The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1900-10-26

OF creek god, who drinks IA gallons III
brandy and soda every night and wakes
up every morning as.erward without
10 much as bad taste in the mouth,
and who can beat every professional
stceplechase jockey in Great Britain
a-riding hands down-have you come
to the part yet where he gets into
wrestling match with the champion
pugilist Of the globe, and hurls thu
champion AZ feet through one Of tht
walls of the tapestried drawing-room
where the contest takes place. and"
oh" said Mrs. Jobson. still smil.
Ing. there is nothing Of that kind
either. in this"
saint. Ley?" sniffed Mr.. Jobson
swell. have you reached the chaptes
yet where the young woman who hat
been sent to a girls school in the city
from farm returns, after five years
to the farm aid is made weary by tn,
sight of the wrinkles on her paw,
neck, and the clabber-covered apron.
worn by her poor old mother, and the
hired men in harvest time devourins
pies for breakfast, and where tn,
young woman, full of the inspira tior
OF the higher and nobler and the in
fiuence Of alien environment, decide
that she will shake down the coin hit
in the crock on top of the pantry ant
flee to the great city. where she will
study to become . sculptress and max
st. Gaudens and Canova and Thor
waldsen and few other cheap figure
makers like that look like
But this work." interrupted Mrs
Jobson again, "is really utterly diff
ferent from what you"
"Still different, eh?' said Mr.. Job
son. swell, then, suppose ! has t.
do with the scapegrace son of thu
enormously rich English ironmastei
who, after having engaged himself to
the fourteenth daughter of one Of the
poorer jukes of the realm. sees ar
American girl at the running of ths
Derby and straightway gets to moon
ing so about her so thet he can't SLEEP
o. nights, and finally musters enough
nerve to go and tell the juke about it
and is spitted en- the end of rapiei
at dawn in the juke's trusty right
hand for his caddishness, and then
mo, fear you have not yet"
Haven't hit the motif of that fin.
bit Of Sunday reading you've beer
porting over yet. hey?" went on Mr.
Jobson, still striding up and down the
room. well. it's probably one Of thos'
hasheesh colonial stories, then, wher,
one George Washington. one time
president of the United States, 10 made
to figure in whole lot of idiotic ad'
ventures. or where some huge young
cub from one of the American colonie,
goes over to England on a ship and
gets captured b. pirates four or five
times on the way, which makes II
possible for him to have fricaseed pi.
rate for breakfast every morning OF
the voyage for quite long stretch Of
weeks, and when he gets to England
he makes such hit with the court
and with himself that all of the young
Mayfair bucks and Belgravia blades
become jealous Of him, and"
"Again," said Mrs. Jobson. II fear
you have quite failed to guess just
"Have. eh?" said Mr.. Jobson. "Al
right. It's probably enc of these mar
and wife social study affairs, where
the wife. after carefully thinking il
over, comes to the conclusion that hel
husband. who is the proprietor Of q
large and prosperous soap factory that
yields him an income of $4,000 pei
annum. most of which he spends or
her-where this wife, / say. comes ts
the conclusion that her husband don't
know enough about TIE esoteric ant
| the occult. much less the Delsarte sys
TEN and the science OF repose. ant
that the gradually thickening roll o.
| fat on the back of his neck is becom
ing wearisome TO her, anyhow, not e
speak of the obvious enjoyment will
which he drinks buttermilk, ant
where she makes proposition TO hin
that they draw up separation articles
whereby he is to continue handing hel
over $4,000 per annum Of the S450O'
that he earns. and that she is to be al
lowed to-"
"No," said Mrs. Jobson. "this bool
doesn't relate particularly to the mod
ern conjugal state, nor does it"
doesn't, eh?" said Mr.. Jobson
swell, it's too much like work to fur
nish guesses ms TO what IL does relat
to. considering the amount of mind
poisoning rubbish that you contriv
to get through in the progress OF
year. But it's a good wager that. !
il hasn't to do with any of the theme
have touched upon. II is in every re
spect just as idiotic as any or all o
them. and l can't understand how
woman OF ordinary intelligence, VIII
makes such great TODD about he
church work. and who sort O. glare
Mt me when go to the front door I
buy the papers on Sunday morning
can square II with her idea of the fiji
ness OF things when she finds hersel
bending all day Sunday over piec
of nonsensical fiction that any mum
bling schoolboy knows is about q
true to life as"
Mrs. Jobson. still smiling. rose soft
| " from her chair by the window. ant