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The Vinton record. (M'arthur, Vinton County, Ohio) 1866-1891, June 21, 1866, Image 1

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' VpiLteBKD EVERT THURSDAY, BY
Wallace e. bbatton.
i- At Bratcou'k Building East of tha
j Court-House. '
TERMS OF i SUBSCRIPTION.
Oii year,. ; :. ,' .v; $1 no
MgVt months, 1 OO
Fyur months, 50
lnyment In advance in all cases.
HOMER C, JONES,
,.k ATTORNEY AT LAW,
Jfc Arthur, Vinton County, Ohio,
ILT, attend promptly to buslucss entrust
ed 10 mo oare. JeUrotJ
I . CONST bli, '
j Athens, a
. A. COKSTBLE.
McArthur, 0.
Constable and Constable,
ATT0BNEY8 AT LAW,
McArthur, - - - Ohio,
WILL attond promptly to til business In
i trust to their caro,in Vinton and Atti
ca counties, or any of tha court of the 7th
Judioial drst.; and In the Circuit eourti of tb
V; 0. for the Booth ro diet riot of Ohio. Ctelme
agalart tha Government, pensions, bontty and
buck pay collected. ' janttf
C. A. BBATTON
ABl'H. MATO
BRATTON & MAYO.
ATTORNEYS AT LAW,
McArthur, Vinton County, Ohio,
WILL attend to all legal business intrusted
,lo thaircarain Vinton, Albers, Jo ke"n,
Kosa, Hooking, and adjolniogcounlies. l'nrtlo
ular attantion given to tho collection of aoldiora
ejaims for penal cna, bountiea, arroara of pay,
to.. frlnt lha U S or Ohio, Including Mor
gan rld claims. jau4
JOSEfll BRADBURY.
WILLIAM MARK.
BRADBURY & MARK,
J ATTORNEYS AT L AW,
McArthur, Vinton County, Ohio.
'i .
WILL attend prompMy to all bar-Incus en
. trusted to tfioircare, In Vinton and A'b
en counties. OlBca In Uulbert'a building, ov
er h Port Office, up staiw. , . epl26te'
M 1111
1 WnUte.;-
WOLTZ,
DCALIR IK AKD BSfAIRI B OF .
., WATpUES, CLOCKS,
J E W EL RY,
J ! '. . N D
Musical Instruments,
' IJULftKRT'a BclLDINO,
McARTIIUR, - - - Ohio.
ul
: . CLIFTOX HOUSE,
Corner Sixth and Elm Streets,
V 1 CihrtnWl Ohio.
TlTE CHEAPEST HOUSE IN TIIE CITY
" Terms $2,00 per Day.
GMN1BCSSE3 carry al. passengers o and
froul the cara. The new depot of the
Warrlatta and Cincinnati Railroad, corner
Plum and Pearl atroots. is only four squares
trom this houao, making it convenient for pas
aengera to atop ai tha Clifton. de2-6m
Railroads.
M. & C. R. R., TIME TABLE.
VKOU and alter Sunday tba litb day of June
J 1666, Trains will leave - Stations named at
followa :
. GOING EAST.
flattens;. , ; Mail.
Cincinnati,"- 8 25 a m
(Uiillicothe, 1 17 p m
Hamden, 2 38 p m
McArthur, 2 52 p ni
Zaleskl, 3 13 p m
llarrlctta, 45 p m
Night Ex.
12 35 a m
5 10 a m
6 28 8m
-C 41 a m
7 01 a it.
10 48 a in
GOINQ WKST,
Mail;
6 40 a in
10 10 a m
10 33 a in
10 45 a m
12 23 pm
Stattoni.
Marrletto,
Zaleskl,
McArthur,
Hamden,
Chillloothe,
Cincinnati,
Night Ex.
7 05 p m
11 00 p m
11 31 pm
11 42 pro
1 20 a m
6 oo pin
5 55 a m
Trains eonmiot at Hamden with Mall train
to and from Portsmouth O.
Notb. Train oa Porta month Branch w-'ll
hereafter be go verned by this tima labia, both
a to time and rules Beth wall and aeoommo
elation will b regarded as passenger trains- J14
pniumL
TO THE LADIE S !
