Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-07-29

well known all over Americs ~
Europe. For years she was u.r.,s-,
companioned by her father, cr,Itcs. !
and all. Charlie IL a successful orch,
tect, with lovely French wife 49,.
two babies. It was beautiful to ~.
Uncle Charles with his grandcb,,drsr
Bobby would certainly have ,on.
straight to the dogs IL he had No.
had the most inspired handling .t n.
fathers hands. He was wild, temper.
mental, unreasonable. warm. .heart.a
hot tempered boy, who could not "a,
on an instant with his mother. H..
Uncle Charles held to him tbrou..
everything, madeN man Of him at la,
for he Is noted field worker for ~,
New York National History Museum
THIS story sounds As though Il we,o
L petering out, doesn't 1t, and =.
though this was about all there wo. %
1t. But there is something else, some.
thing never told any one but fatbe,
It was the great shadowy secret Of m,
childhood, something father and I knew
and nobody else. But now that Uncl.
Charles and Aunt Emily are gone.
can tell It.
This is what happened. When 7
was nine years old (about three year,
after Uncle Charles accident) I han.
pened to stay at their house overnight.
I had a bad dream, out Of which I
woke up with a start, and unable to
get to sleep afterward, 1 got out Of
bed and wandered to the window to
look out into the moonlight. And, there
in front of the house, walking round the
garden paths, what do You suppose I
saw? You will never guess. saw nv
Uncle Charles, walking nimbly and
briskly without his crutches,
l went home the next morning n,
a maze Of bewilderment and climbed M
to my fathers attic study. Speaking
all in an excited hurry, told him
what had seen. His Arst impression
was one Of utter amasement, "Your
Uncle Charles walking without bi.
crutches !"
And he fell into a long, thoushtful
brooding silence, looking over my head
and not listening to my rush Of e..
clamations. Finally he glanced down
at me, with strange, anxious look
and with voice Of deep earnestness
such as I had never heard addressed
to me before, as though something Of
terrible Importance depended upon me.
he said urgently:
"See here, my darling, you must
never, never. never tell anybody else
what you have seen. Promise me you
will never speak Of It again, not even to
me. Just put It right out Of your
mind, as II you had not seen 1t. Lift
your hand and PROMISE"
As soon as could recover from nv
awe at the solemnity of his look,
lifted by hand and promised, and a
silence fell between us.
Then I said, Father, please want
to ask just one thing. If Uncle Charles
doesn't need his crutches--" But got
no further.
Doesn't need his crutches-whst ar,
you talking about" exclaimed my
father, ''he needs crutches! What In
the world makes you think he doesn't
need his crutches2 He couldn't geI
alopg a minute without them"
I stared at him, beside myself with
astonishment. My father went on
They are his only defense against thu
"Ths Inquisition," I faltered
Westward Ho" in my mind, wv,
haven't any Inquisition in America"
"Oh, yes. we have" said my father
struggled up through the over
whelming food of my bewilderment
till could get breath enough to speak
and protested. but Father the only
Inquisition l ever heard Of is-yol
know, that thing that tortures people
because they don't conform to the 70.
ligion of the particular country thsyrt
In"
"wer, that is the kind we have In
America, all right" said my father,
"and II It weren't for your Uncle
q Charles crutches. 1t would seize rish,
r on him and torture all his family, In.
e cluding Aunt Emily
' II don't understand a word OF what
you're saying, II cried out des.
e perately."
e "Well, maybe you will. some time,
Il answered my father.
: Copyright. 1898. by United Feature Ss~dieat,
:, Ali rights ressived. Reproduction 6roAsbissa