Morris tribune., 1883-09-26
Love in Ashes.

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
balks!"
Being in the critical act of emptying four
gallon bucket of soap, the good man vouch-
safed no reply When the jellied mass had
quivered and splashed into the barrel in wait
ing 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'll be killed! Run after
EN-. Do something" shrieked Mrs. Clutter
Don't get excited, wife; they're all right
now. That girl drives like man"
And picking up his bucket, the moderate
deacon marched off for a second supply OF
soap. But though the little incident had
failed to shake his nerves, it did make him
Obvious of his wife's wash-tub poised on the
landing of the dim stairway, and as natural
consequence he put his foot in it. The tub
rolled; the deacon swayed like peStle in
mortar; there was a lively succession OF
bumps, followed by clatter and thud, and
deacon, tub, and bucket strewed the cellar
floor.
saint with sinful energy.
whats up, uncle?' cried an anxious vo ice
overhead
81 can tell you what's down." was the grim
response "Come and brace me- while l try
to step"
The owner of the voice, a fine-looking
youth of one-and-twenty was already crop
ing his way among the debris, his aunt in the
rear with the camphOr
The deacons attempted locomotion re-
suited in groan.
81 must have sprained my ankle, Harvey.
II I'd postponed this tub race till after I'd
been my rounds, twould have been better
calculation"
"Oh, wouldn't worry about my rounds,
uncle. WHAT'S the hurryn'
MY customers expect me to-day, that's the
point. l hate mastery 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 Kendalrs
they're clean out of soap"
"And not clean without it, eh?" laughed
the young man. See here, uncle, since you
are going to feel so uneasy about disappoint-
ing the people, why not send me in your
steadg'
''You, in your fine clothes, l should
smile,n mumbled Mrs. Clutter, with the
stopper of the camphor bottle between her
teeth.
''Why can't my uncle's mantle fall upon
me, auntie: I was intending to borrow the
frock."
'9Well, if I do say it, you've got the Vance
common-sense. Some young men of your
bringing up would be ashamed to drive soap
cart"
tHumph! Some young men would be
FOOLS" said the deacon, with warmth. No
body has any call to be ashamed to deliver
such soap as I make. If you've a mind to
run the team to-day, Harvey, 1 shall be
obliged to you"
Fifteen minutes later the worthy deacon was
extended his aching length upon the sitting
room lounge, and gazing 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. Be-
hind jounced and creaked an empty ash-bin,
fianked by two covered barrels Of soap; but
the swinging seat was clean and comfortable,
commanding fine view of the surrounding
country.
A half-mile and more the road wound
through his uncle's fertile acres, for Dea-
con Clutter was withal farmer. Farming,
being an accessory venture growing out of
sundry extensive experiments in the use of
leached ashes as fertilizer. 1t was one of
those tuneful mornings in early June when
Ill nature joins in glad doxology The
newly arrived bobolinks, tipsy with
Elee, carolled in the meadows. The orioles,
hanging their hammocks in the elms, could
.earcely work for singing. Gay breezes
whispered love to the graceful young clover,
then danced away to firt with the coy
hillside birches. Everywhere were life and
motion irradiated by the benignant sun. For
Harvey Vance's study-weakened eyes there
was too much glare, too much hutter He lost
no time in putting on his blue goggles.
''Who cares if they do make me look like a
frogw unused he, as he settled them astride
his aristocratic nose. 'Thanks to them, and
to change of air, my poor optics are I'M
doubtedly improving. shall be back to col
lege by fall. Ha! hal if the fellows could
only see me nowr'
And here, to the infinite surprise of staid
Dobbins, his new master broke into roIlick-
ing class song-a song abruptly ended as a
turn In the road revealed a near farm house.
eff peddle soap, I'll peddle it with due
decorum, "soliloquized the youth, knocking
upon the back door with the handle of his
whip.
To have seen the capable air with which he
measured ashes bushel by bushel, giving in
exchange money, or gallons of soap, accord
ing to the customers desire, one would have
pronounced him bred to the soap business
Since his months rustication at his aunt
Cutters he had made the acquaintance of
most of the farmers along the river, and
these expressed their qualification at meet
ing "a judges son that wasn't afraid to
work, but outside the parish limits his tri-
umphal march terminated. He was stranger
In q strange land. One man asked if he had
bought out the deacon; a second hoped he
wasn't proposing to run an opposition team;
and the loyal widow Cleaves could hardly be
persuaded to surrender her ashes, because,
forsooth, she preferred to trade with Deacon
Clutter. -.. .........
Obedient to his uncle's instructions, at her
cottage the young man took cross road to
Kendall's, summer hotel, Familiarity styled
'The Eryie."
"You1l find it long three miles," had been
Mrs. Cleave's parting remark. ...
'"Three miles, and not a neighbor between
here and there; couldn't blame the widow
n she should want to change her situation, u
unused the deacon's deputy, scanning the
western horizon. Shouldn't wonder if that
cloud yonder meant business. I thought the
sun was too bright this morning. Well, a
little high-toned thunder will drown this
everlasting racket"
Facing about to wedge in position an
empty soap barrel, he observed two ladies
driving up the hill in basket phaeton
"That looks like Kendalrs team that gave
auntie such panic this morning." thought
be. 'Those ladies are some of his boarders,
uppose-Tom Cavender's mother and sis
ter, for aught know. I have heard they
ware stopping at the Eyre. Goodness!
wouldn't it be joke if 1 should fall in with
them to-day!n
Meanwhile the younger lady in the car