Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1879-02-04
SNIP SNAP.

Cynthia Susan Simpson, age eighteen,
with the pretty talent of pleasing men,
was the acknowledged belle of the little
Marrow Squash Valley.
This little talent of pleasing men is
sometimes given by nature as compen-
sation for the lack of every other accom-
plishment or the means of procuring any;
but this was not the case with Cynthia,
who had good Yankee sense, and vein
OF sprightliness in her composition, which
latter, as | take it, requires several Other
talents for its support, otherwise it soon
degenerates into .silliness-whence it
sours into vulgar ill nature in the coun-
try girl-in the lady of society into sar-
caSm.
Cynthia was pretty, in the freshness of
her age. American beauty comes forth
like a flower, anu is cut down The love
illness of girlhood rarely ripens in the
matron. And Cynthia was afraid to risk
her loveliness, no doubt; for whilst she en-
couraged the attentions of many s'beaux,''
who, In the language of her society, ''went
to see her" evening after evening, at the
snug farm house of her father, whenever
any of these swains took the opportunity
to press upon her notice the nature of his
case, and urge the necessity of it's speedy
cure, she cut the matter short with him.
Truth must be said, that amongst all
her admirers there was not one who was
a prsora-that is, before a reciprocation of
his love took place-a very desirable match
for her.
The richest was Seth Taggart, who paid
his last visit to her one afternoon, in a
brand new suit of glossy, fine, black broad
cloth. Pretty Cynthia was alone, and pre-
pared by previous experience to discern
symptoms OF an approaching assault upon
the Malakoff of her affections. She pursed
her pretty little mouth, and sewed, with
ninble- glancing fingers, on the sleeve of
one ofthe old squire's shirts, ofunbleached
cotton; and thought to herself what fool
Seth Taggart was, and wondered how he
would get out of the fix in which he found
himself, and how he could dare to think
she had given him any announcement
ndslooked-very bewitching. Poor Seth
sat on the verge of his chair, and gazed
through the window, which was open,
into the woods, but his was mind like
that of Wordsworth's Peter,
"a primrose on the rivers brim,
yellow primrose was to him,
And nothing more"
NAA Aos AAu oil lusplIdtlOu III the
woods, SO he began to look into the
ashes
''Miss Cynthia, " said he, at length. "did
you ever see crow?''
Eyes, Mr.. Seth,'' said she, folding her
gusset, and looking down at it demurely
as mouse.
"Black-ain't itf' said Seth.
Very"
Then came a pause. Darn it-I wish
she'd help me out. :" said Seth in his own
thought. "The little mink knows what |
want to say, and she might help me to say
it,
What man has not thought this before
now, at courting time-and wished to bor-
row feminine tact, and the larger expert
ence OF women. to help him out of the
slough of despond he is beginning to sink
intof What man would not give the world
to know how the last man, who offered
himself to her, got through with lts
Ever see an OWL" said Seth, at
length, falling back upon his own re-
sources.
"often, Mr.. Seth, ? lisped pretty Gym
thia.
Its got big eyes -ain't it; now?''
VERY big eyes, " said she.
Seth grew angry. Angry with himself,
no doubt: but anger, like Phebus Apollo
at sunset, glows brightest in reflection.
He thought it s'mean shame,n she
wouldn't "help him out" while she sal