Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1880-09-15

loud wall.
Mr.. Peter Carver was an affectionate
father in a general way, but human ma.
ture could not have endured all this.
He promptly gave in his adhesion to
King Solomon wisdom, by administer.
ing brisk personal chastisement Tom.
my roarcd, and Pet joined in with a
treble scream Of sympathy.
Il never saw such children in my
life, said the chagrained parent. 1T
would take one PERSONS whole time to
keep 'em out of mischief
And be bundled the two little crea.
lures miscellaneously into whatever
articles came uppermost, rending of
strings, and fracturing button holes, in
frantic desperation.
There now see if you can behave
yourselves while / get the breakfast
Papa snivelled Tommy, you have
buttoned my frock in front instead OF
behind, and Pet has not had her face
washed
L can't attend to you now,' said Mr..
Carver, banging the nursery door to
with sigh of relief Children are a
great trial l never realized it before
The range looked black and cherries
enough as he stood staring helplessly
at it.
Il don't know much about making a
fire. but l suppose newspaper and a
lot of kindling are about the right thing
with shovel full of coal on top. Bless
me there's nothing you cannot reduce
to theory
But the fire obstinately refused to
burn, setting theoretical perfection ut
terly at defiance, although Mr. Carver
opened the oven doors alternately, and
drew out all the dampers he could spy.
'Confound the fire p said Mr. Carver
moping his wet forehead with the stove
cloth; it won't 60. III have blaze
of kindling and try the breakfast on
that
He seized on an oleaginous ham, and
carved several thick slices which he
transferred deftly to a gridiron, and
then elated with his success, broke sew
eral eggs over the ham.
Bless me how they runp he ejacu-
lated, rather puzzled But / know l
am right because if the eggs don't
cook on the ham how the deuce do they
come there l wonder why this co 20
don't boil; I'll stick in q few more
kindlings-that's the idea There are
the children crying up stairs-hungry,
l suppose do believe they do moth
ing but eat and cry. Here-Pet, T2m-
my come here, and I'll give you little
bread and molasses.'
And while the little creatures were
gradually becoming hopelessly sticky
and begrimed on the kitchen floor, Mr..
Carver rushed to attend to the pefemp-
tory summons of the milkman.
How much milk? | don't know
a quart / suppose. Fine morning, Mrs.
Grey bowing chivalrously to LADY
who was tripping down the street, and
adding sotto voice, but don't see any
thing to laugh at in the remark. Some
women are always giggling'
Papa said Pet, innocently looking
up, your nose is all black with char
COAL
"You look so funny, papa" said
Tommy, with that big towel pinned
around you"
Mr., Carver turned scarlet; this was
the mystery of Mrs. Grey's uncontroll-
able amusement.
"a man can't cook and keep himself
Clean" said he pettishly.
And then he remembered with a re-
morseful pang, how white Carry's
cuffs and collars always were, and how
spotless and pure her morning wrap
pers invariably looked.
And then he sat down, tired and
spiritless to repast of half-cooked
meat and liquid mud, by courtesy
termed coffee.
"Stuffl" he CALCULATED, throwing the
beverage spitefully into the sink. II
wonder how Garry did it-I'm sure it
seemed easy enough. Now l suppose
I've got to wash these dishes.
He looked despairing around at the
chaos that reigned in the kitchen.
mine o'clock as / live-and moth
ing done. Well / see very plainly
there's no Office for me to-day. Now
then, what is wanting?"
"Tbe clothes for the wash, please
sir ?" said a little girl, curtysing hum
bly, at the door.
Upstairs and down stairs, and in
my lady's chamber, went Peter Carcey,
laying hands on what he considered
proper prey for the wash-tub, rummag-
ing bureau drawers, upheaving the
contents of trunks, and turning ward
robes inside out, before he had COM
pleted the requisite search.
The kitchen was empty when he re-
turned. Where are the children" I"
was his first alarmed thought, ex-
pressing himself unconsciously in
words.
81 saw them go out Of the dooor,
please sir, said the little girl.
Was it long ago?'
"No sir-not very; it might be ten
minutes
Peter rent off the towel wherewith
he had girdled himself, and set off in
hot haste after the missing ones. The
July sun was beginning to glow in
tensely in the heavens-the pavements
reflected the ardent shine with tenfold
heat, and poor Peter Carver was near
ly melted into nothingness, ere he
spied, in the train Of hand organ and
monkey, his hopeful son and heir,
with Pet following, both nearly un-
recognizable from dust, perspiration
an, molasses.
"Come home this instant, you little
wretches = calculated Peter, quite for.
getting in his rage the emollient pre-
cepts inculcated in the parents guide,
and lavishing shower of not very
caressing words on his offspring, he he
promptly arrested them.