The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-04-02
JUNGLE STANTON"
4 STORY OF "rHE CENTER"

UNCLE STANTON.
STORY OF 1.-THE CENTER"
The first time I saw Uncle Stanton
he was standing at the open doorway OF
his shop, rubbing his hands on leathe,
apron. His face was stained with the
black dust of the forge, and great bead,
perspiration rolled down on his brow
from under his confusion of hair-hai,
80 thick that I used to wonder the pos.
sibility of comb. He was short in
stature, with small featured face and
restless blue eyes. he was bent by toll,
and his careworn expression gave en-
phasis to nervous habit of twisting
one cornor of his apron when he idled
for while. He was shabby oil man,
but on Sunday ut was always called
the Sabbath" at the "Center') he would
don sthreadbare suit of ill fitting broad
cloth in which he was very i'll at ease.
Everybody about the Center-and for
that matter, everybody else for miles
sway-knew him as "Uncle Stanton, "
Hewas generally respected, and doubt
IT there were any so we'll informed in
the rise and decline of the old place.
Yet he had not always lived in the
Center. Years ago when Joe Wheeler
died, there appeared to be no one at
hand to take his place at the forge. Joe
had built the shop in the early days
when the Center promised to be much
more than the pivot whose radius was
then marked by kirby Run" and Dea-
con Greene's vineyard. The dear old
Deacon! I can SEQ him now with his
freckled face, and hair as red as the au-
tumn color of the leaves which used to
fall from the big maple tree in front of
my old home. The vineyard was on
the side Of the hill, steep enough to free
it from stones and brush, yet not so
steep but the Deacon could keep his
footho]d, and work all through the hot
summer days. How often have I seen
him with his head bobbing above the
green leaves, and how often have I
heard HIM ask for the folks at homo
with Goods blessing upon them"
Well, Joe had mended the wagons
the ploughs, shod the horses and been
considered "pretty handy" for many
years, but it did not occur to one that
q time would come when Joe's tools
would be idle for the want of his hands
to rise them. Joe had provided for this
emergency. Give writ TO Uncle Stan
ton, Marthy," he said to his wife when
he found himself no longer able to rise.
Hes sartin sort of man, and
good one to take hold of the smithy. I
never seed time when he missed the
mark he aimed at. and I've knowed him,
Marthy. powerful long while. You
see We growed up together, he was on
common sharp, and ikelier n'me, but I
got the start somehow and went away,
and Stanton's been trudging along the
same old rut."
So it came about that four days after
Joe Wheeler had been put in the little
yard back Of the Methodist Church
whose steeple covered with rusty
tin marked the Center for many miles,
the big, creeky doors of the shop once
more swung open, the smoke If the
forge was then seen curling out of the
tall red chimney, and Uncle Stanton
gratefully welcomed his first customer.
We became acquainted easily enough.
NY first visit at the shop WAS with hand
some gray Billy, who had cast shoe.
can recall even now the noise of his
hoofs as they clattered over the oaken
floor, and the wonderment expressed
in the glance of his noble, bright eyes,
as Uncle Stanton bent down and crit
ically examined his hoof. Billy had q
great many friends, and I believe it was
never decided which was the better an
imal, mine or the lean dark bay which
the aggressive Mr.. .Mullens, the meat
peddler, constantly drove.
They've had bad time over at the
Kirby's I heard" Uncle Stanton said to
me, as he paused over shoe which he
was hammering into shape. 1.-TWO fun
erals less'n q week. I didn't believe
Rube would pull the second girl through
he amt much on fevers, not so much
rs young Hawkins. He beat tho world
on fevers. Now, there was Southworth's
boy over at Pineville t'want week be-
fore he was up n about, and that gave
Jim settin' up. They ought to have had
Jim, to my thlnkin'."
And 80 Uncle Stanton would rattle
IN ThA rpocci,, ~ <Eo ~,;11o m III on.no -
to him somehow; he never forgot what
he heard. and very little happened in the
place that did not in some shape or 9TH
or reach Uncle Stanton's ears. Concern
ing himself, however, he was strangely
reticent.
Sometimes I would stop at the shop
door in tho early evenings when the sun
was setting back of the hills and
throwing ito golden mellow on the roofs
of the farmhouses and lingering in the
tree tops. Uncle Stanton always sat
there smoking his pipe, and when he
had no one to talk to would gaze off up
on tho road in dreamy silence. He always
had CHEEKY sort of welcome for me,
and always used to think that he was
freer with me than any one else. Per-
haps it was because I was very young.
One day-it was year or more after
1 had made Uncle Stanton's acquaint-
tance-he said to me suddenly. "Davy,
my boy, the world isn't so very big, and
the people in it often run amuck when
they don't calkerlate."
We were lounging at the doorway,
and Uncle Stanton was seated on the
raised floor with his back against the
easement, pr essing down the tobacco in
his pipe with the end of his stubby
finger.
What is it uncle?" Iqueried. There
seemed to be something on his mind.