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MR. PETERBS OF SCHOHARIE MOR
Ye'd like to be a boy again? I wouldn't ye
I'm satisfied JeSt Us I am; ago brings mo no
I'm bavin' fliyr times these days than when
I was a lad,
An' within' I was back again's a wish I never
I wouldn't have to go to school for all the
cash there be,
A-learnin' how to read an' write and studyin'
With that red-headed teacher, with till
frownin.' lammin' way,
To spank me 'cause I'd mix Maine up with
An'drivin'cows to pasture every day at (i
a. m .
An' glttln' thrashed for flsliin' 'stead o'
keepin' track o' them,
Ain't got no sentiment for me. I never did
The trials that I alien got for belli' jest a boy.
An' furthermore. I'd ruther have the misery
I went through when it came to choosin'
Marthy for my wife
To look back an'shiver bout, jest as I now
Than bavin' it a thing to come to be looked
An' as for chums, I wouldn't swap them lit
little sons o' mine
For twenty thousand of the chums I had
when I was nine;
An'when it comes to eat in', why, it sort o'
suits my eye
To know that if I want it I kin eat a whole
You fellerskinbe boys agin if so it pleases ye.
Hut where I stand just now's the age of ages
all for me.
I'm satisfied with what I am. old. gray, and
It's sort o' pleasant to be old and know ye
know it all.
FIN DE SIECLE LOVE STORIES.
We looked atone another in horrified
amazement when madanie made her
cold, clear-cut announcement: "Miss
Varney, who recently left the school,
wishes me to invite you all to be pres
ent at her wedding 1, Tuesday noon, in
the Lutheran church. I presume many
of you know that she is to marry the
Rev. Mr. Van Hempenstein. Classes
will be suspended from 11 until 3to
give you a chance to attend your
Poor little Stella Varney! We whis
pered about it all the afternoon. Not
even the great and unexpected joy of a
half-holiday and a wedding could keep
us from pitying her. Stella was more
timid and shrinking even than the rest
of us. She had not attained even
school girl forwardness and self-pos
session, but with her soft, pretty hair
and appealing eyes, she was the most
shrinking of us all.
And then there was Mr. Van Hemp
enstein! The Rev. Mr. Van Hempen
stein! Of all the precise, obstinate
little men that ever pounded a pupil,
he was the most precise and obstinate.
He held the views of St. Paul ort
women with a tenacity which would
have surprised a saint. Naturally we
trembled for our pretty little class
They were married in due form,
Stella looking more flower-like and
lovely than ever as she floated up the
aisle. Mr. Van Hempenstein looked
very important and trotted down after
the ceremony with an air of magis
terial and ministerial dignity which
somehow argued ill for Stella's future
happiness. Indeed, there were those
who said that they overheard him
whisper to her: "Now Stella, can't
you stop that silly blushing?"
The first call was made on the
newly-married pair after their return
from their wedding" trip, which took
the cheerful form of a visit to his rel
atives, confirmed our worst suspicions.
The little home was charming-. Out
of the parlor opened the reverend gen
tleman's study. The rooms were full
of bridal gifts, arrang-ed with Stella's
charming taste, and we thought, with
some of Mr. Van Hainpenstein's se
vere orderliness. She took a pretty
pride in her domain and had just set
tled down for a pleasant talk, when
her husband's voice came through the
"Stella," it said, sternly, "did you
dust my study table this morning-?"
"Yes, Wolgang," answered Stella
"My gloves were lying" on top of
'Porter's Evidence' on the left-hand
side. What did you do with them?"
"I put them in your overcoat pocket,
which is hanging- in the study closet,"
And what did you do with my pocket
Bible?" went on the gentleman, who
seemed to be preparing for a round of
"It is on the second shelf of the
book case," said the long-suffering
There was silence for a few minutes,
during which we resumed conversa
tion. Then the irrascible voice broke
"Stella, where are my glasses—not'
my reading glasses, my other glasses?"
"I don't know, Wolfgang, but I'll
come and help you look," answered
Wolfgang's unfortunate wife, making
her excuses to us.
We waited while Stella hunted for
the glasses and Mr. Van Hampenstein
grumbled audibly. She found them
and returned to us, only to be sum
moned by the voice of her lord and
"Stella," he said this time, "will
you kindly prepare my medicine before
I go out? and bring me a clean pocket
handkerchief from my top bureau
drawer, front, rig-lit corner; the one
with the polka-dotted b jrder I want."
When at last he was prepared to go
out he passed pompously through the
parlor and crushed us poor seminary
girls with a stern:
"Good afternoon, ladies, I hope I see
But he didn't stop to gather any in
formation concerning our health.
Poor Stella was flushed and uncom
fortable after the performance of her
valet duties, and somehow all the lit
tle air of matronly pride she had at
first had disappeared, and she.was only
a nervous, embarrassed woman, who
would have given worlds to cry'had
she dared. Young and dull as we
were, we saw that, and made our visit
It was quite three years before we
saw Stella ag-ain. We had been at an
other boarding- school, and in the sum
mer vacations there was no time to
visit her. We said to one another that
of course the abominable Mr. Van
Hampenstein had grown worse with
time, and that we would undoubtedly
find Stella a crushed, weak-minded,
tired-looking- woman, who didn't dare
to speak above s whisper.
We rang- and a neat maid ushered us
in. The room back of the parlor was
no long-er a study, but a sort of com
bination music and tea room. We
waited for Stella. She entered bright,
cheerful, more assertive and delig-htful
than she had ever been before in her
"Gretchen," she said to her maid,
"Tell Mr. Van Hempenstein that my
school friends are here and that he
may look in on us in half an hour —no
sooner. We have so much to talk
We gasped. By and by, at the ap
pointed time, the happy husband en
"Ah, Wolfgang," said his wife pleas
antly, "you're just in time for a cup
of tea with us. Oh, dear! there's no
alcohol here. Would you mind get
ting me some out of the dining room
closet?" And, Wolfgang, while you
are out there, will you ask Gretchen to
bring in the tea tray?"
Wolgang trotted obediently off. We
looked at one another in round-eyed
amazement. Then he came back with
the alcohol. He passed the tea and
made conversation. We asked if this
room had not once been his study.
"Yes, it was," he said half regret
fully, "but my wife needed it, and so
my study's upstairs now."
Then we looked at one another
again. And when we went away we
asked what on earth had brought
about the change. But no one has
solved the problem. The history of
the turning- of the worm and its sub
sequent rise to power remains shroud
ed in mystery. —The World.