Mohave County miner., 1891-04-18
ABOUT GEORGE MARTIAL.

oArA4'Ah y AZ Ots Sstf1Ah ilht 10 huOW
Here's my husband been writing this
year or more, and confiding in him
all the time. as unsuspicious as now
born baby.
There's glowing and cherishingn for
you! A man coming in, and eating his
dinner. calling me Polly, and dear, Just
as II Sll the time he wasn't writing un-
known TO me, and getting oceans Of
money, that he spends on-the dear
knows what, for | don't; and, I'll war
rant. he's told all about the hollow place
In the bed where he has TO sleep, and the
bhirt-buttOns, and the way / got my
gray silk at Ubsdell & Persons. But
I'll show him up, and just let every
body know what pitiful, underhanded,
soft-soaping Molly of man he is.
He write, indeed! I'd as soon think
OF our old gray cat sitting up by the
fire witt spectacles on and trying TO
crochet.
But this amt the story.
You must know that it happened Just
before New Years. I'd been making
up my mince pies and giving the house
good cleaning out and | was pretty
tired. had just got of my dress when
i thought heard something like talk
ing down stairs.
Now, Mr.. Martial was down there
and, OF course, suspected mischief,
Tor / haven't lived forty-one years
good graciousl how my pen slips,
mean hirty-fye-without knowing that
ledgers up 10 a mans neck and ink
enough to drown him are no safeguards
against his own natural wickedness,
and. slipping on my gown / stole softly
down the stairs, bound TO find out what
that talking meant, as sure as my
name was Polly Martial
The door Of the sitting room was
little ajar. as good luck would have
IT. sitting there In his dressing-gown--
the gown made for him, and wonder
II didn't burn him-and his ledger
open before him (the old hypocrite); /;
but who he was talking to. couldn't
for the life ofme make out till it came
into my head 10 look through the crack
of the door,
And then--but forty-one q mean
thirty-fve) years OF experience Of the
meanness Of men in general, and his,
In particular, never would have made
me believe, If hadn't seen it with my
own eyes, that Mr.. Martial would have
been sitting In his own dining-rOOm at
eight O'Clock in the evening right under
the picture Of his blessed mother, and
talking, and not only that. but looking
at lean, scraggy. curly headed
FrenchWoman.
wonder that he wasn't afraid that
his mothers portrait would come out
OF the frame; and how he could take
Georgy on his knee, as he had done
that very evening. and kiss him-there-
by daubing himself dreadfully with
molasses--while he had all that wick
edness in his heart isa mystery beyond
my comprehension.
My first thought was TO rush in and
confound them both. Then remem-
bered had no hoops on; and it struck
me that IL might be as well to find out
the full extent of his depravity before
annihilated him.
II don't know how we shall manage
it, he was saying. 'IMy wife has
such sharp ears that she could hear
cat stealing after a mouse"
1T will be difficult. without doubt, "
answered mademoiselle; "but mon
sieurs affection will, | am sure, over
come all-what you call emp
obstacle"
al don't know, ne said, rubbing his
bald pate. IF she hadn't such ears;
but I'm afraid, now, she'll be in on
u.s."
"And then, how can we get at her
dressese can't go near her closet,
and II she should find you there"
Think Of that! That scraggy thing
In my closet! As If IL wasn't enough
TO run away with my husband, but she
must want my clothes alsoi
well" answered mademoiselle,
suppose try and see her. ! can
what you call it?-fx her in five
minutes"
Fix me,-me, Polly Martial! The
demons meant TO assassinate me!
''But it would be better If you had a
ufSs5, nslsteu MT. MaFtlaI. ''1ef
gray silk, for instance"
Suppose you call and tell her you
are poor seamstress In want Of work
and offer TO sew for her at three shill-
ings day. She'll nibble at that bait
and when she goes out Of the room you
can just whisk up to her closet and
slip out with the gray silk
There ladies! There's Mr.. Martial
for you.
My best silk that / bought at
Ubsdelrs. and paid eight dollars for
the making and trimming! and that
yellow-faced trollOp was to "whisk
up" and "slip out with my silk" Ugh!
the wretch
j don't faint because am too heavy
and i was too mad for Mysteries: but
the awful discovery Of his perfdy, and
her cool impudenee actually made me
so dizzy that don't rightly know what
else was said and done, only she was
TO come at ten o'clock the next morn
ing to play the part Of the poor seam
stress; neither can ] tell how | got to
my own room, or how / ever managed
TO speak ciyilly TO Mr.. Martial, who
came up about ten minutes later and
wanted to know II / was not injuring
my health sitting up late.
In the morning was pale, bat per-