Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1892-03-04
HIS UNLUCKY PLANET.
BY CLARA GREEN.


"Oh, Yes, / know it's all my own
fault" Charley Cleve said. "Whose
else should ii be? But | m disinherit-
ed, all the same. I've no more chance
Of coming into that fertile farm land
than-than yonder Italian organ
grinder, who is turning the crank so
peseveringly under deaf Squire Ho-
mer's back kitchen window"
"Oh, Charley" said Bess, cldsping
her hands dispairlnglg together.
~ didn't expect much else,' went
on Mr.. Clcve, in rollick ing, light
hearted sort Of way. '1 was borl.
hnder an unlucky star. Saturn, or
Mars, or some one of those planets
'hat never bring a fellow any good.
You cnt expect star to reverse its
order on my account, can you|
"But, Charley"
"Just wait until you hear the full
account of my atrocities. wasn't so
much to blame for treading on the cat
ANY one might have done that |
ion't think she laid that up against
ME. Aud when broke down the old
cherry ywood chair that had belonged
10 her grandfather-that was a mere
question of weight. And | mended
II for her, too. But when the broiled
ham for breakfast had such a queer
taste to ii-and had to confess that
| had been smoking up The chimney
where it hung"
ooh, Char,eyp
GLOW was ] to know that she made
storehouse of the back-room chin
neyS Folks in Philadelphia don't do
that sort of thing. And she wouldn't
tolerate tobacco in any shape-she let
me Know that, at the very outset!
The next thing did was to upset
her whole churning of cream. 1t hung
half way down the well, don't you
sec, and when came home, furnished
with thirst, and jerkcd the bucket
down-wcll, the first fling / heard
was Cousin Sarepta screaming like
mad. is il bu. glarsP said !, seizing
my blackIhorn stick, 'or is it fire?'
Aud had plunged into the house, and
put my foot-lierally, not metaphor
cally-into the old lady's baking of
custard pies, that she had set OH the
cellar floor 10 cool, before she could
make me understand. But the last
straw that broke the camel's back was
the old gray goose"
L" The old gray goose Charleyl
Surely. nothing has happened 10
ihat!"
NJ. Cleve shook his head.
''1he very worst has happened"
said he, "Fve shot i'll"
"On, Charley!"
The young man laughed bitterly,
and spouted the lines:
"'why look'st thou 50? With my cross
] shot the albatrossr
Yes. l did. Out wild-duck hunting
in the marshes. l thought it was
rather mammoth specimen, when |
leveled the trigger; and when Don
brought it to me my heart sank to the
very soles of my boots. had half an
idea of burying the creature ont among
the salt grasses, and saying never a
word. But that would have been a
sneaking sort of dodge. The Cleyes
can do plenty of shabby things, but
they never lie outright. So l brought
it home with the string of wild birds.
I'm very sorry, Cousin Sarepia,' said
l, 'but I've shot your old goose. III
replace it with the finest pair to be had
in Salt Inlet Replace it' says she;
and then, to be sure, there was
scene. She set a good deal of store
by that old gray goose, you know"
eyes, l know" said Bessie, re-
signedly. alt was nearly twenty
years old. She raised it herself, in a
basket by the kitcben-fire, and it ate
corn daily out of her own hand. She
wouldn't have taken twenty dollars
for that old goose. No, nor fifty, |
do believe"
"So," added Charley, with par
ticularly expressive shrug of the
shoulders. "she has turned me out Of