The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1876-06-08

| the Aldermans wife could have heard what
he muttered relative to her welfare as he
| passed through the crowded courts and al
| 1eys she would have been more opposed to
the marriage than ever.
| Oh, what an anxious period was the four
| weeks prior to the day when Susan was to
bee ONE wife! The pretty housemaid was
an expert needle woman, and, like an economic
| herself-a slate-colored silk with spots,
something that would prove useful on fu-
| ture day, and which had been presented her
| by the Misses Jobbins, who, despite the fact
that it was only one Of their servants who
| was about to be married, took wonderful
| good deal more time in the kitchen than
| cook desired. Then there was Mrs. Jobbins,
full of wise counsel and cautions as to the pit
falls of matrimonial life. Every one in the
| house thought it their duty in some way to
| interfere in the marriage preparations.
| At last came the eventful morn, and Kid
| dini, leaping from his couch and peering
| through the slip Of blind which adorned the
dirty window of his lodging, observed with
no feelings of delight that the rain was de-
| scending in torrents.
"Humph!" he growled; "obliged to have
cabs now, suppose"
Involuntarily his hand sought his trousers
pocket, and then, finding that the sum of
| tive-and -sixpence was contained therein, he
began to make his toilet
1t certainly was q depressing morning
the boughs of the trees in the square drooped
in the wet, the ram battered steadily upon
| the pavement, and a warm, close atmosphere
| increased the general gloom and detection.
| Susan was to be married from the house in
the news where her intimacy with Kiddini
had begun; and wishing good Mrs. Jobbins
| and her daughters farewell, with tears in her
| eyes, she started for her friends house the
| night prior to the bridal. Cook, of course,
| was to be principal bridesmaid, and insisted
| that none but herself should arrange the
! slate-colored silk, lace shawl "a parting pres
ent from Susan's late mistress) and white
tulle bonnet Nine, ten, eleven O'Clock, and
| still the rain descended as steadily as ever.
| Poor girl, it was not a very pleasing COM
mencement of her wifely career, but cock
| succeeded in eradicating all traces of her
emotion just as the bridegroom with three
cabs ratified up to the door.
On their way to the parish church they
were compelled to pass the shop of the re-
| jected Perks, and Susan could not refrain
from turning her eyes in that direction. She
noticed that the shop was full of customers,
| and-yes, there was her former betrothed
with black apron tied tightly round his
waist, dartlng about his premises as busy as
bee in his efforts not to keep his customers
waiting.
" He seems to be doing well; the shop is
full" remarked Susan to her chief brides
maid.
"People say he's got the best business in
the street," responded the cook.
Susan bre athed sigh, and wondered after
all whether she had taken sufficient notice
of Perks caution, and had indeed made q
| mistake-whether penniless dancing mas
ter was so many degrees superior to pros
| porous grocer. She had not much time for
reverie, as in a moment the cabs dashed up
| to the church door, and Susan had to run
the gantlet of line of admiring women
and children, who, despite the drizzling rain,
had gathered to witness the marriage cor
tege.
The bride shivered as she got out of the
vehicle, and without waiting for her lovers
arm hurried out Of the damp air into the
| church. Expecting that Kiddini would i'm
mediately follow, Susan became somewhat
surpris ed when five minutes elapsed and he
had not made his appearance; still more as
tonished was she when, going to the church
portal to see what detained him, she observed
her betro thed tightly clasped by gaunt,
wretched- looking woman, and five poorly
clad children hanging on to his arms, legs,
coat tails, and other portions of his clothes
capable of seizure.
"What-what is the meaning of this? ?" in
quired Susan, her eyes flashing with indig-
nation.
pallid face, remained perfectly helpless in the
hands OF those who had taken possession Of
him.
"Kiddini," exclaimed the bride, "why
don't you speak%
By this time the woman and children had
dragged the bridegroom into the church, and
| the doors had been closed upon the rabble
attracted by the disturbance outside.
When the woman knew that her prisoner
could not escape she released her hold, and,
turning to the indignant Susan, said:
Begging your pardon, miss, this Is my
husband, and these are our five children
born in lawful wedlock. He deserted me and
the little ones two years ago at Manchester
and since then I've been roaming about in
rain this blessed morning, which made me
take shelter here, perhaps / shouldn't have
found him at all. His names Tom Kidd and
not Kiddini, as you call him. Oh, miss
> you've had lucky escaped"
: All the time the woman had been speaking
her five children had not in the slightest de-
E gree relaxed their hold upon their long-losl
, father, but clung to him with pertinacity
. that made the wretched creature seek pillar
t | for support. As for poor Susan the words
seemed to scar into her brain; but to doub
/ what she had heard was impossible when sht
glanced at the helpless harlequin and saw
: his wretched plight
( "Take me home, cook-take me home,
i she said, resigning herself to her faithful
& friend; then entering one of the cabs whicl
g had awaited the conclusion of the projectet
: marriage she fell into swoon.
). When she got back to the little house dow
r the news it transpired that her friends kney
t scarcely any more Of Kiddini than did Susa
s herself; they had met him at the abode of a
e acquaintance and, on the strength of q yagu
It intiInation that at any time they would b
) glad to see him whenever he passed that way
e he had become a constant visitor to tn
hous, for some weeks prior to his meetin
/" with Susan.
1t An Overwhelming sense OF the narrow es
e cape she had had SO preyed upon the min
of our heroine that severe Illness followed