.. . . .-. ... i.
niX e. b. Ptcu.
v Ob d oo east of tha M . E. Church,
;:S:;uiTnuR,oiiioi
IB now receiving a aplendld atock of SPBIM
MILLLNERY, ocnaitUng In part of
BONNETS, II ATS, RIBBONS,
V.FLO WERS. FLUME8. LA
,CES,. NETo,- BELT8, .
v- - DBESS TRIMMING,
,.rr v BUTTONS,' Ac
M Itf.f.l.i.f
Bonnets .Made' to Order.
y-ir.it :
'BiArBnta'naatly and promptly executed.
KbT Conn try prodaea raoaiTad in exchange
fogooda. Prom pt Payment Desired. ' -
, aiaTn i,a86B3rB. ; , .
: ! :
. )
' I . i ROOFIN!: .
IN rolls read) to be nailed down, adapted to
Hons', Factories, eud bnlldinge af all kind
Hntretd of materiala thai bat etood tba
teal or nrteen year, ana mannraetared on an
entirely different and better plan thaa anr oth-
t com position xoofln g in use. Beovred by - paw
. -very qnraoie ana at low price. -utrou-arBd
-UBipJeaiMat free by mail.- Liberal
terms to agent. Bbaot Boernio Co., j
jnV Ko. T3 Maidaa Law, Kw York.
.
VOL. 1.
; i
M'ARTHUK, VINTON COUNTY. OHIO. JUNE 21,
1866.
NO. 2G.
Poetical.
[Published by Request.]
CONJUGAL POETRY.
Ma. Editob : David Parkf.r, Esq, who
lias produced some of tho best poetry ever
written by a Maine man, pleased at a little
incident that happened in hi family, (the
first occurrence of the kind,) give vent to
his feelings in the following interesting
and imaginative effusion, entitled :
My Child's Origin.
One nlglit as old St. Peter slept
llu left tho door of henreu ajar,
When through a little angel crept
And came down witli a lulling star.
One siunmor, as the blessed beams
' Of ruoru approached, my blushing
; bride ;
. Awoke from sweet and pleuslngdrenths
" ' And found that angef by her side.
God grant but this, I ask no more,
Tlmt when he leaves tills world of sin,
He'll wing his way to that bright Hhore
- And 11 nd that door of heaven again.
Whereupon some fellow of a practical
turn, without any imagination, and not
possessed of the "divine alllatus," has at
tempted to destroy tho illusion of David,
as follows:
St. Peter's Reply.
Full eighteen hundred years or more, '
1 have kept my door securely tiled;
There was no little angel strayed,
Nor one been missing all tiiu while.
' I did not sleep, as you supposed,
Nor left the door of heaven ajar;
Nor has a little angel left.
And gone down w ith a falling star.
Go ask that blushing bride, and see
If she don't frankly own and say.
That when she found that angel bubc,
is he found it by the good old tray
God grant but this I ask no more
That should your number still enlarge,
That you will not do a before,
Ann lay It to St. Peter's charge. ;
St. Peter's Reply. Miscellaneous.
[From the Book.]
THE BROKEN VOW.
BY MISS ELIZA DUPUY.
'Twos mourned not in tho festive halls,
Where mirth is light around ;
It echoed not from btately walla,
Blent with the music's sound ;
'T was sighed not forth in bower or dull,
Amid the opening flowers;
The woodland had no tale to tell
Of these long vanished hours. -
Twas uttered o'er-a' dying bed, v.'.';
. Asked by a dying prayer'
Tho voice of the departing shed
A ghastly blessing there.
, An earnest soul was flitting fast
Wheu those deep words were said
The ling'rlng tones her lips that passed,
Thrilled hollow o'er the dead.
Twilight had darkened into
night, the first faint star of the
evening gleamed from the fair blue
heavens, and the hush and repose
of nature seemed too holy to be
broken by the strife of human pas
sions; yet how painfully did the
quiet of that evening -scene . con
trast with the passionate grief of a
young heart, mourning over its
first sorrow.
Ellen Sinclair was a newly wed
ded bride. She was seventeen;
the youngest daughter of her fath
er's house, and the spoiled pet of
the whole family, her life had pass
ed as one long bright day of sun
shine and flowers. She bad been
wooed by one she had known from
childhood, and with the consent of
their mutual friends they were uni
ted. The day after their marriage the
bridal pair left the father's house
for the residence of Mr. Sinelair,
in one of the interior counties of
Virginia. A few happy weeks
passed when Sinclair proposed to
his bride to visit a gorge in the
neighboring mountains, from which
the rising frequently presents the
singular spectacle of the' looming
of the mountain the same phen
omenon which is witnessed in the
straits of Messina and known ' by
the more poetio name of Fata Mor
gana, or the castles of the fairy
Morgana. ' Ellen was delighted
with the proposed excursion, and
searched every book in the iouse
which afforded any information on
the subject.
