St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-02-12

CANT prOductiyeneSs; but what combi-
nation could there be of such holy
essence as Eunice ana such drosS as
they? Let him recapltalate the facts
that seemed germaine and perhaps the
unsolyable would become solved.
Peter Perrin was widoWer with an
only child. the beloved Eunlce. he
dWeit in Il villa that WAS almost palace
in the most fashionable suburb of the
metropolis. He was ignorant, obstinate
and vainglorious. and those attributes
fiourished without opposition, for he mad
great riches. He was Midas. and he
felt it, aud disdalned to cover his ears
with the turban of self-reStrainr. The
cause of this opulence and its ensuing
loftlness was ''P. p. P.-Perrin's Pan
create Pellets" or, in the language of
the trade. "PeTrin's Peas" The pat
entee would have described this nos
trum as 1.-The greatest medical discovery
of the age" the druggists. who retalled
it at Slight profit Of a hundred per
cent, as "the best advertised specific of
the whole lot" Both judgments were
correct, probably, since these terms
seem interchangeable.
Such were the facts, but still the
problem remained. Eunice was prize
indeed. rare pale pearl; but are pearls
to be cast before swine?
Paul had ample chance for reflection,
since economy induced him to walk to
his tryst; but meditation is the nurse OF
temper, instead of content, when 1t is
futile, and therefore he was perturbed
by vague alarms as he entered the great
Perrin parlOrS.
'Oh. Paul, how DREADFUL"
"Oh. Eunice. what is it?''
i,o,,, al
"Why, told you"' replied the girl
reproachTully.
"But ! can't understand"
"iiow stupid! A woman would have
comprehended at a glance. But come
sit down and will explain all. from the
alphabet to the dictionary. You can at
least listen"
TO you foreverW
81 may test that some day; but alas!
l forgot. That fond hope can never be.
You don't know papa well; papa is pc
culiar." Peculiar, by the way, is af
fectionate for ''disagreeable' in the
house lexicon. Every peculiar, l may
say. don't think he really cares for
anything except business. 1t he knew
[ must die he would surely ask me to
take some circulars with me-"
MY darling"
Now, for some time I've noticed that
papa has been vastly troubled. He
hasn't eaten, and when papa won't eat,
why it isn't papa. He has sat oyer his
wine clenching his hands and mum
bling such broken thoughts as 'PlI
show en- 'Pll learn 'em.' NO good.
hey?' Just wait bit until became
quite alarmed and used to place bottles
Of the Peas i'll convenient places. But
the very sight of them seemed to make
him worse. SO one night | ventured to
ask him what was the matter. Matter
enough lie groWled, when business
has fallen away 60 per cent from last
year. just think OF it; my celebrated
Peas a drug in the market
But thought they were drug in
the Market 1 suggested. Don't tri6e
with me, MISS e~roared, you won't
be so light when you have to make
your daily bread The bread WON'T |
agreed. But, papa [ continued scoth-
Ingly, chow absurd! You are very
rich. you know. Why not rest content
and enjoy yourself in your old age?'
paul, dear, l believe l must be
comforter descended from the lost tribe
of Eiiphaz the Temanite; for you ought
to have seen papa; he grew so crimson
that he became black, and lie fairly
snorted-l don't care, that's just the
word, and it's only you.
"'My old age he Numbered, pm
worth all these rascally young good-for-
nothing upstairs, who are running the
best trade Oh Gods fOotstool when
properly handled, put together, and I'll
prove if, too. Rest contented! No,
never! Not until every mortal shall
know and admit the merit of my
Peas"
"'Most of them know their P's, and
their Q's, too | said,
"'Go to your room, miss. What have
you to do with the business or the bust
ness with you" All, if this were only
so"'
The old brute!" exclaimed Paul.
"Hush! You forget that you are
speaking Of my father and of your pros
No. no, that will never be. But you
promised to listen. Do belle your mas
culine nature by keeping your word.
Well-only it's ill-papa came home
night before last in a far different
humor; bo:sterous, jocose, and over
flowing with affection. He kissed me
twice-don't stir, strand praised my
appearance. You'll be leaving your
old dad soOn,' he said. Trust me to
find the right man for YOU You may
imagine, Paul. how felt. This was be-
fore the servant, too. But l only laughed
out something about not caring to dele
gate that power. think, though, | said
releg9te, was so nervous. When the
coffee was served and we were alone.
then the very worst that could happen
happened.
"'Yes, my dear said papa. I think
I've hit upon scheme which will send
the Peas a-kiting over the broad uni
verse without a cut in the price. and,
incidentally, will find a good husband
for you.' But DON'T want this good
husband,' protested. Silence, Miss.
How can You judge until you see him?
You see, old styles of advertising have
gone out, aud didn't appreciate it. |
have painted the Three PSI on rocks
from the Palisades to Gibraltar, and
thence to the Pyramids. But no one
now gets indignant over it. Years ago
tourists were our best agents.
81 have printed interviews with that
suffering young man from Kalamazoo
and that invalid widow from Bangor in
every paper in the land, in many under
the head of editorial" too, but they're
no good. People have lived beyond
their experiences. Fve even paid au-
thOrS. and real live authors, too. to oc-
casionly refer to "Perrin's Peas" in
their articles, as one might refer to qui-
nine or castor oil, or any other public
benefaction: but no use, the editors
dropped onto the racket. But [ have
been slow, admit. in grasping the lat
est Innovation
"'And pray what is that, papa?' l
asked.
Some sort of contest with prizes
for the victorious. The American peo-
pie are essentially sporting. from
church fair to a horse race. They don't
know what's good for them, or they'd
take PERKINS, Pellets by the gross three
times day, and yearn for the morrow;
but give them a chance for the gamble
and they'll assimilate cannon balls or
macadamiZed roads. Then, too, if
there's any disease universally epidemic
It's the writer's itch. Why every one
who isn't an author wants to be, and has
a friend who is. And those who don't
write are confident that they can do
much better than those who do. Any
thing, therefore, in the way of an adver-
tisement which appeals to those two
sides of the national character is sure to
take the royal bun.
az ~,