St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1884-02-28
"POOr Uncle ST."
A TRUE STORY.

shall never forget that bright, sun
ny afternoon, when my father stood
looking down ut us, my two brothers
3S5 myself.
We had been planning with great
glee, how we would dress up. some
dark night, and in the character of
ghosts, frighten certain timid school
fellow of ours.
sit will be jolly fun, boys, | can tell
you ~ | exclaimed, with "A shout of
laughter at the idea.
''JOlly fun to you, Harry, but what
will it he to him Pr asked deep, re-
proachful voice from the doorway, and
glanciug up, there stood our father,
with panied look on his face.
1t was new idea ! 1t would be fun
for us, but what would it he to him,
the poor, unoffending boy we were
planning to fIighten so cruelty ?
We had never thought of that side
of the question at all boys, ay, and
men too, are only too apt to look at
one side only, and that side the one
that pleases themselves the most.
"My sons" he said, ~ see the time
has come for me to tell you a story of
the long ago, when was Il boy, so full
of life and fun that, like you, did not
stop to think whether my fun might
not he just the opposite to some one
else
He paused awhile, and sad, panied
shadow crept over his face, Il look !
had often seen there, and learned to
connect with 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 lunatic, gentle and
harmless, and for the most part cheer
ful and playful, but there were times
when he would fall prone on the floor,
quivering with terror, and shrieking
out wild appeals 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 eldest boy. with him he
never went with empty hands, but
always carried some little gift, IA
picture book, candy, cake, or toy
and even at such times | noted that
weary. sad expression creep over my
fathers usually cheerful face, and re-
n,..;- -I.",., iiI-" ..I..',.I l~..- t+n" 90"
return home. l knew too, that it was
he, who, with my Uncle Johns assist
ance, paid the rent of the lunatic'S cot
tage, clothed him, and provided the
old woman who lived with and took
care of him.
And sorely had all this puzzled me,
for knew that "Uncle Si' was in no
wise related to my father or mother,
and that the money expended III his
support. could i'll be spared for that
purpose.
Often had my father promised to tell
the story "when the right time should
come :" and it had come now, it
seemed for the 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 my life.
| When YOU have heard it, You will know
why think it my duty to tell it to you
Just now.
/ ~ would give ten years of my life il
| had no such story to tell. But it is
my cross, and one of my own making,
so must bear it patiently as my pun
! ishment. When | was il boy going to
school, there was among my school
scholar, but very nervous, timid hey
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 took advantage OF
his good temper and his timid nature
anl we're always playing jokes on him
ellis mother was an Irish woman
and was full of queer superstitions
There seemed nothing too marvellous
for her to credit, and Siias had inherited
this superstitious tendency i'll Il grea
degree.
awe BOYS soon found out his weak
ness, and nothing pleased us more thar
after the afternoon session was over
to sit on the schOol-house steps aud VII
with each other in inventing the mos
!: outrageous and startling stories o
ghosts. robbers and murderers.
2 would listen with his blue eyes almOs
t starting from their sockets, and hi
cheeks turning white and red, finall
3, becoming excited to such IA pitch tha
he would jump at every sudden noise
the slamming of door, or the STAN
!, of foot on the pavement.
o cone afternoon we had been indulg
Il ing in our favorite. amusement unit
l. the sun had almost gone down an
Il darkness began to steal across th
o fields and woods around us.
e "'Oh, what shall | dor eXclaime
}, Silas, looking fearfully around.
must go over to Farmer Browns befol
Ii | 90 home, and it will be dark before
}, get back
d "'To Farmer Browns " said
winking at the other boys then yo
1t will have to cross the old bridge owe
= Long Pond, 81, and they say that IL
le ghost of the woman who drowned he
lt self there haunts it after nightfall
$ that's only on the anniversary OF Ia
III death, though, sO-but ] say, boy
ID what day of the month is this =
-" The tenth was the answer.
to 81 drew in my lips in IA long whistl
and looked hard at Silas.
ne "'Then I'm glad | don't have to !
,n that way tonight | muttered in 10
tone, but not so low but that he hea
- me, as | meant he should.
ch "'Why, whyF he stammered, tur
ct ing white as a sheet is it
Yes, it is, since you mnst kDo
it But do not he afraid, old fellow,
lis don't believe the story, anyhow. w
&. ever heard of ghost with fiery II
I'D aud fiery spots all over his fac
ng Pshaw, it's all a humbug.'
W, But poor Silas was thorough
ly, alarmed indeed, intended he shou
To be, and thought his terror fine spo