his hat set rather knowingly upon his grizzled
wool. He was, in fact, rather a flirtatious old party, and was counted a
great wit, and was full of a shrewd humour as well as of grandiloquent
compliment.

"I has a jocalder way er talkin', I ain't gwine ter deny," he would say
when complimented upon his popularity with the fair sex, "an' dey ain't
nothin' de ladies likes mo' dan a man what's jocalder. Dey loves jokin'
an' dey loves to laff. It's de way er de sect. A man what cayn't be
jocalder with 'em, he hain't no show."

"What dis hyer claim agentin' I's hearin' so much talk about?" he
enquired of a group one morning. "What _I_ wants is ter get inter de
innards of de t'ing, an' den I'se gwine to claim sump'n fer myse'f. If
dar's claimin' gwine on, I'se a gen'leman what's gwine to be on de
camp-meetin' groun', an' fo'most 'mong de shouters."

"What did ye lose by the war, Uncle Matt?" said a countryman, who was
leaning against his market waggon of "produce" and chewing tobacco. "If
ye kin hunt up suthin' ye lost, ye kin put in a claim fer the vally of
it, an' mebbe get Government to give ye indemnity. Mebbe ye kin an' mebbe
ye cayn't. They ain't keen to do it, but mebbe ye could work it through a
smart agent like January. They say he's as smart as they make 'em."

It was a broiling July morning; only the people who were obliged to leave
their houses for some special reason were to be seen in the streets; the
market waggons which had come in from the country laden with vegetables
and chickens and butter were drawn up under the shadow of the market
house, that their forlorn horses or mules might escape the glaring hot
sun. The liveliest business hour had passed, and about the waggons a
group of market men and women and two or three loiterers were idling in
the shade, waiting for chance-belated customers. There was a general
drawing near when Uncle Matt began his conversation. They always wanted
to hear what he had to say, and always responded with loud, sympathetic
guffaws to his "jocalder" remarks.

"He's sech a case, Uncle Matt is," the women would say, "I never seen
sich a case."

When the countryman spoke, Uncle Matt put on an expression of dignified
thoughtfulness. It was an expression his audience were entirely familiar
with and invariably greeted with delight.

"Endurin' of de war," he said, "I los' severial things. Fust thing I
memberize of losin' was a pa'r of boots. Dar was a riggiment passin' at
de tim