The Press., 1898-12-08

Blackstone, ~ q forgotten GhaC you
could hear things in that room SO clear
~"
Its very still night her hus-
band mumbled wisely.
The footsteps moved softly acrosssthe
room again. ''Slum chunk p The frag-
ments of bottle tinkled on the hard sur.
face Of the yard. This noise had not
died away before there arose the long
wall of the overtures TO cat battle
"W-o-o-o-o-o-o, WOW wowP
Softly and cautiously the footsteps
crossed the room again. Again bottle
broke and scattered. Again rose the
wall of war.
There was nothing cautious about the
footsteps this time. Instead Of the clink
of bottles heavy boot soles clattered to-
gether. The time consumed in gather
ing ammunition indicated that an arm
full was being collected.
-bang-biff-swa boom!
''T-f-f-t, wiokokl'' yowled victim.
'Thank the Lord - shouted the Hon.
Mr.. McShane. "Whoopr"
BOom-sIam-smas
"There, by damn !'' they heard Mr..
McShane mutter. The silence of Sun
day morning settled down again.
The Blackstones slept rig, reously in
to daylight, but not so late as they had
intended. Az about the time folks up
the state go out to feed the stock before
preparing for church there came a rap
ping at their bedroom door.
"Billl Say, Billl' said a worried
voice.
Wassermat?'' asked Mr.. Blackstone.
'Did you send anybody into my
room to take my shoes out to clean
them?" asked Mr.. McShane.
"No," responded Mr.. Blackstone.
whats up:"
"They re gone, that's all, " was the
melancholy answer. 81 put them in the
closet when l went to bed-the one that
isn't the magazine, you know-so that
in the excitement of battle / wouldn t
get mixed up and throw them, and now
they're gone. -
Mrs. Blackstone slipped out of bed
and gingerly opened the door Of the
narrow closet that connected the two
rooms.
eff he put them in here, - she said,
peering in the darkness, ''they certainly
must be here. -
She opened the door a little wider
and shrieked. Her husband was beside
her in an instant.
"Lookr' she cried, pointing into the
closet. "LookP'
'For goodness sake, you people, -
said a wondering voice in the nall,
whats the matter?''
The voice Of Blackstone answered
him, enunoiating slowly and solemnly
recounting a catalogue of things.
lone quart bottle of mucilage, one
quart bottle of red ink, one quart bottle
of green ink. one-haIf gallon jug of
whisky, enc bottle of Ponds extract,
one box of dry plates, two bottles of de-
veloper, one large bottle Of lime wa
ter
Zone pair of russets, one pair bicycle
shoes, Mrs. Blackstone took up the
list. "The skirt frame. Your big shoes,
your patent leatherB your winter
shoes
"Gone, all gomez" they said in cho-
rus
"Have you found my shoes. yet?''
asked voice from the hall
"Your shoes!" bawled Mr. Black
stone. "You good for nothing but shark
bait, steam snowplows Oh, you"-
William! - said Mrs. Blackstone.
Her husband strobe out into the hall.
He took his guest by the scruff of the
neck and led him to the window. There
in the area they looked down upon such
an ink despatched gnmmy wreck as sell
dom man is privileged to look 9pon.
On the stone steps lay one dead %cat,
and by his side huge, yellow, gore
stained Syracuse boot. The other rested
under the largest fragment of the ink
bottle.
81 must have got into the wrong
closet, after all" said the Hon. Mr..
McShone after awhile. "And they cost
$3.50.
His case went against him by default
the next day because he had to wait fo1
Blackstone to go down town, his own
feet clad in tennis shoes, and order q
full assortment of shoes sent to the
house "for gentleman with the big.
| gest feet on. earth" But Mr.. Black
stone was unfeeling enough to say he
didn't much care.-New York Sun