RESULT OF A DOMESTIC SPELLING MATCH IN A DETROIT FAMILY.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2089, 14 September 1875, Page 4

RESULT OF A DOMESTIC SPELLING MATCH IN A DETROIT FAMILY.

The other evening old Mr and Mrs Coffin,!who litre on Brush-street, sat in their:cosy back'parlour, he reading his paper and she knitting, and the family cat stretched out under the stove and sighed and felt sorry for cats not so well fixed. It was a happy, contented household, and there was love in his heart as Mr Coffin put down the newspaper, and remarked, " I see that the whole country is becoming excited about spelling schools." " Well, it's good to know how to spell," replied the wife. " I didn't have tbe chance some girls had, but I pride myself that I can spell almost any word that comes along.'' " I'll see about that," he laughed ; " come, now, spell buggy." "Humph! that's npthing—b-u-g-g-y, buggy," she replied. "Missed the first time—ha! ha!" he roared, slapping bis leg. " Not much— that was right." "It was, eh ? Well, I'd like to see anybody get two g's in buggy. I would." " But it is spelt with two; g's, and any shcoolboy will tell you so," she persisted. " Well, I know a durn sight better than that! " he exclaimed, striking the table with his fist. '• I don't care what you know!" she squeaked; "I know that there are two g's in buggy ! " " Do you mean to tell me that I've forgotten how to spell ?" he asked. "It looks that way." "It does, eh? Well, I want you and all your relations to understand that I know more about spelling than the whole caboodle of you strung on a wire !" " And I want you to understand, Jonathan Coffin, that you are an ignorant old block-head when you don't put two g's in the word buggy—yes, you are !"' " Don't talk that way to me !" he warned. " And don't shake your fist at me!" she replied. "Who's a-shaking his fist?" "You were!" "That's a lie—an infernal lie!" Don't call me a liar, you: old bazaar J I've put up with your meanness for 40 years past; but don't call me a liar, and don't lay a hand on me." "Do you want a divorce?'" he shouted, springing up ; "you can go now —this minute ? " " Don't spit in my face —don't you dare to do it, or I'll make a dead man of you," she warned. " I haven't spit in your freckled old visage yet, but I may if you provoke me farther." " Who's got a freckled face, you old turkey-buzzard ?" That was a little too much. He made a motion as if he would strike, and she seized him by the neck-tie. Then he reached out and grabbed her right ear, and tried to lift her off her feet; but she twisted up on the neck-tie until his tongue ran out. " Let go of me, you old fiend!" she screamed. Git down on yer knees and beg my pardon, you old- wild cat!" he replied. They surged, and swayed, and struggled, and the peaceful cat was struck by the overturning table and had her back broken, while the clock fell down, and the pictures danced around. The woman finally shut her husband's supply of air,off and flopped him, and as she bumped his head up and down on the floor, and scattered his grey hairs, she shouted, "You wanted to get up another spelling match with me, don't you P " He was seen limping around the yard yesterday > a stocking pinned around his throat, and she had court-plaster on her nose, and one finger tied up. He wore-*!*© look of a, martyr, while she had the'bearing ox* a victor fa^& fr^jj^lßiSTtlle 1 out " buggy "- wiH^b'e spelled with two g's in that house.—Detroit Free Press.

Beveaxing too Mtjch.— Spiritualism at San Francisco has received a curious check. It was announced that one night the spirit of " a young Indian Warrior " would appear to a select circle. When the lights were turned down, and the medium had retired to his cabinet, there came a sudden tremendous crash from the ceiling to the floor, and the timid spiritualists skedaddled downstairs, some bolder remained. Presently, the lights being turned up, a large hole was visible in the ceiling, while "'a young Indian warrior," admirably dressed for the part, lay groaning on the floor with his head broken. The tableau was complete when the medium emerged from his cabinet, and exclaimed, angrily, " What made you step between the j'ists. That's just bust the whole business!"

Shakspeabian Gloss.—A good storyis told apropos of si recent Hamlet, who proposed to play the part of the Dane in a red cloak, which intention was reported to a Sbaksperian actor of the old school, who said, " Very well; I do not see anything shocking in that." "But is it right? " asked his interlocutor. " I dare say it is," said the actor; " red was the color of mourning in the royal house of Denmark." "But how do you get over this," persisted the other, quoting, "' 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother ? " " Well," said the old Shaksperian, calmly, " I suppose that there is such a thing as red ink ? " Abdent Love.—A Milwaukee chap kissed his girl about 40 times right straight along, and when he stopped the tears came into her eyes, and she said, in a sad tone of voice, " Ah! John, I fear you have ceased to love me." " No, I haven't," replied John, "but I must breathe." ■

Tactics of Geobge Eobins.—The late Mr George Eobins, tlie famous auctioneer, after exhausting the language of praise in extolling a certain gentleman's park which had fallen under his hammer, said he was "bound, as an honest man, not to conceal the only drawbacks to the property, which yroxQ —the litter made by the rose-ieares, and the perpetual din kept up by the nightingales. Used to It. —A Virginian paper the Amherst" Enterprise," relates this story: —"Last Sunday week was a very cold day, as all will recollect, even in this vicinity, and several degrees colder, in Alexandria, where quite a number of coloured persons of the Baptist persuasion were baptized in the river Potomac. Among them was old aunt Mary, whose young ' massa' of ante bellurn days was present as a spectator, and desired to speak- with her, partly for the sake of curiosity, and partly through affection for the old 'mammy' engendered in childhood. Accordingly, he edged his way through the crowd, and as she came up out of the water accosted her, "Aunt Mary, wasn't it cold in there ? " "Oh, no, masr Frank ; de luv ob de Lord keep me warm." A few words in conversation ensued, and Aunt Mary remarked, " Tell de trufe, masr Frank, 'tis a little cold; but dis ain't de fus time I'se been baptized." And it turned out that this was the third time she had taken upon herself the baptismal vow. jElools die as certainly as bald-headed men, and-it is unsustained assertion the saying that "Death" Lores a shining mark."