The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa on November 22, 1893 · Page 8
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The Algona Upper Des Moines from Algona, Iowa · Page 8

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Algona, Iowa
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Wednesday, November 22, 1893
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IOWA, WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER 22, 1893. Of Nature's hflppy choVus. >a mi ll ' 8 , 1 l k JL n vern H Mot ' n ' - vet overhead Thei leafless boughs across the lane wof o knittmg: . - , The Rhost of some.fbfgotteh aprlritt. we said, O oi- winter* woMd comes flittih^. Ofwno it.spring hot-self, that, gone astray, Beyond the alien frontier choso to tarry? Or but some bold outrider of the Mav Some April-emissary? Tho'nnpittitoti fn<Jc<i on the air, Ci]ii'ic!ous nnd incalculable corner, wm rion too pass, and leave ray chill days And f_.','.';: ray phantom summer? —London Spectator. THE MiSADVEiNlORES OnOHOICHOLSOB, BY ItOIiEKT LOV1S STKVJEXSON. CHAPTER VI—CONTINUED. From one of these spells he was awakened by the stoppage of the cab; . and, getting down, ho found himself in quite a country road, the last lamp of the suburb shining some way below, and tho high walls of a garden rising before him in the dark. The Lodge (as tho place was named) stood, indeed, very solitary. To the south it adjoined another house, but standing in so large a garden as to be well out of cry; on all other sides, open flelds stretched upward to tho woods of Corstorphine Hill, or backward to the dells of Kavelston, or downward toward the valley of the. Leith. The effect of seclusion was aided by the great height of tho garden walls, which were indeed conventual and as John had tested in former days defied the climbing school boy. The lamp of the cab throw a gleam upon the door and not brilliant handle of the bell. "Shall I ring for ye?" said the cabman, who had descended from his perch and was slapping his chest, for tho night'was bitter, i "I wish you would." said John,putting his hand to his brow in one of liia excesses of giddiness. i The man pulled at the handle and the clanking of tho boll replied from further in the garden; twice and thrice he did it with sufficient intervals: in the great, frosty silence of tl-3 night the sounds fell sharp and small. "Does he expect yeP" asked the driver, with that manner of familial- interest that well became his port- wine face; and when John had told him no. "Well, then," said the cabman, "ifye'll tak' my advice of it, we'll gang back. Aud that's disinterested, mind yc ? for my stables are in the Glesgic road." "Tho servants must hear," saiv. John. "Hout," said the driver, "he keeps no servants here, man. They're in the town house; I drive him" often; Its just a kind of hermitage, this." "Give me the bell!" said John; and he plucked at it like a man desperate. The clamor had not yet subsided before they heard steps upon tho gravel, and a voice of singular nervous irritability cried to them through the door. "Who are you, and what do you want?" "Alan," said John, "it's me its Fatty—John, you know. I'm just come home, and I've come to stay with you." There was no reply for a moment, and then the door was opened. in no state to criticise, shared profoundly in the feeling. When thd stillness Was <5ac& More •perfect, Alan Shouldered £h6 portmanteau, carried it in, and shut and locked the garden door; and then, once more, abstraction seehied to fall upon him, and ho stood with his hand upon the key, until the cold began to nibble at John's fingers. • '"Why are wo standing hero ?"askcd John. "Eh?" said Alan,, blankly. "Why, man, you don't scorn yourself," said tho other. "No, I'm not myself, said Alan; and he sat down on the portmanteau and put his face in his hands. John stood beside him swaying a little, and looking about him at tho swaying shadows, the flitting sparkles, and the steady stars overhead, until the windless cold began to touch him through his clothes on the bare-skin. Even in his bemused intelligence wonder began to awake. "I say, let's come on to the house," he said at last. "i r es, let's come on to the house," repeated Alan. And he rose at onco, reshouldered the portmanteau, and, taking the candle in his other hand, moved forward to the lodge. This was a long, low building, smothered in creepers; and now, except for some chinks of light between the dining-room shutters, it was plunged into darkness and silence. In the hall Alan lighted another cnndle, gave it to John, and opened the door of a bedroom. "Here," he said, "go to