The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1890-04-19
OLD UNCLE BILL.
NEW York Ledger.J

fine place on the Hudson would be sure
TO notice, after while, an old man who
wandered about the place dressed all sum-
trousers and fisherman's hat, and all
winter in wooden dressing gown. He
was meek, tall, bald old man, and peo-
pie at first took him for superannuated
old servant; but, finally, his nice linen,
his neat hands, and a certain we'll bred
tone Of voice, if, by chance, they heard
him speak, made them ask:
"Who is that?s
If they inquired of Miss Belle, the eld-
est unmarried daughter, she would an
swer:
San old connection of poor mammals.
I can't see why pa has him here-horrid
thingw
Ifthey asked Mr.. Norris maiden sis
YER, she would reply:
"One of the blessings my late sister-in-
law brought with her into the family
A miserable ne'er-do-weel of relation
II the question were propounded to
pompous Mr. Norris, as he sat in his
armchair ON his piazza, or drove about
his property in one of his handsome
vehicles, he would answer:
well, that's a sort of relation of
my wife's, a neer-do-weel. The black
sheep of the flock, you know Always
is one in every family. For her sake
she was a very benevolent woman-we
let him stay about He prefers eating by
himself. He's very stupid, very; but she
wanted him here, and she had her way,
poor soul. grudged her nothing. Yes,
that's poor Bill"
But if it was Miss Phemie of whom
the question was asked she always an
swered:
"Why, that is Uncle Bill. He's lit
tie eccentric, but the dearest old soul.
I'm very. very fond of him, and he of
me. Dear old Uncle Bill!'
Certainly Picnic was the old mans
only friend in that pompous household.
She it was who went up to his little room
with his meals and sat with him while
he ate them; who saw that he had the
newspaper and his pipe; who had fixed
that little out of the way place with
pretty carpet, book shelves, a students
lamp, lots Of pretty ornaments in worsted
and painted silk; who never received her
monthly allowance without buying some
thing for him.
His pretty, snow white shirts were her
gift, and she saw that they We're ''done
up" properly. The flannel dressing gown
he wore in winter was of her contrivance
In fact, up in that dormer rooted room
there were hours that were more home
like than any spent in the great parlors,
or the big dining room, where Miss Belle
was only affectionate to "pa" when she
wanted him to give her moro money to
spend; and Miss Norris, the elder sister of
the master Of the house, made bitter
speeches in the pauses of the needle work
in which she was perpetually engaged.
Sometimes directed at her brother, some
times at Belle, sometimes at Phemie, but
all worded SO ,circumspectly and clothed
in such guise of piety that no one dared
resent them. % ~ fri h
''What a comfort you are, Uncle Bill"
Picnic would say, as she poured out the
old mans coffee.
"And what a comfort you are, Phe-
mie," old Uncle Bill would say. ''If
wasa rich uncle, just home from India,
like those in plays and novels, you
couldn't make more of me-"
81 shouldn't make SO much, uncle"
Picnic would answer, "for you'd be
victim Of liver complaint, and that would
make you i'll natured, and you'd scold
me and say naughty words. They all
do, you know. Now you haven't any
money, or stocks to worry about, like
poor pa; and you're not irritable, and
like TO be with you. You're like man.
ma, too. You have her eyes,"
"You are sister Susan's image the
old man would say. "Do you remember
the, day that you came to the hospital
with herr"
.s.tYes," said Phemie 81 was just 10
years old and mamma was crying over
the telegram. My only brother, Phe-
mie,' she said. so sick that he may die,
and so poor that he'sin hospital Then
we came and saw you in bed, and after
a while we brought you home and ma
nursed you well again"
"And died herself, just as got about, .
said Uncle Bill. 'And your father and
the rest did not like q shabby old man
around the house, Well, was lucky to
get a home suppose, and luckier still to
find such disinterested love as yours.
You're like Susan. She was the dearest
girl that ever lived. Yes, you're like Su-
san."
But they did not always talk thus.
They We're very busy often, over books;
over Phemie's embroidery, for which he
designed patterns; teaching her little dog
a thousand tricks; feeding the blind kit
ten Phemie saved FROM drowning; max
ing a little well, from which the canary
drew buckets of water. And Phemie
and the old man would wander off to the
river side, where he would fish, seldom
catching anything, and she would read
or knit.
None of the family knew of these in
timacies. Belle, older than Picnic by
six years, preferred that she should con-
slider herself child until Miss Norris
was married. And Aunt Marcia detest-
ed her for her resemblance to the sister
in-law who chad never been congenial."
No one in the house knew, but some
one not of the household did, and shared
at times in them.
Sometimes, when the old mans rod
dangled over the water, younger angler
would take his place near him-a hand
some young fellow with black hair and
the brightest eyes in the world; and then
the hours went by like hours in dream,
and Picnic felt happy as she had felt
when child by her mothers side. And
Uncle Bill laughed and told fshermen's
stories. AS for the young man, silent or
laxative, he was always charming. So
thought Picnic. She was II; she had
never had a lover. She was well read In
romantic lore. What happened was only
to be expected In little while two
lovers sat beside old Uncle Bill on the
banks Of the pretty stream, and walked
together as far as the little gate In the
hedge that nobody else used, and did
not hide from the old man that they
parted with kiss.
Fred Howard was not fashionable
man, only the son of poor widow who
had made bookkeeper of her bow.
What holidays he had he spent at home.
This was his midsummer vacation: he
was bright, and good, and handsome,
but Mr.. Norris surely would have had
other views for his youngest daughter
And SO, one day, as the two, having
met accidentally on the road, were talk
{nov tooether with an EXPRESSION on