ve laid by a certain sum of money, but the
shy and reticent man suddenly found her "spoken for," as the villagers
termed it, by the mate of a vessel. She died of consumption, unmarried.
Uncle Josh never referred to this passage in his life, but his mother
knew his mind, and why his words grew fewer than ever. The little Molly
reproduced the soft hazel eyes and the trim air he so well remembered in
her aunt.

Uncle Josh had a way of calling all strangers "furiners." A pale-faced
girl who was boarding at the seashore for her health was delighted to be
sent by her hostess, or any of the family, on an errand to the queer,
quaint, old store, kept by "the funny old man." "You're a furiner, I
guess," he said to her one day. "No, indeed, sir," she answered quickly,
with an indignant blush, "I am not a foreigner. I came from Rochester,
New York." "Why! such a long piece off, poor child, poor child," he
muttered, as he went to a mug and took out a bright red sugar heart, and
pressed it in her hand. "Ain't you dreadful homesick to live so fur?"
"Oh, no; my home is very pleasant, and my father and mother are
travelling; but they left me here because I have not been strong since I
had the fever, and the doctor said I must bathe every day in the ocean.
I have nice times. They keep cows where I board, and let me milk them a
little sometimes. I am going to stay all summer." "Yes, yes; there are
getting to be a great many furiners here in the summer." "What did Uncle
Josh mean?" she asked on her return to the house; "did he take me for an
Irish or a German girl? He asked if I was a foreigner." "Oh, he meant a
stranger here in the village--some one not born here. He always calls
'em so. A good many folks do."

When Uncle Josh first went to Boston to buy his stock in trade, it was
said that a merchant of whom he made large purchases, thought he did not
know about trusting so queer and shabby looking a customer,--he should
have to require good security. To his surprise, the countryman looked at
the amount, unbuttoned his coat, and, from an ample old pocket-book he
counted off his money; then from the depths of his pantaloon's pocket he
brought up a round piece of leather twisted together for fastening, and
from this he counted the exact change. Then he directed how the goods
should be sent to him by such a schooner at a certain wharf. "Thank you,
Mr. Jackson," said the merchant; "I hope we shall always be able to
accommodate you. You pref