The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1884-01-19
A HAPPY FAMILY.

the sofa in the back parlor and rest;
People never learn by experience, ana
he was no exception to the common
rule. r..
He Law down, and crossed his feet
with parade hardly justifiable under
the circumstances. His wife came IN
and saw him.
"Vhy, Lot Skinner" she exclaimed
"If I ever heard of the like! Lying
down on that new sofa with your boots
on, and oh, my goodness! your head on
that lace tidy l had done up only last
week. You are the most lnconsluerale
man 1 ever saw in my life!"
Mr.. Skinner got up and his wlfe
smoothed out the tidy and rearranged
"The idea of anybody putting head
on that tidy" said Mrs. Skinner, who
had no intention of using slang. 81 did
suppose you had more sense"
III use to have" said Mr.. Skinner
good-naturedly. "Ya-a-a-h. could
take nap if could find place to
drop down. Ya-a-h."
ssYou had better read your bible"
said Mrs. Skinner. She was good,
uncomfortable woman, so clean and
neat and orderly that she made her
family wretched with her domestic
drill.
Something called Mrs. Skinner off
then, and when she came back MIR.
Skinner was gone. She sat down ana
took book, when a thought struck
her, and she bounded from her chair as
if it had been cannon ball.
Yes, it was just as she had feared;
her husband had gone up stairs, and she
found him stretched out on the bed, on
top of white Counterpart, his grizzly
gray head sunk deep into white,
starched pillow-sham, with these words
embroidered in the center:
asleep sweet, beloved"
He was not only asleep, but snoring,
with a look of sweet content on his
wide-open mouth.
"I-O-t S-k-i-n-n-e-r!"
He got up in a manner that would
have done credit to gymnast, and
stood staring at the fearful hollow in
the bed and the wrinkled dent in the
pillow-sham.
81 declare forgot" he said, looking
very foolish. "Alice, haven't place
where / can lay my headP"
"Don't talk nonsense" said his wife,
sharply. "The idea of sober man 60
ING to bed with his boots on"
1Would you rather I'd get"
"I'd rather you'd get some common
sense" she said. eff you must sleep
in the daytime, why, there's an old
lounge down in the kitchen; no one
will disturb you there. Or | suppose"
-ungraciously--'I can take off the
quilt, and the shams, and let you have
your nap here, though it's wicked,
that's what it is, to sleep Sunday. It's
bad example to set to the children,
Lot, and you know it,"
"But am so sleepy" answered her
husband; 'my head is as heavy as lead,
and cannot keep my eyes OPEN"
sLaziness! sheer laziness!" said his
wife sharply.
Mr.. Skinner went down stairs and
disappeared. The last words his wife
heard him say were that there was rest
for the weary, but she was picking up
the embroidery on the misused sham
with pin, and did not heed him.
When she went down stairs he was not
IN sight and she busted herself with
getting dinner, which on Sunday took
the place of supper, and thought no
more about him.
She was distinguished woman;
distinguished in the town where she
lived, as being the cleanest housekeeper !
in it. No girl could be found neat
enough to live with her; all the mot
toes in her house were to the effect that
cleanliness is akin to godliness. She
busted every article of furniture in the |
house several times every day; she |
scrubbed so often that the children had |
chronic diphtheria; she scrubbed so
clean that at last she scrubbed through |
her kitchen floor into the cellar, and |
was nearly lost to the community. 1t
was perpetual warfare between her
and dirt. The front parlor was never
opened to the family, and although Mr..
Skinner had furnished it he had never
sat down in it moment since. Its air
was that of tomb. After it had been
opened to company for an afternoon,
the children went round with hannels
about their threats and drank ginger
tea. 1t was the handsomest parlor in
the community, too, and had the family
pictures and their marriage certificate
framed and hung up there.
When dinner was ready-and it was
a good dinner, too, for Mrs. Skinner
was notable cook-she asked the
children where their father was.
They did not know.
This seemed strange; she questioned
them closely, but they had not seen
which way he went when he passed
through the room.
"Didn't he say where he was going?"
she asked, wonderingly, for Mr.. Skinner
never went out on Sundayswithout his
family.
"He said he was going where he'd
have more peace" said little Harry
Skinner.
"Wen, we won't wait dinner for
him." said his wife, and they sat down
to eat.
But spell seemed to have fallen upon
them, and when the dinner was over
and cleared away, and they were in the
sitting-room with their books. there
was a sense of dreary loss, and Mrs.