The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1913-06-19

me before I had been at it a week, but when I read on page sixteen that as soon as all that horror was over must jump right into the tub of cold water I kicked, netaphor1cally speaking And I've been kicking ever since, liter ally to keep from freezing.
 But as cruel a death as freezing is, it doesn't compare to the tortures of being melted. Judy administers it to me, and her faithful heart is so wrung with compassion that she perspires al- most as much as I do. She wrings 8 linen sheet out in "a caldron of boiling water and shrouds me in it for the agony-and then more and more blan- ket windings envelop me until I am like the mummy of some Egyptian gi- antess. I have ice on the back of my neck and my forehead and murder for the whole world in my heart. Once got so discouraged at the idea of hav- ing all this hades in this life that mingled tears with the beads of per- spiration that rolled down my cheeks, and she snatched me out of those steaming grave clothes in less time than it takes to tell it, soused me in a tub of cold water, fed me a chicken wing and a hot biscuit and the 1nfor- nation that I was stgood looking enough for anybody to eat up alive without all this foelishness," all in a very few seconds. Now, have to beg her to help me, and I heard her tell her nephew, who does the gardening, that she felt like an undertaken with such goings on- At any rate, if it all kills me it won't be my fault if any body has to lie in saying that I was ''beau- tiful in death.''
 But now that more than month has passed, I really don't mind it so much. I feel so good and strong and prancy all the time that can't keep from bubbling have to smile at myself
 Then another thing that helps is Billy and his ball. I never could real ly play with him before, but now can't help it. But an awful thing hap pened about that yesterday. We were bushes, and Billy always beats me, because when he runs to base he throws himself down and slides along on the grass on his little stomach as he sees the real players do over at the ball grounds. Then all of a sudden, before I knew it, just did the same thing, and we slid to the howerpot we use as a base together, each on his own stomach And what did Billy do but begin right there on the grass the kind of a tussle we always have in the big rocking chair on the porch. Over and over we rolled Billy chuck ling and squealing, while I laughed myself all out of breath I'm glad always would wear delicious petit coats, for there, looking right over
 my front fence, I discovered Judge Benton Wade. I wish I could write down how I felt, for I never had that sensation before, and don't believe I'll ever have it again.
 I have always thought that Judge Wade was really the most wonderful man in Hillsboro, not because he is a judge so voting in life that there is only a white sprinkle in his lovely black hair, that grows back off his head like Napoleon's and Charles Wes- Iey's, but because of his smile, which you wait tor so long that you glow all over when you get it. I have seen him do 1t once or twice at his mother when he neaEs her in their pew ak church and once at little Mamie John son when she gave him a flower through their fence as he passed by one day l@se week, but I never thought should have one all to myself. But there it was, a most beautiful one long and slow and distinctly mine-at least I didn't think much of it was for R3Ify sat 41rl and bI11shed as red au