bed, Don't mind mo, John. You'll bo sorry for me when you know." "Wait a bit," returned John, "I've got so cold with all that standing about. Lot's go into the dining-room a minute. Just one glass to warm mo, Alan." On the table in the hall stood a glass, and a bottle with a whisky label on a tray. It was plain tho bottle had boon just opened, for tho cork and^ corkscrew lay beside it, "Tako that," said Alan, passing John tho whisky, and then with a certain roughness pushed his friend into tho bedroom and closed the door behind him. John stood amazed. Then ho shook the bottle, and, to his further wonder, found it partly empty. Three or f our glasses were gone. Alan must have uncorked tho bottle of whiskey and drank threo or four glasses, one after the otlier, without sitting down, for there was no chair, and "that in his own cold lobby on this freezing night! It fully explained his eccentricities, John reflected sagely as ho mixed himself a grog. Poor Alan! He was drunk; and what a slave to it poor Alan was. to drink in this unsociable, uncomfortable fashion! The man who would drink alone, except for health's sake, as John was now doing, was utterly lost. Ho took the grog out, and felt hazior, but warmer. It was hard work opening' the portmanteau and finding his night things; and before ho was undressed the cold had struck homo to him once more. "Well," said, he, "there's no sense in getting ill with all this other trouble." And presently dreamless slnmbor buried him. With ft moderated voica, he made the hasty circuit of tho garden, and find-' ing neither man nor trace of man in all its evergreen coverts, turned at last to tho house. About thd house the silence seemed to deepen strangely. The door, indeed, stood open ds before; but tho windows Were still shuttered, the chimneys breathed no stain into the bright air, there sounded abroad none of that low stir (perhaps audible rather to the eyes of the spirit than to the oar of tho flesh) by which a house announces and betrays its human lodgers. And yet Alan must bo there—Alan locked in drunken slumbers, forgetful of the, return of day, of the holy season, and of the friend whom he had so coldly received and was now so churlishly neglecting. John's disgust redoubled at the thought; but hunger was beginning to grow stronger than repulsion, and as a stop to breakfast, if nothing else, he must find and arouse this sleeper. Ho made the circuit of the bedroom quarters. All, until he came to Alan's chamber, were locked from without, and bore the marks of a prolonged disuse. But Alan's was WIT AND HUMOR LAtE PRODUCTIONS OI* FUNNY WRITERS. THE Ts'«Mtnp.< t Mrs. Brickfoiv—It's perfectly inablc. Here Wo are in this broiling ' ' ' satirical nit* and l>«m .Picture* «> Human Nature in Variou* stage* . o Uorclopruont—Terror at tlie Football Sc-ison. The Outside Vlow. Average Man—there's a run on another bank. Just look at those de hositors crjwding in. The fools! Tnat's what makes money tight. '! hat whole crowd should be carted off to a lunatic asylum. Friend—You are allowing your deposit to remain, I presume. Average Man—Um-er—I haven't any funds in that bank. or "Get the portmanteau down, John to the driver. "Do nothing of the kind," said Alan;and then to John. "Corr<e inhere a moment. I want to speak io you." John entered tho garden and tho door was closed behind him. A candle stood on tho gravel walk, winking a little in the draughts; it threw in- consistant sparkles on the clumped holly, struck tho light and darkness to and fro like a veil on Alan's features, and sent his shadow hovering behind him. All beyond was inscrutable; and John's dizzy brain rocked with the shadow. Yet oven so, it struck him that Alan was pale, and his voice, when ho spoke, unnatural. "What ?jrings you here to-night?" he began. "I don't want, God knows, to seem unfriendly; but I cannot take you in, Nicholson; I can not do it.' "Alan," said John, "you've got to! You don't know the mess I'm in; tho governor's turned me out, and I dare not show my face in an inn, because they're down an me for murder something." "For what!" cried Alan, starting. "Murder, I believe," says John. "Murder!" repeated Alan, and passed his hand over hib eyes, "what was that you were saying P" he asked again. "That they are down on me," safd John. I am accused of murder, by what I can make out, and I've really had a dreadful day of it, Alan, and I can't sleep on the roadside on a night like this — at least, not with a portmanteau," he pleaded. "Hush!" said Alan, with his head on one side; and then. '-Did hear nothing?" he asked. "No," said John, thrilling, ho knew not why, with communicated