The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1913-06-09

nephew, I'm not going to any poor
house. I'm eighty-nine today, and
when a mans eighty-nine he's sup
posed to be dead, and I've got twenty
thousand dollars due me this morning
I'm expecting a letter any minute
We'll. you could have knocked me
down with feather. But this is what
had happened. 1t was that old ton
tine. It seems that sixty years before
Uncle John and ten other young men
had each put five hundred dollars into
what they called tontine, which
meant that the one that lived the long
est of them all got the whole OF the
money with the accumulated interest
on his eighty-ninth birthday. If none
Of them lived so long, then it went to
the heirs of the one that lived longest.
And Uncle John was the last Of them
and being supposed to be dead, by life
insurance rules, at eighty-nine, there
was twenty thousand coming to him.
And sure enough it came that
morning. And do you know, he acted
in the queerest way. He forgot all
about our kindness to him and wanted
to go of and enjoy himself. Well. we
couldn't let an old man that age go in.
to the hard world with all that money
to squander. He gave in at last, but
he wouldn't let Silas put his money
in the bank for him, nor he wouldn't
buy q share in the farm neither.
"'No, Maria he said, chuckling
I'll stay since you seem so fond OF
me. But it's cold in the attic and my
old bones are chilly
"'Then why don't you say so" / an
severed. Wed have put you in the
best room, only Silas was waiting to
have it painted
HE chuckled in the most malicious
way, which, seeing all we had done for
him, was at least cruel. But those old
men don't have the same human
sympathies as US younger folks.
We'll, after that Uncle John stayed
on with US, and of course we couldn't
let an old man like that do any work.
He just mooned about the farm, smok'
ing his pipe and eating his head off.
and seeming to grow younger every
day. Took dislike to Mary, too. I'd
thought of getting rid Of her, but
Uncle John wouldn't hear of that
Keep her, the good-for-nothing wench,'
he said. I'll make her work And
he used to give her tongue flashing
every morning and talk to her about
her duties to her benefactors which
almost brought tears of joy to Silas's
eyes and mine. But Mary didn't seem
to care.
"Once, when she'd gone over to
Long Falls to do some marketing for
me and wasn't back in time, Uncle
John got so mad with her he wouldn't
be satisfied till Silas let him take the
buggy and drive in after her. They
came back about eight in the evening,
and if you'd heard the language he
was using to her when they got out Of
the cart it would have warmed your
heart. And the hussy was laughing!
Didn't care a bit-just laughed!
However, Silas got him to make
his will a month before he died, and
he left everything to me, and Silas got
it in black and white and took it in
to his lawyer. We thought we had
done our duty then, and SO we just
folded our hands and waited.
well, Mrs. Tompkins, the end came
very sudden. ApopleXy, the doctor
said. And would you belive it, the
old rake had made a second will the
day after he gave his first to Silas,
and in 1t he left us ninety.two dollars
apiece for board and lodging and COM
forts, and the rest went to my dear
wife, Mary Callaghan Smith, They'd
got married that day at Long Falls.
Yes, Mrs. Tompkins. the deceitful.
ness Of some old men is past reckon.
ing, and the only charitable thing to
do is to forget about it. Besides, Mrs.
Smith has the mortgage on our farm,
SO don't let her know that was
speaking of about her."
Copyright, 1918. by w. G. Chapman.)