The Ottawa free trader. [volume] (Ottawa, Ill.) 1843-1916, 1874-08-01

expressive of great satisfaction; while clos'
beside 1t the pal of frozen oysters was expos
ed the genial influence of CalOric.
They III boil like ginger pretty soon,
thought Harry. "And now III stir up
buckwheat or sol know where Matte keeps
the bag of flour"
"Str up q buckwhcat or so" sounds re
markably easy-but Mr.. Kneller found it I
more difficult matter than he had apprehend
ed.
do ee-whcre--the-hit
slowly soliloQuzed our hero. at ought tG
foam over, with little bubbles on the top-a
least Mattie's always does Perhaps the cold
weather makes difference. HaIloo! We
forgotten all about potatoes"
But not potato could be found, and Har
~ Kneller, with all the originality of great
mind, fell back on pan of withered yellow
turnips, four in number, which he put boil
ing in prodigious pot, with the cover safely
held down by couple Of fatirOns.
at will boil all the sooner" thought Har
nv. Nothing like the economy OF heat
Now for the oysters"
The frying pan was literally Amounted with
butter and placed on the fire, and Harry be-
gan operations by impaling fat halfirozen
oyster on the prongs Of fork.
They dredge them in flour first" thought
Harry, reflectively cycling his oyster and
where the -four barrel Is, III be hanged if |
know. All, there it is under the cellar self.
And Harry plunged his oyster down into
the white powdery depths, bringing it up an
oblong sphere of snow.
That the time of day! Now, my fine
fellow, cook away at your leisure, while
give your brothers white jackets too! THIS
| is certainly remarkably fine flour. How fra
grant the coffee smells, Here's little draw
back-frying pan not big enough to hold the
oysters. Never mind, we III put them in first
and second series, like volume oi popular
essays"
Mr.. Harry Kncllcr paused to wipe the per,
spiratIon from his brow. Half past six!
Mary would soon be at home now-the sur
prise" must really be accelerated!
81 really think the oysters must be done
or one side now" said Harry, cycling the fry
ing pan scientifically and making dive at
| its contents with his fork. "Hallo! they re
as hard as bullets. What on earth is the mat
Iter?n
He stared with discounted eyes at the
round adamantnc balls that he had imagined
Juicy hearted oysters!
"i'm not bcwitchcd, am |? 2" he pondered.
Z" We heard of money changing into leaves,
but never heard of oysters being transform
ed into stone. 1t can't be possiblc-it is pos
sible, and I've gone and done 1t! I've drcdg
ed nv oysters in plaster of Paris that was
brought in for the garden, instead of the flour
Here's pretty blunder, All the oysters spoil
cd,-twcnty five Of them at five cents apiece,
all through my stupdity!'
And at the same moment the spout OF the
britannia coffee pot parted company with ITS
main reservoir, and the coffee grounds, water
and melted metal poured into the fire in Goa.
fused steam, ashes and noise.
While Harry Kncller gazed at this chaos
with dim idea that it would be best to eyac-
u1e the kitchen promptly before the occur
renee of any more disasters, the two tiatiorns,
impcllcd by some unforeseen hydraulic press
urc flew up against the ceiling, coming
noisily down among china cups and pied
up plates, the pot cover following with noise
like the report of artillery, and giving Mr.,
Kneller Il smart rap on the side OF the head
rs il came down, which stretched him on the
floor, still holding the iossilcd oyster out on
the end of Il toastng fork.
While Harry lay prone on the kitchen OIL
cloth, considering within himself whether he
were killed dead, MORALLY wounded, or not
hurt at all, the door opened, and Mrs. Kncller
rushed in pale and breathloss.
ale has shot himself know he has! He
has committed suicide! Oh, Harry, my own,
cwn husband speak to me! Tell me you
are not dead?"
"No-I don't think am" enumerated Mr.
Eneller slowly, as his wife threw herself on
her knees beside him, nearly strangling HIM
with the fcrvency 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 and
crying, he looked sheepishly round on the
chaos and ruin that surrounded the death
agonics of his ambition as cook.
"Iou Sec Matte" he said, glancing dolo-
rously down at his ash-besprinkIed habili-
menls, II wanted 10 give you lt'le surprise,
and"
"And you have entirely succeeded my love"
said his wife, miscbievously. "You're n
splendid lawyer. dear, I've no doubt; but
you'll never succeed in life AS Il cook"
81 wish you'd tell me one thing, Matte"
he SAID that evening, as Mrs. knelcr handed
HIM his second cup of tea.
"And what is thaty'
"Why didn't my buckwEeat batter foam
over and bubble AS yours does? | stirred ii
until my arm was lame"
MY dear" said Mary, laughing, edo you
suppose the bucl;wheat batter didn't know
the difference between you and mcy'
Nonsense"
"OfcourSc its nonsense" said Mary demur-
ley, "if you mean your attempting to Try oys-
ters in plaster of Parisw
And Mr.. kneler did not answer Leisure
HoWS
HERE'S RICHNESS"