YANKEE CURIOSITY

Cromwell Argus, Volume 1, Issue 43, 7 September 1870, Page 7

YANKEE CURIOSITY

A well-known citizen of Hartford, Connect!- ; cut, had taken his seat in the train for Provi- I dence, when a small, weasen-faced man, having \ the appearance of a farmer, came into the car. j The gentleman good-naturedly made room for i him by his side, and the old man looked him over from head to foot. “ Going to Providence ?” he said at length. “No, sir,” the stranger answered politely; “ I stop at Andover.” “ I belong out that way myself. Expect to stay long ?” “ Only over night, sir.” “ Hid you calc’iate to put up at that tavern?” “No, sir ; I expect to stop with Mr Skinner.” “ What, Job Skinner’s ?—or mobbe it’s his brother’s ? Was it Tim Skinner’s—Squire Tim’s —where you was going?” “Yes,” said the gentleman, smiling, “it was Squire Tim’s.” “ Dew tell if you are goin’ to stop over night ? Any connection of his’n?” “No, sir.” “Well, now, that’s curus ! The old man ain’t got into any trouble nor nothin’, has he ?” lowering hia voice. “ Ain’t goin’ to serve a writ on him, be ye ?” “Oh, nothing of the kind !” “Glad on’t. No harm in askin’, I s’pose. I reckon Miss Skinner’s some connection of yourn ?” “ No,” said the gentleman. Then, seeing the amused expression on the faces of two or three acquaintances in the neighborhood, ho added in a confidential tone, “lam going to see Squire Skinner’s daughter.” “Law sakos !” said the old man, his face quivering with curiosity ; “that’s it, is it? Going to see Mi randy Skinner, lie ye ? Wa’al, Mirandy is a nice gal—kinder homely and longfavored, but smart to work they say, and I guess you’re the right age for her, too. Kept company with lior long ?” “ 1 never saw her in my life, sir.” “How you talk! Somebody’s gin her a recommendation, 1 s’pose, and your goin’ clear out there to take a squint at her ? Wa’al, 1 must say there’s as likely gals in Andover as Mirandy Skinner. I’ve got a family of grown-up darters myself. Never was married afarc, was ycr? - don’t sec no weed on yer hat.” “ 1. have boon married about fifteen years, sir. I have a wife and five children.” And then, as the long-restrained mirth of the listeners to this dialogue hurst forth at the old mail’s open-mouthed astonishment, lie hastened to explain. “ I am a doctor, my friend, and Squire Skinner called at my oftics this morning to request my professional services for his sick daughter.” “ Wa’al now Ami the old bore waddled, oil into the next