The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-01-02
A RIGHTEOUS RETRIBUTION.

to say, i'll the uttermost regions of western
Manchester, but there was a time when it
was situated at the opposite extremity of
C~ottonopolis, from which / fled, for reas-
ons to be hereinafter stated, with the feel
ing that could not put too great a dis
lance between myself and it. My former
habitation was a semi-detached villa (of
which l was also the proud proprietor) in
Paradise Row. My occupation lay in the
town, but it had, in truth, but small charms
for me. 1t was there made the wax from
which derived the major portion of my
income, but my honey-and [ was a very
busy bee at that time-was made at home
after office hours, still, indeed, by the
pen, but in a very different fashion. My
soul was devoted to literature. and all the
time that could spare from Messrs. Bale
Il Crop, cotton cornerers, was given to
composition. Except for the interval con-
sumed in getting home, l might indeed
have been said to have stepped from my
high stool on to the back of Pegasus, which
took me flights which lasted from seven
o'clock to ten.
Let me hasten to say that this expression
is ~metaphorical. AS a man who is still
connected Cat all events on one side) with
business, / should be sorry to have it sup
posed that | ever wrote poetry. No, it
was only prose, though prose (if may be
permitted to say 500 of a high order. l
wrote stories for the magazines, and lead
ing articles for a local newspaper or two,
what, in short, may be fairly called imag-
NATIVE literature. had a young wife and
a growing family, and the addition | thus
made to my official income was very well
come, yet not more so than the work itself.
With my quill pen in my hand-I could
never use a steel one, such as sufficed me
in the city, for these fights-my knees in
their snug haven under my writing table,
and a good stock of ideas in my head to
draw upon, | felt as happy as a king. 1t
is a modest pleasure, known to few, and
envied probably by none; but, believe me,
there is none more satisfying OF supreme.
When our little children had been put to
bed my wife used to come down and sit
with me, occupying herself with needle
work. 1t was understood that (like a
ghost) she was not to speak unless she
was spoken to, lest she should interrupt
the flow of composition. I could trust her
for that, implicitly. There are some good
women who can never keep silence when
they work for two consecutive minutes,
but must be always making some mutter-
ed observation about their stitches. Glenn
entina was not one of that sort, which was
fortunate for both of us.
There might have been two opinions
Chat is, my opinion and that of other peo-
ple), as to whether my work may nave
been of a meritorious or valuable kind, but
such as it was, it required perfect silence.
If there was the least noise-a coal flying
out from the fire, a door banging in the at
tics-all was over with me; if a nightin-
gale had begun to sing in the back garden
1 should have been p~aralyzed; ,ur two
HAIL StINdlilS always WCllt dUOuU Oui lliS
those hours of composition in list slippers.
For a month after my purchase of Eden
Lodge, Paradise Row, the house in no way
belied it's name; but in the fifth week the
serpent raised its head among the flowers,
and Kissed out: ''Sir, you are mistaken
about the name of your residence; this is
Purgatory Villa"
1t was about 7.15 p. NJ, and | had, as
usual, sat down alone to my beloved occu-
patton, when from the party wall at which
my desk was placed there issued forth a
bang, as if a cannon had gone off, followed
by three or four shrill explosions, such as
are caused by rockets. For the moment
| really thought they were rockets, and
that the sticks had penetrated my brain,
which, indeed, was scattered in all direc-
lions.
NY faithful wife, who had felt the shock
in the nursery, rushed down stairs, and
was by my side in an instant. AS she en-
tered the room the hideous %cannonade was
resumed, and with such effect that the
hearth brush fell down %(stunned) in the
corner of the fireplace, and the top of my
ink bottle shut of itself with a click.
"Merciful Heavens!aI cried, ''what is
it?"
Il feared it would annoy you," began
C~lementina, in trembling tones.
'Annoy me? 1t has destroyed mel |
exclaimed. mot another line shall | be
able to write tonight. What is it?"
ssMy dear Charles, | am sorry to say it
is the daughter of our neighbor, Mrs.
Brown, who has just come from school,
and is practicing The Battle of Prague
Jemima. whom we took with Eden Lodge,
you know, says she does it all through the
holidays. The foolish girl never said a
word about it, or am sure yon would new
er have bought the house.
''But do you mean to say this is to go on
always, ~almays.g" | exclaimed despairingly.
clark at it!'
1t was like a magnificent pyrotechnlc
display without the fireworks. No human
being could stand it.; no N but a fiend
could have inflicted it.
sit goes on, Jemima says, replied my
wife, despondingly, ''for six weeks from
seven to ten; only on Sundays she plays