terror. ''No, i heard nothing, why?" And then, as there was no answer, he reverted to his pleading. "But I say, you've just got to take me in. I'll go right away to .bed if you have anything to do. I seem to haye been drinking; I was that knocked over. I wouldn't turn you away, Alan, if you were down, on your luck." "OS0?" returned Alan- '"Neither B'iil J you, then. Come and let's get your' portmanteau." The cabiiian was paid, and drove off 4own the long, lamp-lighted hill, and tli* -two f rjends. stood an the sidewalk bfcade th< j portmanteau, lill the last rumblo c| the wheels, . ha$ £ied in ft sfeertied to John as thp,ugh When John uwoko it was day. The low winter sun was already in the heavens, but his watch had stopped, and it was impossible to toll the hour exactly. Ton, ho guessed it, and said i maf l° haste to dress, dismal reflections you attached $4$ crowding on his mind. But it was loss from terror than from regret that he now suffered, and with°his regret there were mingled cutting pangs of penitence. Thoro had fallen upon him a blow, cruel indeed, but yet only tho punishment of old misdoing; and he had rebelled and plunged into fresh sin. Tho rod had been used to chasten, and ho had bit the chastening fingers. His father was right; John had justified him; John was no guest for decent people's houses, and no fit associate for decent people's children. And had a broader hint been needed, tlicro was tho case of his old friend. John was no drunkard, though ho could at times exceed, and tho picture of Houston drinking neat spirits at his hall table struck him with something like disgust. Ho hung back from mooting his old friend. Ho could have wished he had not come to him; and yet, even now, whore else was he to turn? These musings occupied him while he dressed, and accompanied him into the lobby of the house. The door stood open on the garden. Doubtless Alan had stepped forth, and John did as he supposed his friend had done. The ground was hard as iron, the frost still rigorous. As he brushed among tho hollies, icicles jingled and glittered in their fall; and wherever he wont a volley of .eager sparrows followed him. Here were Christmas weather and Christmas morning duly met, to the delight of children." This was the day of reunited families, the day to which he had so long looked forward, thinking to awake in his own bed in Handolph Crescent reconciled with all men and repeating the footprints of his youth; and here he was alone, pacing the alleys of a wintry garden and filled with penitential thoughts. And that reminded him: Why was he alone? And where was Alan? The thought of the festal morning and the duo salutations reawakened his desire for his friend, and he began to call for him by name. As the sound of his voice died away, he was aware of the greatness of the silence that environed him. But tor; the twittei> ing of tho sparrows and the crunching of his own feet upon the frozen snow, the whole windless world of aiy hung over him entranced, and the stillness weighed W oji his wnd with o| room in commission, filled with clothes, knickknacks, letters, books, and tho conveniences of a solitary man. ^The fire had been lighted) but it had long ago burned out, and the ashes wore stone cold. The bed hud been made, but it had not been slept in. Worse and worse, then; Alan must have fallen where he sat, and now sprawled brutishly, no doubt upon tho dining-room floor. The dining-room was a very long apartment and was reached through a passage; so that John, upon his entrance, brought but little light with him, and must move toward the window with spread arms, groping and knocking on the furniture. Suddenly he tripped and fell his length over ft prostrate body. It was what ho had looked for, yet it .shocked him; and he marvelled that so rough an impact should not have kicked a groan out of the .drunkard. Men had killed themselves eve now in such excesses, and a dreary and degraded cud that made John shudder. What if Alan wore dead? Thoro would bo a Christinas Day! By this, John had his hand upon tho shuttovs, and flinging thorn buck, beheld onco again tho blessed face of tho day. Even by that light the room had a discomfortablo air. Tho chairs wore scattered and one had been overthrown; the tablecloth, laid as if for dinner, was twitched to one side, and some of the dishes had fallen to tho floor. Behind the table lay tho drunkard, still unarouscd, only one foot visible to John. But now that light was in the room, tho worst seemed over; it was a disgusting business, but not more than disgusting; and it was with no great apprehension that John proceeded to make tho