THE LADIES’ FLORAL CABINET. 
1G1 
would support his family in economical comfort, and en¬ 
listed in the army. Sally, who was really quite fond of 
her fine-looking husband, pleaded in vain that he would 
stay at home. His mother, who fairly worshipped him, 
was proud to have him go, and his sister only wished 
herself a man that she might go with him. Before he 
left town he went to Ira and said : 
“ See here, Benton, I know what a good fellow you are ; 
if I never come back, you’ll look after Sally, won’t you ?” 
“ That I will.” replied Ira, greatly touched by this un¬ 
expected confidence on the part of Sally’s husband ; “ I’ll 
take care of every soul of them, as well as Sally; and 
look here, old fellow, if you’re feeling badly about leav¬ 
ing, now it comes to the point, I’ll go in your place.” 
“ Thank you from my heart, Benton, I didn’t expect 
that from you—-my own brother, if I had one, could do no 
more; but I am eager to go, only I don’t want Sally 
ever to suffer.” 
“ She never shall, if I can prevent it, or any other mem¬ 
ber of your family,” replied the generous owner of the 
enlarged house. 
And the two men parted with a warm hand-clasp and 
feelings of mutual confidence and gratitude. 
Two years passed away, and following the news of a 
severe battle came a list of killed and wounded, and 
among the former was the name of Albert Clemens. It 
was Ira who went to the seat of war, found and identified 
the body and brought it back to his family. It was Ira 
who took charge of all the funeral arrangements, and 
looked after the comfort of the family. It was Ira—not 
as Sally’s lover, but as Albert’s trusted friend—who tried 
to comfort the stricken mother and sister. And when all 
was over, and things resumed their usual routine, it was 
Ira, who, mindful of the dead man’s trust in him and of 
Sally’s innate coquetry, kept away from the house that 
held his long-coveted treasure, going there only when 
sent for. He had assumed the management of their 
small property, much to their benefit, and Albert’s mo¬ 
ther and sister, having learned that their dead soldier had 
trusted them to Ira’s care, came to lean on him and 
appreciate his rugged honesty and unlimited kindness 
and generosity. But nothing could tone down Sally’s 
infirmity, and before the first year of mourning had ex¬ 
pired it was evident she needed a master ; for years and 
sorrows only made Sally more charming than ever, and, 
in spite of widow’s weeds, she dimpled and smiled and 
blushed and coquetted in a way that would have driven 
Albert back to the war, had he been alive to see her. 
So Ira came to the rescue, and reminded Sally of her 
long engagement (!) to him, and insisted that it should 
be fulfilled as soon as a decent regard for appearances 
would allow. Mrs. Earle warmly supported him, and 
even Albert’s mother and sister agreed that it was the 
best way to dispose of this troublesome widow. 
And in little more than seven years from the time Sally 
married her first husband Ira Benton became her third. 
The wedding was a very quiet one ; besides the family, 
no one was present but Ira’s mother and the minister. 
There was to be no journey, but the whole family was to 
be transferred to Ira’s large house after the ceremony. 
How this was to be managed no one had thought to ask, 
but Mrs. Earle, happening to look from the window just 
after congratulating the newly-married pair, noticed a 
line of carriages along the street nearly as far as she 
could see, and exclaimed : 
“ What can be going on in the neighborhood ? There 
seems to be a procession of some sort.” 
It proved to be Ira’s equipages for conveying home his 
new family and their possessions, and with a dry humor 
characteristic of himself, he proceeded to explain: 
“You see, I have married a woman who amounts to 
something—none of your nobodies for me!—and it’s going 
to take several horses and conveyances to get her home.” 
There was the pretty phaeton which had always been 
Sally’s favorite, and which was now to take her and her 
third husband home ; there was the top-buggy for Mrs. 
Earle and Ira’s mother, and the carryall for Albert’s 
mother and sister, little Irene and the twins ; there was 
an express wagon for the trunks and two large teams for 
the household goods. Several men were in attendance, 
and Ira soon had them at work, and before long the 
“ procession ” was ready to start. The whole neighbor¬ 
hood turned out to see them off and to throw old shoes 
and jokes after them. 
After all had been made comfortable in their new home, 
and the children were quiet and the three mothers-in-law 
in the parlor were waxing eloquent in praise of Ira, that 
long-suffering individual called Sally aside and in a tone 
of decision said to her : 
“Now, Sally, let us understand each other. You have 
reached the end of your rope. there’s isn’t to be any 
fourth husband. If I die before you do, you will either 
make me a solemn promise never to marry again, or I 
shall leave you in an insane asylum. I mean exactly 
what I say—I’m your last! ” 
Poor Sally looked as if she were being swept away by 
a cyclone. 
“Furthermore,” continued her third, “your flirting 
days are over ; if you ever lift your eyes to another man 
with a spark of coquetry in them, I will tell the whole 
town how you have been engaged to me all the while you 
were wife and widow to two other men ! ” 
And Sally has never flirted with anyone since. Per¬ 
haps she has had no time for such diversion, for five 
sturdy, red-haired, freckled-faced boys call her mother, 
and one by one the three mothers-in-law have succumbed 
to age and disease and claimed her filial care until they 
passed away. 
But if ever a man was coddled, and petted, and watched 
over, and cared for with untiring devotion, that man is 
Ira Benton. If he sneezes he is dosed with Jamaica 
ginger, composition tea, hot lemonade and camphor. If 
he coughs he is mustard-plastered, soaked, steamed, par¬ 
boiled and packed. If he has an ache anywhere he is 
poulticed, bandaged and rubbed with arnica and all sorts 
of linaments. For Sally lives in mortal dread of losing 
her third, in which case she knows she could no more 
resist taking a fourth than she could set aside the 
laws of gravitation. And visions of the insane asylum 
with all its attendant horrors are perpetually before her 
eyes! 
Mrs. Susie A. Bisbee. 
