The Tipton advertiser. [volume] (Tipton, Cedar Co., Iowa) 1856-1962, 1871-05-11

rusty overcoat, whose ragged skirts ex-
tended nearly to his feet. He was pro.
pelling, by means of his vigorous arms,
little hand-wagon, surmounted with
bells, and partially filled with rags, bot.
ties, cast .ofr clothing, and crumpled
papers, and checked his noisy career at
once, as Mrs. Jefferson breathlessly
hailed him from her little gate.
"Do you buy old newspapers" shrek
ed our housewife, in the shrillest eff tre-
bles.
"Wa'al, yes, onst in a WHILE" was
the deliberate answer, "Got any to
sell?"
"How much do you give for them?"
"Four cents a pound, ma'am."
"Well, you just wait half minute;
I've got pretty good meas Oh 'em here
I'd like to sell ye."
"All right, ma'am," said the travelling
merchant, balancing the shafts Of his
wagon against the farce, aud burying
his hands in his pockets.
"Bring 'em on."
And the next minute Agatha was
summoned from her sewing to help pile
Uncle Philemon's dearly beloved file Of
ancient newspapers into the wicker
clothes basket. Agatha demonstrated
no further-perhaps she had learned the
folly of entering into argument with
her mother she only obeyed Mrs. JEFF
ferson's behest in Silence. There were
several packets of the time-yellowed old
papers, and more than one journey back
and forth was necessary before the
whole heap lay on tlne turf by the road.
side. Mrs. Jefferson looked on with
streaming cap frills and hawk-eyed eag-
erness, to make sure that no defrauding
sleights of hands were practiced du-
ring the momentous operation Of weigh
ing.
Now mind you," said she to the rag
man, II won't be cheated"
"Thirty. mine pounds" CALCULATED the
hero Of the elongated coat skirts, as he
swung the burden high in air.
"Call it forty squeaked Mrs. Jeffer'
son, greedily eyiug the pile. Forty
pound; you didn't hitch 'eul on true.'
"Wa'l, we won't quarrel over an odd
pound, ma am, you and 1, any way"
quoth the accommodating merchant.
"Lemme see," closing one eye in cal
culating fashion, forty pounds ut four
cents comes to--four times ort is ort,
four times four-one dollar and forty
cents. Here's your money, ma'am, and
hoping you you'll gin me your custom
agin.'
Agatha, what are you laughing at ::'
| demanded her mother, ~ the bells jim
gled noisily away down the quiet road.
over which the November mists brood
ed like haze Of gold. Didn't see
that impudent ragman staring at you
giggling like any school girl? What
do you suppose Hugh Darwin would
think if he was to hear ont? Go back
to your work this very minute"
And Agatha went, leaving her moth
er to count up her gains, like femi-
nine style Of miser, in calico and cap
border. .......
It was drawing toward sunset the next
afternoon Mr.. Jefferson and Agatha
had gone on some errand to the village,
a mile and half distant, and Mrs. JEFF
ferson was alone in the kitchen, chop
ping apples for mincs pies, when Uncle
Philemon's weak, piping voice made
itself heard from the chamber over
head.
"Clarissy, Clarissy!"
Mrs. jefferson, with a smothered ex-
clamation of impatience, threw down
the chopping knife, set aside the wood.
en- tray, and ran up stairs.
"Well," said she, with more energy
than mildness, "what's wanting now p
II feel very poorly, Ciarrissy,' groan'
ed the old man, who lay among the
white bedclothes like dried yellow
effigy. II think I'm drawing near my
end"
"Oh, no, you ain't Uncle Philemon
said Mrs. Jefferson, secretly believing
her. Here, drink this
She held some stimulating cordial tt
his withered lips, but he feebly shool
his old white head.
"I'm dyin' Clarissy-medieine aim
no use to me any longer, and want t.
see my old newspapers. once again."
Mrs. Jefferson had been prepared fo
some such demand. She stole dowl
stairs, and brought up neat lile o
HarDer's Weeklies that she had borrow
ed some time since of a neighbor to reat
in the evenings and study the pictures
when she was weary OF knitting.
Here they be, Uncle Philemon" sh'
said, soothingly.
The purblind old man put out hi
shaking hand, and felt the folds. Mrs
Jefferson thought guiltily Of poor ole
blind Isaac, and Rebecca who deceived
him for Jacobs sake. She had no sucl
excuse to plead. Could she, too, hop
} for blessing?"
"Yes,,' muttered Uncle Philemon
"yes, take good care of 'em, niece Cla
rissy, for there's bit of paper like
!, will under my pillow somewhere, ant
I've left 'em ali to little Agatha. She
been kind, thoughtful child to the ole
man, and it Will help her and Hugl
, towards housekeeping
"What will, uncle:' eagerly gaspe'
Mrs. Jefferson, leaning toward him
more surely to catch the incoherentl.
articulated words.
"The money. There's bill lai,