The New Bloomfield, Pa. Times

Serenading the Wrong Party.

CLAUD CULPEPPER came down from Dayton, Wednesday evening with an intention. During the bright lexicon of youth he had met a Baymiller street belle, who smote him heart and soul. Mr. Culpepper's intention in coming to Cincinnati, was to serenade his love. So, gathering a quartette of his tuneful friends, he started Wednesday evening for the house of his heart's idol. It was twelve o'clock when the boys anchored under the window of what C. Claude believed was the sheltering fold of his dear lamb. He made a mistake of 100 in numbering the houses, and it was John Sanscript's humble abode that was about to be honored with the serenade. John, however, is one of those misanthropic men who never seem to recognize a favor when they meet one, and when he was awakened from his slumbers by "Don't you remember sweet, Alice Ben Bolt?" sung in one treble, one tenor, two basses and four keys, he was, to draw it mild, roused in his temper. Mrs. Sanscript heard the melody, too, and whispered: "Them's serenaders."

"I'll serenade them," snarled John, getting up, opening the blinds slyly and looking down on the choristers below. "What in the name of the Numidian lion are you going to do, Sanscript?" asked Mrs. S. rather uneasily.

"Just wait and see," gathering up an armful of boots and laying them down, handy near the window.

Just then the boys turned upon Thou art so near and yet so far.

"Not so far as you imagine," growled Sanscript, as he dumped the coal from the scuttle conveniently near the window. Then he tugged the brimming slop bucket across the room and added it to his armory just as the gay gamboliers switched off into What has a poor girl But her name to defend her?

"She sometimes finds her father does that pleasant duty," muttered the desperate man. The boys were singing a medley, and while Sanscript was gathering in the tongs and shovels, they began to warble, My heart is broke, God knows it!

"And your heads will be in the same condition when I get through with you," panted the avenger. Then he added the Bible and Webster's Unabridged Dictionary to the pile of missiles by the window at the very moment there floated up from below: I shall ne'er forget the day;

"Nor will you ever forget the night when you came to serenade my house," smiled the old man, reaching the oil can. Oh, my heart is gone! sang the boys under the window.

"Yes, if you saw me piling up these brick from the fire-place you'd follow your heart most mighty d—d q." Thou art sleeping, my love, Thou art sleeping. chimed the quartette.

"I'll be— if I am," declared Sanscript, as he scooped up the hair brushes and toilet set from the dressing case. While he was toting the ottoman across the room the boys pitched into Don't forget your little darling

"Oh, I'll never forget you, never fear, and you won't never forget me either, after I'm through with you."

Open the window my sweet one.

"Damme if I don't," grinned Sanscript, as he added a panful of ashes to the pile of destruction by the window. Come, birdie, come

"I'm coming, you yelping hounds," yelled the old man, thrusting his head out of the window. It took him only ten seconds of standard time to pitch boots, shoes, coal, hair brushes, books toilet sets, ottoman, slops, ashes and all upon the heads of the horror-stricken serenaders below. Before the quartette realized the situation, the storm was over. They all survived, but were unmercifully demoralized. And when a voice came from above, articulating in the key of J the one word "git," they got.