The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-08-14

thought Harry, refectively eyeing hii
ms oyster Z" and where the flour bar
rel is, I'm hanged if I know Ah-h
there 1t is under the cellar shelf"
and Harry plunged his oyster dowr
INTO the white powdery depths, bring.
ing 1t up an oblong sphere of snow.
That's the time of day Now, nv
hne fellow, cook away at yonr leisure.
while 1 give your brothers white lack.
ets, too This is certainly remark
ABLY line -four. How fragrant the cof-
fee smells Here's little drawback
trying pan not big enough to hold the
oysters! Never mind; we'll put them
IN first and second series, like a 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 accelerated
" really think the oysters must be
done on one side now" said Harry, eye
ing the frying-pan scientifically and
making dive at its contents with a
fork. Halloo why, they're as hard
as bullets What on earth is the mat
ter ?"
He stared with discounted eyes at
the round, adamantine balls that he
imagined juicy hearted oysters
I'm not bewitched, am I ?" he pom
dered. I've heard of money chang
ing to dry leaves, but I never heard Of
oysters being transformed to stone It
can't be possible that-it is possible,
and I've been and gone and done it /
I've dredged my oysters in plaster of
Paris that was brought for the garden,
instead of the flour Here's a pretty
blunder All the oysters spoilt i
twenty-five of 'em at five cents apiece,
and all through my stupidity I"
And at the same moment the spout of
the britannia coffee-pot parted company
with its main reservoir, and the coffee
grounds, water, 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
asters, the two fat-irons, impelled by
some unforeseen hydraulic pressure,
few up against the ceiling, coming nois-
lily down among china cups and piled
up plates. the pot cover following with
noise like the report of artillery, and
giving Mr.. Kneller a smart rap on the
side of the head as it came down, which
stretched him on the floor, still holding
the fossilled oyster out on the end of
toasting fork.
While Harry lay prone on the kitchen
oil-eloth, considering within himself
whether he were killed dead, mortally
wounded, or not hurt at all, the door
opened, and Mrs. Kneller rushed in pale
and breathless.
fHe has shot himself-I knowhe has!
He has committed suicide! Oh, Harry,
my own, own husband, speak to me
Tell 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
him with the fervency of her
"ODly I've smashed the
china, and fried the oysters in plaster
of Paris, and melted the nose off the
cofee-pot. But I'm not dead, 1 thinkT'
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
the death agonies of his
as a cook.
You see, Mattie," he said, glancing
down at his ash-besprinkled
" I wanted to give you a
little surprise, and"
"And you have entirely succeeded,
nv love-" said his wife, mischievously. |
." You're a splendid lawyer, dear, I've
no doubt but you'll never succeed in
life as a cook"
"I wish you'd tell me one thing,
Matte" he said that evening, as Mrs. |
Kueller handed him his second cup of |
tea.
'And what is that ?"
"Why didn't my buckwheat batter
foam over and bubble as yours does? l |
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?"
"NOnsense -
"Of course it's nonsense, said Mary, |
1emurely, "if you mean your attempt
ing to fry oysters in plaster of Paris p
And Mr.. Kneller did not answer.