Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1909-07-29

Uncle Ashdod Clute enjoyed pretty
fair health until he received the pink
covered patent medicine booklet from
the city last March, and then, all al
once, he realized that he was one OF
the sickest men in Betzville. He saw
that he had Is of the 10 deadly dis
eases, and he had hopes that he could
gather UP the other two symptoms be-
fore fall and make a clean record of
it. He got all ready to die as soon
as the other two symptoms appeared,
for he is such a tough old codger that
he knew no less than 10 deadly dis
eases would have any effect on him,
and he would probably be dead now
il he hadn't started to read a serial
story in the inside of the Betzville
Weekly News.
As soon as he got interested In the
serial story he wanted 20 live until
he saw how it ended, and he grew
anxious about his death, and wrote a
letter to a fortune teller in the city
and asked when he was going to die.
He told all his symptoms and how
many deadly diseases he had, and his
case must have looked sort of hope
less to the fortune teller, for he got
a letter back saying Uncle Ashdod's
kst breath would mingle with the at
mosphere of Betzville during the next
80 days. And then, as a sort of balm,
the fortune teller said that if his last
breath didn't mingle in the next 80
days, Uncle Ashdod was probably SO
tough he would live forever.
Any ordinary man would have lost
hope upon receiving such a prediction,
but Uncle Ashdod Is not an ordinary
man. He saw Immediately that he
had a chance for life, If he could keep
his last breath from mingling with the
atmosphere of Betzville curing the
next 30 days, and his first thought
was that he would move over to
Clutestown for four or FIVE weeks, but
he was afraid that If he did he might
miss a copy of the Betzville Weekly
News, so he gave that up. Then he
saw that if he could just know when
he was ready to breathe his last
breath, and could step outside of the
town limits to breathe 1t, and breathe
it where the wind was blowing away
from town, there might still be a
chance fer him, If his last breath
could keep ahead Of the wind, SO that
the atmosphere of Betzville wouldn't
catch up with it and mingle. But the
trouble was to know when his last
breath was going to be breathed.
He got a lot Of advice on 1t from
some of Betzville's most prominent
citizens, but nothing that seemed of
any practical value, until Sigma
Stephens spoke up. Sigma said it was
the luckiest thing in the world that he
had ov~erstocked with glass preserve
bottles that year, and that he would
sell the lot to Uncle Ashdod at half
price, including the rubber bands and
tops, so they would be alright. Then,
If Uncle Ashdod just breathed every
breath into a preserve bottle and i'm
mediately screwed the lid on tight, he
would be sure to have his last breath
safely bottled up so that 1t couldn't
mingle with any atmosphere what
ever.
This seemed a good idea to Uncle
Ashdod, being common sense and prac-
tical, so he bought the lot of preserve
bottles, quarts and half quarts, and be-
gan to breathe his breaths into them
right there.
or course 1t was a little inconven-
lent for a mai as active as Uncle Ash
dod, because he had to tote a wheel
barrow loaded with bottles wherever
he went, and sometimes when he
would run out of bottles we would see
him scooting for home l~ickety-split for
q bottle to breathe into, and as red in
the face from holding his breath as
a snow-apple, but It worked out all
light.
Once he got his breath into a bottle
le was mighty careful of that bottle,
and he didn't leave any bottles around
where they might get damaged. Hell
carried them all up to his attic and
stood them in rows, and 1t got to be a
familiar sight to see Uncle Ashdod
soing around with q preserve bottle