Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-04-02

Where Is your mistrossp' I said ~
Sarah, who sat in the best kitchen, for
4 had gone In the back way.
Groaning and moaning somewhere
about, as she always IL, Miss Maria"
replied the old nurse, who had lived
with them for years and had habit Of
saying what she pleased.
In little room opening from the
dining parlor found Aunt Mona, an
old woOlen shawl around her shoulders,
and crouching disconsolately over tho
gFate, In which rOared q fire more be-
fitting january than June
How do you do, auntp' ] said.
care you any worse than usualP'
She turned toward me a face Of de-
spair and woe. Really IL was enough TO
give one the blues only 10 look at It.
"Ah, my dear, don't ask. / am
miserable"
T" But what makes you sop
Aunt Mona gave deep sigh and bent
over the fire again. On the trivet stood
a porcelain saucepan, whose contents
she was languidly stirring with spoon.
"Why, aunt, what are you doing
therep Is that a witch's caldronw
! cit is a decoctiOn of herbs, TO be
taken inwardly," meekly sighed she.
al got the recipe from the old herb
| doctor. sent for him here yesterday,
and he gave it me. am going TO try
it, she added, resignedlyi " and if Il
does not cure me, shall just give up
medicine, and lie down and die"
tGive up medicine, and arise and
/ live," l answered. 81 firmly believe,
aunt, that medicine is killing you; medi-
cine and groaning together"
This aroused Aunt Mona. "Maria,
how can you talk so, when nothing but
medicine has kept me alive these
twenty years?n she exclaimed, in
righteous Indignation.
g You have lived in spite of medicine,
Aunt Mona, and because your constitu-
tion is so thoroughly good. Papa says
81 don't wantto hear what your papa
says, Maria. Brothers always choose
to be rude; even when / was a child
he'd hurt my feelings. He is SO healthy
himself that he has no pity for me-"
You have no pity for yourself, Aunt
Mona. Who but you would sit over a
fire this lovely June dayP"
81 am cold, Maria"
"Get up then, aunt, and run about
out of doors in the sunshine"
It's cruel of you to talk so," she
whined. GLOW can 1 stir that awful
spine in my back? can stand it from
your uncle-he talks to me so like your
papa-but l can't from you. Men are
so hard heartfelt Don't you ever marry
one of them, Maria"
She tapped her foot on the ground,
and stirred on and sighed. CHANGING
to look out at the window / saw Uncle
Butterfeld coming down the garden
path with that pretty widow Mrs. Ber-
row, who was one of aunt great friends
and had no patience with her. Aunt
looked up also.
"There's your uncle, Maria, with
that widow Borrow, as usual If he is
settling up her husbands property it's
no reason why she should be running
after him always. If wasn't the most
unsuspecting woman on earth / should
be jealous. But l shall not be in the
way long-that's one comfort"
A burst of clear, ringing laughter at
this moment reached us. It was soon
followed by that most comely woman S
entrance, ''fair, fat and forty" As she
stood by Aunt Mona's side, rosy
| checked, bright-eyed, in the exuberance
of health and the prime of "a beauty
which time had improved rather than
impaired, the contrast was too painful,
l think my uncle must have felt it for he
sighed as he turned away.
Mrs. Butterfield," said the widow,
in her soft, musical voice-that "ex.
cellent thing in woman''-"I was hop.
ing, upon this beautiful morning, to find
You better" ~ q e
\ Aunt Mona gave no immediate reply,
save a glance that was not friendly
one. 1t said as plainly as glance could
say, "You don't hope anything of the
sorti you want me to die and be out Of
the way"
"My wife seems to be growing
worse" said Uncle Butterfeld. THAI
two sovereign fee, paid to the great
magnetic whatd' ye-call-him, a month
ago, didn't seem to do you much good
did it, MonaP 1t had better have beer
put in the church poor box"
"a kind, loving husband ought moi
to speak of money paid to relieve the
sufferings and to save the life of his
poor, dying wife" replied Aunt Mona,
reproachfully "You know that Johnny
dreadful child drank the elixir up. But
shall not be a trouble or expense tC
you long, Thomas. feel that my days
are numbered"
"They have been numbered evel
since l knew you,n smiled uncle
"The days of all of us are, for that
matter" .......r ....-
His wife did not condescend to notice
the words. Every now and then she had
these mournful fits and liked to talk
them out.
"And when am gone, Thomas, you
can marry some strong, healthy woman
whose ailments won't trouble you. One
that's got money, too" she added, sig,
nifcantly and spitefully. Eyes, money
to make up for all you've had to pay fol-
me-"
Il am glad to see you i'll so desir-
able frame of mind" said Mrs. Ber-
row, laughing merrily. ''You show q
truly noble, unselfsh nature in provid
ing, even before your death, for your
husbands second marriage"
"Now, Caroline Borrow, think you
had better not say MORE" spoke aunt.
81 know how unfeeling you can be.
1t is not the first time 'you have made
game of my illness. As to you,
Thomas, you can be looking out for
somebody TO replace me. L and my
sufferings viii soon be released from
this world of trouble.'
"Have you any particular person in
viewP' asked uncle, gravely, "any
one you would like as mother to your
childrenP OF course / should have to
think little of them in choosing a
second wife" -. -.
/ don't much think Aunt Mona ex-
Pected the ready acquiescencei she