Connecticut western news., 1883-05-09
HUSBAND AND WIFE.
Little Talk That Did no Harm to Either

''I wish," said Mrs. Arp, "you woul,
 go and see what Carl and Jessie ar
 doing, down at the branch reckon, an,
 feet all wet, and they have both go
 dreadful colds. can't keep them ava,
 from that branch"
 Didn't you play in the branch, m,
 dear, when you were a child ?" said I
 "Yes," said she mournfully, "bu
 nothing couldn't hurt me then; we were
 not raised so delicate in those days. Yor
 know I used to ride to the plantation
 twelve miles, and back again in a day and bring bag of fruit on the horn o1 the saddle, but the girls couldn't do ii now.
 ''They can go to a party in buggy and dance half the night, but that is all excitement, and they are not fit for any thing the next day. We didn't have any dances-hardly ever-we went to country weddings sometimes. You re- member we went to James Dunlap's wedding, when he married Rebecca Sammons. That was big frolic-an old-fashioned frolic. Everybody was there from all the naborhood, and there were more turkeys and roast pig and cake than I ever saw, and we played everything we could think of. Rebecca was mighty pretty then, but poor woman she has had a thousand children, too, just like myself, and I reckon she is faded, too, and tired" "But Jim Dun lap hasn't faded" said I. "I see him when I go to Atlanta, and he is big and. fat and merry-looks 8 little like old David Davis.
 "Oh, yes, of course he does,' said Mrs. Arp. '"The men don't know any thing about care and anxiety and sleep less nights. It is wonder that they die at all" "But have helped you all I could, my dear,'' said I, "and you see it's telling on me. Look at these silver hairs and these wrinkles and crows-feet, and my back hurts ever and anon, and this rainy, bad weather gives me the rheumatism, but you haven't gray hair and hardly seam on your alabaster fore head. Why, you will outlast me and outlive me too, and may be there will be a rich widower stepping around here in my shoes and you will have fine car riage and pair of beautiful bay horses, and-''
 civilian, told you to go after Carl and Jessie. When you come back I'll listen to your foolishness. I'm not going to let you die if can help it, for don't know what would become of us all. Yes, you have helped me, know, and been great comfort and did the best you could most of the time, yes, most of the time and might have done worse, and you must nurse me now and pet me for I am getting childish"
 "And you must pet me, too, said I.
 "Of course I will," said she. "Am I not always betting you? Now, go long after the children, before we both get to crying and have @ scene. And l wish you would see if the buff cochin hens have matched in the hen house."
 'She has been setting about fourteen | weeks,' said I, 'but she is getting old, and these old mothers are slow, mighty ,low."
 I went after the children, and sure enough they were fishing in the spring branch, and their shoes were wet and muddy, and they were bare-headed, and marched them up tenderly, and Mrs. Arp set them down by the fire and dried heir shoes, and got them some more stockings, and then opened their little school. How patiently these 'ld-fashioned mothers work and worry ,ver the little things of domestic lfe.- BiU Arp, d,e Att0aat0 Consultation.