JENKINS GOES TO A PICNIC.
ARIA ANN recently determined to go to a picnic.
Maria Ann is my wife—unfortunately she had planned it to go alone, so far as I am concerned, on that picnic excursion; but when I heard about it, I determined to assist.
She pretended she was very glad; I don’t believe she was.
“It will do you good to get away from your work a day, poor fellow,” she said; “and we shall so much enjoy a cool morning ride on the cars, and a dinner in the woods.”
On the morning of that day, Maria Ann got up at five o’clock. About three minutes later she disturbed my slumbers, and told me to come to breakfast. I told her I wasn’t hungry, but it didn’t make a bit of difference, I had to get up. The sun was up; I had no idea that the sun began his business so early in the morning, but there he was.
“Now,” said Maria Ann, “we must fly around, for the cars start at half-past six. Eat all the breakfast you can, for you won’t get anything more before noon.”
I could not eat anything so early in the morning. There was ice to be pounded to go around the pail of ice cream, and the sandwiches to be cut, and I thought I would never get the legs of the chicken fixed so I could get the cover on the big basket. Maria Ann flew around and piled up groceries for me to pack, giving directions to the girl about taking care of the house, and putting on her dress all at once. There is a deal of energy in that woman, perhaps a trifle too much.