ewspapers. He never
bought nor borrowed them. "What's the use of reading 'em?" he would say.
"Why not imagine the murders, suicides, political meetings, and other
trash that fills 'em, and save your money for terbacker?" This did Uncle
Ith, and he flattered himself that it was wisely done.

The bell tower was not far from the boy's home, and in a few minutes he
stood at the foot of it, and shouted to Uncle Ith: "Hallo, there!"

Uncle Ith, always on the alert for calls, poked his head out of the
window, which he left partly open for ventilation in the coldest nights,
and answered, rather gruffly, "Well, what's wanted?" He never allowed
his own children, nor any persons except his nephew Bog, and a few old
firemen, friends of his, to visit him in the tower at night. Uncle Ith
was conscientious. The presence of his children, with whom he loved to
converse, or that of strangers, who would stare vacantly all over the
lighted city, and ask innumerable questions, interfered with the
strictness of his watch. Uncle Ith was a little eccentric, too, in his
devotion to duty.

"It's me, uncle," said Bog, screaming upward.

"Glad to see you, Bog. You can come up," shouted the old man in return.
He slung a latch key, fastened to a string, out of the window. It slid
down the side of the tower, into Bog's hand. He unlocked the door, and
the next moment the key was jerked aloft. The boy entered the base of
the tower. He was so familiar with every crook and passage, that the
small light of a gas jet, inside, was not necessary to show him the way.
Up he ran, sometimes clearing two steps at a jump, slipping his hand
lightly along the rough wooden banister. A few spiral turns brought him
to the bell, which hung in an open framework of timber. He gave the huge
bronze a familiar tap as he passed, and wound on and upward until he
came to a trap door, which Uncle Ith held invitingly open. Then he
sprang into the little room at the top of the tower, and Uncle Ith shook
him by the hand.

"You look well, I see, Bog. And how is your aunt?" Uncle Ith was mindful
of the usages of society, and always asked after her.

"Oh, she's smart," said Bog, totally oblivious of her rheumatism, "and
sent her love to ye." Bog was a peacemaker.

"Sent her rheumatism, I guess yer mean. No doubt she wishes I had it."

Bog laughed, and his uncle laughed. And then his uncle, never forgetting
duty, took a sharp look out of the eight clearly polished windows that