point" she answered.
coldy.
went to my business puzzled and discon-
tented. However little man may want here
| below, | doubt whether he is ever quite sure
in his own mind T. hat that little really is
How often had pictured Mrs. Lumpkin to
myself indifferent to fashion, scornful of Cos
sip, and capable of an argument. But, now
that she was possessed of these projections,
L found in myself no corresponding rapture,
but something much more like sulkiness.
| "Fretting' came next, and here l applied
the 'charactagent" without hesitation, for
certainly no woman can be better for fretting;
| and my experiment proved Just in time, for
the following day was one of the unlucky
| days that occasionally affict household A
neighbors dog stole our breakfast, little Ben
scalded himself badly, the maid gave warning
and just as l came home spilled bottle Of
ink on the parlor carpet.
"Contound it," said I. Mrs Lumpkin said
nothing, but began to wash the carpet. l
| stood looking at her, and the enOrmity of the
maids carelessness grew upon me the while.
what did she want in here?" cried saw
| agely. "She had no business in the parlOr;
and why should she 90 whisking about
among the chairs and tables at all? And
| why was the ink here? 1 don't consider the
| parlor the place for bottles of INK"
| And half dozen times that afternoon I
| found myself growing about the maid, and
declaring that the carpet was ruined. Conse-
quently was uncomfortable through the
whole afternoon; whereas, if Mrs. Lumpkin
had fretted, as in the days before the "charac-
tagent," should simply have said, "Come
come, come, my dear. scolding will not draw
out the ink" and have thought nothing more
about it; for there is no such sedative to your
anger DIS the wrath OF another,
Next on my list found my wife's lack of
| interest in noble thoughts; but here was at
fault. The charactagent did not make bumps,
| but destroyed them. Besides, had doubts.
began to see dimly that it might not be al
| together desirable to raise Mrs. Lumpkin too
nearly to my own level. Once there, she
might find me out, for it is distance lends en-
chantment to the view, you know. Finally,
then, had to deal with sentimental whims'
and 'caprices )" but as | was arranging the
pads | heard my wife on the stairs. adjust
ed them hurriedly, and walked away from
the dressingtable just as she entered the
| door.
hssu-luck would have it I slept late, and
was a"ahehos hv Bridget, trembling and cry
ing.
"Oh, Musther Lumpkin," she sobbed scoom
quick. There's something quare with the
misthressp'
As you may suppose, my first thought was
OF the cnaractaseat" What had done? 1
the kitcne,i"H H.. L,..Mfs Lumpkln was in
about the kitchen, broeo'ffhfp no! She moved
moved by steam. Little Jets oofngdi, but she
ont nom her lips and nostrils; wheels Gam
and clicked within her as she moved. She
wore dial plate Oh her breast, and a kew
hung from her neck With this kew Won
| wound her mp; at the same time you moved
the hands on the dial plate to any figure. saw
seven. In that case she made seven reyolu-
tions about the room. On stopping. a little
bell suspended from her ear rang vigorously.
On examination l discovered also that she
was an ingenious combination of the sewing
machine, the knitting-machine, the patent
washer and wringer, and the new apple-parer.
Under her chignon was little door through
which she was supplied with coal. NV be-
| loved wife was an automaton.
What had done? In my furry had ar
ranged the pads to press equally over her
| head aad they had destroyed her individual
ty, something, too, must have happened to
me elective currents, and-well, cannot ex-
plain it, but there she was.
AS was surveying her with unutterable
grief and dismay, the young person who had
| sold me the 'charactagent,' looked in at the
door. ''-e
"Ahp' she cried, "did not tell you? There
IS success; there is the 'charactagents' per-
feet work. There is the woman of the TWEEN
tleth century. There is the only form under
which she can exist as gentlemen would have
her. She is neither silly, nor strong minded,
nor vain, nor slatternly, nor prudish, nor CO.
quettish, nor learned, nor simple, nor weakly,
nor masculine, nor jealous, nor scold. And
she hears nothing, sees nothing, says nothing,
and costs nothing, and she can manage the
tion."
'Wretchp 1 cried-and awoke.-Harper's
Bazaar.