ld like a
downy young gosling; and Mrs. Salsify said she would have it called
Goslina, it quackled so sweetly. So Goslina Shaw was the euphonious
sobriquet of baby No. 2, and the joyful grandame returned it to the bed
beside the pale face of its mother, where 'twas quackling off to sleep,
when Mr. Salsify came in from the store, his features glowing, as if he
had some startling intelligence to convey.

"My sakes! what is it, Mr. Mumbles?" asked the fond wife quickly marking
her husband's excited manner.

"I guess folks will have something to talk about besides my getting
gagged at the Woman's Convention," said Mr. Salsify, rather maliciously,
drawing a chair before the grate and placing his feet on the fender.

"Why, what has happened?" inquired his wife, eagerly.

"Enough has happened," returned he, "if all Martha Pinkerton has just
been telling me is true."

"Where did you see her?" asked Mrs. Salsify.

"She came into the store to-night to buy a chunk of cheese; so I asked
her what was the news? when she told me of the awfulest tragedy that
occurred at Col. Malcome's the night they undertook to get Florence
Howard married to the colonel's son."

"O, mercy, who was killed?" exclaimed Mrs. S., with uplifted hands.

"Nobody as I know of," returned Mr. Mumbles, whose ideas of a tragedy
were different from those of his good wife; "but then the whole company
might have been, for they had a murderer amongst them."

"Mercy to me, how awful!" said Mrs. Salsify. "What was his name and how
did he get there?"

"His name was Col. Malcome, and he got there by his own wickedness."

"You don't mean to tell me that handsome Col. Malcome is a murderer!"
exclaimed Mrs. Salsify, with terror depicted on her features.

"Yes I do, and worse than that; he burned Major Howard's house, and
tried to get his pretty daughter married to her own brother."

"How can Rufus Malcome be a brother to Florence Howard?" asked Mrs.
Mumbles, in amaze. "You are talking nonsense to me, I fear."

"O, no," returned her husband. "I tell you this Colonel Malcome has
turned out the strangest. He is Major Howard's mother, and Dilly
Danforth's aunt, and that old hermit's sister, and the Lord knows who
and what else; but they have carried him off to jail, so there'll be no
chance for him to burn any more houses."

Here Mr. Mumbles drew a long breath and rested a while.

"I am glad I didn't marry him," said a feeble voice from the bed.

"So am I, my