A FROSTY SATURDAY NIGHT.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXI, Issue 4766, 1 July 1876, Page 3

A FROSTY SATURDAY NIGHT.

(From the Banbury News). The weather suddenly turned into a freezing rain, Saturday evening. While the change was progressing several people were in the library selecting mental pabulum for over Sunday. The rain fell silently and froze thoroughly, and in a very short time the walk which leads down from the library building to the street was a glare of ice. The first person who appeared at the door was a young lady with a volume of Tennyson hugged up to her. She tripped lightly down from the step, saying audibly—“ Even a wild moor with love my heart —” Then she got up, recovered her muff and book, looked apprehensively about to see who was in view, and then hastened home, without quoting another line. She had scarcely cleared the walk when a tall man, with a work on botany, emerged from the door. The instant he stepped on the walk he said ; “Holy cryptogamous !” and crawled off into the snow on his hands and knees, and recovered the volume, which remained on the walk, by the aid of his cane. Following him were two large men. One of them had the autobiography of John B. Gough. They both stepped on the walk together. The Gough man was just saying ; “I am confident; that the downfall of men is to be attributed to rum ” Two conspicuous exceptions to his belief were immediately made manifest. The Gough man in going down had sufficient presence of mind to catch hold of his fellow, and both being heavy men they went the whole length of the walk clawing and kicking each other all the The Gough man got on his feet and put off in one direction, an I the other man got on his feet and sloped at once in an opposite direction. And while they were doing this a tall spare man with a book descriptive of the Holy : Land, put his foot on the walk, then shook it at the heavens, and met the pavement with the simple ejaculation—“ O, The debris of this wreck was no more than cleared away when a very stout man, with a florid countenance, and a copy of Tyndall in his hand, came out. He was saying to himself—“We have now got down to, the base— Gosh whoop !” And was down there. It was a terrible but brief struggle. There was a shooting of logs, a waving of arms, and a spasmodic wriggle of the body, and the base was reached. And for two minutes he sat there, feeling around for an under set of false teeth, and swearing like a pirate. The next morning was tho Sabbath, a bright, quiet, sunshiny mom, and the son of the librarian went out on the walk, and in a very few minutes had accumulated a book-cover, a set of false teeth, three gloves, a handkerchief, and a good-sized handful of hairpins. These articles are now at the library awaiting identification. ■ i

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