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Susy and Marianne, that bright eyed girl you spoke to near the door, laughed aloud and clapped their hands, and exclaimed: "'Bertie didn't forget. He did send his bird. Oh, Miss Lerow will you please thank him, and say we like it ever so much! "Mrs. Ayers says, 'Tell that blessed little boy I'll take the best care of his linnet.
That was when Pelty Amthorne told him that his wife considered the Democrat to be the best paper she had ever seen. He let Ayers burst a couple of buttons from his vest in his swelling pride before he explained that the Democrat, when cut in two, exactly fitted his wife's pantry shelves, and that she didn't have to trim it a bit.
Sir H. Ayers, K.C.M.G., had much pleasure in proposing a toast that had been allotted to him, and made no doubt that the company would have equal pleasure in responding to it. The toast was Early Explorers, and he had been requested to associate with it the name of Mr. John Chambers. There was the name of Sturt that came first in the list of our old explorers.
When he pays his six years' subscription, we'll write two columns about it. And even then no one will believe it. Lafe Simpson, who runs the Argus, is a younger man than Ayers and more ambitious. Oh, yes, we have two papers. In a town the size of Homeburg you simply have to have two papers, because half of the people are always mad at one paper.
E. Davenport, W. F. Osborne, H. A. Garthewait, A. K. Powell, Frederick W. Starr, Louis N. Chapin, Dwight Studwell, Henry Sanger Snow, A. Stanwood, Seabury N. Haley, Wm. Tupper, Frederick W. Heinrich, H. W. Wheeler, M. C. Ogden, John H. Jackson, George A. Price, W. P. Long, Mr. Carpenter, Mr. Ramsay, Mr. Kenyon, Mr. Smith, Mr. Bingham, Mr. Ayers, Mr. Aderley, and many others.
He never used it much unless he had lots of time in which to start it, but it was a great comfort and held Simpson level. When Simpson bought the building in which the Argus is printed, it nearly killed Ayers, who couldn't have bought the sign on his building. But he finally prevailed on the owner to put in a new front and name his block "The Democrat Building."
Seems to me I never go into a store that I don't see old man Ayers trying to collect a little cash on an advertising account or wheedling a subscriber into coming out of the misty past and creeping cautiously down a few years toward the present on his subscription account.
Then he rose to go. As he turned from me he said: "To-morrow?" And I answered with a full heart, but a voice clear as my purpose: "To-morrow." "This is your patient. Your new nurse, my dear. What did you say your name is? Miss Ayers?" "Yes, Mr. Grey, Alice Ayers." "Oh, what a sweet name!"
A heavy dew fell last night, produced, I imagine, by the moisture in the glen, and not by extraneous atmospheric causes, as we have had none for some nights previously. Leave for Mount Olga. Change of scene. Desert oak-trees. The Mann range. Fraser's Wells. Mount Olga's foot. Gosse's expedition. Marvellous mountain. Running water. Black and gold butterflies. Rocky bath. Ayers' Rock.
Postmaster Flint had to appoint a peace conference to settle the dispute. Ayers is getting pretty old, and for several years we have been worrying about his future.
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