the next visit of the gentleman who induced me to invest in a
library. He congratulated me on taking his advice. I told him I never
had any learning to speak of; when I should have been at school I had to
be at work; perhaps I should have consulted him about stocking the
library. He expressed a desire to examine it. When I threw the doors
open and the rows of bottles of Old Crow came into his view, he never
flinched. I told Jim if he fainted to be handy with a pail of water. But
he never backed off. He put his glasses on his nose, read the labels and
'lowed while my library was large it was not greatly diversified.
Thereafter the good man was more deeply interested in me than ever
before. At first he called once a day. It was not long until he called
three times a day regularly."

[Illustration: Uncle Henry's Library]

Jim describes the scene thusly: "Uncle Henry, lolling in the big, easy
chair, sleepily. Enter the gentleman who recommended the library. 'Good
morning, Brother Hunt, I hope you are feeling well'; Uncle Henry, with
eyes half-closed, never waited to hear more. He languidly motioned
towards the sideboard, closed his eyes, looked the other way. Uncle
Henry's idea of a gentleman was one who turned his back while you were
pouring out your liquor."

Uncle Henry was known to every showman in America. He maintained a field
whereon the circuses pitched their tents. He owned the billboards. No
circus visited Burlington that did not find him an interested friend.

I have heard that Uncle Henry could drive a good bargain in a trade. I
never knew him as a buyer or a seller. I only knew him as one who knew
how to give. I only knew him as one who found it more blessed to give
than receive.

His qualities of good more than overbalanced his imperfections. His was
a character that left its impress on the community in which he was
known. He was loved by those who were welcomed in his hospitable home.
There have been men of more renown than the hardy old blacksmith, who,
from a barefooted boy made his way without education or friends, and
that he was influenced in his feelings by his early hardships was only
the man that was in him, over-balancing the better nature of one who,
when a friend was a friend, who, when against you, was always in the
open. He was as honest in his dislikes as he was in his admirations.

When the sands of his life were ebbing fast on that Sunday afternoon in
midsummer, the last of earth, the l