Morris tribune., 1892-03-23

| nothing else to do. Every Sunday Henry
BoltZ drove to the meeting house where
Marie and her parents attended, and after
the services were over he placed his sweet
heart in the buggy, triumphantly drove
her home and invariably remained to din
ner
Under these delightful circumstances
Henry Boltz ought to have been entirely
happy; but, alas for the vanity of human
wishes, he was not, and this is the reason:
Apart from more worldly considerations
the mildly ardent young man loved Marie
Ziegenfuss because she was large, stout
healthful, rosy and entirely hugable-if
one may be permitted to coin an essen
TALLY descriptive word. And then the fact
that Marie loved him with all the love of
which she was capable, gave an added i'm
pulse to his passion.
But here was the truth; this is what SO
sorely perplexed him:
He had heard, but his own experience
did not warrant the belief, that people who
mach as s'fh fhose Who are e6frefyP ffte to
the tender passion. Every Sunday he sat
beside Marie at dinner, and this afforded
him an excellent opportunity to judge OF
her appetite. To his inexpressible amaze
ment she had not the appetite of a mott
ing canary.
She ate as near next to nothing as one
well could that pretended to eat at all.
Why, she would even cut q green pea in
two, when those delicious legumes were
in season, and with touching delicacy
would convey, on the point of her knife,
one half at a time to her lips.
After dinner the young folks would go
into the parlor, the walls of which were
decorated with framed samples" done in
Berlin wool by the fair Marie, and they
would sit, one at either end Of the high
backed, horsehair covered sofa, and look
yearningly at each other, while Henry,
with his own hearty meal still fresh in his
mind, would sigh:
"Ah, Maree, don'd you dinks you vos
alreaty in lofe? You cad so pooty mooch
holdings like leedle budderfly."
Henry remained usually with his dull
cinea till near supper time, when he would
hitch up and go home.
One Sunday afternoon there came on
fierce storm, and as the rain kept persist
emily up till long after dark, Mr. Ziegen-
fuss and his wife, backed by the pleadings
of the gentle Marie, prevailed on the young
man to remain for the night.
The houses of the Pennsylvania Dutch
farmers, though usually comfortable, are
rarely so costly as their barns. This night
the clergyman and his wife were also
guests, and Henry Boltz was given bed
in a sort of loft directly over the kitchen.
This was night of unusual dissipation
for the young people. They actually staid
up courting, or rather looking at each
other from opposite ends of the sofa, till
the high clock, standing like a coffin in the
dimmest corner of the room, struck ten.
Henry looked as if he was going to kiss
Marie, but he compromised by chucking
her under the chin, then, startled at his
own audacity, he hurried up to the loft
and lay down to pleasant dreams.
How long he had been asleep he never
could tell, for after the thrilling experiences
of that night he was never in a condition
to follow out consecutive line of thought
that placed any tax on his memory, but it
certainly must have been several hours.
He was awakened, not by the swish of the
willow branches against the dormer win
dow or the steady beating of the rain on
the roof, but by delicious odor and the
occasional rattle of dishes beneath. He
rubbed his eyes and the golden lines of
light between the boards assured him that
there was some one at work in the kitchen.
He got noiselessly up and looked down
through crack, and he gasped, ''Lieber
Herr, dot yos mein Mareep'
Henry Boltz was right. 1t was Marie in
working dress, with a big blue apron on,
and her ample arms barred to the shoulder.
She had just fried huge plate of ham and
was in the act of breaking dozen eggs
into the sizzling gravy when her lover be-
held her
He believed that lot of starved giants
had been drivsn for refuge from the storm
to farmer Ziegenfuss', and that Marie
noble girl that she was, was robbing her.
self of sleep in order to appease their hun
ger.
AS soon as Marie had broken dozen
eggs into the pan she took up the candle
aud pitcher that held about six quarts,
and lifting trap in the kitchen floor she
descended to the cellar
Henry Boltz was not a humorist, and his
few jokes were of practical kind. The
instant Marie disappeared he skipped down
stairs in light marching order, broke an
other dozen eggs into the pan, then skipped
back again, and gluing his eyes to crack
he chuckled:
''As dem eggs yos not mine dot yos
pooty goot shoke on Marie"
Marie soon reappeared but to Henry
BoltZ's horror, instead Of setting the table
for six at least, she set it for one. She
piled the eggs on one dish without noticing
the increase, then she poured out a mug of
cider, placed large dish of bread within
easy reach, and began to eat in way that
dazzed the watcher till his head began to
| swim.
At first he had dim notion that she