Rensselaer Union, Volume 9, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 26 July 1877 — Her Sanguine Temperament. [ARTICLE]

Her Sanguine Temperament.

The other evening a policeman was in* formed that a resident of Lafayette street east was killing his wife. This is not an unusual thing tor a husband to do during these days of pull-backs, tie-backs, gelbacks, back-ups and long trails, but still the policeman made a rush for the house. As he reached the steps the wife had just finished washing her bloody nose, and she greeted him wbn the cheerful query : “ Hello! Did you hear of the racket!" “ I heard that you were being murdered,” he replied." “Oh I pshaw! It was merely a lively little set-to between the old man and myself. We have lots of ’em. I don’t always come out second-best, as I did this time, but it’s all right. ‘“lf a bod. meet a body Coming thro’ the rye I’ ” “ I should think it would be awful to live this way,” remarked A officer, as he glanced around at the D®iy proofs of poverty. “Oh, go long!” she smiled. “We can’t all be dukes and dukesses, and there’s no use trying. I’ve got six children around the house, and it’s my duty to carry a lively heart. Fact is, I’m of a sanguine temperament, and I always look on the bright side anyhow.” “ Weren’t you set out of a house on Croghan street for non-payment of rent?” asked the officer, looking at her more closely. “ Same woman—same family,” she laughed. “1 had more fun over that than you could carry on a< freight train. Three of the children were sick, the old man out of work, the dog lost, the cat under the weather with cramps, and none of us knew what to do. However, “ * The sun may be shining to-morrow, Although it is cloudy to day,’ and I sat down on the old cook-stove and laughed till 1 cried.” “ I think I saw you at the Poormaster’s office,” he observed. “ Arid that was another good joke on Snyder,” she grinned. “Yes, I went around there and asked for Mocha coflee, granulated sugar, seedless raisins, Wor cestershire sauce, pastry flour and A 1 coal, and you ought to have seen the old man go down in his boots! I got some taters and meat and wood, and some of the folks were put out to hear me singing—- “ The wolf of starvation she winked at me, By-by-tra-la! But I married a Duke with fortune? Fe -so -fu mI" “ Do you fight with your husband very often?” he asked. “Well, tliat depends. He’s of bilious temperament, and yqu cah’t bet on him. Some days he’ll come in as meek as a lamb, and smile sweetly as I kick his hat off. Again he’ll come rushing in, bang the children around, kick over chairs and dare me to move an ear. Them’s glorious old times, them is! You just ought to see maternal afiection and mop-handle muscle combine and go for that old autocrat of the shovel and wheelbarrow! I don’thhve any backing, and I don’t want any. These sanguine temperaments never go in except to win.” “ You have been arrested for disturbing the peace, haven’t you?” “ The same, I have, and were you down there? I walked out before the desk in Lady Audley style, you know, wiped a tear from my pearly eye, and the way I flung law, domestic happiness, muscular development, mother’s love, conjugal affection aud Western enterprise at His Honor made his hair stand up. He told me to go, and I laughed all the way home. My husband sat here, wiping away crocodile tears and telling the children I’d been sent to Saratoga for my health, when 1 bounced in and had him hollering for mercy in less' than two minutes. “ -So we won’t go home till morning— Tib daylight doth appear.’ ” “ Well, I guess you’ll get along,” said the officer as he went down the steps. “ Don’t you bet 1 won’t!” she replied, standing in the door. “We haven’t a stick of wood, and nothing to eat but a loaf of bread, while the rent is two months overdue; but lam of a' sanguine temperament, you know. If we don’t strike a streak of luck to night we’ll have a dry old meal and another fight in the morning, but luck has got to come some day. Destiny is destiny, aud this old calico dress has got to do me till snow flies, but ‘•‘There’s many a hard-up fam-i-lee — There’s nvny who want for b.ead; But I’m a sandy, sanguine, cheerful wife, Who’ll never"give up till dead.’ “ If you hear a tussle in nere this evening, don’t interfere. I’ve got a handful of snuff all ready for the old man’s eyes, and it’ll nearly kill me to see him feeling around for a club with one hand and digging his eyes with the other. Well, tra-la.” — Detroit Free Press.