This excursion, which promised
so much pleasure, ended in despair
ana aeatn. . They reached the de
sired spot in safety, " the morning
was lav or a bie to their wishes, the
ascending.vap'ors caught the' rays
or tne rising sun, and formed them
selves into the most gorgeous and
fantastic scenes: " Ellen was ' so
much absorbed in this : wonderful
and magnificent spectacle, that she
forgot the caution Sinclair had giv
en her at the moment of mounting
her ; spirited steed J 'He. turned
from her side an instant to speak
to the servant who followed them;
the movement startled the horse;
the rein was laying Joose on his
neck, and feeling himself free from
a guiding hand, dashed off at full
speed.' Sinclair and the' servant
potn iouowea, our. .were unable to
overtake her. Fortunately "she
met a gentleman who succeeded
in stopping her perilons -career.
Sinclair checked his horse too sud
denly, that he migh't express his
thaftks to her preserver. The ani
mal reared and threw him with
great violence. . lie was conveyed
home in a senseless state, and sur
gical assistance summoned, but the
force of the fall had inflicted some
internal injury which bafiled the
skill of tho physician.
It was beside his bed in -that
calm twilight, that the young wife
knelt with scarce a hue of life up
on her features.
"Oh, Ellen, my' beloved,-calm
yourseif-this sorrow unmans me,"
murmured the dying man, passing
his hands carressingly over the
head which was bowed upon his
pillow.
. A deep suffocated sob was the
only reply to, his words. . . .
"It is hard to die," he continued,
"when I was looking forward to
years of such tranquil happiness
with you, my sweet Ellen; but 'tis
the will of heaven, my best belov
ed, and we must submit."
"Oh, Ilenry, my own Henry, you
must go down to tho cold, cold
grave, where I can see you no
more never more hear the tones
of your dear voice. Oh, it will
break my heart!" was tho almost
inarticulate reply.
"My poor Ellen, this is a hard
trial for you, but you are too young
to grieve always. The thought is
torture to me, but even you may
love again may wed another I"
and his voice was nearly stifled
with painful emotions.
"Never, never! Oh, Henry, how
can you harrow my soul at this aw
ful moment with such' a supposi
tion? Wed another ! Give the
wreck of my buried 'affections to
another! . Oh no, no! tho thought
would kill me." .
doubt not you think' so now',
love; but time works strange
changes in this world of ours. We
know not what we may do. I wish
to exact no promise from vou. The
thought is "bitterly fjpaintui to mef
nut rsuouia,our creient "vie, wi
change, I do not wish that the re
proach of a broken promise should
mar your peace of mind.".
"Henry, hear me," said Ellen, in
a solemn tone. "Should I ever so
far forget my faith to your ashes as
to lend my ear to the language of
love, my heart to the voice of af
fection to another, may your form'
on my bridal - evening come to me
and reproach me for my faithless
ness." A bright smile passed over the
face of the dying man. He mur
mured: "Repeat those words again, my
Ellen they take from death its
sting in Heaven you will be all
my own. Forgive my selfishness,
dearest, but I have to loved you, I
cannot think that another shall
win"
His. voice ceased to articulate,
and again the deep tones of the
young mourner thrilled the air
with the repetition of those awful
words. As they passed her lips,
she felt the hand that clasped hers:
relax its grasp a faint fluttering
consciousness seemed to hover a
moment on his features, and in an
other instant they wore the calm
and passionless repose of death.
"Ellen Sinclair buried herself in
the seclusion of her own abode.
A calm and gentle melancholy
succeeded the first violence of her
grief, but she betrayed no desire to
mingle with the world. . Clad in
the deepest mourning,, she was
soon no where but at church ; and
those who looked on her felt deep
sympathy for one so young and so
bitterly bereaved. Vainly had her
own parents sought to draw her
from her solitude. Two years
passed, and after many fruitless ef
forts they at length succeeded in
obtaining a promise of a visit from
her at the annual re-union of their
family at Christmas, for that season
is still held as a festival ' in many
parts of Virginia. ;'.
