Furmity Woman on the Sale of a Wife

by David Michael Conner

I mind my business well, offer what the townsfolk want. No, what they need—what I have to give is a service. The service is furmity, nutritious and wholesome. Good for the humours. Evens out ill tempers.

Yes, I was here—yes, yes, I saw it. It was an odd thing what happened last night. Never ha’ I seen a thing like it—a man offering up his wife and child, still clinging to her bosom when they followed the other man out. I saw it, but I’ve seen many a strange thing happen inside this place. People who come here are here for a reason, that’s the way I see it, or else they would be home with their happy families. So I offer them some wholesome furmity, is what I do.

Yes, the man had a touch of rum in his serving—servings. I don’t police these men who come here, but if I must comment I say a little nip is good medicine for folk, it is. In moderation, of course. I myself have a nip now and then but only that—just a nip. The man last night insisted on more and more still. Who is a poor old woman to deny a paying man? Look at me. I am withering into a feeble matron before your eyes, How so I argue with a man under the influence of—well, even too much bread in a man’s stomach will irritate it, won’t it, and could cause outright anger, couldn’t it? Yes, that’s what happened; it was the grain in his belly that turned him.

I do remember his face, yes. Fetching. Young man, from his looks. Why, a year or two ago, I reckon I might have had more hairs on my own chin than he on his. Furmity is good for that, for men—it puts hair on their chests! For ladies, it silkens the hair and evens the complexion. It promotes health, is all it does. I don’t know why an old woman who promotes health must be questioned like this, taken away from her work.

And who was this man, anyway? He looked plain to me, and my eyes have not failed me yet. His wife was pretty and too delicate for him, she was, and she was miserable. The deep grooves in her forehead gave her away, that and her raving husband—oh yes, he gave her away he did! I know something about husbands, being a widow. And his little daughter—she’s better off without him. A nip, even two, is good for grown men and women now and then, but you should know he let the girl share his potent bowl. If he is her father, her chances are better without him! The girl left with her mother in a daze. And that’s the last I saw of them—the furmity was in demand and the man was carried off by two other men.

There’s nothing more to tell. That man was a devil when loose, a raging torrent! I’ve seen many a dispute between husband and wife pass through here, even other men taking up collections for the sales of wives, but in jest. Those wives laughed; the poor soul last night did not. It was agreeable, I say. They left each other, the man and woman, and a good riddance to the both of them. Too far, too far! That scene was no good for the humours in the room. But I did profit nicely from my furmity, a good remedy for any madness.