NEIGHBOURS: A DOMESTIC SKETCH.

Oamaru Mail, Volume I, Issue 321, 3 May 1877, Page 4

NEIGHBOURS: A DOMESTIC SKETCH.

It was all about a wash-tub. Mrs. Villiers had loaned Mrs. Ransom her wash-tub. This was two weeks ago last Monday. When Mrs. Villiers saw it again, which was next morning, it stood on her stoop, minus a hoop. Mrs. Villiers sent over to Mrs. Ransom's a request for that hoop, couched in language calculated to impugn Mrs. Ransom's reputation for carefulness. Mrs. Ransom lost no time in sending word that the tub was all right when it was sent back ; and delicately intimated that Mrs. Villiers had better sweep before her own door first, whatever that might mean. Each having discharged a Christian duty to each other, further communication was immediately cut off, .and the affair was briskly discussed by the neighbours, who entered into the merits and demerits of the affair with unselfish zeal. Heaven bless them. Mrs. Ransom clearly explained her connection with the tub by charging Mr. Villiers with coming home drunk as a fiddler the night before Christmas. This bold statement

threatened to carry the neighbours over in a body to Mrs. Ransom's view, until Mr*. Villiurs remembered and promptly chroni-cle-i the fact that the Ransoms wete obliged to move away from their last place because of nonpayment of rent. Here the matter rested between the neighbours, leaving them as undecided as before. But between the two families immediately concerned the fires burned a? luridly as when first kindled. It was a constant skirmish between the two women, from early morning until late at night. Mrs. Ransom would tdare through her blinds when Mrs. Villiers was in the yard, and murmur between her clenched teeth—- " O, you hussy !" And with that wondrous instinct which characterises the human above the brutal animal, Mrs. Yilliers understood that Mrs. Ransom was thus engaged, and lifting her nose at the highest compatible with the safety of her spinal cord, would sail around the yard as triumphantly as if escorted by a brigade of genuine princes. And then would come Mrs. Villiers' turn at the window with Mrs. Ransom in the yard, with a like satisfactory and edifving result. When company called on Mr 3. Villiers, Mrs. Ransom would peer from behind her curtains, and audibly exclaim : "Who's that fright, I wonder ?"

And when Mi's. Ransom was favored with a call, it was Mrs. Villiers' blessed privilege to be at the window, and audibly otse-ve : " Where was that clod dug up from 1" Mrs. Hansom has a little boy named Tommy, and Mrs. Villiers has a similarly sized son who struggles under the cognomen of Wickliffe Morgan. It will happen because these two children are too young to grasp fully the grave responsibilities of life—it will happen, we repeat, that they will come together in various respects. If Mrs. Hansom is so fortunate as t) first observe one of these cohesions, she promptly steps to the door, and covertly waitin? until Mrs. Villiers' door opens, she shrilly observes :

"Thomas Jefferson, come right into tfiis house t'.ii? minit. How many tim?s have I told you to keep away from that Villiers brat 1"

" Villiers brat!" What a stab that is. What subtle poison it is saturated wit 1 !. Poor Mr 3. Villiers' breath comes thick and hard, her face burns like fire, and her eyes almost snap out of her head. She has to press her hand to her heart as if to keep that organ from bursting: There is no relief from the dreadful throbbing and the dreadful pain. The slamming of Mrs. Ransom's door shuts out all hope of succour. But it quickens Mrs. Villiers' faculties, and makes her so alert that when the two children come together again, which they very soon do, she is the first at the door. Now is the opportunity to heap burning coals on the head of Mrs. Ransom. She heaps them : " Wickliffe Morgan ! What are you doing out there with that Ransom imp 1 Do you want to catch some disease ? Come in here before I skin you." And the door slams shut. And poor Mrs. Ransom, with trembling form and bated breath, and flashing eyes, clenches her fingers, and glares with tremendous wrath over theJandscape. And in the absence of any real, tangible information as to the los 3 of that hoop, this is, perhaps, the very best that can be done on either side.— Danbury Neves. '