Ellen was once more beneath the
roof of her father, and many and
painful were the emotions which
struggled in her bosom when she
looked around, and remembered
that the last time she stood beside
her native hearth, she waa a gay
ana nappy bride.
: Those who looked on her could
hot avoid remarking" the change
which two years had wrought in
ner appearance. -The gul just bud
ding into maturity had expanded
into tno Deautuui and self-possess
ed woman, with a quiet grace of
manner, and an air of pensive re
serve which was extremely . capti-
vaung.-
Her parents were worldly mind
ed people, who could not bear that
their daughter should pass her life
inthe solitude to which she had
doomed' herself. They surrounded
her with agreeable company,sought
to amuse her mind and draw it
from the contemplation of the ter
rible calamity which had destroyed
her dawning hopes of happinoss,
and they succeeded sufficieptly to
implant in her mind a distaste to
the idea of returning to her lato
abode.
' Week after week passed unlil
months were numbered, and she
began to think it her duty to re
main with her parents. She was
their youngest child, and the only
one without ties which severed
them in a measure from the pater
nal roof.
."Ellen, my darling" 6aid her
father, when sho spoke of return
ing home, "you will not again tor-
sake usf We are old and you are
the only child who is free to re
main with us. You must live hero
I cannot think of permitting you
to return to that lonely homo of
yours."
"It is lonely " replied Ellen, "and
I fear that after breaking through
my usual habits, I shall find it dif
ficult and wearisome to resume
them, Yet, my dear father, if I
consent to lemain, therd"is one re
quest I must make.' . .
"What is that, my daughter? Are
we not eyer min,dful of your wish
es?" : "Ah, yes, dear father, more
mindful -than I deserve. But"
and her voico sank to a low, agita
ted whisper "there must be no
looking forward to a second mar
riage for me no attempt to alter
my views on that subject. I have
made a vow to the dead, and it
must be held sacred." - . i
1 - "What!" exclaimed . the father,
"was Sinclair ungenerous enough
to exact from "you a promise not to
marry1 again? young and inexperi
enced as you were, tool"
f "Ah! no, father Wrong him not.
He Was too 'kind, too noble. He
asked no promise I made it vol
untarily; and as the words left my
lips his spirit departed. Oh no,
father, never ask mo to break that
promise it is a hallowed one."
"Well, my darling, let it bo as
you wish. I shall . prefer keeping
you with us; but at the same time,
if youvshould ever meet with one
you can love, and who is worthy of
you, it would be very silly to suffer
a few words uttered when you were
scarcely conscious of their mean
ing, to prevent you irom making
the homo of an honorable man hap
py. Vhy, child, you are only nine
teen. Do you suppose that the
death of one person, however dear,
can chill your feelings into ice at
that age?"
: I must then in sincerity of soul,
pray to be delivered from tempta
tion,' said the young widow.
As time passed on, Mrs. Sinclair
could not help acknowledging that
she was far happier than in her
mountain solitude, iier spirits
were no longer wearied; she no
longer felt that life was a burden
she would gladly lay down. Sho
needed the excitement of society,
and the social and highly culuva
ted neighborhood in which her
fathers residence was situated, af
forded every facility for its enjoy
ment. The third year of her widowhood
was drawing to a close, when sho
received an invitation to the mar
riage of a favorite cousin, who
would take no refusal. Ellen re
plied that if the bride would ex
cuse her sombre dress and pensive
face, she would attend ; and the
concession was hailed as an omen
of future success in drawing her in
to that world she was so peculiarly
htted to adorn.
There, was a motive for these ef
forts of which Ellen never dream
ed. She regularly attended the
church near her father's residence,
and her mother had several times
called her attention to a remarka
bly hansome man who sat in a pew
nearly opposite to them;' but she
had not remarked that his eyes fre
quently wandered from his prayer
book to; her own fair face. His
height, and the turn of his , head
had reminded her of Sinclair, .but
there the resemblance ceased. The
broad brow, finely chiseled feat
ures, and clear ; dark eye . of the
stranger, were all unlike the youth
ful bloom of him who had won her
young : affections, She , had, fre-j
quently heard Mr- Peyton spoken
of as a man of distinguished en
dowments, who had spent several
years in th south of Europe with
an only and beloved sister, for the
benefit of whose health the journey
had been undertaken. These cir
cumstances had nearly passed from
her mind when she was introduced
to him.
