The Sedalia Weekly Bazoo

They Never Get Over It.
Do you know, my dear, she suddenly said, as she looked up from her piecework—do you know that next week will be the twentieth anniversary of our wedding?

Is that so? By George! how time flies! Why I had no idea of it.

Yes, we have been married almost twenty long years, she continued, with something of a sigh. You have been a good husband to me, darling.

And you have been a blessed little wife to me, Susan. Come here till I kiss you. There.

I was thinking to-day—I was thinking of—of—

Of that sickly faced baboon who used to go home with you from prayer meeting before I knew you? he interrupted.

Who do you mean?

Why, that Bracefellow, of course.

Why, George, he wasn't such a bad fellow.

Wasn't he? Well, I'd like to know of a worse one. He didn't know enough to chew putty, and then you were as good as engaged to him.

Yes, George, but you know that you were keeping company at the same time with that Helen Perkins.

That Helen Perkins! Wasn't Miss Perkins one of the loveliest and prettiest young ladies in Liverpool?

No, she wasn't! She had teeth like a horse.

She did, eh! How about that stoop shouldered white-headed Brace?

And such big feet as she had! Why, George, she was the laughing stock of the town.

Not much, she wasn't! She was a young lady who would have made a model wife.

Then why didn't you marry her with all her moles and warts, and mushroom eyes?

Don't talk that way to me! Her eyes were as nice as yours!

They wasn't!

They wasn't! I believe you are sorry because you didn't marry that Brace.

And I know you are sorry because you didn't marry that beautiful and accomplished Miss Perkins!

I am? Oh! I thought you said I was a good husband to you?

And didn't you call me a blessed little wife?

Then he plumped down and commenced to read the mortgage sales and advertisements in the paper, and she picked up her sewing and gave the cat a gentle kick. These old things will come up now and then, and somehow neither side gets entirely over them.