The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1885-09-30
SELECTED.
UNCLE STANTON"


was standing at the open DOORWAY of his
shop, rubbing his hands on leather
apron. His face was stained with the
black dust of the forge, and great beads
of pcrspiration rolled down on his brow
from under his confusion OF hair-hair
pc thick that used to wonder at the pos
sibility of comb. He was short in stat
urc, with a small featured face and rest
less blue eyes. He was bent by toll, and
his careWorn expression gave emphasis to
Il nervous habit of twisting one corner of
his apron when he idled for awhile He
was shabby old man, but on Sunday
ut was always called ''the Sabbath" at
the "Centrc,o he would don thrcadbarc
suit of ill-titting broadcloth in which he
was very ill ut ease. Everybody about
the Centrc-and for that matter, everybo-
dy else for miles away-knew him as ~ II
cle stanton. lie was generally respect
ed, and | doubt if there were any so well
informed i'll the rise and decline of the
old place. Yet he had not always lived in
the Centre. Years ago when Joe Wheeler
died, there appeared to be no one at hand
to take the forge. Joe had built the shop
III the early days when the Centre prom
lsed to be something more than the pivot
whose radius was then marked by ''Kirby
Run. and Deacon Grccnc's vineyard.
The dear old deacon! can see him now
with his frcckled face and hair as red as
the autumn color of The leaves which
used to fall from the big maple trees in
front of my old home. The vineyard was
on the site of the hill, steep enough to
free ii from stones and brush vet not so
steep but the Deacon could keep hisIfoot-
hold and work all through the hot sum-
mer days. How often have seen him
with his head bobbing above the green
leaves, and how often have | heard him
ask for the folks at home, with Gods
blessing upon them"
Well, Joe had mcnded the wagons and
the ploughs, shod the horses. and been
considered pretty handy" for many
years, but it did not occur to one that
does tools would lie idle for the want of
his hands to use them, Joe had provided
for this emergency. 1--WE writ to Uncle
Stanton, Marthy," he said to his wife
when he found himself no longer able to
rise. Hes a sartin sort of man, and Il
good one to take hold of the Smithy. |
never seed a time when he missed the
mark he aimed at, and I've knowed him,
Marthy, Il powerful long time You see
we growcd up together; he was mcom-
mon sharp, and likclcr II me, but | 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
Stecplc, covered with rusty tin, marked
the Centre for many miles, the big, creaky
doors of the shop once more swung open,
the smoke of the forge was seen curling
out of the chimney, and Uncle Stanton
gratefully welcomed his first customer.
We became acquainted easily enough.
My first visit to the shop was with hand
some gray Billy, who had cast a shoe. |
can recall even now the noise of his hoofs
as they clattered over the oaken floor.
and the wondermcnt expressed in the
glance of his noble, bright eyes, rs Uncle
Stanton bent down and critically examin-
ed his hoof. Billy had a great many
friends, and believe it was never decid-
ed which was the better animal, mine or
the lean, dark bay which the aggressive
Mr.. Mullcns, the meat pcddler, constantly
drove.
"rhey've had bad time over at the
Kirby's, | heard" Uncle Stanton said to
me, rs he passed over a shoe which he
was hammering into shape. Two funer-
ais lessn week. didn't believe Rube
would pull the second girl through-he
amt much on fevers, not as much as
young Hawkins. He beat the world ON
fevers. Now, there was Southworth' 5
boy over to Pineville; 'twant week be-
fore he was up and about, and that gave
Jim settin up. They ought to have had
Jim according to my thnkin.'
And so Uncle Stanton would rattle on.
The gossip of the village all came to him
somehow; he never forgot what he heard
and very little happened in the place that
did not in some shape or other reach Tn
Gle Stanton's ears. Concerning himself,
however, he was strangely rcticent.
Sometimes | would stop at the shop
door when the sun was setting back OF
the hills and throwing its golden mellow
on the roofs of the farm houses and lin
gcring in the tree tops. Uncle Stanton
always sat there smoking his pipe, and
when lie had no one to talk to, would
gaze of on the road in dreamy silence.
! He always had a CHEEKY sort of welcome
/ for me, and / used to think he was frccI
with me than anyone else. Perhaps II
was because | was very young.
One day it was year or more after
made Uncle Stantons Acquaintance,
said to me sullenly, "Davy, my boy, the
world isn't so very big, and the people IN
it often run amuck when they don't cal
kcrlatc."
We were lounging at the doorway, ant
/ Uncle Stanton was seated on the RAISED
| floor with his back against the easement
pressing down the tobacco in his pipe
| with the end of his short, stubby finger
What is it, uncle?' | qucried. There
seemed to be something on his mind. ano
| fancicd he wanted to talk to me.
sit down here lad, I'll tell you Il lit
tie story. It's a story there's none left t,
tell but me. and I'm agoin' to let yc heal
it. Davy, because you've been good AM
because in your face I've found the onl,
comfort I've had many long day. Iol
don't know how those eyes of yourn hav'
gone to my hcart-how they've carriet
me back to when my boy Harry was 81
looked at you I've stopped my work an'
let my irons grow cOld.'
Had he forgotten what he had to say
He had paused and was searching hi
wastcoat pocket for match, and hi
head was bent down. AS he relit his pip
and pulled it into glow, saw that hi
eyes were moist and his hand was trem
bleing. edged close to him and place.
my hand on his arm. ale was II happ
little chap, Davy, and the folks In tn
village used to MI Us with feelin's sort u
pride like, by the things they would sa
of him. You see he WAS smarter'n
whip, and II thar WAS snythin' axOin' o.
among the young folks, Harry was at tn
bead Of Il Wen, he grOwed up and 60