Uncle Jack's Idea

Te Aroha News, Volume VI, Issue 315, 10 November 1888, Page 5

Uncle Jack's Idea

U^cle Jack Dalkymi'Ljs was the best na lured soul in the parish. Hin home wa<^ a trim little hou&o at the end of the village-, the front ot which in summer time, with it; two windows above the door and narrow j porch beneath, and the vines overhanging the roof, looked not unlike the face of an old woman in a green bonnet. TTcre the flowers bloomed, bees hummed, and Dame Xature, as if pleased with her surroundings, seemed to do her best. Uncle Jack's vegetables, pigs, and chickens thrived, and nothing came to mar his enjoy men* until the sad day when his sister Debby, who for many yearo had been his housekeeper, was laid under the turf in the ohiuchyaid. Foi 1 two months Uncle Jack lived alone : but one evening, after thoughtfully smoking his pipe, he jumped up with the sudden exclamation, " I've got an idee !" UaA'ing perfoimed an extra ablution, he donned a clean shirt, combed the thin side locks over tho bald place on the top of his head, put on his (Sunday coat and hat, locked the kitchen door, and started tor the other side of the village. Here had lived Dr. Bell, an old physician, who had retired from practice, and had moved to the city. With him had lived for several years ao housekeeper, Barbara Flemy, woo, on account of a certain infirmity of temper, ! had been nick-named "Barbara Fuvy," and tho name had fitted her so »yell, that many persons who know her were not aware that it was not her real name. "With the exception of this one fault, she was a model in looks, neatness, and 'ndustiy, and was also a most excellent cook. Barbara, who had come to Jook upon tho doctor's, house as her home, sat wondering with mo,ny misgivings on this particular evening, what sort of life she would be likely to lead in the next town, at her sister's house, where the rooms and accommodations were small, and the children numerous. Hearing a rap, she oponod the door and found Uncle Jack. " Good-evening, Miss Fury." " My name is Fleury," she lesponded in icy tones. " Why, so it> is," said Uncle Jack, rather shaken, but smiling blandty. " It's quito a nico evening, thib evoning, Miss Fleury," "It will do," she said coolly, standing to hear his business, and nob inviting him to t-it down. " I was ieelin'," he said with a little hesitation, "sort of lonely and thinkin' you might be feeljn' the same, I thought maybe you'd think it no harm for me to offer you a little of my company." The possibilities of tho situation struck Barbara at once, and its superiority to anything elte that was likely to ofFer was equally clear, and in a moment she had decided in the affirmative. " Take a chair and sib down," she said, in a tone greatly mollified. " Don't care if I do," replied Uncle Jaok. " The truth is, Barbara," he said, bolting into the subject which he had previously thought might take him an hour or two to arrive at, " I was thinking if you was willin' we might a? well join hearts and hands, and let one roof cover us. I'vo a comfortable home as you know, I'vo a pcta full of as pretty pigs as you'd see in a day's •> ride. I've been lucky with my chickens — " |

