Year: 1877

The following is a true story
which has never been published,
and too good a one to lose. Many
of the older citizens of Memphis
remember Uncle Epp and his pc
culiar eccentricities. / have often
heard my father, who was a favor
ite nephew Of the old gent, tell the
Joke in manner that would make
the tears roll down your cheeks;
and though / cannot repeat it with
all his native energy and warmth
of style, l will tell it as remember
it:


Uncle Ephriam White, or Uncle
Epp, as he was known by all, was
an eccentric genius in his day-a
fat, jolly old cuss, and | never knew
any one so kneenly alive to u joke
as be was, even though it was at his
own expense. TO tell good story
Of the joke kind, and to tell it well,
was the surest way to ingratiate
yourself into his faver. He seemed
to live only for joking, and the
older and fatter he grew the more
he became addicted to the habit.
Whether people grow fat by joking
or whether there is something in
fat itself which predisposes to a
joke, have never been able to de-
termine, but certain it is that a
lean joker is a rara avis in terris.
Though Uncle Epp inherited all
the pride and blue blood of the
Whites, he had a weak point, which
was a non-inherited fondpess for
the cover stimulant." The family
were all remarkable for their fine
physique, but Uncle Epp was a man
of prodigious dimensions, and pos
scssed more than his share. His
legs and feet were his pets, and the
latter especially spoke we'll for the
family foundation. They were
whoppers, and at a distance looked
very much like black painted canoes
on dry land. One Of his eccentric
tiles was a hatred for peddlers, and
for that class Of professional bores
he had perfect disgust. He al
ways wanted to ''go through" every
one he met.


On a hot, sultry day, in the sum-
mer Of 1916, he was returning from
sale near Memphis, where, among
other things, he had purchased a
lot of old iron trinkets compare
lively worthless. There was a
small brass pistol, without lock or
trigger, among them, however,
which he put in his pocket with the
intention of carrying it home to a
little adopted boy. After the sale
a keg of old apple juice was open
ed, and all the purchasers were
treated. Uncle Epp imbibed most
too freely Of the elixir.
He hadn't proceeded far on
the dusty road homeward
before he espied o peddler's
wagon tugging peacefully along,
and Immediately he began to devise
plan " to devil the darned critter."
An idea soon struck him, and it
was so awful funny that he couldn't
retain his equilibrium on the back
of his equm, but go off and lay
down on his back rather abruptly
and laughed over it forhalf an hour.
Then taking the brass pistol out of
his pocket he gouged the dirt ont of
the muzzle to makeitloOk likeithad
hole in it, then holding it in his
hand so as to conceal the absence
of lock and trigger, he galloped toe
ward the peddler and refining up his
horse by the side OF the wagon, he
pulled his hat down over his eyes,
showed the froWning black mouth
Of the pistol toward the frightened
peddleP's nose, and beloved out in a
voice of thunder, Haiti" Of
course the pedlar halted. 81 am
Eph, the pedlder slayerl Now you
old wamble-cropped, lantern-j -jawed
fiea-skinner, if you don't git out Of


that waggin in a hurry and dance


me Highland jig I'll fling an


ounce Of lead right down your tar


nal mouth" The fellow began to


beg aud demonstrate. "Git out,
git out, you old pop-gun weazle, OF