The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1917-01-12
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 For many years, since the lonely { day just after the death of my moth. CT, when my father took me into tile l furthest depths of his sad heart and { told me of his exile from the place ill which, he had been born and about the elder brother who had hated my beautiful mother, who hated all wo' men, had spent much time erecting i in my mind a statue that would be i the semblance of that wicked and cruel uncle I had taken every dis. agreeable feature\ of face and body i that had beheld in another human or in a picture or had read of in the tales 1 of that remarkable MT. Dickens, who person to come when the lights are out to haunt the darkness, and had carefully patched them one upon an- other so as to make them into an ideal of an old uncle of great wickedness. On that very ship itself I had beheld a man, who came upon the lower deck : : from the engine, who had but one eye and a great scar where that other eye should have been placed. Immediate ly my image of the General Robert Carruthers lost one of the wicked eyes ; I had given him from out the head of the stepfather who did so cruelty stare at the poor young David Copperield and became a man with only one eye which still held the malevolence that was hurled at that small David. And with this squat, crooked, evil image | of the General Robert Carruthers in \my heart I alighted from the train into the city of Hayesville, which is the capital of the great American state of Harpeth. The black man had swung himself off with my bags and that of the beautiful Madam Whit worth. who, with me, was the last of the passengers to descend from the steps of the car.
 "My dear Jeffv' exclaimed my so lovely new friend as she raised her veil for very seemly kiss from a tall and quite broad gentleman with very wide hat and long mustachios that dropped far down with want of wax that it is the custom to use for their elevation in France, as I well know from my fathers wrathy re- marks to his valet if he made g too great use of it upon his. And this is General Carruthers' nephew who came down on the train with me. My husband, Mr. Carruthers of Greg and Bye," with which introduction she confronted me with the gentleman.
 Glad to know you, young man; glad to know you,' he answered as he took my hand and gave it an em- brace of such vigor that I almost made outcry. f'There's the general over there looking for you. Come to see us some time. Come on, Patsy!''
 "Goodby, MT. Carruthers. I'll see you soon," said the beautiful Madam Whitworth as she held out her hand to me. ''Do it nowhere comes the gen. eral-Quick, kiss my handv
 I bent and did as she bade me and raised myself she slipped away quick ly after her husband with salutation of great coolness to a person over my shoulder and How do you do, Gen. eral Carruthers?" remark as she went.
 Instantly I turned and faced the ma terialization of the ogre it had taken me years to build up into my wicked uncle. And what did I see?
 My eyes looked straight into eyes of the greatest kindness and wisdom I had, ever before beheld, and it was with difficulty I restrained myself from finging myself and my suit of English tweed straight into the strong arms and burying my head on the broad deep chest that confronted me as the huge old gentleman, with as perfect mop of white hair as is mine of black. rioting over his large head, lowered over me.
 You gallivanting young idiot, where did you pick up that dimity?'' he de- handed of me as he laid a large hand with long, strong fingers on Any shoul- ders and gave me slight shake.
 "I'm your Uncle Robert, sonny, and don't you ever forget that, sir,' he continued and I could see longing for the embrace. which I so desired, In his keen eyes that had softened with a.veil of mist in the last second. Lord. I'm glad you're not a woman! And from now on just stop knowing the creatures exist-Pat Whitworth and her kind. We've got work to do to put out freq fire of dishonor and devastation. Come on to my car over there; we've no time to waste. Drive to the governors mansion and don't sprout grass under your wheels" he commanded the black chauffeur-'the governors mansion, private door on