The true northerner., 1896-07-29

ply popped his apples into the oven to
bake.
1t was now about 80, and the fire
was getting HITTER than pretty much
anything on earth, unless perhaps it
was Mr.. Meek. He turned all the damp
ers, opened all the doors. and took off
all the lids. This resulted most salts
factorily; the fire began TO cool. It
didn't stop.
1t got, if anything, little low. Aft
er that it got very low. Then it went
out. He rushed for a kindling, and
nearly took his head off on clothes
line. just as he had got nicely through
expressing his views on clotheslines in
general, and that clothesline in particu-
lar. he went about twice as far toward
taking his head off on the same clothes
line on his way back.
The gentlest of natures when reused
are often the most terrible. Mr. Meek
became very terrible He used up enough
kindling, profanity and coal oil to have
ignited the pyramids of Egypt. He
stamped and showed and poked and
banged and cursed and shook till even
the cat-and it had had its dinner-was
displeased with him, and departed to
the outer kitchen to try the oysters.
which the dilatory grocer had just de-
posted on the'table without waiting to
parley with Mr.. Meek. He was wise
grocer and had heard enough.
When, about five minutes later, Mr..
Meek discovered that the cat had found
the oysters TO its taste, he became even
less calm. Had the cat been around
(but, like the grocer, it had heard
enough, and taken an unobtrusive de-
parture) it is highly probable that a
considerable majority of its nine lives
would have come to an abrupt termina-
tion.
At this stage, to console the unfortu-
nate man, the fire began to go again.
Once started it didn't stop. In about
five minutes it had burned up what re-
manned of pretty much everything ex-
cept large pot of green tea and small
portion of Mr.. Meek. The chop that the
cat hadn't eaten was especially well
done. 1t could be quite safely left on
the window sill with a whole legion Of
cats around it. Mr.. Meek, however,
simply left it in the coal bin In point
of either color or hardness it would have
been difficult to have found a more fit
ting resting place for it.
Then there came over Mr.. Meek's face
terrible expression. He brought in a
pail Git was the scrubbing pail which
he had mistaken for the scrap pail, but
no matter) and poured the soup carefully
into it, throwing the pan about five feet
into the sink; next he scraped the pota-
toes into the same pail and again another
pan followed the course of the first in
getting to the sink; then he poured the
tomatoes on top of the potatoes, and
still third pan got to the sink with
unusual rapidity. 1t cannot be definitely
stated whether or not Mr.. Meek, in do
ing this, was actuated by the desire to
prepare some famous hunters dish rel
ished in the dear old camping days gone
by, but certain it is no sooner did he get
the tomatoes nicely on top of the pota-
toes, than he took the whole thing and
tossed it, pail and all, into the outer
lane
This accomplished, he proceeded to
make meal off the cold ham and some
bread and butter-the cooking butter,
of course.
Just as he was finishing Mrs. Meek
returned. why, James," she cried
cheerfully, "you never sent the cab for
me and waited nearly an hour. -
NO." said her husband calmly.
I've been terribly busy. Men from
New York-just got home little while
ago. This is very good hama shade
overdone, though, isn't it?"
Perhaps shade less wouldn't have
hurt it. Let me get you piece of pie?"
"No, thank you No cold pie for me
when there're hot apples in the oven.
I'll tell you what you might do You
might bring 'em in if you're not too
tired. "
Mrs. Meek departed on her mission.
In few moments she reappeared, and
without moving a muscle, placed the
plate of baked apples before her lord
and master. They were about the size
Of walnuts and the color of ebony.
Judging by the way they ratified on the
plate they were rather harder than flint.
Mr.. Meek rose with an awful look in
his eye.
"I'm afraid" observed his wife,
they're like the ham-just a shade
overdone. +"
"If ever catch that cat" remarked
Mr.. Meek as that sleek feline purred
past him with playful frisk of its tail.
'I'll break every bone in its body
only he described its body with sundry
adjectives that were very strange to the
ears of Mrs Meek At least so she said
when she described the occurrence to
her bosom friend. Mrs. Muggins, next
day.
Lucy Larcom's First Poem.