" And I expect they scratch and make more dirt than pays for their kecpin'," she saiU. " Well, if you come and fcako charge yon can do as you like with them. Sister Debby always got tho chicken money, and I s'pose I'll not be less generous to my wife, ha ! ha ! ha !" "I'mable tokeep myeelf, and need be no man's wife to get a livin', even if I nover do another stroke of work," she said tartly. "Of course, ol course," said Uncle Jack; "I meant no reflections, but i r I take a wife I keep and pay for her, and if she has money, of her own, she can buiy it in a vault, give it to the heathen, or buy a silver mine ; it's all one to me. I only thought as I couldn't get along alone, maj'be I'd take a partner, and concluded to give you the first chance. Now what do you say ?" " 1 ain't used to makin' up my mind in a minute and like to turn things round a little before I make a bargain. I won't say no, and I won't say yes, to-night, but if you make up your mind to-morrow, and come around about this time* you'll get your answer." Uncle Jack took this as a dismissal for tho present, and with a smiling good-night departed, rather encouraged than depressed, for, thought he, " if sho dicl&iot think well of it she'd have said no and done with it at once." Uncle Jack was as punctual as the clock the next night at the appointed place, and after having the subject shifted from ont side to the other, his Dulcinea finally crave in by saying, " She supposed she might as well make up her mind to it ; livin' with him wouldn't likely be much worse than with some others she knew of." "I suppose, Barbara, you wouldn't be willin' to go <to church to-morrow ?" "No !" she replied, With a perceptible sniff. " I'm not in such a hurry as that to make a fool of myself." "How about next day, then ?" he asked anxiously. "This time next week and no sooner. I don't see what started you on this track at your time of life." Uncle Jack smoothed down his beard. " There were several things seemed to combine. First there was the blossoms all comin' out at once, and somehow or other they always make me think of brides and grooms and weddings. Then the robins are buildin' nests by the hundreds, you might say, but I don't know but I got the first idea from Shakespeare.'' "Jacke Spear ! And what business is it of Jacke Spear, whether you get married or not ? If there is anything in this world that I hate it's a man that don't know his own mind, and is afraid even to sneeze without he gets leave." " Shakespeare isn't a man," mildly replied Uncle Jack; "or I suppose he is too, either a man or a woman, I ain't quite sure which it is ; but Shakespeare wiit a book I've been readin' lately, and there was one piece that struck me, called — called " — he was about to say, "The Taming of the Shrew," — "called — well, it was a kind of story of a man who wanted a wife, and was determined to have her, and he got her and she turned out first-class. His name was Peter something, and hers was Katherine. Then there Avas another fellow, and when he got married they called him ' Benedick the married man,' and that's what I'll be next week, by your leave, my dear, ha !ha !" "For a man to want to be called a Benny or Dick, when his name is Jack, is silly, and I'll give you fair warning you needn't expect any s>uch nonsense from me." " Just as you please," j eturned Jack serenely. "As Shakspeare says, ' A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.' But tell me what I shall do to the house ; inside I mean." " Nothing at all," said Barbara. "I will have no old women gossips prying around. It's not likely to be clean, but there'll not be diib enough to choke me before I can get it put to rights." "It's not so bad aa you may think," said Uncle Jack. "Debby kept it spickspan clean, and I've tried not to leb it get much behind. Bub you shall do what you like about it/ Uncle Jack took his leave. Pie met at his own gate his nearest neighbour, Joshua Wilson, who often came in to take a smoke with him. "Walk right in, Joshua," he said blithely; "I'm glad ot your company." Uncle Jack lighted the lamp, and Joshua, struck with his holiday attire, asked if he'd been to a funeral Uncle Jack roared. "If youd said a weddin' you'd been nearer the mark. The truth is, Josh, If you wait till this day week you'll find me settled down with a wife." *' That's star blin\ " said Joshua. "I was thinkin' if you was going to keep chickens you'd need'to get married. But who's the lucky woman ?" " Barbara Fury. " ' ' Bab Fury! What man, are you crazy? That cantankerous old sarpint?" "Hold on," said Uncle Jack, " I don't allow bo have my wife called names if I can help it." "Now, Uncle Jack, you know you've no better friend in this world than me. and I wouldn't be doing my duty if I didn't speak discouraging of such a team as that. " You might as well yoke together a lamb and a tiger, for you know as well as I what she is tor temper. ' " Yes,' I know ; but I've an idee that we're going to suit, that is, after we get used to one another." " I enjoy," said Joshua, " a goo:l smart shower in summer time, it fieshens the earth the and clears the air. I get that at home from my wife. It comes hop and heavy, but it's' soon over; while a logular cold north-easterly drizzle that gives you crawls up your "back, that's too warm for a ! fii'e and too cold without one, I hate, and if ' there's anything that will wear the life out of a man, it's an eternal scold. Think well, Uncle Jack, and bo thankful for a little warnin'." " I'm not easy scared, Joshua ; come and see me this day three months, and we'll compare notes." Joshua Wilson was not the only one in the village thunderstruck at Uncle Jack's choice. He had calls and friendly warnings by the dozen, but to all he returned the same answer, " that he expected to abide by his choice." The wedding came off at the time appointed. Barbara was escorted into the house by the front door in Jack's best manner. "Welcome home, my dear,' he said, giving her a rousing kiss, to which she rejoined, " Don't be a fool, Jack, but tell me where to lay off my bonnet." " Look at this first," said Jack, opening the dooi oi the little parlour and pointing to an iced cake which stood upon the table. He had •rdered it from fe&e city, awd the two doves billing on top had been his own suggestion. "It was baked in tho city. What do you think of it?" 'Then you may know it is only fit/ for tl.o nigs, made of stale eggs and 'strong, butt or, 'and she walked upstairs to t»ke dff her things. Uncle Jack's eyes 'twinkled. "Not fit to eat, only good for pigs," he repeated ; " well, here goes !" and raising up the cake he marched with it out to the trig-pen, and tossed it over to the ipigs. Then he brought iv the plate, placed it on the table, and sat down to read his newspaper. Barbara evidently found matters upstairs more to her mind than she had expected. There were piles of soft blankets, and bedding of the bost, while everything wns as clean as a new pin. Seeing the plate she asked, " What did you do with the cake V" "Gave ib to the pigs, and they really soemed to like it," he said in his usual tone. " Can't you give a civil reply to a civil question V" she said tartly. " Why, my dear, you said tho cake was only fit for pigs, and as I don't propose to feed you on any but the best of food, I took it right out to them," "Jack Dalrymple ! you're enough bo provoke a saint !" an I she flonnuui into tho kitchen, v.'h' io she found tho kettle s inu'inu' away and the tables-pi cad ■ lor bupucr. _ " It's c-nc ot tyro things." she |

