The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1877-04-27
M j g O elan @ O N q.
Mr.. Grumbler's Cure.
A LESSON FOR HUSBANDS.


THE old story-th coffee cold, fire
nearly out, and the room full of sitting
smoke"
Mr. Grumbler drew his chair up to the
breakfast table as he spoke with the face
of martyr.
"The coffee is only just made, DEAR
said Mrs. Grumbler,a pretty timid- looking
woman with soft blue eyes and brown
braids, "and l don't think the room il
very cold. AS for the smoke, am sorry
but the man promised to have the chimney
seen to yesterday"
"Of course he did; nobody ever keeps
promises to u.s." groaned Mr. Grumbler.
"If it had been Smith, now, the chimney
would have been seen to long ago. Do give
me piece of steak that is at least warmed
through, we're no cannibals that l know of
to eat our meat raw. But that's always
the wayne never had cook that under.
stood how to broil steak"
"But, my dear" said Mrs. Grumbler
Don't tell me-" interrupted Mr.. Grum.
bier. Il know just how things ought to
be done. The paper hasn't come yet,
supposed No, of course not. l really
wish somebody would enlighten me as to
why my paper 10 Always HULL aH Hour latel
than anybody else's. If the baby DOM
leave off crying, l shall certainly 60 crazy
"It's teeth trouble it," sighed Mrs
Grumbler, leaving the breakfast table, tc
walk up and down the room with her fret
full little charge.
ooh, nonsense !" said Mr.. Grumbler
sharply charging at slice of toast with
his fork; "you coddle it too much, that's
ALL"
Mrs. Grumbler thought of the genera
commotion into which the house had beer
thrown about month previously, when
Mr.. Grumbler had the toothache. But
sue nestled the baby's velvet head against
her shoulder, and said nothing-woman's
way of disposing of great many little
martyrdoms.
"Now, then, where's my hat 2" demand
ed Mr.. Grumbler, rising and looking
around. Every singular that hat is never
in its place"
at is just where you flung 1t yourself
papa, in the hail." said little Harry, from
behind his spelling book.
"Children shouldn't talk so much" sale
Mr.. Grumbler, tartly my dear, that rent
in the lining of my top coat is not mended
| yet why uiu JOu HOb SGc W II
81 intended to do so," said his wife
apologetically, "but you know we had
company last night, and the baby slept SC
badly that rose rather later than usua
this morning, but"
always some excuse" interrupted hel
liege lord. 81 really don't understand thu
reason that nothing is ever done in time il
this house."
He gave the front door rather an en-
phatic slam as he went out, and little Mrs
Grumbler, instead of rebelling against he
husbands iron rule, just sat down to cry
ing. Oh those comforting tears; how
many grievances float into oblivion upor
their blessed tide; how many wounds ar,
healed by their balmy drops. Woman
may lose all her privileges, one by one, blu
as long as she can cry there is some conso
lation remaining to her.
Mr.. Grumbler wasn't by any means bat
husband. He really loved his wife, ant
believed himself to be pattern of Djuga
amiability; only he had somehow or other
fallen into the unconscious habit of fault
finding; and like many another individ
ual, whenever he couldn't find anything
else to do, lie grumbed.
"Crying again, Bessie ~ exclaimed hel
brother, coming in just an hour or two
later.
Now, that's too bad, suppose Henri,
has been treating you to another domestic