Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 17 December 1885 — Too Much Style for the Old Man. [ARTICLE]

Too Much Style for the Old Man.

“How did you enjoy visiting with your daughter in the city, Mr. Hamestring?” “Why, not very well, mum.’ “Indeed I I supposed it would have been a great treat to you. ” “Well, 60 I thought myself, mum,. and so it would, I reckon, but for one thing. ” '“And what wad that?” “Well, you see, that was this, mum: They’ve got so blamed high-toned and gilt-aidged about everything that I felt as though I had sand in my jints evqry blessed minute I was there.” “You don’t toll me!’ , “Yes I do, and I stick to it.” “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“Nor m" Zeiher, mum, if I hadn’t a went there fresh from the timber, and seen how it was myself. ” “Well, I’ll declare, it does beat all” “That’s it; that’s it; the very words I said to Polly myself as soon as I got home. Says Ito her, says I: ‘Polly, you don’t never want to go there; you’ll miss it like all blixen if you do,’ says I. But says she to me, says she: ’Daddy, M’liss is my own gal.’ ‘Of course she is,’ says I; ‘nobody knows that better’n I do, mother; but if you was to see her in her own house, Polly,’ I says, ‘you’d never want to lay eyes on her agen as long as you live,’ says I. ‘Of bourse, if you’re determined to go,’ says I, ‘l’ll have to send you along and foot the bill,’ I says, ‘but if you’ll take a fool's advice, Polly,’ says I, ‘you won’t budge a step to go to her. You can have a heap better time and lots more comfort by stayin’ at home aud makin’ soap. The only place to see M’liss,’ says I, ‘and not feel sorry for it afterwards as long as you live, is to have her come here and see you. To see M’liss in her own home is like lookin’ at a star through a knot-hole,’ says I, ‘only the star seems nearer to you,’ says I.” “I heard that her husband was very rich, but I had no idea they were so stylish as all that.” “Of course you didn’t, mum; nor me. But- stylish hain’t no name for it. They’re absolutely dazzlin’ with good manners and sech other nonsense as makes a common pasnup like me feel mean alongside of ’em. I tell you, mum, it goes mighty tough with an old yahoo like me, what’s always been used to settin’ around in my shirt sleeves as common as salt, no matter who was about, to have to keep starched up constant and look as though I knowed a heap all the to keep my own flesh and blood from feelin’ ashamed of me, and I tell you, mum, I wouldn’t go through it agen for no money.” “I daresay you found it irksome.” “Wus’n that, mum; a tarn al sight wus. It was downright raspin’. I can do some things, mum, as well as a man what’s been to college, but when it comes to eatin’ pie with a fork I’m as helpless as a fly in gravy, and I feel as much out of place among quality folks as a cow in a haymow.- I believe in greasin’ my boots and dvessin’ up on Sunday, mum, but I’ll be sizzed if I can see any sense in primpin’ up too nice to muss a feather the whole week through, even if you do happen to have slathers and sluthers of money.”—Chicago Ledger.