The Manitowoc tribune. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1866-1878, 1877-04-19
GOLDEN LOCKS.
The Story of o. iS,ritcb.

What do I know about such mat
ters?" said Squire Postlethwaite, rump-
ling up his Saxon brown hair into a crest
ON the very top of his head.
The Squire was standing in the mid
die of the sunny sitting room
aglow with wreaths of autumn leaves and
blossoming geraniums, with wood fire
on the hearth, which exhaled faint piny
perfume from the resinous logs which
were cracking there, and the biggest
tortoise-shell cat in New Jersey asleep in
front of the blaze. And the Squire's
wife was balancing herself on tiptoe to
sew button ON his shirt bosom-a ma
icious button which had flown off with
out the slightest previous notice, very
Mephistopheles in mother-of-pearl. The
Squire was tall and big and easily
wheedled the Squire's better-half was
round and petite and possessed of good
deal of feminine diplomacy; and, as a
matter of course, Mrs. Postlethwaite
conquered.
ooh, my dear, it the simplest thing
in the world, said She
"But it's so perfectly absurd p per-
sisted the Squire. "The idea of nay 60
ing into one of those Broadway places
and asking fora switch -
ttIts done every day, my dear, said
Mrs. Postlethwaite, deity breaking the
thread. 'EAnd really my hair is getting
so thin, what with crimping and frizzing;
and every body else wears a false braid,
or bunch of curls, or something, and I
am positively singular without one. And
I wouldn't mind waiting until L go up to
town in January, if it wasn't for Fanny
Leslie's charade party. Everybody will
be there, and of course you want me to
look as well as any one else, don't you,
dear?"
The Squire could not gainsay this
leading proposition. He had married
a pretty young country girl for love, and
during all the five years of their welded
life the torch had burned clear upon the
altar of his heart.
"Of course I do, said he, heartily.
"Then you'll bring me the switch,
won't you?'' coaxed Mrs. Postlethwaite
60 If it must be, I suppose it must be, y
assented the Squire, with grimace.
And when he drove off to the depot,
he carried in pocket-case, next to his
heart, a lock of his wife's faxen hair
not as q keepsake, but as a sample.
" "Thirty-six inches long, at least, -
Mrs. Postlethwai called after him.
''And crinped little at the top, If it's
not charged extra for"
Squire Postlethwaite didn't go to the
city every day. As a general thing, his
peach farm in New Jersey occupied the
most of his time and attention but when
he did minglo with the gay metropolitan
world, he resolved to enjoy himself to
the utmost. So he engaged room al
| the most expensive and aristocratic hotel
he could find, visited the Academy OF
Design, where he didn't understand the
pictures at all, and went in the evenings
/ to the theater, where he cried over the
tragedy, and laughed his vest buttons
off at the brisk little comedy that served
as an afterpiece. and was a little abashed
at the ballet. And it is most probable
that he would have forgotten his wife's
commission entirely if, in the process OF
searching his pocket-case for a note
which he was to present for payment al
a city bank the next day, he hadn't
CHANGED to come across the tress ol
shining gold.
"Hallo - said the Squire, shifting his
knee with one hand, 'shere's Polly's
hair. AMI I must go and buy the switch
tomorrow. or theren be the deuce ant
all to pay.
He went that afternoon to dine witt
Mr.. Ponsonby at Delmonico's- the
Squire had all child's delight in gild
ing and fresco and lights. Old Mr.. Pom
sonby rather discouraged 4'le witch bus
mess when, over their ID al bottle o
claret, the Squire broach~d his proposed
errand of the following morning.
"I wouldn't, said old Mr.. Ponsonby
shaking his head.
"Wouldn't?" echoed the Squire
"Why not ?''
.'It's running great risk" said Mr.
Ponsonby, oracularly I'm told tina
yellow fever, and smallpox, and ali tha
sort of thIrc ara Disseminated TO al