DILATORY LOVERS.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3577, 28 December 1882, Page 4

DILATORY LOVERS.

The impatience of the parents of tho young lady over the long and fruitless visits of tho chronic caller was pictured in comic colours some years ago by a funny writer. It seems that ib was midnight. ,The young man had farewelled himself out and Emeline had locked the door and ■was untying ber shoe when her mother came downstairs with a bed quilt around her and said: ' Wanted to creep upstairs without my hearing you, eh ? Didn't think it was an hour after midnight, did you ?' The girl made no reply and the mother continued: 'Did he propose this time ?' ' "Why, mother !' exclaimed the daughter.' ' You can' why mother' all you want to, but don't I know that he has been coming here for the last year ? Don't I knovf that you've burned up at least four tons of coal courting around here!' The girl got her shoes off, and the mother stood in tbe stair door and asked : ' Emeline, have you got any grit ?' ' I guess so.' ' I guess you haven't. I just wish that fellow with false teeth and a, mole on his el-iD, would come sparking me. Do you know what would happen, Emeline ?' 'No.' ' Well, I'll tell you. He'd come to time in sixty days, or he'd get out of this mansion like a goat jumping for sunflower seeds.' And Emeline went to bed hugging this thought to her bosom. Occasionally such visits become so burdensome that tbe young lady talks to tbe young man herself. At least they bad such a girl out in Colorado. She had been receiving the attentions of a young man for about a year, but becoming impatient at his failure to bring matters to a crisis, she resolved to ascertain his intention. When he next called she took him gently by the car, lead him to a seat and said : ' Nobby, you've been foolin' 'round this claim fur mighty near a year, an' hey never yit shot off your mouth on the marrying biz. I've cottoned to you on the square clean through, an' now I want you to come down to business or leave the ranch. Ef your'e on the marry and want a pard that'll stick rite to ye till ye pass in your checks just squeal, an we'll hitch ; but if that ain't yer game draw out and give some other fellow a show fur his pile. Now sing yer song or skip out.' He sang.