56 FARM ECHOES. 



CHAPTER VII. 

 FAEM HANDS. 



During my summer visits, in former years, to one of 

 onr most charming sea-shore resorts, I became interested 

 in an eccentric and favorite old fisherman, known to all 

 who belonged to, or visited the place, as " Uncle Bill," 

 and I had many long and amusing talks with him. The 

 old fellow would not go to "meetin," because, as he al- 

 leged, they once " talked agin" him there. 



Efforts were made to take the "meetin" to him, and 

 I at times witnessed some funny scenes at his house on 

 Sunday evenings. 



At first there was a sort of battledoor and shuttlecock 

 game, I trying to improve my opportunity, and he cleverly, 

 but not rudely, endeavoring to defeat me in what he well 

 understood to be the object of my visits. In the midst 

 of a serious talk one Sunday evening serious on my side, 

 at least and when I supposed I had the attention of the 

 whole family, especially as he called upon the "gals" to 

 sing a hymn for me, he suddenly exclaimed : "Have you 

 seen the fiddle Len made ? Len, get the fiddle, and let 

 Mr. Starr hear you play it." 



I was an attentive listener for a time to as good music 

 as might be expected from an old cigar box, of which the 

 "fiddle" was constructed, and then started the shuttle- 

 cock in motion again. It was sure to come back to me 



