Year: 1870

loaf in the oven, and chill followed
my fever. But what bright thought
. presented himself. 80
While they were unrobing and
washing in the guest chamber


would make way with it beyond the
ghost of chance of post mortem
examination; that was, if it had the
same appearance as when l last saw
it. .
| l accordingly expressed my pleas
ure-may the recording angel be
merciful?-and escorted them to
their room; and then, with a few
words of welcome, left them to hurry
to the kitchen, tumble the board,
rolling-pin, and every other be-
daubed thing but myself, into the
woodshed; and finished by taking
the shrunken leather colored loaf,
and burying it in the garden.


This accomplished, l returned to
the kitchen, where Mrs. Dossel soon
Joined me, with her dress caught up,
and her sleeves pinned up with an
eye to business.


She asked a few questions as to
the whereabouts of certain articles,
and then limited pretty strongly that
she had no further use for me.
understood, and went to my room,
where the miserable, dirty, forlorn
wretch who glared at me in the glass
did more to cure me of self-conceit
than three hours lecture from an
other could have done.


A bath, change of garments, and
the use of nail-brush changed my
outward appearance somewhat, and
joined Miss Dossel in the parlor,
with a faint perception of my own
identity.


An hour later we were summoned
to tea. Wonderful! That meal
will always be mystery to me!
White cloth, spotless queensware,
shining silver, snowy biscuit, thin,
wine colored dried beef, crisp rad
ishes, and handsomely moulded but
ter, all seemed to have slipped into
their appropriate places, as if my
mothers hand had guided them,
Even cake, small, but of feathery
llightness, was quivering, warm from
the oven. did not cease to won
der, while the meal progressed, and
did the honors like an overgrown
school boy. Nor was my wonder
lessened when, a little while after, 1
made an excuse to go to the pantry,
and found that nightmare of a mould
ing board and rolling-pin clean and
dry in their places.


Toward evening Mrs. Dossel pro-
posed walk to the bank of the
river, that flowed q little distance
from the house. We went through
the garden, that being the nearest
way; and now, pitying reader, what
do you suppose appeared to me, in
my ill fated transit? Nothing less
than that abominable loaf of some
thing-it certainly was not bread
that some ill conditioned cur had
unearthed, and left to mar the beauty
of the landscape, a shadow in the
sunshine!
What could / do? The ladies
were evidently amazed, and waiting
for me to explain. Il will make a
clean breast of it," 1 said, in des-
peration; and accordingly told them
of all my miserable failures. They
laughed some, and evidently wanted
to laugh more.
"And what induced you to bury
your unlucky loaf?' asked Mrs. Dos |
sci.


"To get it out of my sight," I re-
piled, kicking the deformed thing
back into its hole as we passed on
our way.


"No one but a physician would
have thought of thus disposing of
an unfortunate job" remarked the
young lady mischievously.


The next day they left me, after
preparing bread and cake enough
for three men, instead of one, until
my mother and sisters return.


Mrs. DossePs daughter is now my
wife. / was sure that a woman who
could get up a meal, in the way she
did, could get up wife, of whom
any man might be proud-and was
right.


She is little saucy at times, and
Jenny aids and abets her, especially
if dare to find the slightest fault
with dish on the table. "Perhaps
he would prefer cooking it himself"
she will say, 80, Edward is capital
cook! learned by intuition; beats up
eggs in a basket, buries his bread to
make it rise, and fries dry beans in
pork gravy" and before l can box
her ears. is out of the room, leaving
me to think of that wretched week,
with horror that even my enemies
should respect, and be silent as to
its cause.