Orangeburg times. [volume] (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1872-1875, 1874-08-13

tionment of coffee, filed up the poi
with water, and placed it on the hoi
Goals with u countenance expressive OF
great satisfaction; while close beside il
tho pail of frozen oysters was exposed
to the genial influence of caloric. n
They'll boil like ginger pretty
soon," thought Harry. "And now
I'll stir up buckwheat Or lso-I know
where Matte keeps the bag OF flour. >
"Str up buckwheat or 80" sounds
remarkably easy, but Mr.. Kneller found
it more difficult task than he had ap.
prehended. Il 3 Is
"I-don't-see where-the hitch
il" slowly soliloquized our hero. est
ought to foam over, with little bubbles
on the top, atleast Mattie's always does.
Perhaps the cold weather makes q diff
ference: Halloe! I've forgotten all
about the potatoes |"
But not potato could be found, and
Harry Kneller, with all the originality
OF great mind, fell back on pan OF
wlthered yellow turnips, four in num-
ous iron pot, with the cover safely held
down by couple of fiat irons.
It will boil all the sooner" Thought
Harry. "Nothing like an economy of
heat Now then for the oysters ~
The frying pan was literally
anolnted with butter and placed on the
tire, and Harry began operations by
impaling n fat half frozen oyster on tie
prongs of fork.
), "They dredge 'epl in flour first, ("
thought Harry, refectively eyeing his
his oyster; "and where the -four bar
rel is, I'm hanged ii know! Ah-ht
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 II Now, my
hne fellow, cook away at your leisure,
while give your brothers white jack
cts, too! This is certainly remark
ably fine flour. How fragrant the cof-
fee smells L. Here q ] 1ittlp drgst y Back -
frying pan not big enough to hold the
oysters! Never mind; we'll put them
in first and second series, like volume
OF popular essays I"
Mr.. Harry Kneller paused to wipe
the streaming perspiration from his
brow. Half-past six Mary would
soon be home-the surprise" must
really be acceleratsdi
1 really think the oysterss must be
done on one side now, said Harry, eye
ing the frying-pan scientifically and
making n dive at its, contents with a
fork, Halloo why, they're Us hard
as bullets What on earth is the mat
tor?" e
He stared with discounted eyes at
the: round. adamantine balls that he
imagined juicy hearted oysters
"I'm not bewitehed, am I?" he pom
dered. Give heard of money chang
ing to dry leaves, but I never heard Of
oysters being transformed to stone It
can't be possible that is possible,
and I've been and gone and done it /
I've dredged my oysters inplaster of
Paris that was brought for the garden,
instead of the. -four / Here's "a, pretty
blunder All the oysters spoilt I.
twenty-five of 'em at five cents apiece,
and all through my stupidity"
And Mt the same moment the spout of
the britannia coffeo-pot parted company
with its main reservoir, and the coffee
grounds, wa'er, and melting metal
poured into the fire in confused steam,
ashes, and noise.
While Harry Kneller gazed at the
chaos with dim idea that it would be
best to evacuate the kitchen property
before the occurrence of any more dis
some unforeseen hydraulic pressure,
flew up against the ceiling, coming nois-
lily down among china cups and piled
noise like the report of artillery, and
giving Mr.. Kneller smart rap. on the
side of the head as it came down, which
stretched him on the floor, still holding
the fossilled oyster ont on the end of O
toasting fork.
While Harry lay prone on the kitchen
oil-oloth, considering within, himself
whether he were killed dead, mortally
wounded, or not hurt ut all, the door
opened, and Mrs. Kneller rushed in pale
and breathless.
"He has shot himself-I knowbe has!
He has committed suicide! Oh, Harry,
my own, own husband, speak to me
Fell me you are not dead !"
"No-I don't think am," enunciated
Mr.. Kneller slowly, as his wife threw
herself on her knees beside him, nearly
strangling him with the fervency of her
embrace. "Only I've smashed the
china, and fried the oysters in plaster
OF Paris, and melted the nose off the
coffee-pot. But I'm not dead, Think
And while Mary assisted him to rise,
in a little hysteric tremor between
laughing aud 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 Mt his ash.besprinkled
habiliments, 81 wanted to give you q
little surprise, and"
"And yon have entirely succeeded.
my love-" said his wife, mischieyously.
you're splendid lawyer, dear, I've