Before and After.

Evening Star, Issue 7337, 8 October 1887, Page 1 (Supplement)

Before and After.

" My dear," said Mrs Poppennan to her husband one evening, " I was looking over a bundle of old letters to-day, and found this one, which you wrote to me before we were married—when you were young and sentimental."

" What does it say ?" " I'll read it: ' Sweet idol of my lonely heart, —If thou wilt place thy hand in mine, and say " Dear love, I'll be thy bride," we'll fly to sunny Italy, and there, 'neath softer cerulean skies, we'll bask, and sing the dream of naught but love. Rich and costly paintings by the old masters shall adorn the walls of the castle I'll give you. Thy bath shall be of milk. A box at the opera shall be at thy command, and royalty shall be thy daily visitor. Sweet strains of music shall lull thee at eventide, and warbling birds shall wake thee from thy morning slumber. Dost thou accept ? Say Yes ; oh, fly with me.' "

" And I flew," said Mrs Popperman. " But if I had been as Hy as I am now I wouldn't have flown."

" Why, my dear?" "Why not? Have you done as you promised in that letter? When we were married did we ily to sunny Italy aud bask 'neath soft cerulean skies ? Didn't we go to Hoboken aud spend two weeks fishing for eels on the end of a wharf ?"

" Well, yes." " And how about the pictures ? You know very well that every rich and costly painting in this house is a chromo from the tea store." "Well?" " 'Thy Bath shall be of milk.' Do I bathe in milk, or isn'c it like pulling teeth every morning to get ten cents out of you to buy milk for the baby ?" "Kinder."

"'Royalty shall be thy daily visitor.' The only daily visitors I have are the bookagent and the clam pedlars." " 'Taint my fault." " ' Sweet strains of music shall lull thee at eventide.' Oh, yes. The only chance I have to listen to the sweet strains of music is when you and I go out walking at night and follow a monkey and a hand-organ around the block."

" Oh, I am so sleepy." " I don't care if you are. Where are the warbling birds you promised me ? I hear Mrs Maginnis's crowing rooster next door every morning. Perhaps they are what you meant." " Well, never mind."

" But I will mind. I was to have a box at the opera. Where is it? The only time I go to the opera is when you get billposters' tickets to a dime museum," "It's too bad."

"It is too bad. And then you said we'd talk and dream of nought but love. Since I married you we've talked and dreamed of nought but rent. Good night, sir," and Mrs Popperman turned out the gas and jumped into bed, leaving Mr Popperman to bark his shins against the bureau in trying to grope to bed in the dark.