Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1895-07-18

thing OF that kind. ptoIle get
things twisted all sorts u waya in
the old country. But am slare
Ben is nicer than cattle kIng co1ld
be-
If | was a gold-digger thoagh'
shrewdly observed Ben might
have given you bigger I6se than
this little one-storled shshty. and
! something beside calico toIwearls
i don't want anything vi YOU,
Benz. said Honors. TED pretty,
quaint brogue sccentulte aH it
always was. by strong sgis
And no millionaire Of che lot
could love you better than ! do,
Nora said the young man. simply.
1t was all very well, this lovd in
a-cottage business. while they fere
we'll and trade held its own. But
even in the rag-and-bottle prdfes-
sion there is competition-and the
horse fell lame. and Ben CareH Law
Ill for weeks with . low tylb of
fever. Then it was that, what with
nursing Ben all day, and Walking
the floor with the teething bsts at
night, and trying to edge in q little
clear-starching and ine needle york
for neighboring ladies furnishing
store between whites, so that the
store of money in the cracked tea
pot on the dresser-shelf need not
run quite dry, Honora grew gsunt
and pale, and her eyes got bigger
and bluer day by day. Yet all this
was forgotten in the first day when
Ben started ont again with the
wagon and Old Whitley and the
string of clamorons bells, and Hon
ora held the baby up to the window
to laugh and clap his tiny hands
with glee.
Hold on there!' said q hartl-fea
tured man, with dogs-eared mem
orandum book under his arm. Not
80 fast, Mr. Carey if you please.
Them last instalIments on the 'orse
wssn't paid, and rysserders to slap
a2s<;s ep bin. Our ] ess 1 cell
Ben turned pale. Iosl, did
Whitney--that would, indeed, be
the cruelest stroke of fatel
Cant You give a fellow little
timer said he. sPve been sick,
and
Oh, yes, that's what they all say
said the man. We've give more
time already than we can afford.
Business is business; and il the back
installments isn't squared up by
this day week the 'orse will be call
ed for that's ALL
Poor Carey! Like most Ameri-
can farmers sons, he had been
brought up to no particular trade
or profession, and all that day as ne
tangled his bells up one street and
down another, lovingly aicking the
flies from Old Whitey's neck with
the whip, he badgered his brains to
think what he could do to keep
Honora and the little one il the
horse were taken away.
Nevertheless, he came cheerfully
home at the days end. Because
I'm in q bad box, it amt worth
while to scold and fret, and make
Nora and the boy miserable rea-
soned Ben.
Il gos good lot Of old iron aud
household utensils to-day, Nora,
said he, cheerfully, when she
brought the baby out into the back
yard to watch him unload. 'P'r'aps
there might be something you could
use in the kitchen.l
There's good, sound spider
somewhere, and gridiron with only
one wire cut, and
'Oh, Ben, an oid-fashioned brass
warming-pan!' interrupted Nora.
with breathless delight.
'Oid-fashioned? Well, / should
say sov said her husband. Look at
the streaks of verdigris on it, and
the queer fiourishes and the letter
H all done in querlicues and thing.
majigs on the top
| Ben said Honors, stopping &c
examine it, it's just such a one a:
/ can remember at my grandmoth
er's in the old country-only in
those days it used to shine like gold
and had long turned handle with
string to hang it up by. Wher,
! did you get it, Benz
AT an old house in 18th street
where they were overhauling ant
cleaning np. The butler sold M,