The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1880-12-09
" POOR UNCLE 81. -
A True story.

A True story.
shall never forget that bright, sunny
afternoon, when my father stood look.
ing down at us, my two brothers and
myself.
We had been planning, with great
glee, how we would dress up some dark
night, and in the character of ghosts,
brighten a certain timid schoolfellow OF
ours.
=" II will be Jolly fun, boys, can tell
your | exclaimed with q shout of
laughter at the idea
Jolly fun to you, Harry, but what
will it be TO him?" asked a deep, re-
proachful voice from the doorway, and
CHANGING up, there stood our father,
with a panied look on his face.
1t wasa new idea! 1t would be fun
to us, but what would it be to him, the
poor, unoffending boy we were planning
TO brighten so cruelty?
We had never thought of that side of
the question at all; boys, nv, and men
too, are only too apt to look at one side
only, and that side the one that pleases
themselves the most.
Our father stood a moment in thought,
and then came into the room and sat
down.
my sons" he said, 81 see the time
has come for me to tell you a story of
the long ago, when l was boy, so full
of life and fun that, like you, did not
stop to think whether my fun might not
be just the opposite TO some one else"
He paused awhile, and sad, panied
shadow crept over his face, look had
often seen there, and had learned to
connect with a certain man who dwelt
in little cottage near by.
He was large, strong man, about
our fathers age, but alas! the light of
his life. his reason, had gone out for
ever; he was alunatic, gentle and harm
less, and for the most part cheerful and
playful, but there were times when he
would fall prone on the floor, quivering
with terror, and shrieking out wild ap-
peals to be saved from the ghosts that
were about to seize him.
My father often visited this poor fell
low, poor Uncle ST." we boys called
him, and on few occasions had taken
me, his oldest boy, with him; he never
went with empty hands, but always
carried some little gift, a picture-book,
candy, cake or a toy; and even, at such
times | noted that weary, sad expression
creep over my fathers usually cheerful
face, and remain there like cloud, long
after our return home. | knew, too.
that it was he, who. with my Uncle
Johns assistance, paid the rent of the
lunatic's cottage, clothed him and pro-
vided the old woman who lived with and
took care of him.
And sorely had all this puzzled me,
for knew that " Uncle ST. was in no
wise related to my father or mother, and
that The money expended in his sup
port, could i'll be spared for that pur-
pose?
Often had my father promised to tell
the story (" when the right time should
come" and it had come now, it seemed,
for his first words were of " Uncle ST."
My boys" he said, - am going
now to tell you the story of Uncle 81,
and it is the saddeSt story of all my life
When you have heard it you will know
WIZ l think it my duty to tell it to you
Just now.
Il would give ten years of my life if
l had no such story to tell. But it is
my cross and one of my own making, so
l must bear it patiently as my punish
ment. When Twas a boy going to school
there was among my schoolmates a
bright little fellow, good scholar but
a very nervous. timid boy. His mother
was poor woman, who worked hard
TO support herself and him, and it was
her greatest ambition to see him win his
way up in the world.
1--WE all liked Silas, he was so gentle;
but at the same time we took advantage
of his good temper and his timid ma
ture, and were always playing jokes ON
him.
" His mother was an Irishwoman and
was full of queer Superstitions. There
seemed nothing too marvellous for her
TO credit, and Silas had inherited this |
snperstitious tendency in a great de-
gree.
" We boys soon found ont his weak |
ness and nothing pleased us more than
after the afternoon session was over, 20 |
sit on the school-house steps and vie |
with each other in inyenting the most |
outrageous and startling stories of
ghosts, robbers and murders. 81 would |
listen with his blue ewes almost start /
ing from their sockets, and his cheeks |
turning white and red, finally becoming
excited to such q pitch that he would |
jump at every sudden noise, the slam
ming Of door, or the stamp of foot
on the pavement.
"One afternoon we had been indulg-
ing in our favorite amusement until the
sun had almost gone down and darkness
began TO steal across the fields and
woods around us.
90, what shall l dor exclaimed ST.
las, looking fearfully around. Unjust
90 over to Farmer Browns before l
go home and it will be dark before lean
get back
ITO Farmer Brown'sr said /, wink
INC at the other boys; then you'll have
to cross the old bridge over Long Pond,
ST, and they say that the ghost of the
woman who drowned herself there
hsunts it after nightfall; that's only on
the anniversary of her death, though,
so-but 1 say. boys, what day of the
month is this?
- The tenth,' was the answer.
8 drew in my lips in long whistle
and looked hard at SilaS.
- Then I'm glad don't have to go
that way tonight l muttered in a low
tome, Jut not SO low but that he heard
me, as L meant he should.
why. why?' he stammered, turn ,