“Oh, I wouldn’t sell it,” replied his hostess, “you may have it, and welcome.”
“No, I want to buy it!” said Uncle Reuben in dramatic tones.
“I want to buy it. I want to take it out to the stone pile and grind it to powder.”
“Better Give Them to Some Poor Boy”
Just because a man has to be supported as a public charge by the town he lives in, is no reason why he should not have some definite ideas about correct dress.
“Uncle Timmy” may have seen better days, but it was so far back in his history that no one remembered anything about it. He was supplied with board in a private family at the town’s expense, the poor master incidentally providing two other urgent necessities, viz., wearing apparel and chewing tobacco, the latter being purchased in quantity and “doled out” to Uncle Timmy little at a time, as otherwise the expense of this luxury would have reached a very large item in the course of a year.
About once in so often Uncle Timmy would happen around to see the poor master to talk things over. He was very sociable indeed and would go into all the details as to the menu at his boarding place, which was very seldom satisfactory.
One day Uncle Timmy appeared, and after he had given a report of how he was enjoying his present boarding place, it occurred to the poor master that a certain pair of misfit shoes, which were of no special value to anyone, might be utilized by this long-time guest of the community. So he brought out the shoes and suggested that Uncle Timmy take them home with him.
The old man turned the shoes over and over and examined them carefully. When it was suggested that he try them on, as apparently they would fit him, he shook his head.
“No,” said he. “I guess I won’t take them. You better give them to some poor boy.”