Press enter after choosing selection

The Bostonese Of It

The Bostonese Of It image
Parent Issue
Day
24
Month
June
Year
1897
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

Half a dozen or more department clerks, who for the sake of exclusivenees and other advantages reside in one of the beautiful suburbs adjacent to the most beautiful capital on the globe, were seated around the plazca of the home of one of them last Sun(lay in the pleasant sunshlne, conversing, says the Washington Star. After a discussion of the Greco-Turkl8h wrestling match, the house-senate ■wrestle with the tarlff bilí and a few other stirring questions of that kind they got down to plaln, everyday domestlc doings. "By George," said one, 'Tve been married seven years and I think my wife Is the fineat woman on eartïi. Anyhow, she is for me. " "That's what I think of mine," saiil another, "but I wish incidentally to ad'l that I have a mental reservation as to her dear mother." Several of the mea smiled, but no one ventured any further. "Well, my wlfe is a daisy," add'd a thlrd; "but I must gay that when the loses her temper occasionally 1 wish she would lose it permanently and never flnd it again." "Aw," sald a fourth, "they can't help that you know. A woman has got to have some snap or she ain't worth shucks. Now, my wife " "So's mine," intenupted a sympathizer; and everybody understood and laugheü. . "The only objection I have to my wife," proceeded a man who looked strong and healthy, "is that she wlll insist on my making the fire every morning. I've trled to break her, but regularly every morning I'm awakened with the same oíd thing: 'John, John, get up and build the flre.' " Every man looked at every other man, as if these words were the exact echo of what was throbbing in hls own bosom. At least every one except ene. "Mine never says that to me," he eaid, with more or less pride, while the others gazed at him as if to say: "Would that heaven had made us sucn a wife." "You know, or if you don't, I'll teil you now, that my wife is a Boston woman, and she always says: 'Hfenry, Henry, arise and erect a conflagratlon!' " However, this explanation dld not prevent tte resolutlon from passing unanimouily. The inerit of Hood's Sarsaparilhi Fs literally written in blood. It is traced in vital Huid Of miUions of the human race. lts positive medicinal meril And curative power is written Upon the hearts, and graven upon The minds of thousands Of people whom it has cured And gwen good health When thereseemed nothing beforo Them but darkness and despair. It cures all disoases arising Prom or promoted by impure Rlood by its intrinsic merit as The One True Blood Purifier.

Article

Subjects
Old News
Ann Arbor Register