A NEW family was to move into the neighborhood, and the neighbors were on nettles of curiosity in regard to them. The furniture came on Tuesday; and Mrs. Winters, who lives next door, received a call from Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Reynolds just as the first load of goods made its appearance on the street. "Do you know the new neighbors are coming to-day?" inquired Mrs. Jackson.
"I've heard so. I wonder what kind of people they are," said Mrs. Winters.
"I don't know," replied Mrs. Jackson; "but I think their furniture is coming now."
"Is that so!" And Mrs. Winters hastened into the next room, whose window commanded a most desirable view of the situation.
The excellent ladies followed immediately after her; and the three forms filled up the window, and the three pairs of eyes peered through the blinds in the liveliest expectation. The load drove up to
"That must be the man," said Mrs. Reynolds, indicating a gentleman who just staggered up with a clock under one arm, a looking-glass under the other, a basket of something or another in each hand, and his pockets full of vases.
"Of course," promptly chimed in her companions, recognizing at once that the pack-horse was "the man."
"He's nice-looking," said one of the ladies; in which the others coincided.
"What is that at the front of the wagon?" asked
"I was looking at that myself," said Mrs. Winters. "It's a settee, ain't it?"
"I guess it is," replied Mrs. Jackson anxiously. "I didn't know at first but that it might be a tete-a-tete."
"Oh, no! that's nothing but a settee, -- a well-worn one too," said Mrs. Reynolds.
"Why, don't you suppose they've got a tete-a-tete!" inquired Mrs. Jackson with painful anxiety.
"It tain't on that load, at any rate," said Mrs. Reynolds, whose carefully trained eyes had already encompassed and pierced the wagonful of furniture.
"What do you think of those chairs?" asked Mrs. Winters. "I can't see them very well, as my eyes trouble me so."
Mrs. Jackson kindly came to her rescue at once.
"They're oak, I guess, an' a very cheap-looking article at that. I do wonder if this is their best furniture."
Further remark on the topic was cut short by the appearance of a tired-looking woman leading two children. She stopped at the load, and said something to the pack-horse.
"That's her!" breathlessly exclaimed Mrs. Jackson.
"Well, there's nothing stunning about her," suggested Mrs. Winters.
"Gracious! I should say not," added Mrs. Reynolds. "She's mortal homely; and she's got no more style than a telegraph-pole."
"Look at that hat! It's a fall hat, as sure as I live!" And the speaker almost lost her breath at the discovery.
"What sort of goods has she on? Is it calico, or a delaine?"
"I can't see from here; but I guess it's some cheap woollen goods. But see how it fits!"
"And she's got hoops on, as true as I'm alive!" explosively announced Mrs. Winters.
"That's so," chimed in the others with a tone of disgust that could not be concealed.
"Well, I know what the rest of the furniture is
"Hardly," observed her companions with significant smiles.
And the three returned to the other room to talk of the revival.
Reader, if you have to move, move in the dead of the night. It's the best time; and you don't need much of a torchlight procession, either.
WHETHER this is the best time to burn garden rubbish is a question susceptible of considerable discussion; but it is the popular season. Great care should be taken in the composition of the burning heaps. If there are no old rubbers handy, a length of oilcloth makes a very good substitute. There is, of course, nothing that emits the peculiar flavor of burning rubber, unless it is hair; but hair is too costly to be considered for a moment. A piece of old oilcloth, about three feet or so in length, subjected to a slow flame, can be smelled by the most ordinary nose the distance of four gardens; and to many it is just as satisfying as burning rubber. It is best that the man should gather the rubbish.