Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1896-04-02

COat anu my eye UroVeleu up Ine lrdyeo
collar.
Every penny" said the man with the
glass eye, and caught the active pupi!
looking at me with a touch of offense.
"Tve never had any windfalls like
that" said, trying to speak obviously
and propitiate him.
"Even legacy isn't always bless
Ing" he remarked with sigh, and with
an air of philosophical resignation he
put the red nose and the wiry mustache
Into his tankard for space.
perhaps not" I said.
"He was an author, you see, and he
wrote a lot of books"
Indeed"
''That was the trouble of 1t ALL" He
stared at me with the available eye to
see if grasped his statement, and then
averted his face little and produced a
toothpick.
you see," he said, smacl1ing his lips
after pause. 1T was like this. He was
my uncle-my maternal uncle. And he
had-what shall call TIA weakness
for writing edifying literature. Weak
ness is hardly the word-downright
mania is nearer the mark. Had been
librarian in Polytechnic. And as
soon as the money came to him he be.
gan to indulge his ambition. It's n
simply extraordinary and incompre-
hensible thing to me. Here was man
OF 81 suddenly dropped into perfect
pile of gold, and he didn't go-not q
days bust on it! One would think n
chap would go and get himself dressed
a bit decent-say a couple of dozen
pairs of trousers, at west end tailor's,
hut he never did. You'd hardly believe
1t, but when he died, he hadn't even a
gold watch. It seems wrong for peo-
pie like that to have money. All he
did was just to take a house, and order
IN pretty nearly five tons Of books and
ink and paper, and set to writing edi-
flying literature as hard as ever he could
write. I can't understand it! But he
did.
"The money came to him curiously
enough through q maternal uncle of his.
unexpected like, when he was five and
twenty. My mother, it happened, was his
only relation in oil the wide, wide world.
except some second cousins of his. And
was her only son. You follow all that?
The second cousins had only one son,
too, but they brought him up to see
the old man too soon. He was rather
spoilt youngster, was this son Of
theirs, and directly he set eyes on
my uncle, he began bawling out as hard
as he could: Take i'm away-er', he
says, Take i'm away and he did for
himself entirely. 1t was pretty straight
sailing, you'd think, for me, eigh? And
my mother, being a sensible, careful
woman, settled the business in her own
mind long before he did.
'He was curious little chap, was my
uncle as 1 remembered him. l dou't
wonder at the kid being scared. Hair,
Just like these japanese dolls they sell,
black and straight and stiff all round
the brim and none in the middle, and
below whitish kind of face and rather
large, dark gray eyes moving about be-
hind his spectacles. He used to attach
great deal of Importance to dress, and
always wore a Tapping overcoat and q
big brimmer felt hat of most extraor-
binary size. He looked 4 rummy little
beggar, I can tel! you. Indoors it
was, as a rule, dirty red flannel dress
ing gown and black skull cap he had
That black skull cap made him look like
the portraits of ali kinds of celebrated
people. He was always moving about
from house to house, was my uncle
with his chair, which had belonged to
Savage Landor, and his two writing
tables, one of Carlyle's and the other OF
Shelley's, so the dealer told him, and the
completest portable reference library
in England, he said he had-and he
lugged the whole caravan, now
to house at Down, near Oar
wins old place, then to Reigate, neal
Memedith, then off to Hazlemera-
that's where the ozone grows - Their
back to Chelsea for bit, and then VI
TO Hampstead. He knew there was
something wrong with his stuff, but he
never knew there was anything wrong
with his brains. 1t was always the all
or the water or the altitude or som
tommy rot like that. so much de
ponds on environment he used to say
and stared at me hard, as if he half sus
pected you were hiding a grin at hin
somewhere under your face. so mucl
depends on environment to a sensltiv
mind like mine
what was his name? You wouldn'
know If told you. He wrote nothin,
that anyone has ever read-nothine
No one could read it. He wanted t
be q great teacher, he said, and he didn'
know what he wanted to teach an
more than child. So he just blethere
atlarge about Truth and Righteousness
and the Spirit of History and all thai
Book after book he wrote and publishe-
ut his own expense. He wasn't quit
right in his head, you know, really. An
10 hear him go on at the critics-not %
cause they slated him, mind you'll
liked that but because they didu
take any notice of him att all. What d
the nations want?' he would ask, hol,
ing out his brown old claw. 'Wn
tcaching- guidance! They are sea