The St. Mary banner. (Franklin, Parish of St. Mary, La.) 1889-1931, 1907-12-21

Elder ne was 70 me SICHii ~
memory he was ever a tall, gray nan
gray top to toe, gray haired, gray
bearded, gray as to clothes, which
were usually Of the old fashioned
pepper and salt variety, and even as
TO boots, gray also, except on a Sun
day.
He had once been poor, and the
ample fortune acquired, Western fash
ion, in land and mortgages had come
so gradually, and was so hardly won
wthal, it had altered nothing in my
Uncle Elder, who, as director in no
less than three banks and a dozen
stock companies, more or less, was
Of the same shrewd, frugal, hard
headed character as in the early days
His language, too, was still the plain
homespun English of his pioneer sire,
dyed originally a rich butternut, but
somewhat faded now by long expos
ure to the Western sun, and other
wise mellowed in tone BY the assid-
nous attentions Of his daughter
Mlly, Vassar girl. Now, Uncle
Elder was a man Of few words, and
the task which my cousin Milly had
set herself may seem a light one.
But no, Those precious syllables
were the product of such inward
stress-it took. as it We're. such an
avalanche of feeling, or, on the other
hand, and more frequently, such long
and careful mental debate and DELHI
Grafton. that when his words did
come, they were inevitable. They
were not idle words. The: We're the
pith of the matter, and not 10 be held
back save by the very root Of it
which, as l have observed, is not in
frequently ungrammatical.
| was rather afraid OF my Uncle
Elder Physically tall, mentally adj
amant, religiously Methodist, and a
deacon at that, l held myself stifly
in his presence in my youngest days,
and in all my skylarking kept an eye
On the horizon. He was not apt to
take me by surprise, however, his
height and long stride usually cefin-
ing him at safe distance, especially
in summer, when he wore buster.
H'lo, SON. he would say.
lilo, Uncle Elder"
1t was a wonderful day when We
grew more familiar than that. | can
tell You; and when l add that he was
TAR more likely to add a dime than a
word to such salutations, l did not
imply any marked haency in silvery
speech. A dime, believe, was worth
twenty cents to my Uncle Elder.
But when / grew up, when the
high school was over, that blessed
old fellow went down into the long
deep pockets of his pepper and salts
and fished up a college education
He had no son and | looked like my
father. So when college was over
ii was to Uncle Elder that l outlined
my plans and confided my dreams
was not afraid of him any longer
and besides, the dreams were So
beautiful.
Uncle Elder" said I, "since you
ask me, I'll tell you fatty I've found
my vocation"
That's good" said he. Spit ii
out, Sammy"
Now you may not appr0-a
but
What difference that make?'
asked my Uncle Elder.
Well, of course" said I, I'D lik'
to please you, and l know / owe yol
more than l probably ever can repa,
in dollars. / mean
u, Money talks, Samuel
Il know it," said I, "and that
what troubles me-
Never asked you to pay a cen
back, my son, did L."
mo, that's true, Uncle Elder
t We'll. then" said he, whats tn
use Of worryin'? All l ask is tina
You sha' make fool Of yourself
And l won't, Uncle Elder.
promise You that. III make yo1
proud Of me. or, by George, Ill"
Il was we'll, on the whole, as
look backward, that l had the gump
ton to stop right there. There is
certain satisfaction in knowing no,
that did not commit myself.
Ny Uncle Elder lighted cigar
We'll, now. Sammy" said ht
whats that there plan You was {
talkin' of2''
Uncle Elder" said 7. slipping t
the edge Of my chair, and then pau:
ing in my speech. to consider ho'
best | might introduce the matter
.Cncle Elder, w. got q nlan thar
not, believe. il Al. sense co.a2no,
place or hacl.neyed. I'm sure 70
will admit that. I'm sure of it. Ii
as positive Of il rs am tia. your
smoking
Well" said my uncle amiabi,
knocking the ashes from his cisa
there seems 10 be pretty fair groun