The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1912-01-02


 wouldn' that frost yuh2 Wou:dn' it?"
 The girl crying again. and he forgot his grievances that he might Eelp comfort her.
 Never mind, Nellie, girl" he said tendcrIy. "I11 fin way tuh fix it. Sure I will There there little grill It's all fight"
 When Nellie had rcgailed control of her emotions he crossed slowly the table his hat from where it lay. His indignation had obsesscd him again.
 I'm going out in tn Park an walk myself tuh dcath," he announced fercely in reply to her un- spoken query At the dcor lie turned.
 Say, l;sten Ne1lie,' he said. f yuh fren' Lydia says it's all right, get married, can't we? Yuh'll marry then, won yuh?"
 She rose. Quickly she to his side and threw her about his neck.
 Yes" she cried ju0ilantly, "Yesl Yesi Yesr'
 The four o'clock afternoon edition of the Evening Gazette went to press somewhere about the hour of six in the morning, thus did its enterprising pub sicTs only take time by the forelock but by the 5etlock well
 And, as rule, Lydia Love came duty about nine ten o'clock in the evening and stayed from then until about two in the morning It was bare and barren waste of work that Lydia trod, waste relieved only by occasional cheeress oases of food aud sleep and drink For the lives of those who perform the routine work on night blooming news papers and filled with little but monotony. It IS constricted sphere. Those who dwell thereon work while others play. They play while others work. hey sleep while others awake, and they are awake while others sleep. And on their one weekly night off, which is arranged by the law of supply and demand rather than by the law of God they for they commonly have few friends and fewer interests outside of their business, heplessy haunt the of their labors drift apathetical1y to some temple of Bacchus where they to other night offers such themselves, and thus torture idle mo ments away until t is time for them to return to their work.
 and tonight Lydia the sphere of endeavor and, sumping heavily into wide worn chair pressed gentle hand to throbbing brow.
 Aunt Elvira, of the ''Woman's Page turned from a stack of ha1f-opened letters.
 Good evening, Lydia' came the greeting in tones of affected solcitude. You don't look bit well this evening. do hope it's nothing more serious than usual.
 Lydia Love favored the other merely with and suIen glare.
 A red-headed copy-boy who, behind an ensconcine wall of cd papers in the corner, devotng his budding intellect (which in a fair way to be- come rotten before 1t waxed ripe) the perusaI' of dirty, dog-eared copy of From the Tomb; or the Brigands Bride hastily thrust his into the place where pants-pocket had been and prepared attend his duties; for it was quite patent to his experienced eye that, he expressed grouch on'; hence storm signals set
 Lydia Love turned to the desk and prepared to attack the mail that had accumulated during days absence. A dozen letters were opened deftly; and then, from the first envelope Lydia extracted rnuchfolded sheet and read:
 Dear Lydia Lowell am young man eighty htty-one years my junior Do you think
 Lydia Love sniffed scornfulIy q think you're old enough know better,'' the caustic comment with which the letter was consigned to the waste basket
 The this:
 Dear Miss Love:-For eleven years I have been engaged to a young but I think his love is growing cold for he has not been to see me for oyer nine months now though he lives right across the street and I see him going to work every morning 4ad think my heart will break 4 and l would be very back his affections and l.
 Lydia Love read no further, but threw the letter across the desk into basket marked, "To be Answered. and turned to the next It
 My Dear Miss Lowell am 3 tall, dashing blonde (naturaD with kissable red lips and a perfect figure and glorious blue eyes and every says my quite fascinating. I hope don't conceed in telling you these things but it an't harm for girl to appreciate her good points is it? I am i'll love with a young fellow. I think he's millionaire because l always him going past my house in a red automobile maybe he's the chafer q think that's way to spell it.) Will you tell me how I getacquainted with him because l love him very dearly.
 This letter, too, went into the basket and Lydia turned c the next:
 Dear Madam: This $ the ninth time have written you to tell you that engaged to marry girl and everything going fine until you butted in You're wrong. I aint And l think it's up to you Square things for because you've put in a you take back what you said. 1 willing 70 prove by every who knows that l all right and on the level and have got no bad habits and you ting in like you did. She don't do nothing all day but set around and cry and feel that gould dc something at once l mean it.
 P S.--I wsht you was man.