A DETROIT FAMILY.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4510, 3 September 1875, Page 3

A DETROIT FAMILY.

(From Detroit Free Press.) The other evening old Mr. and Mrs. Coffin, who live on Brush-street, sat in their back parlour, he reading his paper and she knitting, and the family cat stretched out under the stove and sighed and felt sorry for cats not so well fixed. It was a happy, contented household, and there was love in his heart as Mr. Coffin put down the newspaper, and remarked, “ X see that the whole country is becoming excited about spelling schools.” “Well, it’s good to know how to spell" replied the-wife. “ I didn’t have the chance some girls had, but I pride myself that I can spell almost any word that comes along.” “ I'll see about that,” he laughed ; come, now, spell buggy.” “ Humph ! that’s nothing—b-u-g-g-y, buggy,” she replied. “ Missed the first time—ha ! ha!” he roared, slapping his leg. “Not much—that was right.” “It was, eh ? Well, I’d like to see anybody get two g’s in buggy, I would.” “ But it is spelt with two g’s, and any schoolboy will tell you so,” she persisted. “ Well, I know a durn sight better than that !” he exclaimed, striking the table with his fist. “ I don’t care what you know !” she squeaked ; “ X know that , there are two g’s in buggy !” “Do you mean (to tell me that I’ve forgotten the way to spell r he asked. “It looks that way.” “It does, eh?” Well, I want you and all your relations to understand that I know more about spelling than the whole caboodle of you strung on a wire!” “Andlwantyoutouuderstand, Jonathan Coffin, that you are an ignorant old blockhead when you don’t put two g’s in the word buggy yes, you are !” “Don’t talk that way to me !” ho warned. “ And don’t shake your fist at me !” she replied. “ Who’s a-shak!ng his fist ?” “ You were !” “ That’s a lie—an infernal lie !” Don’t call me a liar, you old bazaar! I’ve put up with your meanness for forty years past ; but don’t call me a liar, and don’t lay a hand on me.” “Do you want a divorce ?” he shouted, springing up ; you can go now—this minute !” “Don’t spit in my face—don’t you dare do it, or I’ll make a dead man of you,” she warned. “I haven’t spit in your freckled old visage yet, but I may if you provoke mo farther,” Who’s got a freckled face, you old turkey-buzzard ? ” That was a little too much. Ho made a motion as if he would strike, and she seized him by the necktie. Then he reached out and grabbed her right ear, and tried to lift her off her feet ; but she twisted upon the necktie until his tongue ran out. “ Let go of me, you old fiend!” she screamed. “Git down on yourknccs and beg my pardon, you old wild cat! ” ho replied. They surged, and swayed, and struggled, and the peaceful cat was struck by the overturning table, and had her back broken, while the clock fell down, and the pictures danced around. The woman finally shut her husband’s supply of air off and flopped him, and as she bumped his head up and down on the floor, and scattered his grey hairs, she shouted, “ You want to get up another spelling match with me, don’t you f ” He was seen limping around the yard yesterday, a stocking pinned around his throat, and she had courtplaster on her nose, and one finger tied up. Ho wore the look of a martyr, while she had the bearing of a victor, and from tins time out “ buggy " will be spelled with two g’s in that house.