e was a threatening scud over the harbor
to the eastward, and the freshening sea-breeze brought an occasional
warning murmur from the breakers on the distant bar. By the time I had
made all my little arrangements and stepped out on the quiet street, I
found my light waterproof quite comfortable, and prudently went back
for a moment to exchange my night-cane for an umbrella. When I reached
the end of my walk the cold rain was already beginning to fall, and
the wind was gustily hurrying round the corners of the streets and
rattling the loose tin upon the housetops. A very few minutes elapsed
between my three raps with the old-fashioned brass knocker and the
appearance of the neat-looking servant who opened the door. But I may
as well use the brief opportunity to tell you that Uncle Joseph was
not my uncle at all, and that my habit of calling him so had grown out
of a long intimacy with certain nephews and nieces who were very dear
to the old gentleman's heart. They were all scattered now--the older
girls married and gone, the younger away at school, and the two boys,
my childhood and boyhood friends, completing their professional
education at a foreign university. But still I loved to visit Uncle
Joseph, and he always had a warm and kindly welcome for me. None knew
better than he the kind of entertainment most likely to please a young
friend and attract him from places of idle amusement; and I knew that
a well-timed evening-call at his bachelor home meant a dozen or two of
oysters, a glass of old brown sherry, a fragrant cigar and an hour's
chat which was often instructive and never prosy.

On that particular night the oysters were fried to exactly the right
shade of brown, and the delicate "mill-pond" flavor, so well known to
every Charleston taste, was especially fine; the old sherry--just two
glasses of it apiece-seemed milder and warmer and richer than ever
before; and the havanas never seemed so fragrant. These were not
limited, for Uncle Joseph smoked only in the evening, and he liked to
keep an open box within reach of his hand. A little fire would have
been more cheerful, but it was hardly late enough in the season, and
we made out very well for a cozy evening by drawing our easy-chairs to
the sides of the little centre-table, and getting the cigar-box and
ash-holder at a convenient distance between us.

Uncle Joseph was not eccentric, nor was there anything extravagant in
the general style of his housekeeping; b