Year: 1872

said the old pioneer, as he shook with
suppressed emotion, but whether of u
sad or pleasant nature could not be
ascertained in the dim light of the
fireplace.


"Let us hear your yarn" we sug-
gested, with a reportorial eye to an
item for consideration in dull sea.
son.


90, it ain't any yarn, l assure you,
said the old man, as he chuckled and
grinned, until glacial movement of
tobacco juice stated from each cor
ner Of his mouth and pushed its way
down the wrinkles that led to his
stubble.covered chin below. "Shut
the door therc-so that mother can't
hear what's going on, and | will tell
you how | came to get married"


We complied with his request, ana
after storing away fresh supply Of
the weed that cheers but don't ine-
briate," he drew has chair close to US
and commenced:


ut was in the year 1910 that | came
to Cleveland, and became employed
in hardware store on Superior street.
| had spent all my previous life on a
farm, and had become tired of tramp
ing around over the pastures, fodder
ing sheep and cattle in the winter, land
working still harder in the summer.
won't say anything about the difficult
ties | experienced IN getting employ
ment upon my arrival in the city, nor
how tried every place in the town
before could find Il boarding place
that suited me, until | became ac-
quainted with Il widow lady who kept
a few boarders on what is now known
as Euclid avenue.


"My landlady was accomplished,
and had evidently seen better DAYS,
but the death Of her husband had left
her in reduced circumstances. She
had two daughters, both lively, intel
ligent, and possessed Of graces that
only come from association with the
better class Of society. They were of
extremely gay disposition, and l had
not been at the house month before
was hopeIessly in love with Fanny,
the eldest, and | thought at times her
manner toward me was tender and en-
cOuraging She carefully avoided Civ
ing me an opportunity to be alone
with her long enough to declare my
passion.


"The winter had nearly passed with
out finding me any further advanced
in my suit until one night in Februa-
ry, after heavy fall OF snow, asked
Miss Fanny to take sleigh ride
with me, to which she consented, and
after tea | procured as high-stepping
pair Of horses as could be found in
the city, drove up to the house Of my
affinity, and in few minutes We were
whirling away out on the Cleveland
and Medina turnpike. | had taken
that road partly because it led towards
my old home, and also owing to its be-
ing less ira veled at night than the 9TH
er thoroughiares leading from the city,
and we were not likely to be interrupt
ed in our ride or conversation. The
night was just cool enough to make it
necessary to place my arm around my
companion, the horses were frisky,and
the moon shone with that peculiar
light which is preferred by lovers to
all others, unless it be that Of a par
lor lamp turned down so low that as
an illuminator it is nearly useless.


Through Brooklyn township we
whicled out into. the country, where
the lights from the tarm,houses became
more scattered and the baying Of
Watchdog was the only sound heard.
Fanny, who had previously sung,
laughed and chatted merrily on our
ride, now became quiet. As we came
to rise in the road that disclosed Il
level strip two or three miles in length
before us, said to myself Before we
have travelled the road now in view, |
will settle my fate, and go home "A hap
pier or more miserable man."


Hardly had come to this conclu-
sion before | heard a peculiar rushing
sound behind us, and looking around
could see a flock Of sheep coming at
full speed toward us, and behind them
were two or three dogs, which account
ed for the fright of the sheep, which
would doubtless run for miles before
stopping, and cause their owner much
trouble in hunting them up. But
bright thought came to me. Fanny
was city girl, and had never seen
a sheep save in the shape Of outlets or
roast at her mothers table. | would
indulge in a strategy Of the kind
which is considered fair in loYe or war.
Lowering my voice to the note Of the
stage Jibbennainosay, where he speaks
of the death Of his parents, wife and
friends, | said, Fanny my girl, are
you brave-can you bear terrible
news?' why, Henry, what is the mat
ter? What makes you look so paleY
Assuming more tragic voice, l re-
piled, BE firm, dearest; rely on me;
we are follOWpd hv Wolves Tnnk ha