St. Landry clarion. (Opelousas, La.) 1890-1921, 1893-01-14


down upon my uncle with a mighty an
cry heart. He, on his part, continues
to eat like a man under some pressur
OF time, and to throw out little dartins
glances now at my shoes and now at m,
homespun stockings. Once only, whei
he had ventured to look little higher
4 our eyes met. and no thief taken with
hand in a mans pocket could have
shown more lively signals of distress
This set me in muse whether his timid
lty arose from too long a disuse of any
human company, and whether perhaps
upon little trial, it might pass off an6
my uncle change into an altogether diff
ferent man. From this I was awakened
by his sharp voice.
Your fathers been long dead?" he
asked
Three weeks, sir, said /.
He was a secret man, Alexander
secret, silent man. he continued. ssHe
never said muckle when he was young.
He'll never have spoken muckle OF me.
Il never knew, sir, till you told it me
yourself that he had any brother
Dear me, dear mel" said Ebenezer.
Nor yet of Shaws, dare say"
/ "Not SO much as the name, sir" said /,
"To think o that!'' said he. "A
strange nature Of a manl' For all that
he seemed singularly 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 Ill 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 smack upon the
shoulder. "We'll agree fine yetr' he
cried. Tn just as glad / let you in,
and now come AVA to your bed. y
To my surprise, he lit no lamp or
candle, but set forth into the dark pas
sage, groped his way, breathing deeply.
up fight of steps, and paused before q
door, which he unlocked. / was close
upon his heels, having stumbled after
him as best | might; and he bade me 60
IN, for that was my chamber. did as
he bid, but paused after few steps and
begged light to go to bed with.
.Hoot tootl' said Uncle Ebenezer,
there's fine moon
Neither moon nor star, sir, and pit
mirk, " [dark as the pitt said /. II can
nae see the bed.''
sHoot toot, hoot tootr' said he.
Lights in a house is thing 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 i
heard him lock me in from the outside.
did not know whether to laugh or
cry. The room was as cold as a well
and the bed, when had found my way
to it, as damp as 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 Iepened nv
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 a man could /
wish; but damp, dirt, disuse and the
mice and spiders had done their worst
since then. Many of the window panes
besides were broken, and indeed tnia
was so common feature in that house
that / believe my uncle must at some
time have Stood siege from his indig-
nant neighbors perhaps with Jennet
Clouston at their head.
Meanwhile the sun was shining out
side, and being very cold in that miser-
able room knocked and shouted till
my jailer came and let me out. He
carried me to the back of the house,
where was a draw well, and told me to
wash my face there, # wanted and
when that was done, made the best Of
my own way back to the kitchen, where
be had Lit the fire and was making the
oorridge. The table was laid with two
oowls and two horn spoons, but the
;ame single measure Of small beer. Per-
laps my eye rested on this particular
With some surprise, and perhaps my
lncle observed it: for he spoke up as if
n answer to my thought, asking me If /
would like to drink ale-for SO he called
! told him such was my habit, but not
0 put himself about.
mae, nae" said he; aI'll deny you
othing in reason" He fetched an
ther cup from the shelf, and then, to
~ great surprise, instead of drawing
1ore beer, he poured an accurate half ]
rom one cup to the other There was
kind of nobleness in this that took my |
reath away. If my uncle was certain
miser he was one Of that thorough {
reed that goes near to make the vice {
When we had made an end Of our
zeal my uncle Ebenezar unlocked
rawer, and drew out Of it a clay pipe {
nd lump Of tobacco, from which he 1
ut one fill before he locked it up again q
hen he sat down in the sun at one of /
le windows and silently smeKed. From I
me to time his eyes came coasting round /
, me, and he shot out one of his ques- Y
ons. Once it was, aAnd your mother?. c
nd when had told him that she, too, a
as dead, faye, she was bonnie lassief'
hen after another long pause. .Whae b
ere these friends o yourss' f
I told him they we're different gentle .
zen Of the name Of Campbell; though il
deed there was only one, and that the &
mister, that had ever taken the least "
ote of me. but | began to think my g
ncle made too light Of my position, n
i'd finding myself alone with him did @
It wish him to suppose me helpless. Ii
un4 coarya3 +r. f,1,-,x fI,;c rx,a,. -, Lsc Il