The Argosy — page 338: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Man from C——. 319 “Good heavens! said I, as the story ended, “aren’t they miser- able?” “Not a bit. She manages Donald, and the house; keeps tipsy customers in bounds and good order, and always has the house full. It’s better than a love-match, I assure you; and the man from C congratulates himself and Donald every time they meet.” Our dinner was served piping hot by the heroine of the tale, and. was so good, I began to think of asking the man from C to find: a wife for me too. A few days later my friend Christie had occasion to call at a tiny stone-built cottage, just a “but and a ben,” he explained to me, to: ask an old woman there for a fishing net she had in hand for him. I accompanied him, and the door was opened to us by a very frail-look- ing little woman, some seventy years of age. She looked much disturbed in her mind, and when Jack Christie asked if his net was. done, she shook her head. “Indeed, Mr. Christie, I’m fashed so with them in there,” pointing to a small locked door which communicated with another little house, as much like her own as irregular old cottages ever are, ‘‘I canna get my wark done.” “What! aren’t they at peace yet, Granny ?” ‘Na, nor ever will be in this world,” said the old woman solemnly. « And it’s hard telling what may happen after; but,” added she, witha firm and vicious snap of her old mouth, “ Ae’/Z gae to the place appointed for him !” What this place was so plainly revealed itself to the hearers that I turned away to hide a smile at this refined way of putting it. “Well, let me have the net as soon as you can, Granny. I'll be: passing by again soon.” When we were walking on again, Christie said : *'That’s an old character! Her daughter’s matrimonial bickers and’ ‘dustings,’ as she calls them, are the plague of her life. They live in the next cottage, and when there’s a row they try to get through to. her by that small door which she keeps religiously locked since some events which happened a few months ago.” “Il say, Christie, you’re a sort of private ‘Matrimonial News !’ Where do you get your stories ?” ‘““T have an expression of much solid wisdom, as you have no doubt observed, and it invites confidence. I must tell you, however, the tale of Bob and Bet, as I had it from Bet’s mother. These two fools made a love-match, and by the time their first child was four months old they ‘dusted’ so continually that the situation brought about a crisis. Bob is a bricklayer, and his daily return from work was greeted by not only words but blows, from his termagant wife. In vain he urged her to leave him, and let him get someone to mind the child— in vain he endeavoured to persuade her to peace. At last he said : *** Weel, gang yer ain gait, and I’ll gae mine.’ COMICOOOKS.CO