The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1893-04-04
THE CONTEST.
An Easter Story.
BY R. PENSTOCK.

Upon entering my Office on the morn
ing of April LIST, my attention was
attracted by a delicate little envelope
lying upon my desk. 1 broke it open
with some trepidation, for I suspected
some person had devised this clever
ruse of making me the victim of an
April fool day" deception. But 1
was very pleasantly disappointed, as
the contents of the note will reveal.
1t read:
DEAR OLD BoY:-Ro5a and 1 extend
to you a cordial invitation to spend
Easter with us. Take the night train,
and L will meet you at the depot upon
your arrival. No excuse will be ac-
cepted. Your old chum,
WILL WALTON.
1 Immediately ~telegraphed my &C,
ceptance, and set about preparing for
the visit.
Will had been my intimate friend in
boyhood. For several years we lived
in the same village, attended the same
school, loved the same girls, sat in the
same pew at church, underwent the
same hardships, and enjoyed the same
pleasures. In short we were typical
comrades. I well remember our first
separation. Diverse pursuits in life
necessitated dwelling in different
localities, and when we babe each
other farewell our moistened eyes and
husky tones betrayed how closely our
affections were knit together. Although
it has been many years since we yer
boys together, and Will has taken
unto himself a helpmeet, our friend
ship is as strong as in the halcyon
days of youth, and you can i'm
agine with what eagerness 1 looked
forward to the morrow. The train
arrived at Con schedule time, and
a minute later Will was shaking me
warmly by the hand, slapping me on
the back, and at the same time pulling
toward his buggy which was stand
ing near the platform.
"Old boy, I'm glad to see you.
Haven't got married yet2 A regular
old batch. Say you just want to see
my little wife" and Will ratified on at
that rate, not giving me a chance to
enter a word, until we pulled up be
fore a neat little cottage in the suburb
Of the town.
Here we are, old boy" exclaimed
my friend, breaking off in the midst
of a recital about his fast horse.
Jump out and come right in. Rosa
is standing in the door awaiting u.s."
The formality of an introduction was
dispensed with by Mrs. Walton who
met me on the piazza, and smilingly
babe me welcome to the home of friends.
1--WE heard VIII speak of you so
she said, 81 feel that you are an
old acquaintance, therefore you Ewill
appreciate my feelings and pardon the
omission of etiquettical formality."
The next day, Easter, was spent in
resurecting and discussing the past.
"You remember what a big time we
had at the picnic on the river once"
Will would say.
Eyes, that was glorious, but not
half so funny as the time we attended
the negro camp-meeting. You remem-
Der when that was don't you2"
well, now, that was huge. Didn't
they shout, thought Wonder what's
become of old c.. That was a good
joke we had on him about representing
wine house. 1 laugh over that joke
yet"
We were smoking our cigars and
engaged in hauling up the past,
when Mrs. Walton interrupted us by
announcing supper.
An hour later, we again entered the
reading room and resumed our cigars.
Come" said Will, "We've finished
smoking, let's go in the parlor. I have
a little story to relate and I want Rosa
to hear it,"
Seated around the cheerful fire in
the parlor CRATE, Will smiled at his
wife, and with a mischievous twinkle
in his eyes told the following:
"Easter Sunday, twelve years ago,
about nine o'clock in the evening, l
proposed to the only girl I eve really
I had been counting Rosa for
two years, and that night l screwed
courage to pop the question. She
SEEM to be surprised in the least,
but received my proposal in as matter
Of fact way as l ever listened to a man
discussing sumo business proposition.
"'Darling will you be miner I ex-
bringing my passionate plead
to an end"
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