The Bozeman weekly chronicle. (Bozeman, Mont.) 1883-1889, 1883-07-11
Bill Nye's "BoomeraRg'' Correspond.
ence.

has not been. here more than twenty
minutes, and my arctics stand where I
can reach them in case it should change
its mind.
The bobolink sits on the Eastwood
vines and the thrush in the gooseberry
tree is melodious as hired man. The
robin is building his nest, or rather her
nest, should say perhaps, in the boughs
of the old willow that last summer was
busted by thunder-I beg your pardon
by lightning should say. The speck-
led calf dimes teat-a-teat with his mother
and strawberries are like bald headed
mans brow-they come high, but we
can't get along without them.
never was more tickled to greet gen.
tie spring than am now. 1t stirs up my
drug-soaked remains and warns the
genial current of life considerably. I
ftolicked around in the grass this after
noon and filled my pockets full of ], 900
legged worms and other little memen-
toes of the season. The little barefoot
boy now comes forth and walks with
cautious tread at first, like blind horse;
but toward the golden autumn the backs
of his feet will look like warty toad and
there will be big cracks in them and one
toe will be wrapped up in a part of bed
quilt and he will show it with pride to
crowded houses.
Last night I lay awake for several
hours thinking about Mr.. Sherrod and
how long we had been separated, and I
was wondering how many weary days
would have to elapse before We would
again look into each others eyes and
hold each other by the hand, when the
loud and violent conclusion of revolver
shot near West Main street and Cascade
avenue rent the sable robe of night. /
rose and lit the gas to see if had been
hit. Then examined my pockets to
see if I had been robbed of my lead pen
Gil and season pass. I found that I had
not.
This morning learned that young
doctor, who had been watching his own
house from distance during the even
ing, had discovered that, taking advant-
age of the husbands absence, blonde
dry goods clerk had called to see the
crooked but lonely wife. The doctor
waited until the young man had been in
the house long enough to get pretty well
acquainted and then he went in himself
to see that the youth was making him
self perfectly comfortable.
There was wild dash toward the
window, made by blonde man with his
pantaloons in his hand, the spatter of a
bullet in the wall over the young mans
head and then all was still for moment
save the low sob of a woman with her
head covered up by the bed clothes.
Then the two men clinched and the doc
tor injected the barrel of a 80 self cocker
up the bridge of the young mans nose,
knocking him under the wash stand,
yanked him out by the hem of his gar
ment and jammed him into the coal
bucket, knocked him up on a corner
bracket and then swept the quivering
ruins into the street with stub broom.
He then lit the chandelier and told his
sobbing wife that she wasn't just the
temperament for him and he was afraid
that their paths might diverge. He
didn't care much for company and soci-
ETY. while she seemed to yearn for such
things constantly. He came right out
and admitted that he was nervous tenn
perment and quick tempered. He loved
her but he had such an irritable, fiery
disposition that he guessed he would
have to excuse her; SO he escorted her
out to the gate and told her where the
best hotel was, came in, drove out the
cat, blew out the light and retired.
Some men seem almost like brutes in
their treatment of their wives. They
come home at some eccentric hour of the
night and because they have to sleep on
the lounge, they getmad and try to shoot
holes in the lambrequins and speak to
their wives in a harsh, rude tone of
voice. tell you its tough.
BILL NYE.