circuit of the table; his last comparatively tranquil moment for that day. No sooner had he turned tho corner, no sooner had his eyes alighted on the body, than he gave a smothered, breathless cry, and Had out of the room and out of the house. It was not Alan who lay there, but a man well up in years, of stern countenance and 'iron-gray locks; and it wits no drunkard, foi- the body lay in a black pool of blood, and the op311 eyes stared upon tho ceiling. To and fro walked John before tha door. The extreme sharpness of tho air acted on his nerves like an astringent and braced them swiftly. Presently, he not relaxing in his disordered walk, the images began to come clearer and stay longer in his fancy, and next tho power of thought cam» back to him, and the horror and dan' gor of his situation rooted him to the ground. Mr. BriqkroW— You said you to summer at tlie'sea side. • '"Ves, and you insisted on the-moun* twins'." * . "Just so. Times are very hard, iny dear/ • L-et's go on arguing the question a few weeks lodger, and then it will be cool enough to stay at home." —New York Weekly. Advantages of Matrimony. Friend— Did you lose any thing In tha Bustall bank? Depositor-— Not a cent, "Well! well! If you knew the thing 1 was going up why didn't you say so?" "I didn't Ivnow. I had to go ot? on business, so I left my wife some blank checks. She went shopping." The Truth Out. Clara (at the seaside)— There! I knew. He has proposed this evening, and she has accepted. Dora — '1 hey are acting like other people; merely polite, that's all. "That s only a blind. Look at her yachting cap." "It's on hind side before." "Yes, A man can't kiss a girl under one of those peaks." Dofi't" Forget it is BAKING POWDER that makes the delicious biscuit, griddle cake and doughnut. WOMAN'S WAY. greatest of boys in in Kind Old Gentleman (assisting boy get barrow up the gutter)—I don ; t see how you manage 1o get that barrow up the gutter alone. Bright Youth—I don't. Cere's always some jay a-st'indin' around as lakes it tip for me.—Puck. Needed Her Dad's IIolp. Summer Girl—Papa, I wish you'd .oek up your money and pretend to fail, there's a good old dear. It needn't last more than a day or two, and there are so many failures now no one will find faitlt Father—Of all things! Wha Summer Girl—Oh, it's all right You see, I'm engaged to nine young men, and 1 ve got t > get rid of at least eight of them, somehow. Work for Him. Guard (at the World's Fair)—There goes Archibald Von Bloom,the famous war correspondent. Visitor—Has he come to report the meetings of the lady managers? Sl>e Loved Him. Single Man (to himself)—I am sure that darling little angel loves me. Sho takes mo into her confidence and tells tne^all her troubles. Same Man (some years later)—Con- sarn it all! From morning till night, and night till morning, when I'm at home, 1 hear nothing but tales about the servants, the butchi-r, the butler, the baker, the candlestick-maker and all the rest of 'em. squaring Equally Difficult. Bag-ley—Did you cvtr try the circle. Brace—I did not: but I tried to get square with a wheel of fortune, once. A Nino Distinction. Binkertou—Miss De Lanie's father was of Hibernian desuent, was he not? Pilgarlic—Oh, no! .hist a common Irishman. The family are nob at all' wealthy, Too Liito. Featherstone—I have called on Miss Palisade several times • lately, but I have invariably found ner not at home. Hingway— You don't get there early enough. You should call before 1 do. [TO UK CONTINUED.] FUN IN CROSSING STREETS, riotny of I'un la Tlint I'roooaa in Non- York City. I perfectly love to cross streets. It is so exciting. I never feol real sure I won't have to be rescued before I get over. Oh, no; you will never bo really run over, not if you do tho way I have told you; but often you will get rescued. Some men—almost always a real nice, handsome one—will dash in after you and half carry you to the sidewalk. Maybe ho will really think you are in danger; perhaps ho will just think it is a good chance to rescue you, writes Clara Belle in the Times-Democrat. But so long as you can suppose ho was trying to save you it is elegant. Everyone looks at you and you fool so nice and conspicuous. I was rescued once in a perfectly horrid way, I got in an awful mess. I guess tho driver was drunk, because any driver that wasn't would have pulled back when he saw a girl just calmly walk right under his horse's hoofs. But he didn't and for a minute I was scared. Then I felt myself grabbed and simply hurried to the sidewalk right under and over everything. I was much worse scared than before, and when I got there and looked up it was the fiercest