Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1892-12-17

the fire. turned the letter over and Owe
in his hands.
"Do ye ken what's in it," he asked
suddenly.
"You see for yourself, sir" said /,
"that the seal has not been broken"
"Aye," said he, "but what brought you
here?
"To give the letter." said 1.
mo" says he cunningly, 'but yen
have had some hopes, nae doubt?"
II confess, SIR" said l. when 1 was
told that / had kinsfolk we'll to do, did
indeed indulge the hope that they might
help me in my life. Bat am no beg
gar; look for no favorS at your hands,
and | want none that are not freely
given. For as poor as appear, / have
friends Of my own that will lie bhthe to
help me-"
''Hoot, hootr' said Uncle Ebenezer,
"dinna fly up in the snuff at me. Wen
agree fine yet. And Davie, my man, if
you're done with that bit parritch, l
could just take a sup of it myself. Aye"
he continued, as soon as he had ousted
me from the stool and spoon, they're
fine, halesome food-they're grand food,
parritch." He murmured little grace
to himself and fell to. "Your father
was very fond of his meat. l mind. He
was hearty if not great eater, but as
for me, | could never do mair than pyke
at food" He took pull at the small
beer, which probably reminded him of
hospitable duties, for his next speech
ran thus, "If ye're dry ye'll find water
behind the door"
To this returned no answer, stand
ing stifiy on my two feet and looking
down upon my uncle with a mighty an
CRY heart. He, on his part, continued
to eat like man under some pressure
of time, and to throw out little darting
glances now at my shoes and now at my
homespun stockings. Once only, when
he had ventured to look q little higher,
our eyes met. and no thief taken with q
hand in mans pocket could have
shown more lively signals of distress.
This set mo in q muse whether his timid-
ity arose from too long disuse of any
human company, aud whether perhaps,
upon q little trial, it might pass or and
my uncle change into an altogether diff
ferent man. From this l was awakened
by his sharp voice.
"Your fathers been long deadg" lie
asked.
Three weeks, sir" said l.
"Ife was a secret man. A lexander-s
secret, silent man." he continued. "He
never said muckle when he was young,
He'll never have spoken Inuckle of me. "
II never knew, sir, till you told it me
yourself that he had any brother"
Dear me, dear Dle!' said Ebenezer.
"Nor We: of Shaws, dare say"
Mot so much as the name, sir" said I.
"To think O that" said he. "a
strange nature Of u mGnr Tor all that
he seemed siugularly satisfied, but
whether with himself or me, or with this
conduct OF my father, was more than
could read. Certainly, however, he
seemed to be outGrowing that distaste
or i'll will that he had conceived at first
against my person, for presently he
jumped up, came across the room be-
hind me and hit me n smack upon the
shoulder. "Well agree fne yeti" he
cried. "Tm just as glad let you in.
and now come ava to your bed"
To my surprise, he lit no lamp or
candle, but set forth into the dark pas
sage, groped his way. breathing deeply,
up flight of steps. and paused before a
door, which he unlocked. l was close
upon his heels, having stumbled after
him as best l might; and he bade me go
in, for that was my chamber. did as
he bid, but paused after few steps and
begged light to go to bed with.
"Hoot toot!" said Uncle Ebenezer,
"there's fine MOON"
Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit
mirk." tdark as the pin said l. II can
nae see the bed"
'Hoot toot, hoot tootr' said he.
Lights in a house is thing l dinnae
agree with. I'm unco feared of fires.
Good night TO ye, Davie, my man."
And before had time to add further
protest, he pulled the door to, and
heard him lock me in from the outside.
did not know whether to laugh or
cry. The room was as cold as a we'll
and the bed, when had found my way
to it, as damp as a peat hag; but by
good fortune had caught up my bundle
and my plaid, and rolling myself in the
latter lay down upon the floor under
the lee of the big bedstead and fell
speedily asleep.
With the first peep of day Iopened my
eyes. to find myself in a great bed
chamber, hung with stamped leather,
furnished with fine embroidered furni-
ture and lit by three fair windows. Ten
years ago, or perhaps twenty, it must
have been as pleasant room to lie
down or to awake in as man could