St. Landry democrat., 1886-07-10
7HEEcONoMIcAL BRIDE.
How She Surprised Her Dear George
With a Trjm-Built Lemon Pie.

OGOTgc dIlU WCLC liltti iiSN y >h'0 10y
quietly by a justice of the peace We
did not have dear papa's consent, nor
much of any thing else. l never sa"
Justice of the peace before. He was q
tallish man, with an iron-gray shirt and
a sun set nose. I did no like his APP
pearance, but he seemed to understand
his business fairly well, and so J. ought
not to murmur or repine. Still he was
not a man that | would want to cling
to. He looked to me like man VINO
would snort around the cemetery ana
tear up the green sward when his wife
died in the early spring, and trends
would have to chain him to tree
somewhere till his grief had spent
itself, and then in the earl fall he
would lower the top of his old concertlna
plug hat and marry red-eyed widow
with a baritone voice and two sons in
the penitentiary.
If any one had noticed me two years
ago, while was reading Claude Earls-
courts Revenge that so soon l would
be married in dark, musty justice OF
the peace's office, in the presence of
drunk and disorderly, by a magistrate
with a Titan nose and breath that
would eat hole through tin roof, and
that after the ceremony George and l
would eat a cheese sandwich at the sta
ton and seal our union with large
hunk of dappled sausage, could not,
oh! could not have believed it.
To-day | am wife with my joyous
girlhood, my happy home and the justice
of the peace behind me. Life is now
real. life is now earnest, for we have no
girl. We will not keep girl at first,
George says, for if we did she would
have to board at home, as we have only
one room, and it is not a very good
room either.
We take our meals at a restaurant,
and the bill of fare is very good. Ii we
could get as good meal as we could,
neat, attractive and geographically cor
glad. But we can not.
Yesterday evening | wearied of the
pie at the restaurant, and George IS
passonately fond of pie, too; so | told
him l would bake pie for him with my
own fair hands. | had never made a
pie before all by my own self, but l
wanted, oh, so much, to make some
kind of dish that would delight my
dear, brand-new husband. So this
morning, when George hied him away
to his business at the barber shop,
went down stairs and asked, as slight
favor, that the lady who runs the house
would loan me her apron, her cooking
stove, pie plate, two lemons, cup Of
sugar, some milk, etc., etc, as desired
to delight my new-found husband with
lemon pie on his return.
All last night / feared that in my
sleep might allude to the prospective
pie, and thus give myself away, as one
of our best writers puts it; but l
do not think I did So this morning,
when George had gone, I built such a
dear, little, cunning pie with lemons
and every thing they put into lemon
pie. Mrs. Pease, who owns the house,
told me where every thing was, and
then [ went to work. / made very
pretty little pie, and fluted the edges
till it looked as attractive as an old
fashioned pantalette.
My heart bounded high as thought
what dear George would say and how
his eye would light up when he came
home and saw it on the dressing-case.
JoyfullyI put the stuffing into the pie
and enclosed it. Then put some real
cute little Stats across it diagonally so
that it would please the eye as well as
the pampered taste of my own true
love, for he is man with the most deli
cate taste, and when he is dressed for
the day he always looks as though he
was about to have his picture taken.
got the pie all ready and put it in
the oven. But after had done so it
occurred to me that had not put any
baking powder in it, so Itook it out and
removed the lattice work from the still
features of the pie. Then put in quite
a lot of soda or baking powder that /
secured from the upper drawer in the
easement, and while the pie was baking,
sang low refrain, meantime con-
strueting few yards of rick rack OF
which am passionately fond.
While thus engaged the oven door
was blown off the hinges and the air
was filed with subtitle odor of some
kind which / could not describe. We
pulled the pie off the ceiling and the car
penter has been atwork on the workwork
of the house for an hour or so trying to
make it look natural again. Mrs. Pease
says she don't know what put into the
pie, whether the baking powder was a
little remnant of percussion that her
husband left when he died, ora discard
ed seidlitz powder, but that never
can be too thankful that it blew up be-
fore George inserted it into his true in
wardness.
Tomorrow I may try again, and
want to cook few Of these ecru-color.
ed doughnuts with apertures in the cen.
tor If con wont RI do oyorv thin