The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1874-08-11
LFrom the Cincinnati Commercial.]
(eTl, N C WY. .,

"The Summer WidOwer."
1t is very warm. The city is hot and still.
1t is early morning, and the only noise is that
made by the omnibus as it rattles up to this
door and that, taking off passengers to the
express train. Wearied mortals, who all
night long have battled with the heat, and
now have fallen into slumber, are aroused by
the clatter, and turn uneasily, mutter what
we will not repeat, sigh, and as the last trunk
is pitched upon the top of the vehicle, the
ladder is drawn up, and the reins gathered
for start, adjust themselves for nap be-
fore breakfast.
The cook and chambermaid have accom-
panied the family to the door, and received
the mistress last charges about taking care
of the house and attending to chubby" who
is to remain behind, and who, with uncombed
hair and careless toilette, is seeing that the
luggage is all right. A satchel is missing,
and one runs up stairs for it while the other
starts for towel to wipe Harry's mouth
daubed with the egg he would eat, although
he was told there was no time. The driver
calls GAN aboardp' and they are in, lunch
basket and all, and the omnibus starts. 1t
has gone few lengths when cook discovers
waterproof left behind, and runs with it after
the ''bus," catches "huhby's' eye, the strap
is pulled, the driver stops, blasts out an exc
Grafton when be sees what it is, and lashes
his horses to relieve his feelings. Cook re-
turns, and joins in the colloquy which the
early bird next door and the one across the
street are holding with the chambermaid, the
broom and the hose having a rest meanwhile
Yes, the family have gone away for the
summer. They used to keep house and take
care of the master. Communications be-
came too confidential to be made the length
of the pavement and the width of the street;
the broom advances and the hose is laid down
to bubble forth at its own will, while the
holder joins the broom. Cook and chamber
maid seat themselves on the doorstep, elbows
on knees. chin in hands; the broom bends be-
meath the weight upon it; the hcse-holder,
switching her wet garments, leans against
the house, and there is steady murmur of
voices, until cook, starting up exclaims:
''Bless me, marster will be here directly,
and am to have fresh breakfast for him.
With glance at upstairs windows, the
broom and the hose renew their employ
ments, the cook and chambermaid retire, and
the house door is shut. Meantime the Omn-
bus has reached its destination; chubby" has
handed his family aboard the train, turned
two seats into one for them, thrown the
small basket and bundles into the rack above,
and while his wife is making this one get up,
and that one step out, that she may see if she
has all her parcels, he goes out to check the
trunks. That accomplished, he stops and
buys oranges and apples, which he dlstrib
utes among his young brood in the cars,
hands his wife the checks, giving her number
less directions and cautions, telling her to
write as soon as she arrives.
She charges him to take care of himself
not to work too hard, and to come as soon as
he can. The bell taps, he kisses them all
round, goes back once and again at some
word from her, gains the outside of the car,
and takes his station by the window. Aiew
words more, warnings not to let Harry. lean
out the window, and they are off. She
moves her handkerchief, he his hat, there is a
turn, and they are out of sight. With a sigh
of relief he wipes his forehead, replaces his
hat, walks out of the Depot, and halls hack,
throws himself into it, and orders the man to
drive him home.
1t is wonderful how light he feels and de-
void of care. He eats his breakfast with an
appetite, then-it is still early-he takes a
bath and dresses for the day. He is long
time about this, and very particular. His
collars are not ironed right. He has said of
ten enough he wished them doubled together
behind. He throws several of then on the
floor, calls the cook, and desires that she will
see to them. After several trials his neck tie
is adjusted to his satisfaction. He takes one
or two turns before the glass. He really is a
fine-looking man, and his dress is nobby-by
the-by he must have new summer coat; he
will order one as he goes down town.
1t is earlier than he usually gees to bust
ness, so he takes the newspaper and q chair
and seats himself t the front door. After
awhile pretty Mrs. s., in her jaunty little
hat and white wrapper. comes by. She has
be m to one of the daily markets for fresh
fruit for breakfast. She inquiries If the family
have gone, and stops and has little talk.
There is some badinage between them about
his being summer widower." She tells
him he must come often to see them-drop in
to tea. Then she moves of and he goes
down the steps and joins her, walking beside
her until she reaches her own door.
The chambermai6 next door, and she who
was making the beds above stairs, both put
their heads out of the window to listen to
their conversation, and after the couple dis
appeared, had little talk of their own from
window to window.
Our widower returns, visits his room again,
takes a look into the glass, before which he
puts on his hat, then saunters slowly down
street. Generally he is so pressed for time in
his business, he rides; but this is such a fine
morning, such very fine morning, and he
feels so WELL there ssucb sense OF relief and
lightness about him, that he will walk.
ments with ladies whose houses he passes, land
so reaches his place of business. He gets
home early in the afternoon, and makes an
other toilette, informs the cook he shall not
be in to tea, and seats himself ~ the front
door and waits until boy from the stable
round the corner brings handsome buggy
which he enters end dives off. Next he is
seen going in the direction of Eden Park with
pretty young girl beside him.
He has letter from his wife. She is sc
afraid he is lonesome and that the servants
do not take proper care of him. Cannot ht
run up Saturday and stay until Monday. Sh,
does not think she will remain as long as SHE
| intended, for she knows it is uncomfortable
| for him.
| He writes her he is doing very well. To b,
| sure he misses her and the dear children. bu
| he is glad they are out of the hot city. Sh'
| must not think of returning. His busines
will not permit him to come up, it occupie
| all his time.
His new coat fits well; he must have pan
| falcons and vest and another hat. The ont
| he wears is old fogy. He is very much occu
| pied. for he seldom gets home before twelve
| or one at night. The cook grumbles to th'
| chambermaid next door at the amount o
| washing she has to do. When Mrs. - wa
| at home it never was more than three shirt
| week; now it is one every day and two col
| lars a day, ''and-(with hands and eyes up)-
| as for pocket handkerchefs, there is no en-
| to them. To be sure he is very liberal, but
| "a whisper.
He is so Joyous and light-hearted at the ide
| of how well his family are getting along i
their summer quarters, be grows fat on it. S
/ tho vvppEc mass TIa ic fakiuo hiS cumnar We