One day, as the story went, she was making pies and he was in the kitchen tormenting her, for which she gave him tit for tat until he remarked, "Well, thank the Lord I was reared in a family of God-fearing and law-abiding citizens." She uttered an unprintable phrase, and drew a butcher knife from the table drawer. It was the one which the old gent had often used to slay pigs and calves, but he had never dreamed it would one day be used to wind up his own earthly career.
A glance at the keen, ugly blade caused him to unceremoniously discontinue the argument and rush out the back door crying, "Help! Help!" Knowing the unscrupulous character of the family to which his sweetheart belonged, and the heat to which he had fired her passion, he, without stopping to either pray or swear, lit out for the orchard, hoping to distance his fair pursuer and climb a tree.
In this horrid dilemma of running while looking, both before and behind, he forgot about the old unused well without a curb, and just as she was about to plunge the awful knife, he dropped into the well just deep enough to save himself from decapitation.
"I was one," said the relator, "to help old John out of the well and patch up an armistice, which I think he has held sacred, and twitted his wife no more about her relation."
OUR EVERYDAY TRANSACTIONS, EXCEPT SUNDAY.