old man you ever saw, with hair all over his face and shining eyes. He took me by the shoulder and shook, me till a lot oi hairpins came out. He talked at me most awfully in Gorman, not a bit tike school German, so it must have been mostly swearing. Then he left me all limp and strode oft' uptown. Do you know, I believe it was Hen- Most- I was quite careful a long time after that, but it is ever so much more fun not being careful. • A Mistake. "What? Engaged to Miss Budd? Why, I thought Miss Wi longhby was the incarnation of your ideal." "A 1 o—simply another case of mistaken identity." An Average Boy. Father—Little Johnny appears to be hard at work out in the yard. What is he doing? Mother—1 don't know, but if he is working hard, it is play. I«et Them Kiile. She—Do you think there is any rea on why a young lady should not ride a bicycle as well as drive a horse? He—Not at all. It is just as easy to dodge a bicycle as a carriage. Not a Meteor, ^Little Dot—I saw a meteor last night, and I wished someone would give mo a box of candy, but it didn't come true. Little Dick—That's queer. Mebby it was only a lightning-bug. No Need of Help. Mr. Portlie—Patrick, I wish you Would have this demijohn filled with the best whisky that Okld,'Stuff & Co. have in stock; The carriage is out, but when it returns I will send it to .meet you half-way, as I presume the demijohn will be heavy. New Man—It will be loight enough before Oi get that far wid it, sor. It JHlRht Ko Improved. Mr. Blinks—Think of us joining n conversational society, eh? Such nonsense! The idea of sitting around lor two or three mortal hours, talking or hearing- other people talk. It's the height of stupidil »•. Mrs. Klin Us—Oh, well, my dear, if time hangs heavy on our hands, we can probably get some one from your club to teach us poker, and open a,'bar. Blossincs of Freedom. Foreign Guest—I notice that your pronunciation of many words differs from mine, and not wishing to appear particular, I am trying to learn the American way. Host—This is a free country, my dear sir. Pronounce words to suit yourself. That's the way we all do. Spent Only One. Little Dot—Mamma gave me two quarters to buy candy, but 1 only upeiit one of them. Father—That's something like. Now I'll give you another quarter to put with the other. Little Dot—Thank you; but I can't put it with the other till I find it. It dropped out of my pocket on the way to the caudy store. Ho Overdid It. Beggem (to himself)—I've got around that rich old great-aunt of mine at last. She's interested in benevolent schemes, nnd I'm helping her niuht and day to search out worthy objects. T' '-day she said I'd have cause for rejoicing when her will was read. His Great-Aunt (to herself)—I had no idea my grand-nephew was so good. It worries him almost siuk to see HO much misery in the world. How delighted he will be to find that all my money is to go to the support of tho poor friendless orphans! Must TSo Good, Dora—Oh, I'm in such distress of mind, and I want your advice. I am loved by three men and I don't know which to.accept. Clara — "Which one has the most money? Dora—If I knew that, do you suppose I'd waste precious time running around for advice? The growth of girls is their lf>th year and that the 17th. It is said that castor-oil. has not failed to remove warts to which it was applied once a day for from two to six weeks. The number of unmarried women in England and Wales exceeds the number of unmarried men by the majority of nearly 200,000. President Thwing says more young women are hurt by too much dancing- and candy eating than young men are by too much smoking. In honor o£ tho celebration of the G9th birthday of the queen regent of China the streets of Pekin are to be decorated with pieces of red silk for a distance of forty miles. "Don't you know, sir, that it is impolite to swear before a lady?" The Irishman looked dazed for a moment and then replied: "Sure, mum, I begs yer pardon. But Oi didn't know yo wanted to shwear first." A noted Louisiana woman is Mrs. Ueehct of Haynesville, who, though SO years old, rides on horseback to and from her farm every day, a distance of six miles, superintending all the details of its management. All the wedding party were assembled at the house. " The bridegroom, alone was missing. At last he put in a belated appearance. He was a hale old gentleman of 70. "Another time, coino a bit earlier," said the. minister. Aiint Samantha is visiting at a house in Buffalo. She is an old maid and very devout, always concluding her prayers with the Gloria. "Why does sha say such funny things in her prayers?" asked the little daughter of the house. "Why, what does she say?" replied the fond mamma. "1 don't remember all she says, but she always ends with 'World without' men, ah me!' " An English woman has employed thirty-five poor Irish women since 1885 in making a copy of an old piece of Baycux tapestry. The linen and silk were woven and dyed especially it. It is 3:27 inches long and for twenty inches wide, contains 0:2;! men, 202 horses, 505 otlier animals, besides innumerable birds, trees and flowers. The original was also made by women. Matilda of Flanders and her court having worked a long time on it. GOSSIP GOING ABOUT. 