UNCLE MICAJAH'S TREAT AT SLAMBASKET BEACH. HE Pettingills were a most respectable family; the head of the house, Solo mon Pettingill, was al ways called by his wife, "Mr. Pettingill, the bank er," and, as he was Cashier of the Fireman's Five Cents Savings Bank, he had some right to that title. Their daughter Maria had aspirations, and gave vent to them by playing scales upon the piano. Her brother Fohnny, a winning child of ten, was, as Sunday-school weeklies are pleased to call children, the "wellspring of joy in the household." One hot Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Pettingill COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY F. E. CHASE, was darning the family stockings in her parlor, when a ring at the front door-bell caused her to put the basket of stockings hurriedly aside and to take up some embroidery. Mrs. P. I wonder who that can be at the door. If it's a pedler, Bridget, tell him he must go right away; the trouble I am put to by these pedlers and book agents is something dreadful, to say nothing of tramps, who sneak into the front entry and steal the overcoats. Mr. Pettingill lost a new blue overcoat last winter, and his umbrella! Put the chain up, Bridget, when you open the door! Uncle Micajah Bliffin (coming into the room after an altercation with Bridget). Well, sister Emily, you did n't get my letter! Your hired girl took me for a tramp, and ordered me away. Mrs. P. Why, brother Micajah Bliffin; where on earth did you come from? You gave me such a start! to town? When did you come How do you do? How is Hepsy? Uncle M. This morning; I'm pretty middlin'; but Hepsy, she always enjoys poor health; she's been ailing all winter, and now the doctor says she has narvous perspiration! Mrs. P. Nervous perspiration! How she must suffer! Uncle M. Yes, she does suffer. The doctor has cut her off from pies, and she says she feels kind of lonesome without pies! Her spirits are kind of downcast; and she is fidgety-like! Mrs. P. When you go home, I'll send her a bottle of my Calisaya Bark Bitters! But what brought you to town? Uncle M. I'm a delegate from Billerica to the Prohibitory convention! Mrs. P. Why not really, Micajah? I did n't know you was interested in politics. Uncle M. I've made myself kind of con spicuous lately on the subject of rum. I'm |