CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XL, Issue 12269, 13 May 1903, Page 3 (Supplement)

CHILDREN'S COLUMN.

UNCLE FROM JAMAICA. TAK3 him all round, Rama wasn't a tod sort of fellow but at times we got «retty tiled of him at St. Simon's -lather, of his uncle out in Jamaica. There are some people who, if they have 'rich or distinguished relation, must be fti e ver talking and boasting about him, ltd Ramage was like that "He is my mothers brother, yknow, Ramace would say, " and as he has no children of his own, and is awfully wealthy, there is no telling what may happen. The Wear has scores of square miles of land tit there, with rivers and forests, and even mountain's on them; and thousands of rocs are employed on his estates. The oil chap is more like a prince than a landowner there, and that is perhaps the reason why he does not care to come to Europe. I've never seen him myself for that reason, but he writes regularly to the mater, and inquires about me, and oue of these 'days we are to go out and stay with him, for a year or two." Then, in the breathless pause at the thoughts of such a holiday, someone would

perhaps say— "Oh, dry up, Ramage; you make us weary. your everlasting uncle." : In" No. 9 dormitory we had more than enough of him; and as often as not, if he cot on the subject, he would talk us all lo sleep drivelling about his undo " out there." and the horses and carriages, more than he knew what to do with, and the mules that carried the packs over the fountains, and the niggers ; till we would dream about Ramage and his widowed mother being received in regal splendour, and waited upon hand and foot by hundreds of woolly-headed darkies. " Then all at once Ramage was cured of his priggish habit; and if you wanted to annoy Jura in one way more than another, you had only to ask him some polite question about his unclb " out there" in Jamaica. "' When Fleshwick and Joynson were transferred from No. 13, which was rather overcrowded, and came to No. 9, after Scholes and Poynter left, we were of course delighted, for they were worth a score of ordinary fellows like Scholes and Poynter. Fleshwick was the chap who always took the comic parts in the school plays on prize day, and no one could do them like him. He would set the whole lecture hall roaring with his make-up alone, and, while some of the Fifth or Sixth fellows, who had principal roles, were showing how little they knew of acting or elocution by going through their parts in a way to make you weep, Fleshwick would perhaps come m with two lines so well and humorously done that he would bring the house down. •

Ramage was just as delighted as the rest of us, of course, to have two fellows like Fleshwick and Joynson in the dormitory, if only that it was someone fresh to talk to about his uncle in Jamaica; and the very first night the old dialogue broke out, though he didn't get much satisfaction at first from Fleshwick and Joynson. "He is my mother's only brother, y'know, - ' we heard Ramage saying confidentially across to their beds, which were Dearest his own, " and the beggar is worth a pot of money. Did I ever tell you about him, Fleshwick'/" "H'm, I fancy you may have mentioned him a few hundred times or so," said Fleshwick, genially; " but go ahead if it fares you pain." "No, but really." protested Ramage mildly, " lie is tremendously wealthy. And though I say it myself, there is no telling what may happen, for I am my mother's pnly son."

. A jolly good job, too,' said Joynson: "one is enough in a family, of your kind." "Of course, I ought to mention that, ffith all his money, he has no children," proceeded Ramage, unoffended, " and he is jolly eccentric." "I see," said Fleshwick. " You mean, I suppose, that he might be eccentric enough to leave it to you." And you are heartless enough to want him to die soon and do it," suggested Joynson.

"No, no; not at all!" protested Ramage hurriedly.

"It sounds preciously like it," said Joynson. " No; though I've never seen him," declared Ramage, sturdily, " I wouldn't wish that for all the money in the world." "You've no idea what he's like, then?" asked Fleshwick, after a pause. "Not the slightest," replied Ramage. " Most probably a fat, tubby, little chap like yourself, eh?" suggested Joynson, insultingly. "Possibly," admitted Ramage. "The mater says I resemble him." "By the bye, what's his name?" yawned Fleshwick, carelessly; " yon never mentioned it."

"Poindexter," replied Ramage; "Reuben Poindexter. 1 could tell yoli heaps of interesting yarns about him and his place out there if I liked. For instance—" "No doubt, old chap," replied Fleshwick, hurriedly. " Well, some other time, perhaps; you'll excuse my sleeping now, won't' you?" "

We. plight ■ have known after that,, if we had used our wits, that Fleshwick and Joynson were up to mischief, or they would never have encouraged Ramage as they did to his continued yarns about his uncle. But not a suspicion crossed our minds, any more than Ramage's. It was rather curious, too, that that special Saturday afternoon Ramage.. should have had his right in the schoolroom with Featherstonehaugh about his uncle in Jamaica.

