Filling his mouth with an enormous quid of tobacco, he commenced: "Better than four years ago Linwood smashed up, smack and clean; lost everything he had, and the rest had to be sold at vandue.

But what was worse than all, seein' he was a fine feller in the main, and I guess didn't mean to fail, he took sick, and in about a month died." "And what became of his widow and orphan ?" asked St.Leon eagerly.
"Why, it wasn't nateral," said Uncle Israel, "that they should keep the same company they did before, and they's too plaguy stuck up to keep any other; so they moved out of town and supported themselves by takin' in sewin' or ironin', I forgot which." "But where are they now ?" asked St.Leon.
Uncle Israel looked at him for a moment, and then replied, "The Lord knows, I suppose, but Israel don't." "Did they suffer at all ?" asked St.Leon.
"Not as long as I stuck to them, but they sarved me real mean," answered Uncle Israel.
"In what way ?" "Why, you see," said Uncle Israel, "I don't know why, but somehow I never thought of matrimony till I got a glimpse of Ada at her father's vandue.

To be sure, I'd seen her before, but then she was mighty big feelin', and I couldn't ha' touched her with a hoe-handle, but now 'twas different.

I bought their house.

I was rich and they was poor." Involuntarily St.Leon clinched his fist, as Uncle Israel continued: "I seen to getting them a place in the country and then tended to 'em generally for more than six months, when I one day hinted to Mrs.
Linwood that I would like to be her son-in-law.