The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1868-01-03
aliseeIIansons seleftions
The Man who Married a Man.
BY WRIT SKIES.


| have cultivated acquaintance, in tht
course of life which has had in il
much itinerapcy, with many country
hotels. What my itinerating guise has
been, does not matter, perhaps; bu
the curious reader is welcome to guess
if that Yankee faculty be among hit
mental hayings. may have been I
peddler of tin.ware. may have beer
a Methodist circuit-rider. / may have
been detective policeman. may have
been lecturer on the science of pbren.
ology, with illustrative charts, | may
have been a negro minstrel. may
have been bill-collector. l may have
been a vsgabond without any rim to
my hat. l may have been gentleman
of wealth and leisure. l may have been
a clown to a travelling circus. l may
have been a wandering Jew with box
Of cheap jewelry. Guessing is beau
tiful exercise. / have been none o.
these. s
One night in mid-winter | entered
the house of mine host Barrows, with
my hair frozen stiff about my ears, and
my moustache an icicle in color and
feel. 1t was bitter cold QUITO doors,
but there was a bright fire burning in a
broad. old-fashioned fireplace, and
around it sat group of sleepy-looking
men, toasting their shins before the
ruddy blaze.
The reader, for whose superior pow
ers of mind l have profound respect
is also at liberty to guess where Bar
rows hotel is or was; but as it is Of
no kind of Importance, perhaps it may
be as we'll not to dwell on the subject.
1t is an old stone building-not so an
cient, perhaps, as the Maypole Inn that
Barnsby Rudge was won't to visit and
not destined, let us hope, to the unhap-
| py fate of that well-kept but unfortun-
ate hostelry-and its bar boasts no
grove of lemons. But Barrows him
self was there, on this night of mine,
and his face looked sour enough to
swallow lemon-groye without sugar.
1t was a good natured face, too, in the
ordinary, but tonight the lees of Bar
rows old heart had been subjected to a
stirring
/ made my way up to the cheerful
blaze, aud shook myself like water
dog, to the manifest discontinue of the
group of sleepy toasters; who shivered
and hugged themselves at sight of me,
fresh from the cold and dreary night.
''Coolish out, Mr.. Webb" said Bar
rows, coming forward to take my over
coat and wrappers. "Ain't had sech a
stinger afore this year-plays the dick
ems with my party
"a party tonight Barrows@ said L.
"Yes, was to have been, but the dan
GERS didn't come. Sleighin's thin, ye
know, and they wouldn't come in wag-
gins on sech a night. I'm out O pock-
ct pretty figure by it."
And the lemon-grove stood confess
ed. 1f5nEf TrH B
"Nobody came, ehf" said |, as l part
ed my coat-tails and turned my back to
the fire.
sob, yes" said Barrows eontemptu-
ously; "here's some that come"-be
pointing to the group of shin-toasters-
''and every man of 'em without a wo-
man. And what's ball without wo-
manT
"Ah, sure enough 7" said l. philos-
phically; "what's any thing without
women? Women are our solace in
misfortune, our joy in prosperity-in
short, the charm of this unhappy vale
Of tears, Barrows, aud no dancing par
ty can be said to be complete without
them-except among the Indians. If 1
ever marry, | shall marry woman"
"Haw, haw, haw !" roared the Lanca-
shire hostler, who sat in the corner,
and who thus testified the delight of an
appreclatiye mind of my brilliant wit
"Woy, you'd hare to marry a wummun
if you married at all"
81 knew man once" said a queer
customer who sat smoking very long
pipe, solemnly, "who married man.
The coasters started.
'frell us about that" said the Lanca-
shireman. "We'm been telIin' stories
afofe you come in, and it was my turn
next But yo'n tell better one nor |,
l make no doubt"
"1'll tell you the story in three words"
said the man of the pipe. @Butfirst l
mean to hear your story, Donny-so 60
ahead. And let it be about woman"
The Lancashireman was coy, but be-
ing urged, he finally proceeded:
"You see, this story that I've got in
my head is true as the Book, sir. 1t
'appened in our town when i was q
young man o twenty, and it were the
talk o the town fer weeks about
knowed the docther myself.
'The docther coorted widow in our
town, her name were Robinson, and
she were jolly wench i'll say it to
you. She were the last wummun fer
such as the docther; and 1 told him
hem very. words myself what time |
were sick with fayver, and he docther-
I'd me. But he minded not me, of
he. He were up to his
ears in love with her.
"'She's gradely wench, docther,'
old him, but look o the string O. lovers
'he's had since Robinson died Twenty
t there's one, and you know it.
"fPoh" said the docther, IN take
are o her lovers for her.. How'll yer
onpue. Donnvp