We were, in fact, having a pretty lively time for a dull wintry day. There was a slack time. Three or four of the masters, including the head, had gone, as we knew, to the Philosophical and Literary Society's soiree at Oarlingi'ord. Mr. Cooper was down in the football field, and Mr. Spicer, the Lower Fifth master, who was the most easy-going fellow in charge, us » as everyone knew, playing chess in the master's room with little Herr Fintzelberg, who taught us' French with a German accent. Sitting round the fire yarning, Ramage had, of course, got on about his uncle, and his own strong resemblance to him, and Featherstonehaugh had said that if Ramage's uncle was a' potty little chap, with an ugly, turned-up nose, red hair, and freckles, and a priggish way of bragging about his relatives, he could quite believe that there was a strong and even striking likeness between, them. I hen Ramage, who was not short of courage, after a hot argument, had gone lor him, and the two had pulled up in a tprner of the schoolroom amongst half a hundred inkwells. ft was just at this moment, when nil W excitement as to whether Ramage or freatuerstonehaiigli would prove the better an, that Joynson rushed in with the news. "Where is Ramage?" he cried in excited tones.

"Here he is, amongst the ink," said someone. "He and Feather Weight are %ting." ''He's wanted," said Joynson. "I say, tfam&ge, look out. By George, here's a lark. There's a visitor asking for ypu; » fat, eccentric-looking little chap, who B*ve,s his name as Foindexter. Wasn't that the name of your uncle out in Jamaica?"

Yes,' answered Ramage, rising up from the comer with his face and collar stained with ink, and one button-hole broken loose. ijo on, Joynson, you are joking." f ''Am I?" asked Joynson, in a fine heat oi excitement, as he sank his voice to a burned whisper. "Then you'll see! He's here now. I tried to shake him off, and shove him in the reception-room, but the , Peggar came along. Look out, here he is, Kamagel" As he. spoke, we heard the sound of .. a slow footstep approaching, and turning to stare at the doorway, saw a portly? white-haired little gentleman, clad in a silk hat and fur-lined overcoat, enter the room and stand gating towards us with a i look of evident curiosity. An almost in- »-■ £ !Qeat roundness of body stuck out before Wfl as he stood there, calmly surveying us 'or a lew moments; then, raising his hand, W Which, we saw a great diamond ring, mm mouth, he coughed in a light,' but ,: . mellow and wheezing tone. Beckoning the next moment with his forefinger to Joynson f : p-; •at) fipoke. ""- ' •.•?■■

"Do I understand, my boy J' he asked, in a voice that matched the mellow cough, " that my nephew Percival Ramage is here? I regret that, as I have not seen him. since -his earliest infancy, I cannot recognise him. Kindly say that his Uncle Reuben from the West Indies has called to inquire as to his 'welfare.".

" Here he is, sir," said Joynson, deferentially, as he pulled Ramage along. The little gentleman took a step forward as Ramage advanced sheepishly; then suddenly he drew up, and his heavy, shaggy white eyebrows concentrated in a glance of angry surprise. The heat of the scramble with Featherstonehaugh had not yet left Ramage's face, and with his ink-stained face and collar, and ruffled red hair, gave him a slovenly and reckless appearance that he perhaps did not deserve.

"I am pleased to meet you, uncle," he said, with a hangdog look that proved the very opposite. "What!" cried his uncle, glaring back. " You ? You are my nephew—Percival Ramage?" " Yes, uncle," replied Ramage agitatedly. "Who your mother, in her letters, informed me bore a strong resemblance to myself? Why—why, you disreputable young rascal, you have been fighting; I see it in your face." Ramage slunk fearfully back. "Is this how you repay your mother's tender care and my own interest by such conduct in place of spending your time in study?" "It— is a -holiday, uncle," pleaded Ramage weakly. "A half-holiday!" cried the little gentleman fiercely. "And you offer that as an excuse? Is this, then, your usual way of spending your leisure time?" " Oh, no, uncle," declared Ramage, shaking from head to foot with fright. "It is quite unusual. I—am— " You are an idle young dog, sir," cried his uncle. " A reckless scapegrace. I see it in every line of your face, and also in that of the inky rascal grinning there, with whom you have been fighting. A pair of lazy young ne'er-do-weels, evidently, who are fooling away the precious days of youth, in place —of garnering food for future use, from the—from the golden treasuries of knowledge, like the busy bee —the busy bee, sir, who gathers honey all the day, and has no half-holidays to quarrel and fight on." We heard a noisy splutter of laughter from Joynson; but Ramage's face was a study. " —I am very sorry, uncle," he stammered.

