Connecticut western news., 1874-08-14
safely held down by couple of fat

safely held down by couple of hat- irons.
 "It will boil all the sooner" thought Harry. Nothing like an economy of heart. Now then for the oysters l"
 The frying pan was ]iberally anoint- ed with butter and placed on the fire, and Harry began operations by impal- ing 8 fat half-frozen oyster on the prongs of fork.
 c. ''They dredge 'em in flour first, , thought Harry, refectively eyeing his oyster "and where the flour barrel is, I'm hanged if know! Ah-hl there it is under the cellar shelf"
 And Harry plunged his oyster down into the white powdery depths, bring ing it up an oblong sphere of snow.
 That's the time of day! Now, my fine fellow, cook away at your leisure, while I give your brothers white jackets too! This is certainly a remarkably fine flour. How fragrant the coffee smellsl Here's little drawback-fry- ing pan not big enougr to hold the oysters. Never mind we'll put 'em in first and second series, like volume of popular essays!"
 MT. Harry Kneller paused to wipe the streaming precipitation from his brow. Half-past sixl Mary would soon be at home now-the surprise must really be acceleratedl
 "I really think the oysters must be done on one side now," said Harry, eyeing the frying-pan scientifically, and making dive at it's contents with his fork. Hallool why, they're as hard as bullets! What on earth is the matter ?"
 He stared with discomfted eyes at the round, adamantine balls that he imagined juicy-hearted oystersi
 "I'm not bewitched, am ?" he pom dered. " I've heard of money changing to dry leaves, but never heard of oys- ters being transformed to stone It can't be possible that-it is possible, and I've been and gone and done it I've dre1ged my oysters in plaster of Paris that was brought in for the gar den, instead of the flour! Here's pretty blunder All the oysters spoil ed l-twenty- five of 'em at five cents apiece, and all through my stupidity P
 At the same moment the spout of the britannia coffee-pot parted company with it's main reservoir. and the coffee grounds, water, and melting metal pour ed into the fire in confused steam, ashes, and noise.
 While Harry Kneller gazed at this chaos with dim idea that it would be best to evacuate the kitchen promptly before the occurrence of any more dis asters, the two fat.irons, impelled by some unforeseen hydraulic pressure, flew mp against the ceiling, coming noisily down among china cups and piled-up plates, the pot cover following with noise like the report of artillery, and giving MT. Kneller 9 smart rap on the side of the head as it came down, which stretched him on the floor still holding the fossiled oyster out on the end of 8 toasting fork.
 While Harry lay prone on the kitchen oil-cloth, considering within himself whether he was killed dead, mortally wounded, ornot hurt at all, the door door opened, and Mrs. Kneller rushed in pale and breathless.
 "He has shot himself-I know he has He has committed suicide On, Harry, my own, own husband, speak to me Tell me you are not dead P
 "No--I don't think I am," enunci- ated MT. Kneller slowly, as his wife threw herself on her knees beside him, nearly strangling him with the fer vency of her embrace. "Only I've smashed the china, and fried the oys- ters in plaster of Paris, and melted the nose of the coffee-pot. But I'm not dead, I think r .,.........1-.. -.....c:
 And while Mary assisted him to rise, in a little hysteric tremor between laughing and crying, he looked sheep ishly round on the chaos and ruin that surrounded the death agonies of his ambition as cook. ....-
 "You see. Mattie," he said. glancing dolorously down at his ash -besprinkled habiliments, "I wanted to give you a little surprise, and"
 "And you have entirely succeeded, my love-" said his wife, mischievously. You're 8 splendid lawyer, dear, I've no doubt but you'll never succeed in life as cook.
 "I wish you'd tell me one thing, Mattie, ">he said that evening, as Mrs, Kneller handed him his second cup of tea. -t.-
 "And what is that p
 "Why didn't my buckwheat batter foam over and bubble as yours does ? I stirred it until my arm was lame."
 "My dear, said Mary, laughing, edo you suppose the buckwheat batter didn't know the difference between you and me p ...- .
 "Nonsense P ....
 "Of course it's nonsense" said Mary, demurely, eff you mean your attempt ing to fry oysters in plaster of Paris P
 And Mir. Kneller did not answer.- Leisure Hours. t-at