Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1896-08-13
Written for the Beacon.)
Uncle Sans Young Life.

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"Uncle Sam, you have been prom
ising rs for the last two or thre
weeks to relate to us some of tn
tricks you and Pa used to play whe,
you were boys"
"Well, children, you will worrr
out my life if l don't crafty you
curiosity. IL you do not conquol
that dominant fault and not be ss
womanish I will have to shun you
IprattIers, as You remind me of the
weaker sex, and you have heard
Your Ma and Pa say old bachelors
allHof WeMeE Z may Be because
they have been duped by them"
eyes, uncle, l have heard Pa saw
that You were disappointed in love
and that you would never marry;
but, uncle. Pa got married to Ma
and they are not disappointed, be-
cause if they were they would know
how badly one feels when disap-
pointed. and they would not prom
lse us ride, a pound OF candy or
something else that we crave very
badly, and when the time rolls
round not let us have it,"
"l am glad" speaks up John,
"that you were disappointed, be-
cause you always bring me candy
when you say so, and that is the
reason, is it not, Uncle Sam 90
eyes, Johnnie, suppose 80, but
you prate 80 much and about things
beyond your comprehension that if
you do not stop asking questions
your Uranium will burst with full.
ness."
'Please don't, Uncle SAM" says
Annie, "answer johnnie any more
questions, but tell us the story"
"Now, children, before begin
you must promise not to disturb
me with your questions, or inter-
rupt me in any way, or otherwise / |
will stop then and there"
"We promise, Uncle" they all |
said in chorus.
3" Johnnie" Annie addressing
him, says, "You had better put a
plaster over your mouth or we will
not have the pleasure of hearing Un-
Sans boyhood days told to us by
him, and you know you enjoy hear
ing talk as much as any Of u.s."
81 will begin my narrative by
telling you that | was a very, very
bad boy, and that l gave my par
'nts and your father, who is four
years older than l, lots of trouble
Is well as the dumb animals on the
place. Indeed, l had a notorious
name, and though l was bad, vet |
had to bear the blame Of lots of
'hings that | never committed, and
got floggings often for things your
'ather did, but protest as much as
may they would not believe me
innocent, so l arrived at the con-
'lusion that l might just as we'll be
BAD as good as got the punish
nents whether / committed the act
'r not. Indeed, sometimes |
hought it was better to be bad. be-
'suse then, if | got a thrashing, l had !
had the pleasure of laughing when ,
played the trick.
whenever l got the licking your ,
ather deserved, / would lay plans
o get William thrashing, for if l did ,
lot, he would tease me about being t,
'hipped, and that was very CALLING ,
o my young shoulders, when / I,
new had received his merited re- ,
'ard. Well, not long after / had
eceived a genteel thrashing. (that 4.
what my father used to call them. !
ut Ltell you, boys, l always pro- !
nsted against him calling those 7
hrashings genteel, and it seemed ,
D me that they were anything but
entle,) for a trick that William, =
our Pa, had played on an old ne !,
70, whose sense of smell had be. !,
'me impaired by age, by giving ;
i'm glass Of vinegar to drink in ;,
'ead of the liquor my father had :
repaired for him. The poor old =.
ian coughed and coughed, and .
'ars ran down his cheeks as big as :. :
eas, and perspiration broke out all
Ter his body. He would not have :,
'oked warmer il he had been fight =,
Ig yellow jackets for an hour. =
lough it was freezing cold. When
ather saw the old man in such dis
ess he looked at me, and his eyes :. :
;pressed plainly, as could his g