" Not a word!" commanded the little gentleman wrathfully. "Do not add lying and hypocrisy, sir, to your other misdeeds. I hear, sir, the shameless laughter of your friends, and know full well how you are glorying in your conduct." *' Oh, no, uncle.,'' cried Ramage. shaking his head earnestly. "Not for one moment!"

The little man strode fiercely to and fro before us, and we could see by the manner in which he frowned and shook his head how he was struggling hard with his rage. Then he stopped short, and shook the hand with the great diamond on, slowly at Ramage. "As for your expectations from me, sir, my mind is made up. I am thankful indeed that your utterly worthless character has been providentially revealed to me in time, and I am determined, sir, to cut you off with a shilling." Uncle wailed Ramage hysterically. And we ourselves stared blankly. All save Joynson, who, standing in the doorway, seemed choking with heartless laughter as he watched the scene. Then suddenly his face changed to a look of quick alarm. Down the corridor we heard approaching footsteps, and Mr. Spicer's deep bass voice speaking in German to someone. "Hist!" came Joynson's quick cry of warning. "Cave, Spicer and the herr!" We stared in surprise at his strange alarm. What was wrong? Then all in a second I knew. Glancing at Ramage's " uncle" I saw him. give a quick start. And in that instant of time the whole joke burst on me, as beneath the disguise of false eyebrows, wig, whiskers, and moustache, I caught clearly Fleshwick's startled face turned guiltily to the door.

As I try to recall the whole scene it comes back to me till I shake with helpless laughter, as I did when it occurred. I see big Mr. Spicer and the thin little herr gazing curiously in through the doorway, while to the left Joynson Is edging off in alarm, and as he catches my sudden laughter, bids me " stop my row," and tells me in the same breath that "Fleshwick is collared, because the beggar would put on the herr's overcoat." And there in the schoolroom stood Fleshwick, in his really clever disguise, except for that overdone and heartbreaking Fafstarfian stomach, and before him, dejected and blank, Ramage just disinherited! "Who is it, Joynson?" asked Mr. Spicer. "Ramage's uncle, I believe, sir," replied Joynson, in quaking whisper as he shot a wild look at Fleshwick. "A relative of yours, I understand, Ramage?" inquired Mr. Spicer, politely. "Yes, sir," answered Ramage, still all abroad. "My uncle from Jamaica—Mr. PoindexterMr. Spicer." "I am pleased to meet you, sir," said Mr. Spicer. Joynson and I stared anxiously then we saw the little man's hat raised politely as he bowed in return.

- "The beggar is going to bluff it out!" gasped Joynson in a wild whisper; and already a dozen more of us had gasped the awful secret.

Clearing his voice with that wheezy little cough he did so well, Fleshwick spoke, with his back carefully turned to the light, though there was now a faltering ring in his voice that we all detected.

" A pleasure also to myself, sir," he declared, " to ——visit your noble institution. Though I regretahem ! —I regret ——to find my nephew in his present disgraceful state, and evidently rotting— er—that is, wasting, the golden hours of youth which all to quickly fleet—or fly— in quarrelsome combat." During this awful falling away from Fleshwick's former style, and as he floundered on, evidently not knowing when to stop, we saw Mr, Spicer stare open-eyed with an extremely puzzled look of inquiry ; then/with a start, a grim smile came into his face. Striding forward he peered close by beneath the silk hat. "I thought so," he declared. "What farrago of nonsense is this, Fleshwick?" —it is only a bit of fun, sir," came Fleshwick's apologetic voice. " Just a joke on Ramage, who has an uncle in Jamaica,"

"And you have, I see, borrowed the herr's coat; for the purpose. May I inquire whose silk hat you are wearing?" "I— believe it is your own, sir," stammered Fleshwick.

Which probably is undergoing considerable deterioration in. the process. This sort of thing cannot, be tolerated. Write me out one hundred lines, Fleshwick; and now get along with you, and remove at once this absurd disguise." But in spite of his words he laughed with the herr and the rest of us at the roar of laughter which broke forth as fleshwick waddled off. Even Ramage grinned sheepishly. "I'd never have believed it," he said. " What a beggar Fleshwick is. I thought it was my uncle right enough, and that he had cir- me off with a shilling."