The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1885-10-07


think | have as much feeling as any
man, but my tears are not at all easy.
They come with a rush when they do
come, but they seldom come" and my
uncle looked at me, as if hoping might
have an explanation ready.
Ct think, Uncle Everard, that the
line reads her easy tears, not his"
"That accounts for it, Rob-that ac-
counts for it exactly" Then glancing
toward the lachrymatory he added, to
himself rather than to me, " Whoever
she was, it wouldn't have taken her
long to fill that affair"
For the next few months did not
find the company of my uncle as agree
able as formerly. From being the
most cheerful optimist / had ever met,
he grew as pessimistic as William
Rathbone Greg, whose books now lay
prominently upon his library table.
What's come over your uncle lately.
Rob?" my friends began to say to me.
" He used to be one of the jolliest fell
lows going, and now his face is as long
as the moral law"
evaded direct answers to questions
like these | could not tell the nature
of this freak of my uncle's. One day l
caught sight of Uncle Everard hurrying
along the street, and quickened my own
steps to keep pace with him.
Pm in great hurry, Rob-" he eX-
planned, in answer to- question. " |
have just five minutes left to get to the
funeral in"
"Whose funeral do you mean ?"
said I.
cold Mr. Henshaw's, >" was the an
swer.
81 didn't know that there was such
a person in town, Uncle Everard," |
exclaimed.
Nor / till | saw his death noticed
in this mornings paper"
You don't mean to say you're 60
ing to the funeral of a man you never
heard of till just now?" l asked, in be-
wilderment
Well, yes" said my uncle, in some
embarrassment, " am. The fact is
am getting on pretty slowly with that
lachrymatory, and / thought if l at
tended the funeral it would help the
affair little, as it is sure to be mourn
full occasion, you know"
AT this point | turned down a side
street, too disguised to hear more.
From that time forward Uncle Everard
was regular attendant at every funeral
in the town. On these occasions he
always took seat as secure from OBJ
servation as possible, and when the eX-
| ercises reached the most impressive
point, the lachrymatory (Which he car
ried in his coat pockeD was produced,
the stopper drawn out and the vase it.
self held ready to receive whatever
tribute of tears he was able to pay to
the virtues of the departed one.
"What a sympathetic man your uncle
is' said two or three old ladies to me.
They had not noticed the lachryma-
tory, which, when held toll his eyes, was
hidden from public view by his hand
kerchief. In fact, so cleverly had my
uncle managed to conceal his public
use of " that detestable Roman tear.
Jug" as termed it to myself, that nc
one but myself knew of its existence OF
the use to which it was put. Yet that
he was a very different man from form.
erly was plain to the whole town.
50 1t is odd how peoples tastes change
as they grow older,' remarked book
clerk to me one day. "Your uncle
used to order all the humorous books
as fast as they came out; now he never
gets one. His first question now is
when he takes up new novel, Does il
end happily?' and if l tell him it does
he puts it down Immediately; but if
tell him it ends mournfully, he buys the
book at once. Singular, isn't it?''
/ began to hate Uncle Everard's ZACH
rymatory. On the infrequent occasions
on which / now saw him--for there hat
ceased by this time to be any pleasure
in his company-he would inform mt
that the lachrymatory was filling up
but very slowly.
g told you you could never fill it, ,
l remarked, little testify, on one o
these occasions.
You never were more mistaken il
your life, Rob, " he replied. /" / can fiji
it, and, what's more, Pm going to fill
it," he added, with much determination
After this of course there was n,
more to be said, and l left Uncle Eve
rard more and more to his own tearfu
devices. Months went by, and all this
while the wOeful contents of the ZACH
rymatory increased but slowly. Uncle
Everard was almost in despair. ! me
him late one afternoon in the suburbs
walking rather slowly back to town
He seemed to have aged of late and hi
face was pitifully sad.
Well, Uncle Everard," / said
where have you been this afternoon
To another funeral?'
" No, Rob-" was the answer.
thought | would try something else. S
I've just been
Looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more"
"That course ought to have filed tn
tear-jug, Pm sure" replied, unsym
pathetically, and passed on.
But my conscience rather trouble
me during the rest of the walk. Wha
was it to me if my uncle chose to folloy
out ridiculous whim? He had Away
, been good and kind to me, and, ther
| could be no question about it, | ha
been neglecting him shamefully of late
| And then it came over me that | ha
| indirectly been the means of startin
| my uncle on this notion of his by m
| thoughtless remark when the lachryma
, tory was first shown me.
1t was under the influence of thes
| softened feelings that / went up to m
l uncle's room the next morning. On tn
stairs met housemaid in tears. Ho,
Uncle Everard would envy her.