The Forrest City times., 1893-06-09
THE OLD WOOD STOVE.
By Selling It Mrs. Kalston Got a
 SOn-in-Law.


 It was no sound of sheep-bells on the Apennines. no chiming of the Angelus at twilight across empurpled vineyards and Pontine marshes, yet it had a cheery echo under the white blossomed elderbushes and close to the old farm, even though it was only a string of bells stretched across a wagon and agitated by the jog-jog of an ancient white horse, that was as blind as the little god of love. while shrewd old man trudged beside him, guiding his devious way.
 ''Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle.''
 "Anything in my line to-day, squire?' asked Moses Minton, checking his march as he caught sight of Mir. Ralston gath ering the early apricots from the sunny side of the wall.
 Git out" was the terse reply.
 ''Rags?' suayely added Moses, stretch ing his neck to look at the red-cheeked beauties whose subtle fragrance filled the air. Bottles? Old iron? Noospa- pers?"
 ..Git out, I say" growled Ralston, never once glancing up from his occu patton. ''I hain't no time to bother
 ''No offense. hope?" said the indom- itably cheerful itinerant. II seen an old wood stove in the shed as l came by"
 Well, and if you did, what business was it of yours?" retorted Ralston.
 Wal, none, not if you look at it that ar way" said Moses. But if so be as xve could drive n trade
 I've can't then, and there's an end ont" answered Ralston.
 And after one or two seconds further waiting, Moses Minton chirruped to Old Gray, and once more the bells tangled merrily on the air indicative of a move.
 ''Stranee how persistent them mis- crable creatures is" thought Farmer Ralston.
 Strange how grabbed Simeon Ral- ston gets, as he gets older" meditated Moses. If that ar's what money brings with it, I, for one, don't want to be rich. Get up, old Cray
 Farther down the lane, however, where the ripening blackberries hung their knobs of jet on every bough and spray and the sound of a little brook somewhere irr the distance made dreamy gurgling, Moses Minton came across Mrs. Ralston, a fat, comfortable old dame. as unlike her husband as the motherlv barn-door hen is unlike the gaunt, high-shouldered game-cock.
 Well. declare" said Mrs. Ralston. 'if wasn't jest a-thinking about you, Nose Minton.'
 s.Was you. thought" ehucklel the old man. Anything in my line to-day? Who-oa. Gray. l sw'ar to goodness Gas the old horse contentedly buried his nose in a green bank that there crit ter couldn't find out where the clover clumps grow no better, not if he had forty pair of eyes, inste'd O being stun blind.'
 Me and Comfort, we was a-sayin'," contentedly purred on Mrs. Ralston, who was in full pursuit of flock of lemon-yellow ducl1lings who were evad- ing her guardianship in every direction, sthat you hadn't been along in quite spell. And the bag of mixed rags is quite full, and there's lot of old num- bers of the Missionary Review, and But don't speak so loud. kind O don't want father to hear, he's so mortal set ag'in' partin' with anything. It's kind Q second nature to him to hoard up things; and as he gets further on in years he's more set in his ways than ever. Jest you come round the back door. He's out and Comfort is out, and now's a first-rate chance to get rid of the old wood-stove as has been rustin' in the shed for hull year"