The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1885-07-15
INTERESTING STORY.
UNCLE STANTON"

UNCLE SIANIUN,"
| The first time l saw Uncle Stanton he
was standing at the open doorway of his
shop, rubbing his hands ON leather apron.
His face was stained with black dust of the
forge, and great beads of perspiration roll
| ed down his brow from under his profusion
OF hair-hair SO thick that used to wonder
the possibility of comb. He was short in
stature, with small-featured face and rest.
less blue eyes. He was bent by toll, and
his careworn expression gave emphasis to
nervous habit of twisting one corner of his
apron when he idled for while. He was
shabby old man, but ON Sunday Git was al
ways called the Sabbath " at the "Cen-
ter y he would don threadbare suit of ILL
fitting broadcloth, in which he was very
| i'll Mt ease
Everybody about the Center-and for
that matter everybody else for miles away.
knew him as "Uncle Stanton" He was
| generally respected, and l doubt if there
were any SO well informed in the rise and
decline of the old place. Yet he had not al
ways lived in the Center. Years ago, wher
Joe Wheeler died, there appeared to be nc
one at hand to take 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 Deacon Green's vine-
yard.
Well, Joe had mended the wagons and
the ploughs, shod the horses, and been con-
sidered pretty handy" for many years,
but it did not occur to one that Joe's tools
would lie idle for the want of hands to use
them. Joe had provided for this emergency.
I've writ to Uncle Stanton, Marthy," he
said to his wife, when he found himself nc
longer able to rise. " He's sartin sort OF
a man, and good one to take hold of the
smithy. l never seed u time when he miss
cd the mark he aimed at, and I've knowed
him, Marthy, powerful long while. You
see we growed up together he was uncom-
mon shary, and ikeliern me, but got the
start somehow aud went away, and Stan
toms 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 steepie,
covered with rusty tin, marked the Center
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 tall
red chimney, and Uncle Stanton gratefully
welcomed his first customer
We became acquainted easily enough. Ny
first visit to the shop was with handsome
grey Billy, who had cast shoe. / can re.
call even now the noise of his hoofs as they
clattered over the oaken floor, and the won
derment expressed in the glance of his
noble, bright eyes, as Uncle Stanton bent
down and critically examined his hoof
BILLY had great many, and believe it was
never decided which was the better animal,
mine or the dark bay, which the aggres.
sive Mr.. Mullens, the meat pedler, constant
ly drove.
They've had bad time over at Kirby's,
l heard" Uncle Stanton said to me, as he
paused over q shoe which he was hammer.
ing into shape. 1.-TWO funerals less n week
didn't believe RUDE would pull the sec.
ond girl through-he amt much on fevers,
not 80 much as young Hawkins. He beat
the world on fevers. Now there was South
worths boy at Pineville 'twant week be.
fore he was up'n about and that gave Jim
settin' up. They ought to have had Jim,
to my thinkin'"
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
lid not in some shape or other reach Uncle
stanton's ears. Concerning himself, how
,ver, he was strangely reticent.
Sometimes would stop at the shop dooi
in the early evenings when the sun was set
ting back of the hills and throwing its gol-
den mellow on the roofs of the farm-houses
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 upon the road in a dreamy silence.
He always had CHEEKY sort of welcome for
me- and used to think that he was freer
With me than any one else. Perhaps it was
because was very young.
One day-it was year or more after ]
had made Uncle Stanton's acquaintance
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.n
We were lounging at the doorway, and
Uncle Stanton was seated on the raised floor
with his back against the easement, press
ing down the tobacco in his pipe with the
end of his stubby finger.
"What is it, uncle ?" I queried There
seemed to be something on his mind, and
fancied he wanted to talk to me.
:" Sit down here, lad, and I'll tell you
little story. It's story there's none left to
tell but me, and Pm goin' to let ye hear il,
Davy, because you've bin good and KIND,
and because in y'r face I've found the only
comfort I've had in many long day. You
don't know how those eyes of your'n have
gone to my heart-how they've brought me
back to when my boy Harry was 30 much
like you that sometimes when I've looked at
you I've stopped my work and let my irons
grow cold.''
Had he forgotten what he was about to
say2 He had paused, and was searching
his waistcoat pocket for match, and his
head was bent down. As he relit his pipe
end puffed it into glow saw that his
eyes were moist and his hand was tremb-
ling. / edged close to him, and placed my
hand on his arm.
T" He was happy little chap, Dayy, and
the folks o. the village used to fill us with
feelins sort O. pride like by the things they
would say of him. You see he was smart |
er'n whip, and if there was anythin agoin'
on among the young folks Harry was at4ths
head of it. Well, he growed up and got &c