American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1878-06-01
A PUMPKIN SHELL.

Foor Patty hadn't been used to it
the confinement, the routine, the con-
tinual dust in her throat, the blur in her
eyes, the phantasmagoria of Haunting
color, of different costumes and faces
at one minute face made up of such a
straight, lovely Grecian nose, such pink
rounded cheeks, such bright laughing
eyes, such a dimple in the chin! As
that face would bend over the counter,
and the sweet breath of its mouth reach
Patty's bewildered senses, she would
gather the idea of its beauty to her brain,
and then it would suddenly vanish, and
that nice little minute would be gone,
taking with it the lovely face; and all
at once another would take its place,
with q nose so crooked, cheek so
cadaverous, eyes so askew, and chin so
retreating that the heart of our English
girl was broken with it all She would
grow confused over the change; the
difference in the currency was perplex-
ing. Then would follow severe repri-
nands, scowls, and sneers from her su-
periors, and mockery from her fellow
clerks.
On the morning that Peter Robinson
went into the store to buy a.pair of
gloves Patty Burr stood there, as usual,
behind the counter, and to an outside
observer she was her plump, round,
soncy, apple-cheelxed little self; but if
her Aunt Martha over across the seas
could have seen her, she'd have scan
ned her with critical eye, then imme-
diately whisked her off to bed, and made
many posset for her within the hour;
for the poor girls eyes were somewhat
CLASSY in their brightness, the color in
hefcheeks had deepened to flame,
and constantly she drew her hot
lips within her white teeth to moisten
them, so parched were they and
dry. Peter Robinson knew there was
q pretty girl waiting on him, with trip
of the dear old mother-tongue in her ac-
cent that somehow warmed his heart.
But he was not a man to give way to
any such beguiling, else had he, long ago
fallen victim to its snares In New
York City there are plenty of pretty
shop girls, and foreign accents of any
kind were to be had for the seeking.
Peter Robinson was Scotsman from
the crown of his head TO the sole of his
foot, with much of conceit and bigotry
and narrow-mindednes in his compost
ton, but q splendid fellow in the main.
He had mapped out his life when he
was scarce out of his killed skirts, and
determined to get over to America, no,
WITH the idea that he could pick up gold
1mher streets, or delve it out of her bow
els but that he could perhaps gather it
together by hard-fisted toll and shrewd
contrivance; then he would spend it in
the place where he was born and reared,
which was. to Peters mind, rare place
to live and die particularly the lat
ter. Every time he got out of the way
of line of carriages that ratified down
to the ferry in terrible hurry, because
the cemetery was SO far away, and folks
wanted to be home before dark, Peter
thought of the low UNCOVERED kirk, on
ly stone's-throw from his fathers
door, and Of how much to be envied
we're they who could be carried thither
upon the shoulders of men who had a
bit of time to spare. In the meanwhile
Peter was hardto be suited in the way
of gloves, because he wanted SO much
for his money. and it seemed to him
there was fault in the showing up of
the goods.
Poof, womani" he said, testify /;
"don't be showing me your shoddy
wares. What want is a stout bit of
wool to suit this beastly climate, where
one is first roasting and then freezing -
"That's true, sir" said poor Patty.
I'm all in a SILVER now, and minute
ago I was burning up"
"You're not well, young woman, -
said Peter, looking at her gravely, and
lowering his voice to gentle tone
"You'd better get home and to bed at
once. Never mind the gloves. I'll
take this pair I have in my hand, and
let them be the last goods you sell to-
day, won't you7"
&c 1t must be near noon," said Patty,
the tears starting to her eyes, as they
always did at the touch of tenderness.
"There-s- q place down below here