1'apa Was Cross. Mamma—I wonder what your papa is stamping around about? Little Boy—1 don't know. I didn't go into his room, 'cause he acted cross. Mamma—Ai ay be he can't find his razor. Little Boy—Yes.he can, 'cause I put it right back where he keeps it, soon as I got through takin 1 up tacks. All Kept Awake. New '.Castor—My sermon to-day was hastily prepared, but I was glad to note that none of the congregation went to sleep. Host's Small Boy—No, the flies was awful to-day. A Foolish Question. . Customer—Is this soap good? Dealer—Well, mum, the man writes poetry about that soap $10,003 a year. Customer—My sakes! Gimme dozen bars. who gets the Aw JileyputU Ccutui-y During the eleventh century a fash" ion pi embroidering the initial^ ol ' the na'me jEamjUy 04 the, Sea Air Not Wanted. First Little Girl—Did you go to seashore? Second Little Girl—No, we went to the mountains, We never go to the seashore. "Why?" "I don't know, but mamma is awful spindly." The Boy Found {t. Doctor—Did you take that prescription around to Mr. Ailing? Boy—Yes, sip. "i forgot the exact number of his residence. How did you find it?" "I told everybody alpng the street that X had one of your presc-jptions for Mr. Ailing, and they all told me to look for % house with crape on the door." Her Will Mother— If that young man kissed you against your will, why didn't ypu call me? Daughter— JJe— be held me so tightly jn his arms J couldn't call. (Jidn'i yon calj, j»ftep he let Horrified Stranger—You say that four men were carried away unconscious, three were badly crushed, and the doctors were busy for an hour set- ing broken Ijmbs! On what railroad did the accident occur, sir? Animated Narrator—Railroad? Accident?—It wns the big-irest foolball game of the season!—Puck. the A Convenient Mrs. De Fashion—Did you take medicine the doctor ordered? Small Daughter—Yes, an' it was horrid. Mrs. Do Fashion—Did you take a teaspoonful? . Small Daughter—N-o; 1 took a forkful. Spoons is out of fash'orj, you know, mamma. KvlUcntly Just nought. ' First Boy—That family ha? a new lawn mower. Second Boy—Think it's new b the machjne doesn't look worn out? When the duke of York was obliged to retreat before the French, Sheridan gave as a toast, "The duke of York and his brave 'followers.'" In order to furnish sport for a shooting party on his Moravian estate, Karon Hirsch had 0,00(1 partridges transported in their cages and liberated. "Dan Rice" is tho name made famous by Dan Rico McLaren, who was, born at tho corner of Mulberry and Chatham streets in the city of New York on January 25, 1823. Dr. Boerhaavc's reputation was so widespread that when a mandarin wrote to him from China with this simple address, "To Boerhaave, the famous doctor in Europe," the letter reached its destination, A new chapter of the Daughters of the Revolution, organized at Bound Brook, Pa., has among its members Mrs. Sarah Van Nostrand, whose father was a soldier in the revolutionary war, and who is now 105 years old. Professor Henry Drummond, the Glasgow teacher says the universities in the United States are something the country has reason to be proud of, and their chairs of philosophy are, as a rule, worthy the admiration of Europe. It is learned that the secret donor of 1500,000 to Harvard college to build, equip and maintain a reading room was the late Fred L. Ames of Boston, Mass. The money was to have been paid in installments, but the paper* had not been signed at his death, That clever English novelist, Mrs. Alexander, has been lame for two years from a eui-jous cause. She suf" fered serious hurt to the knee, owing- to her cramped position in the ' dress circle of a London theater one evening-, and she is now unable to walk without a stiuk. An Inquiry. "Mamma," said Freddie, "what's th» uaattor with my feet?" * you ar ''Mamma. '•Well, dear." A Weighty, Contract. "I wish, sir, to ask for the hand of vour daughter in marriage." y "O&ilt!finkso,'gir"> - but you must consider the matter "^ L for tfaeye aye tea pip!"

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