"Yes, yes, Uncle Joe," said the ladies, "no doubt of that; go on with your story; you paid attention to Miss Catchem; you grew familiar--you became mutually pleased with each other, and you finally--well, tell us how it all came out, Uncle Joe, do!" they cried. "Bless me, ladies! You've quite got ahead of my story--altogether! Miss Catchem and I never spoke a word to each other in our lives," said the Major. "Why, Uncle Joe!" cried the whole party. "By banks of Brandywine, it's a fact." "Well, we never!" cried all the ladies. "Well, ladies, I don't suppose you ever did," Uncle Joe responds. "The fact is, Mrs. Padlock died suddenly the week Padlock spoke to me of going to Saratogy, and he married her sister, Miss Catchem, in course of a few weeks after, himself! I don't know how it was, but somehow or other, I thought it was all for the best; things might have turned out that I should have got tangled up with that girl, and a--" "Been a married man, now, instead of a bachelor, Uncle Joe!" said the young ladies. "It's odd; I don't know how it was, ladies; it might have been so, but it turned out just as I have stated." "Well, well, Major," said an elderly person of the group; "go on; how about Saratoga?" "I will," says Uncle Joe, again resorting to his rappee, "I will. You see Padlock didn't _go_, it was very odd; but somehow or other, I made up my mind to _go_, and I went. I calculated to be gone three or four weeks, and I concluded for once, at least, to loosen the strings of my purse, if I never did again; so I laid out to expend three dollars or so, each day, say eighty dollars for the trip; a good round sum, I assure you, to fritter away; but, by banks of Brandywine, I was determined to _do_ it, and I did. It was very odd, but the first person I met at New York was an old friend, a schoolmate of mine. I was glad to see him, and sorry enough to learn that he had failed in business--had a large family--poor--in distress. It was very odd, but somehow or other, we dined at the hotel together--had a bottle of Madeira, and I a--well, I loaned--yes, by banks of Brandywine, I gave the poor fellow a twenty dollar bill, shook hands and parted; yes, poor Billy Merrifellow, we never met again; he--he died soon after, in distress, his family broke up--scattered; it was very odd; poor fellow, he's gone;" and Uncle Joe again had recourse to his rappee, while a large tear hung in the corner of his full blue eye. Closing his box, and wiping his face with his _pongee_, the Major continued: