Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1883-06-29
LOVE IN ASHES.

"Scant of nine, and the washing all
out" mused thrifty Mrs. Chutter as
she scrubbed the porch. deacon, I'll
get you to set the big tub down cellar,
if you will"
'Certain, wife," responded the deacon
from his cart in the door-yard.
"There comes Kendall's new basket
wagon. with two women in it." pursued
the lady, wringing her mop. "Isn't that
the horse that balksP"
Being in the act of emptying a four
gallon bucket of soap the good man
vouchsafed no reply. When the jellied
mass had quivered and splashed into
the barrel in waiting he looked up Just
in season to see the gay little pony shy
at the cart and go tearing down the
road.
They'll upset! they II be killed! Run
after 'em! Do somethingl" shrieked
Mrs. Clutter.
Don't get excited, wife; they're all
right now. That girl drives like a
man."
And picking up his bucket, the mod
crate deacon marched off for a second
supply of soap. But though the little
incident had failed to shake his nerves,
it did make him oblivious of his wife s
wash-tub poised on the landing of the
dim stairway, and, as natural conse-
quence, he put his foot in it. The tub
rolled; the deacon swayed like pestle
in mortar; there was a lively success
ion. of bumps, followed by clatter and
n thud. and deacon, tub and bucket
strewed the cellar floor.
"Adab and Abihu!" calculated the
fallen saint, with sinful energy.
'.Nhat's up, unclep" cried an anx-
ious voice overhead.
II can tell you what's down." was
the grim response. Come and brace
me while try to step"
The owner of the voice, fine-look-
ing youth of one and twenty, was al
ready cropping his way among the de-
bris, his aunt in the rear with the cam
phor.
The deacon's attempted locomotion
resulted in groan.
II must have sprained my ankle,
Harvey. If I'd postponed this tub-race
till after I'd been my rounds, 'twould
have been better calculation"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about my
rounds, uncle. What's the hurryp"
my customers expect me to-day,
that's the point. 1 hate masterly to
break my word. Now there s the widow
Cleaves waiting for me to take her
ashes, SO she can scrub after me with
the boiling suds, and up at Kendall S
they're clean out of SOAP"
''And not clean without it, ehP''
laughed the young man. "See here,
uncle; since you are going to feel so un.
easy about disappointing the people,
why not send me in your steadp"
''You, in your fine clothes / should
smile" mumbled Mrs. Clutter, with
the stopper of the camphor bottle be.
tween her teeth.
why can't my uncle's mantle fall
upon me, auntiep was intending to
borrow the frock.'
t'Well, If l do say it, you've got the
Vance ecommon-sense. Some young men
of your bringing up would be ashamed
to drive soap-cart."
"Humph! Some young men would
be fools, said the deacon, with warmth
Nobody has any call to be ashamed to
deliver such soap as l make. If you've
a mind to run the team to-day Harvey
Ishall be obleeged to YOU"
Fifteen minutes later the worthy dea.
con was extending his aching length
upon the sitting-room lounge, and gaz
ing through the open window after hi:
youthful proxy, who, duly initiated into
the mysteries of the calling, was driving
away in the big blue cart. BEHIND
jounced and creaked an empty ash-bin
fianked by two covered barrels of soap
but the swinging seat was clean anC
comfortable, commanding fine view
of the surrounding country.
A half-mile and more the road wounc
through his uncle's fertile acres, fol-
Deacon Clutter was withal farmer
Farming, indeed, was his chief voca
ton, soap-boiling being an accessor,
venture growing out OF sundry exten
siye experiments In the use of leache,
ashes as fertilizer. 1t was one o
those tuneful mornings in early Jun,
when all nature joins in glad doxology
The newly arrived bobolinks, tipsy witt
glee, caroled in the meadows. Th
orioles, hanging their hammocks in tn
elms, could scarcely work for singing
Gay breezes whispered love to the grace
ful young clover, then danced away b
tlirt with the coy hillside birches. Every
where were life and motion irradiate
by the benignant sun. For Harve
vance's study weakened eyes there wa
too much glare, too much flutter. II
lost no time in putting on his blue goe
giles.
"Who cares II they do make me loo
like frogP" mused he, as he settle
them astride his aristocratic nos,
"Thanks TO them, and TO change of ali
my poor optics are undoubtedly impro,
ing. i shall be back to college by fal
Hal hal II the fellows could only see m
AID hussl W ths iahbitv saspy!ss