The mirror. (Stillwater, Minn.) 1894-1925, 1902-07-31
Chars a Beap 8 CroubIe q,
: Che OF hans mind.

those inveterate, intractable, unbridled
and mentally unbalanced minions of
Satan, those imps Of darkness, mas
querading in human forms ought to be
in prison every one of them, even if we
have to set at liberty, by general par
don, all the genteel criminals to make
room for them. OF course, Hiram, you
understand | wantno bunco steerers and
green goods men liberated; they are
worse than the agitators. But I am
drifting from my story.
Well, then, when I saw the mutiny
on the part of the servants grew indig-
nant, and addressed them in terms that
were in no wise complimentary. But
when ] had only just called them par
eel of loafers, a lot of ne'er-do-wells,
incapable of appreciating considerate
treatment, a bunch of ingrates who
would drink my last drop of whisky
and then knock all my calculations to
.smithereens by refusing to work, ETC.,
one of them suddenly gave me punch
in the stomach and another pulled me
by the whiskers one way, while the
third grabbed the few remaining hairs
on the back of my head and pulled me
another way. And they yelled like
savages; but believe Lam telling the
truth when say they didn't yell half
as loud as did. And then we got all
tangled up together, and they beat me,
they kicked me, they pulled me, they
pushed me, they knocked me down,
they mopped the floor with me, they
dragged me out of the barn through a
mud puddle, they rolled me in an ash
heap, and they mistreated me in yari-
GUS other ways. And they swore at me
and called me such names that I am
sure the recording angel blushed when
he wrote them down in his daybook.
You may think us Yorkers rather slow,
and perhaps we are, but vow had you
been in my place, and three able-bodied
men with double doses of whisky in
side of them using you as football,
punching bag and pulling machine
all at once, you would have had no
reason to complain that things were
coming too slow for you. For man of
my age and dignity the course was alto
gether too swift, and after tussIing
with my rebellious servants for the
length Of q few minutes had only Just
strength enough left to keep on shout
ing for help, and the way l roared was
indisputable proof that my vocal or
gans were, in spite of my advanced age,
still in prime condition.
But in spite of my loud and continu-
Gus cry for help, those ungrateful crea-
lures who had eaten my bread and
drank my cider-and whisky-might
have killed me altogether, had not roy
housekeeper, the widow. Brown, and
her daughter Sally come to the barn to
milk the cows. They heard my vehe-
ment outcries and Mrs. Brown, seizing
a pitchfork, came to my rescue. Say,
Hiram, the way she handled that pitch
fork, and the way she made the three
ruffians fly, and the energy she dis
played in pursuing them, was sight
worth travelling miles for to see. And
Sally Brown threw her milk stool at
one of the flying villains, but, of course,
she missed him; it hit me on the head,
causing quite confusion. But read
lily forgave her, for she came running
to me and actually cried from vexationr
but as a lover of truth it behooves me
to admit that am completely in the
dark whether she was vexed because
she had hurt my head or because she
had missed her aim. However that
may be, she patted me on the head
with her soft little hand and called me,
a good old soul, and began to feel a
decided improvement in my condition.
Sally Brown is an uncommonly fine
girl, who has such q tender, loving
heart, and isn't bit mercenary.
Well, Hiram, I am SO far on the road
to recovery as to be able to sit up; Mrs.
Brown and her daughter are nursing
me and are trying to make things pleas