The Press., 1886-01-14
HOW HE WAS CURED.

 leaves had draped the trees and potted geraniums, which had come to be so blessedly popular in New York, lent their summer freshness.
 "What shall I do, doctor ?'' he said. '.You say nothing alls me, but can tell what my feelings are better than you can. I know I shall be down with something soon. I rode in a car with half dozen dirty children the other day-to the small pox hospital, havn't a doubt-very red and nasty looking, all of them :; and while I was buying something in store down Broadway, the other day, a horrid old woman begged of me because her hus- band was sick with typhoid fever. No doubt I have caught both diseases, and it's the complication that puzzles you. Couldn't relish my coffee this morning j; left my milk toast untouched. Hateful life, that of bachelor at a hotel. Oh, | dear me-"
 "Why don't you marry, then?' said the doctor.
 "They need so much courtiug," said 1 Patterson, ''you spend six months or SO, at least, dangling at woman's apron strings. You must go to the theatre and opera if she is gay, and to church if she is pious. At fifty man likes his slippers and dressing gown and chair of an even- ing. If 1t was just stepping over to the i clergyman's and getting married, putting ring on her finger and saying or nod ] ding yes two or three times, why would n mind it, you know" "Ah, well, courting is the fun of it all, ill my opinion," said the doctor, "but every one to his taste. And my advice to you is to get ont into the country" ''IO another hotel and more mercenary walters, said MT. Patterson. 'No," said the doctor ''go to a nice, private home. I know one-a motherly widow lady, who cooks a dinner fit for q king. River before the house, woods be- hind it, orchard to the left, kitchen gar den to the right ; no fever and a9ue no mosquitoes. Heavenly ! l am going up there tomorrow, and I'll see if she'll take you"
 ''Very we'll" said Mr. Patterson; q think will try it."
 And you must drink plenty of milk and eat plenty of Ilice home made bread. ;
 "Yes, l will, " said Patterson. over-joyed ut least at hearing something that sound ed ike a prescription. And you would advise milk ?'
 "Quart of it every day." ssii the old doctor.
 'IIl take a note of it" said Patterson, ''and if I should be very Ill s!ell 1n> me-
 ''Splendidly," said the doctor, aud went his way
 Mr. Patterson thought the matter over and thought better of it every day, and when the little note informing him tIiat the widow would be willing to "take him in aud do for him" reached him, he had his trunk and portmanteau already packed and was ready to start that afternoon, As for the widow, the doctor had prepared her for her boarder's peculiarities thus l:
 Mice fellow social plenty of money :; thinks himself ill, but isn't; ought to be married told him so, but he hates the idea of courting will marry off some day, DO doubt. Will you have me ? Yes Call in the clergyman but then old bach elOrs are peculiar generally The widow was a smart woman. She had married at sixteen, and had never failed to have her washing over when other people were hanging out theirs Her bread always rose, her cake was al- ways good and her butter always sweet At forty-fve she had married off all her daughters, was welF-to-do, buxOm and happy.
 Her son aud his wife boarded with her, and she added to her plentiful savings by taking @ summer bOarder or two, if they happened to offer.
 Fifty and bachelor," said Mrs. Muntle, looking in the glass. "Well, it seems pity but when elderly gentlemen marry it is to some hity tity girl that leads them a terrible life, and likely it's for the best"
 Then she looked in the glass again for ! the widow was but a woman after all. MT. Patterson came to the widows and obeyed the doctor prescription carefully. He ate bread and milk, robbed the or chard like a school boy, and reelined over tlre strawberry short cake after fashion that would have made his reputation at the bar. Then, too, Mrs. Muntle did not smile at his aches and pains and insist that he must be perpetually we'll because he had fresh complexion and dimples in and potions which she produced when he complained of feeling miserable. For two months and more MT. Patter- son boarded with Mrs. Muntle, and hap pier months he never lived through. Then he went back to the city for few weeks, returning ill urgent need of more pellets from the medicine chest, and stay ing until the last pink chrysanthemum was blooming on its withered branches. He had grown so fond of his little room, with its white curtains and fresh grass bleached linen, Of the country good things and of the buxom Mrs. Muntle, that he could not bear the thought of parting with them altogether. ] After all, why could he not buy house and get Ms. Muntle to keep 1t for him 1 Perhaps she would. He would offer a high salary, and she could have plenty of servants. Then, indeed, he might have friends to dine with him, and be as happy as possible. If only he could ap- proach his hostess, showing her as he did so that he considered her his equal and a lady-and all that she certainly was a clergyman's daughter and the widow of q country doctor. -
 After much consideration he finally mustered courage for the effort, and walk ing into the front parlor, sent the servant to ask Mrs. Muntle to please step there for moment.
 "Gracious P thought Mrs. Muntle tc l herself ''what can he want p
 Then she blushed brightly settled hel necktie, took off her apron and walked deIQureIy in.
 ''Ba seated, ma'am," said MT. Patter son. ''Sit here please. Allow me to sii near you, as I have something to ask which may require some consideration,
 ''Oh, dear, it is coming p thought Mrs.