MRS. PARTINGTON IN TROUBLE.
“Trying the French sea-steamer!” said Mrs. Partington,
as she read in the foreign news an account of trialtrips
made by the French steamships. She has always
had a deep interest in the French, since Mr. Lay Martin,
as she calls Lamartine, has been driven out of the
provisional government, and the people have got to go
back to frog soup again. “What can they be going to
try them for?” continued she. “I never knowed that
steamboats could be arranged for murder and such things
before, though I don't see no reason why they should n't,
seeing so many murders come from their arrangements.
And I wish they 'd try 'em all before they do the mischief,
and condemnation 'll be a warning to 'em, just as
it would if we could try all of the murderers, and hang
'em off aforehand, and save the lives of their innocent
victims. Isaac!” she screamed, as a snow-ball struck
the window, “don't throw your snow this way!” and
she rushed out to save her glass. Alas! she was a
moment too soon, for a snow-ball struck her cap as she
issued from the door, tore it from her head, and bore it,
with its strings hanging down, far from her. Her hair,
all unconfined, danced madly in the wind, and Mrs.
Partington for a moment looked every witch way. Virtue
is of little account unless it be tried, nor is patience.
Mrs. Partington calmly “digested” her cap on her head
and went in.