admitted to herself, "either Jack i* a fool or 1 have sot my match." So the aaya ( wore on. Jack always assenting to Barbara's propositions, however absurd, which often 1 caused, considerable damage and derang^ ment ; bub Uncle Jack never losb his temper though he was often the greatest sufferer through her whims. One afternoon she had been chasing the chickens from her flower-beds, and as UncTe Jack headed them off, ho remarkdfi, "Them's fine chickens, Barbara." " B?nc chickens indeed ! I wish everyone of them had their necks twirled," and in a rage ske dashed into the house. " Hum I" &aid Uncle J ack. Into the coop he went and ere long nearly a dozen hens lay in a row outsider " Would you like me to help you to pick! them ?" he a&ked innocently, putting his head in at the kitchen door. " Talk sense and I'll answer," sho replied snappishly. " I thought," he said mildly, " tho chickens had belter be gob ready 10-nighb, if they was to go to the market in the morning." 15 What chickens? Jack Dalrymple what do you mean ? You never have none and killed all my chickens V Opening the door, and seeing the row of headless iowls lying in full smht f-he sat down and cried. "Vv hy, Bavby," paid Jack a little move scared than lie cured te show. "Did you ever a.«k me to do anything bhat 1 did not humour you iv if jP i could? I hated awfully to kill them, but you said you wished their necks wei*a twirled, and a.s they were your?, ! did as you wished." " The finest chicken* I ever saw,,"' moaned Barbara, and laying eggs &o abe.idijy too, I'<l rati.er they'd scratched up every^ green thing in the garden than to lose* them." But without taying more &he went, out with Jack to pick the chickens. Barbai*a's face was still very giave, as the tfcood looking tit the chickens, icndy droned for I market, lying on thckitd.cn table. "Do, you know, Barby," asked Jack, his eyes twinkling, "what is the reason these chickens will have no hereafter ?" No, said she, shortly. " Because they have had | their necks twirled (next world)"in this, ha : <ha ! ha I" But no smiles appeared on' Barby's face. Uncle Jack harnessed up the little* waggon next morning and went off to market and returned by noon. He brought with him, tied in pairs, a dozen chickens o^ i the choicest breed he could find, and placing them in the coop he threw them some corn and went into the house. The subdued look was still on Barbara's face, making Jack mentally exclaim, " Sho hasn't got over it yet." He handed hey some silver. " There's your markeb money, Barby," and went to hang up his coat. " Come with me," he said, taking her by the hand, and leading her oub bo bhe coop. " Now 1 want you to take all the pleasure you can in these. I'll build you a chickenyard and fence it off so you* will have no, trouble." She glanced at them and then! at him. Her lip quivered. " You are bebter to me, Jack, than I am to you." " Nob a bit of it," he replied, putting his arm around her and kissing her. "I am well satisfied with my part of the bargain. 1 had an idee, and I carried it oub, and aa T said before, I am satisfied." As they sab together after tea, Barbara said, "You are always talking, Jack,' about your idee ; what do you mean by if/?" He gave her a curious look. " I'm afraid you wouldn't like to hear it." "I'll take the risk, for I know it is something lam mi\-cd up in, isn't it ?" " Well, as you promi>c nob to mind, I'll let it out. You see I w anted a wife, and as I looked around, I thought of you. Now I'd heard that you v a-u'b easy to get along with," stammered Unc'c .lack, feeling as if he was about putting a lighted match to a bomb-shell. "Go on, Jack, ' she said, composedly. " I know worse bhings aboub myself bhan you can bell me."' "I had an idea," he continued, "that) maybe the reason you wasn't always—, alvay^ — easy-like in your mind, and maybe a litt 1c i ougb," striving for as soft a word as po-sible, "because obher folks have been ciohvgraincd bo you, so bhinks T, if Barbara is Ueaterl light she will come round ; the, good i? all in her ju&b waitin' to be drawed! ouli. and so I've found it." "I have always heard that Jack Dalrymple was a frienfd to cveiybody, and thab everybody was friendly to him ; bub I never knew how godd you u ere until I had a trial of you ; and ; l want to pay onco for all, that I'm going th be as good a wife bo you as 1 know how, and if old /Adam ciops oub now and then, as^of, couipe it will, just shut your eyes, as you've done all along, and shame me out of it. And if there's anything you would like me to do, that will give you pleasure, just leb me ki'ow. ' "There is one thing 1 would hi. o, it yon would agiee to it."' &aid Uncle Jack. " AVe've have been married now about three months, and I'd like to give a tea-party — just a few of the nearest neighbour to supper ; and I would like if you'd be iusta« plctihant to Joi.-h.ua Wilson as you can.'' "He nevei liked me, 1 know,'" she 3uid. " Thab was because he never knew yon." "-" '* " ■ Bavbiua's arrangements for that party outdid Uncle Jack's iondesl expectations. Such cakes, roa-L chicken, npplcs and cream, and other delicacies had never been seen in that houte before. Jo&hua Wilson was \va^- placed at bhe right hand of the hostess and teceived special attention, which so astonished him that he could scarcely eat for wondeiing ; and ha gazed at Uncle Jack in such a dazed .sorb of w.iy, thab the hostcould har>Uy keep his mirth from exploding. As he bade Them jrood-night, he said, " YYnat. was bhat you called her, Josh? 'Canfciinkeiou'* old fearpint,' wasn't it?' 1 " Hold on, Uncle Jack, I'll surrender !"' For the h'vsl time I can wish you j0,y.0f.-your~ wife with all my heart. Such a change makes me feel a>s if the millennium might have begun to dawn." — The Daiby Family Slory Paper.

