hair, while his nose, mouth, chin, and other parts of his face 
were highly developed. , 
ith the Pleasing qualities of his actions, his thoughts, 
and moral manners, which caused him to be very cultured, 
gained for him the greatest respect that could be bestowed 
upon a human being of righteousness. Thus, the upright- 
ness of Uncle Joe caused him to be given many nicknames, 
which, being used by various persons of society, he was 
addressed as if he was a priest, a pope, or some Greek god 
being worshipped by the classical Greeks of antiquity. 
Jt€ was a profound musician of singularity; for, as a 
banjo player he was the peer of his time, there not being 
one person who could play the instrument as good as he 
could play it. This being the case he became as celebrated 
or his musical talent as he was for his personal appearance 
and virtues; because, when he played his banjo, and the musi- 
cal intonations began to illuminate space, giving magnificent 
vibrations to the air that surrounded him, the beautiful 
intonations sounded like the heavenly notes of Apollo’s lyre. 
Behold! he is playing now! 
Ping-ting, bing-a-bing, long! 
ong-a-ding, ping, ping-pong! 
Dong-a-ding, pong, ding-a-ling! ‘ 
ong-a-ding, pang-a-bang, dong-ding! 
“Where are you goin , Jim?” 
“To Uncle Joe's!” de 
“For what purpose?” 
“To listen to his banjo!” 
“I am going, too, then—let us go together!” 
And so it was with everybody who knew Uncle Joe. For, 
to see him as he ran his fingers across the strings, bowed 
his head, pat his foot, and now and then smiled, accompanying 
the music with the actions of his body and the emotions of his 
soul, it was a supernatural pleasure to see him in this state 
as well as to hear the musical tones of his banjo. Moreover, 
dear reader, that we have spoken of the happy moments of 
ncle Joe, and his auditors, we are now going to speak of 
something very, very sad, an occurrence that happens every 
minute of the hour, every hour of the day, every day of the 
month, and every month of the year—death! 
July 10th, 1912, at 3 o’clock in the morning, death knocked 
at the door of Uncle Joe. The entire city became a holiday, 
whereupon persons of all classes attended his wake, went to 
is funeral, and lamented the eternal departure of the great 
old man. Hence, that many persons are forgotten when they 
are dead, let us say that Uncle Joe is not forgotten; because, 
every year, when the day comes upon which he died, his 
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