Peyton had fallen in love with
her from his casual view of her at
church, and the eulogiunis of his
friend's affianced bride who looked
on Mrs. Sinclair as a "bright par
ticular star," and had deepened tho
impression. The circumstances of
her marriage threw a romantic in
terest around her history, and when
he looked on tha. youthful brow
with a shade of placid pensiveness
that seemed to breathe a hallowed
charm over her beauty, he felt that
6he was the only woman ho had
ever known before to whom his
heart could bow with the homage of
affection.
Yet how speak of lovo to one
who still wore the deepest mourn
ingwho never joined in the mirth
of the light heart ? It would seem
almost like sacrilege to breathe in
to her ear the wild passion that fill
ed his heart, yet its very hopeless
ness appeared to add to its fervor.
Hut ere long anew hope dawned
on him. Ellen was surrounded by
the gay and joyous of her own age.
Her disposition was naturally
buoyant; her spirits rose; the chord
she had believed forever snapped
again thrilled to the touch of joy.
When the bonds of grief were once
severed, the reaction was complete.
She still reverenced tho memory of
he first love, and if her heart had
whispered that she could ever be
faithless to his ashes, she would
have shuddered with superstitious
horror at the thought. .The -;pOssi-
biiity of breaking that solemn,
promise had never occurred to her
but time teaches many strange.;
lessons. : ' .. r
Peyton lingered in the neighbor
hood a. constant visitor , at Wy-J
combe,-but his attentions were not'
sufficiently marked to. ' attract the
observation of others. Her own
familv;were too desirous of, the
match to hazard the final success
of her lover by alludiug in any
manner to his passion for her.
Peyton won his own way slowly
but sureJy. Ihe fair widow began
unconsciously to regret the vow
which had . ascended to Heaven
with the spirit of her dead husband.
At length he spoke of love and she
listened with trembling awe to tho
out-pourings of a spirit which was
too noble to be trifled with, and
too highly appreciated without a
pang.
Her parents agreed with the lov
er in his views of the case and,
urged on ail sides, her own heart a
traitor, Ellen yielded to their wish
es, and betrothed herself to' Pey
ton. As tho day appointed for their
marriage drew near, the words ot
her vov appeared to be ever ring
ing in her ears. With a restless
and fearful spirit, she saw the hour
approaching which was to witness
her second espousal.
Preparations were made for a
splendid bridal. All the members
of her family assembled beneath
the parental roof, and every effort
wa3 made to divert her mind from
dwelling on the fantasy that pos
sessed it.
The appointed evening arrived,
and tho ceremony which made her
the bride of another was performed.
Several hours passed in dance and
song. It was near midnight when
Ellen found herself standing on the
portico in the bright moonlight with
Peyton beside her. The gay throng
within were still dancjng, and the
sound of merry voices mingled with
the bursts of music that swept by
on the dewy and fragrant air. El
len started as Peyton spoke beside
her, and for tho first time for sever
al hours, the recollection of her fa.
tal vow intruded on her mind.
"What a glorious night," she re
marked ; "I never saw tho moon
shine with greater splendor."
"May it be a happy ouieu to us.
my fair Ellen," replied Peyton; and,
as he spoke, lie turned to a white
rose bush which had wreathed it
self around one of the pillars of the
portico, and culled several ot its
half-blown flowers. ,
While he was thus employed, El
len1 was gazing abstractedly on the
fantastic shadows made by the
trees, in the yard. Suddenly she
grasped the railing for support, and
looked with eyes ftscinated with
terror on a white shade which
seemed to rise from an open space
in which the moon's radiance was
poured without obstruction from
the surrounding shrubbery. The
shadow arose slowly, and gradually
. ADVERTISING TipiSi . j
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Fjtch additional insertion, 4(
Curds, per year, ten lines, '. tVOO
Notice of Executors. Adinlulstm-
tori and Guardiau, a 3 00
Attachment notices before; J. . f 2 OO
Local notices, per line, , . t. . T.. . .'j lo '
Yearly advertlsuienU will be charged
$00 per column, and ut porportloiiaw
rate for less than a column. fay able u
advance . -
assumed the waving outline of a
human form wrapped in the gar
ments of the tomb. It approached
the spot on which she atood - and
the features ot Henry Sinclair,
wearing a look ot sad. reproach,
were distinctly visible to her as ;
the shade glided between ' herself '
and her newly wedded lord.
