The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1872-01-04
THE BACHELORS MISTAKE.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.

Squire Popham was short and stout,
with a shining bald head, and nose in
clined to be retrOusSe-which we take
to be the French for pug. All heroes
can't be tall, Greek featured, and named
Montmorenci; and our hero was mould
ed after an exceedingly everyday sort
of pattern; nevertheless, there was no
inconsiderable spark of romance in his
soul.
Forty-fve years had the squire dwelt,
mateless and forlorn, in the world and
now, as he entered upon the forty-sixth,
it struck him that he was following up
wrong theory. Some people wake to
the great mystery of their lives through
the glance of soft eye, a beam of moon
light, half-open rosebud, bit of
ribbon. Squire Popham was aroused
through the instrumentalty Of tooth
ache !
cts all very well for man to be an
old bachelor as long as he's well and
sound" grumbled the squire, dolefully
regarding the cold mustard-draughts
and clammy hop-plasters that his land
lady had sent up after innumerable de-
lays and excuses, "but when you begin
to get achy and shaky, a married man
has the best of it. I'll be a married
man! Ugh! how cold these confounded
puddings are why couldn't she have
warmed 'em a little? Now the tooth
begins to jump-why the deuce amt a
married man, with little, soft, peachy
cheek to lay mine against, and hands
that know how to hold hop-plaster
without losing three-fourths out of the
IL BIS Follnu,p h1aol1
velvet vest. I'll go to some watering
place or other and get married, as soon
as this swelling goes down. will, as
sure as my name is Paul Popham
And that was the way our squire came
to contemplate matrimony.
The Seaweed hotel was crowded full
that season, with old girls, young girle,
middle-aged girls, widows, matrons, and
old maids; in fact, the very multiplicity
of the article puzzled Squire Popham in
making his selection.
"For can't marry 'em all" argued
the squire; "and what between waltz
ing and croquet, and the German, they
don't any OF 'em stand still long enough
for me to make up my mind. Perpetual
motion, indeed it's nothing to live
womanw
Now the Seaweed hotel was a huge
brick building, with a colossal wing ex-
tending out at right angles and enclos-
ing sort of court and the window OF
Mr.. Popham's room, the last in the main
building, looking directly into those Of
Mrs. Martin, who occupied the first ad-
joining, in the wing. So that, if there
Is such thing as having your next door
neighbor opposite to you, Squire Pop
ham and Mrs. Martin enjoyed that par
adoxical felicity.
Mrs. Martin was widow-a plump
rosy widow, with red cheeks, pearly
teeth, and big blue eyes, full of wicked
glances-a widow who liked joke, and
had, at the same time, an exquisite ap.
probation for bit of whispered senti
ment. And one day the business wai
finished for Squire Popham by the def
way in which the charming widow
mixed some salad dressing at the din
E ner- table.
~ like that widow" thought thu
squire, holding his knife and fork admir-
ingly in mid air as he watched the skill
ful operation. "I'll marry that widow
if she'll let me-"
So that evening the squire sat at hi
window with the newspaper for films.
excuse, and looking unutterable thing