The wife was not there when the husband came; though I had never seen him before I knew him when he landed. His face was haggard and worn, and his body emaciated. Some disease preyed at his vitals. His constitution was gone, but the blazing fire of pride still burned in his gray eyes. The will and the spirit were there. He had a fair string of fish, and after eating the smaller ones would have enough left to bring twenty-five cents. Having tied his boat, he shouldered his tackle, took up his fish, and climbed the hill past me. I did not see his eyes searching for the faithful wife who had four times come to greet him; this lack of care I did not like. He seemed too indifferent. Possibly he was disappointed when his old companion was not there to meet him, not knowing that she had come and gone time after time. He dragged his weary limbs over the brow of the hill, and toward the city. As he went by, I had a good opportunity to observe his clothes. He was not the one-gallus fellow that the politicians so often refer to, but the no-gallus one. His trousers were held up by sharp hip-bones and his shirt was decorated with vari-colored patches. I followed the old man, until he met his wife, who was coming in a half-trot from their little cabin. The meeting was full of meaning. No word was uttered; no time lost. He looked solemn, the least bit angry, and she smiled, a bitter sad smile, and turned and followed him. Her eyes were on the fish, giving them a cash valuation. All of this passed without a sound from either. That night, after I had enjoyed a good meal, to gratify my curiosity I walked by the home of the lonely couple, and found them enjoying a pipe of tobacco each. The little dog was there, on the top step between them, and they were apparently happy. As I moved on, I said to myself: “I wonder how it would feel to be penniless, friendless, decrepit and old, but too proud to beg?” May fortune smile on the old fisherman, his loyal helpmeet and their little dog! UNCLE GEORGE AND THE ENGLISHMAN The summer season was in full blast at Lake Toxaway. Hundreds of Southerners and scores of others were there, enjoying the invigorating climate, the cooling breezes, and the open-air pastimes--golf, tennis, fishing, horseback riding, and rowing. For weeks the weather had been fair and fine, and the beautiful and popular resort, in the Blue Ridge, teemed with vivacious visitors, who romped on the lake, in the woods, and along the roads by day and danced, played cards and other indoor games, and chatted in the evenings, making merry fifteen hours a day.