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Show IT WAS MOT SARAH. It happened recently that Mr. Tuildler and wife, of Dansville, were returning, by rail, from somo eastern city, when the gentleman excused himself fir a minute, and went into another car. While he was out, the irain stopped at a station, and a trim shaped colored woman came in, wearing a shawl exactly like the one worn by Mrs. Puddler. She had just taken her seat and nrranged her plunder, when Mr. Puddler came in at the rear door, and, recognizing the shawl in an instant, planted himself by the new comer. He on!y sat a moment, because he felt something on the seat. Then ho wondenngly picked up a bag of cookies, a bundle of underwear of some kind, an old fashioned foot stove, and a little live dog, about three weeks old. Then he burst forth, "Why, Sarah, where in the land of Goshen did you get all these things ?" There was a litter, and as he glanced for the first time at the dusky face beside him, the shade of auger on his face faded into blank, open-mouthed astonishment and with a gasp ho ejaculated, "Roscoe Anthonv and Susan B. ! Conkling! h, it ain't Sarah 1" After he got into the right pew, he requested his wife to hold him there during the rest of the journey. Rome Sent. |