With a faint cry she would have
fallen had not Pevton turned and
sprang forward in time to receive"
her senseless form in his arms. " "
, Long, long was it befofeshe M-j
covered from her death-like swoon.
bho : then related what she had
seen, and clunz to the belief in th
reality of the spectral visitation
1 . .'a . . L -1. ;
iuucui.il tcuucity, uiiib reasoning
and soothing failed to calm her
mind. Before another dav had
dawned, she was raving in the de
lirium of a brain fever, and in one
wcck irom her ill-omened marri
age, she was laid beside him vhnsA
spirit she believed had summoned
1 A 1
ner to join mm. - ...
The incidents on which Hia fort:!
going pages are founded are liter-
any true, mat the supernatural
visitation was the offspring of an
overwrought imagination and su-'
pcrstitious mind, a real case of
monomania, there can be little
doubt. The vacaries of an excited
imagination are nrndurinp rnsulfa.'
on Mormons and Millerites, . quite
..W ! If , ' '
us luexpiicaoio 10 so our reason as ;
the catastrophe of Tho Broken Yow."
- ) ajeju 1 1 1
Lovers in a Fix.
Night before last, as tho moon
rose over the hills and. tree-tops,'
gilding the spires of our beautiful
city with her silvery rays, there
might have been seen- upon the
roof of an Egyptian cottage, which';
is flat, and covered with pure whiter
gravels and pitch, a couple of ol
A. Jl A I ... jf
era, 6,eaieu, enjoying iae, DOauiy QJ,
the scene, and . . U-,-. i,vi'..rr
"Though few the hours, the happy moment1'
So: worm with heart, so rich with, love they
- -flflW. li -.l !.:,; r. 1 w.-tr,.u ".,- I
That their full souls forgot the will to rosin,
4Vax wavws aiivio ail B UlCettU ij UVHI1C y ' '
The sun during the day ha,d been'
very warm, and thus ' they met to
spend the fleeting hours of twilight,
enjoying the pleasant breeze that
floated up from the magnolia gar
don beneath, and interchanging
those soul-longings and the Warm
affections for each other. Seated
near each other, the lovers sat;
with one arm he encircled the waist
of the beautiful creature at his side,'
"Her little hand lay gently, confidingly la
his,"
and all passed quietly and lovingly
until tho bell tolled the midnight
hour.
"None but the loving and beloved,
Should bo awake at this sweet hour." -The
tolling of the bell reminded
them that . - , i
"Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep,1'
was requisite for lovers as well as
others. Still seated near cash oth
er, the plighted vows were again
exchanged, and sealed with kisses,
like , , x ,1
Linked sweetness long drawn out','
At length, after many vain, at
tempts to sever .these pleasant
pleasures, the transported lovyert
found that they were bound to e,ach
other by more sticking bonds than
lover's vows. The hot sun. had
melted thepitch, and after sitting
so long, and the night air having
cooled the resinous matter, they
tound they were both "stuck .fast.?,
The young gentleman first attempt
ed to disengage himself, but found,
like aunt Jimmima's plaster, "the
more you try to pull it off, the more
it sticks the faster."; : The young
lady then attempted to get upj
which she did, minus the skirt of
her dress, and all her under-clothes,
as far as the 1 "til ters." In this
plight she attempted to relieve her
disconsolate partner, but it was of
no use he couldn't come. Aftex
Burnt? paney, iia came w ine, con?
elusion he could manage it by slip
ping out of his pants. According
ly he asked of his companion if she'
could lend him a pair of pants un
til he could go home.1 ' She thought
ber pa's would do if they were not
too long. . With this-informatioii
he slipped oil his boots, and loesing
his suspenders, drew himself out. of
his pants as easily as possible, and
the disconsolate couple took them
selves down stairs in a Very blush:
ing manner, andlookingTerymuclj
like our first parents whenr they
discovered that they were1 human
The lady procured,1 as;' quieily. asj
possible, a pair of her fathert pahtsi
which were run into pretty qdltkl
and the Adonis decamped ; with his
?ants rolled up about ' shindies
he joke was too good to'T&e 'keptt
by little and little it leaked olit'
til the truth had come to exculpate'
the happy innocents. ..1.1

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