Dodge City times. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1876-1892, 1883-07-05
LOVE IN ASHES.

"Scant of nine, and the washing all
out" unused thrifty Mrs. Clutter as
she scrubbed the porch. deacon, I'll
get you tUsct the big tub down cellar,
if you will
Certain, wife" responded the deacon
from his cart in the doOr-yard.
There comes Kendall new basket
wagon, with two women in it," pursued
the lady, wringing her mop. Isn't that
the horse that balks?'
Being in the act of emptying four
gallon bucket of soap, the good man
vouchsafed no reply. When the ieliicd
mass had quivered and splashed into
the barrel in waiting he looked up just
in season TO see the gay little pony shy
ut the cart and 90 tearing down the
road
They'll upset! they'll be killed! Run
after 'em! Do something" shriekcd
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 obliv;ous of his wife S
wash-tub poised on the land NO of the
dim stairway, and, as n natural cOnse-
quence, he put his foot in it. The tub
rolled; the deacon swayei like pestle
in a mortar; there was a lively success
ion of bumps, followed by clatter and
thud. and deacon, tub and bucket
strewed the cellar floor.
"Adab and Abihu!" calculated the
fallen saint, with sinful energy.
whats up, uncle?" cried an anx-
ious voice overhead.
Il can tell you what's down." was
the grim response. Come and brace
me while try TO step"
The owner of the voice, fine -l0Ok-
ing youth of one and twenty, waSal-
ready cropping his way among the de-
briS. his aunt in the rear with the cam
phor.
The deacon's attempted locomotion
resulted in a groan.
Il must have sprained my ankle,
Harvey. IfTd postponed this tub-race
till after I'd been my rounds, twould
have been better calculation
"Oh, 1 wouldn't worry about nv
rounds, uncle. What's the hurryP"
My customers EXPECT me to-day,
that's the point. l hate mastery to
break my word. Now there the widow
Cleaves waiting for me to take her
ashes, so she can scrub after me with
the boiling suds, and up at Kendalrs
they're clean out of soap
And not clean without it, eh?'
tnnnhnh hn
uncle; since you are going TO feel SO I'M
easy about disappointing the people,
why not send me in your stead?"
''You, in your fine clothes! l 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, auntie? was intending to
borrow the frock.n
"Well,7 if l do say it, you've got the
Vance common-Sense. Some Young men
of your bringing up would be ashamed
to drive soap-cart.n
''Humph! Some young men would
be fools, said the deacon, with warmth.
Nobody has any cali to be ashamed to
deliver such soap as make. If you've
a mind to run the team to-day, Harvey,
shall 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 his
youthful proxy. who, duly initiated into
the mysteries of the calling, was driving
away in the big blue cart. Behind
lounced and creaked an empty ash-bin,
thanked by two covered barrels of soap;
but the swinging seat was clean and
comfortable, commanding a fine view
Of the surrounding country.
A balf-mile and more the road wound
through his uncle's fertile acres, for
Deacon Clutter was withal farmer.
Farming, indeed, was his chief voca-
ton, sosp-boiling being an accessory
venture growing out Of sundry extern
sive experiments in the use of leached
ashes. as fertilizer. 1t was one of
those tunefld mornings in early June
when all nature joins in glad doxologv.
The newly arrived bobolinks, tipsy with
glee. caroled in the meadows. The
orioles. hanging their hammocks in the
elms, could scarcely work for singing.
Gay breezes whispered love to the grace