Packing Bltteii to Kjvli 1 . — Speaking from actual experience, the late X^^^ YVillavd seated at a meeting of the Verd^^H Dairymen 'b Association that good bi^^^H pul up afte~ the following dirccbionsj^^^H keep in sound condition for one y^^^| Use for a package a tub somewhat tapc^^^| with heavy staves and heads providec^^H both ends, so as to make a package t^^H will nob leak. In packing- the tub is tun^H on the small end, and a sack of cotton ck^H if, made to fit the tub, and into this tfflQ| butter is packed until it reaches within an^"~ inch of the groove for holding the upper head. A cloth is next laid upon the top of the butter, and the edges of the sack brought over this and neatly pressed down ; then tho head is pub in its place and the hoops driven homo. The package is turned upon the larger end and the back of butter drops down, leaving a space on the sides and top. Strong brine is then poured through a hole in the small end until it will float the butter. The hole is now tightly , corked and the butter is protty effectually excluded from the ah.

Nest Materials tor Pigeons. — Pigeona in a state of nature choose coarse material foi* building their nests, and our domestic pigeons when opportunity offers follow these same instincts, choosing in place of-*-fine hay and straw coarse twigs, pieces of rag and shavings, and in some of our ex- ,> changes we have read of a pair of birds that constructed their nest almost entirely of large wiro nails picked up somewhere in the neighbourhood of tlioiv home. * '; i ;