Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1880-03-13
HOW UNCLE TON RAx AWAY.
IN,ue A. Hopkins In the March Wide Awake. ]

HOW CdCLE IOm hAn Avail
GN,me A. Hopkins In the March Wide Awake.l
IT, was a rainy afternoon, and my siX-yelrs-
old nephew and were sitting on the rug In
length on the soft, white FUR; /, in my own par
ticular chair, sat patiently awaiting the request
for ''a story" which knew would be very sure
"Make 1t a real true one, Auntie," he said at
last planting his chin on his brown hands and
gazing straight into the burning Goals.
When your Uncle Tom and were children"
began /, slowly, 1--WE were ever such good
friends, and although 1 am eight years older
than he, we were always together. My pleasure
was never real unless Tom shared 1T, too. Taffy
was not sweet nor even my peanuts good un-
less Tom had some; half my goodies was always
saved for him.
of him, and when provoked-but wait little
and you shall see what happened to your big
Uncle Tom for letting his temper run away with
him.
"One afternoons cold, cherries, rainy one
like this, dear,-I sat looking out the window at
poor little meadow lark that stood shivertng
and wet on the edge OF the porch. l soon called
Tom TO look, TOO, but when turned to see If he
was coming and not knowing he was SO near
me, accidentally struck him in the face with
my elbow:
received blow from his strong little fist which
! am sorry to say was not accidental. Mother
had just come In and she saw the whole scene.
She made Tom sit alone on a sofa, away from
the window and the bird, till he should grow
good natured again. But Tom was not TO be
soothed in any such way, for he was really
angry rHorr,a a,r,,v.ra old t,,n,. no ,,u+.ou,a
the house with such GIRL ri I run MA away ay,s 50
VIII; III d,d run away tonight he addei In
and thinking to frighten me.
What's that? said mother. Run away
from home, and tonight"
oon.f YES and md am going right off now, if Jen
every WELL, said mother, looking at me and
seeing no signs OF repentance In my face You
know allow no one In my house to tell a lie, so
upstairs to his room, directly overhead,
went the angry boy. We heard him shake his
long saved pennies out of his tin bank, heard
him pull out bureau drawers, and then all was
still, till Master Tom flushed, angry, yet calm,
tramped down the stairs. He said 'good-by' to
all the family except me, and started out in the
az shall never forget how forlorn the little
fellow looked as he walked down the path from
the house to the barn. An immense umbrella,
hand, while In the other he held bundle, con-
tanning his best suit of clothes, clean shirt and
his pennies. No overcoat had he, no rubbers
and only an old straw hat which he had pulled
down over his eyes
Bang went the front door after him. Oo-oo
roared the wind as it followed him. Splash
came down the rain through his torn, worn
umbrella; and even the grim tall cypress trees
he passed, as though they would send down an
extra shower on poor Toms head.
''SOon 1t grew dark. But no Tom returned
OF course none of US thought he would really
go away. We supposed the hottest of tempers
would soon have cooled In that nights storm.
IAN hour passed, the darkness grew blacker.
"'Poor Toni! | thought Its all my fault,
every bit of it, and although was IA years old
and considered myself quite woman, l began
to cry.
''But suddenly, much to my Joy, 1 heard
Toms step on the porch. l was about to rush
OUT to meet him, when my mother stopped me.
mo child said she firmly.
''That minute the front door bell rang-then
it was not Tom at all, thought.
"Mother went to the door, and there indeed
was Tom. Lifting his hat to her in the most
distantly polite manner, he said
"GoOd evening, madam. VIII you have the
goodness to tell me the shortest way to B-?'
1--WE were then Twin g at AlderWood, in the
country, and B. was the nearest railroad
station.
".Oh, certainly mother said; take the first
road to the right. b is three miles from the
turning
from Toms proud lips, but his moist eyes said
plainly, I'm so sorry, mamma
9 He lifted his hat once more and walked
calmly down the porch, off the steps into the
trees.
".Oh, mother, mother, how could you'll 1
sobbed, no longer ashamed Of my tears. Tom
will perish, know he WILL and-i-and II
Jennie, my child said mother, do not
know best?' And that answer was all l could
get her to make.
supper was forgotten; we all sat gloomlly
around the fire. was most miserable. 1 could
do nothing but think how loved Tom, and how
lonely 1t was without him; and how dreary he
must be feeling.
but another hour had licked its SLOW way
around the clock before we heard those steps on
the porch again. Then the bell rang again, as
before. This time l went with mother to the
door. Tom stood there. His hat was gone-hI5
umbrella tOo-his frowsy hair was wet and his
hands purple with cold; but In plucky voice ne
addressed mother
PLEASE tell me- The price of a nights led ting
Il gave man fifty cents yesterday that
bought him both bed and supper
"'Will you take me here to-night?" asked
mother his handful OF pennies.
mo mother replied, we don't take in
tramps here Perhaps they would at Nicholas
across the road
But said Tom his little lips trembling, 4
&c Mothers lips trembled too. That's very
strange thing for strange man to say to me.
What do you mean sir?' And then, somehow,
she shut the door In poor Toms face"
''Oh, OIL" broke in Frank; show could she do
it! how could you let her, auntie! it was just
meaner than %, auntie, how mean it waS!"
But by the time mother had gotten back
into the sitting room, and into her chair, look
ing so pale, began to understand that she was
giving her darling boy lesson-but she nearly
doing it.
Eight O'Clock came and with it falteringly,
slowly, came Toms step on the porch. He
rang the bell but 1t only tinkled feebly. This
time we all sprang to meet him, mother leading
us and opening the door.
80 Would you? sobbed poor, tired Tom,
would you-would you let me come in and
warm my poor little hands? l am-Jen ME,
am so sorry!"
"In a minute in second, Tom was folded
In mothers arms, Sobblng, repentant, wet,
drabbled-yes, we were all sobbing."
''Well, auntie," was Franks comment, 81
think Uncle Tom was just brick! ~ emphasiz-
ing the last word with thump OF his clenched
list on the white fur rug.
''No, / think mother was the brick as you
say. At least, all she ever after that had to do
to 'diSperse' Toms temper was to say, Does my
little boy wish to be taken at his word?'
HOW Walt Whitman Writes.
lPhiladelphia Press.l
Walt Whitman's voice is full and strong and