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Show A SLACK HUSBAND PUNISHED. ''Mr. Moncton," said my grandmother, grandmo-ther, ''I have no wood to burn to-dav. What shall Ido?': ''Oh, send Louiia to pick up some,'' said the good man, making a i-tride toward the door. "But she hus picked up all she can find." "Then let her break up some old stuff." "But she has hrokeu up even-thing already. " "Oh, well, then, do the next, best thing. I must be off," said the farmer; far-mer; and off he was, whistling as he went, and no doubt wondering what the next best thing would turn out to be. Noon came, and with it came my grandfather and four hungry laborers. My grandmother stood in the kitchen spinning on her great wheel and siug-irig siug-irig a pleasant little ditty ; Louisa was scouring in the ba:k room and the cat sat purring on the hearth bet'or? a blank and tireless chimney, while the table sat in the middle of the room, spread for dinner, with" nothing but empty dishes. "Well, wile, here we are," said my grandfather, cheeringly. "So I see," replied t,lie, placidly ; "Have you had a good morning in the corn Held ?" "Why, yes. But where is the dinner din-ner '!" "In the pot on the door-step. Won't you see if it is done '!" And ou tho door-step, to be sure, sat the great iron pot, nicely covered, but not particularly steamy. My grand lather raised the cover and there iay the ingredients of a nice boiled dinner din-ner everything prepared in the nicest manner, and the pot tilled with the clearest of water, and all the vegetables vegeta-bles as raw as tliey had ever been. My grandfather stared and my grandmother grandmo-ther joined another roll to theyarn upon up-on the di.-tatr, and began another verse of her song. ny, woman, what does tins mean.' began my grandfather, indignantly. "This dinner isn't cooked at ail." "lear me, is it not ? Why it has sat in die sun these four hours." ''."-at in the sun !" "Yes, you told me to try the next best thing to having a lire, and I thouyJtt setting my dinner in the sun was about that." My grandfather stood doubtful for a moment, but finally his sense of humor overcame his sense of injury, and he laughed aloud. Then picking up his hat, he said :. "Come, boys, we may as well start for the vtoods. We shall have no dinner din-ner till we have earned it, I perceive." "Won't you have some bread and cheese before you go?" asked my grandmother, generous in her victory, as women almost always are. And so they won the day. The cellar stairs in the old farmhouse farm-house had become broken and so un-mit'n un-mit'n that mv erandmother hesierred her husband, frequently, to repair them, lest some a-xident should happen. He always promised to do so, and always forgot to fulfill his promises. At last, one day, my grandmother fell in going down, and spilled the milk she was carrying. "Are you hurt?" asked my grandfather, grand-father, smoking his pipe beside the lire. "No matter, whether I am or not," returned the angry housewife reappearing reappear-ing with her empty pan. "That is the la-t ti-iio I carry milk down tho?e stairs until they are mended." "1 'lease yourself and find the next bet way to get it down," said the husband hus-band a little vexed at her tone. "I will," said my grandmother, and she was as good as her word. The next evening my grandfather went down to the cellar to draw some eider. "What in thunder!" exclaimed he nothing wor.-e. 1 assure you, for he was not a profane mau "what in thunder is the matter down hire? Why, woman, your milk is all over the cellar bottom !" "I it." replied my grandmother trai.quilly. "Well I think that if likely like-ly ein'ticb. falling so far. " "Fa'lmg so far? What do you mean .'" "Why, you know I rsaid I shouldn't carry the uiiik over those- broken stairs aain. and you told me to try the next best way of getting it down, and so I took uo a board in tbe kitchen floor, throw down the pans and then strained the milk don in;o t'ucui.' The ool'ar sHirr- were it" eded next day. |