Uncle

And another thing, continued Roscoe.

When visitors are in the house, I want you to call me Uncle.

Not Roscoe, but Uncle.

Do you understand? It looks absurd for a boy of fifteen to call me by my first name.

Perhaps you'd better call me Uncle all the time.

So you'll get used to it.

With a harsh look after his father, Roscoe turned away.

He stopped by the hotel to

wish you a Merry Christmas, Uncle, and invite you to our place for dinner tomorrow.

Christmas.

Fiddlesticks.

Powder hour.

I suppose you'll be closing up your livery stable for the occasion.

Why, sure, Uncle Ev.

And just how will the horses know it's Christmas? Answer me that.

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois.

Music and text recorded by Toria's Uncle.

To Burkhart and Yolanda, the lost and the found.

The Forethought.

All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain.

For more information, or to find out how you can volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org.

The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois Music and text recorded by Toria's Uncle Chapter 2 Of the Dawn of Freedom Careless seems the great avenger.

History's lessons but record one death struggle in the darkness, twixt old systems and the word.

Son-in-law, damad.

Uncle paternal, amu, amu.

Uncle paternal, amu or oder, oder.

Uncle paternal, oder.

Uncle maternal, dai, dai.

Uncle maternal, dai or khalu, khalu.

Uncle maternal, khalu.

Widow, biveh, biveh.

Exit.

Who's that? A Merry Christmas, Uncle.

Bah! A bug.

Uncle, you don't mean that, I'm sure.

I do.

Merry Christmas.

what else can i be when i live in such a world of fools as this merry christmas out upon merry christmas what's christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with Merry Christmas on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.

He should.

"Then you have quite made up your mind, Grace," he said, "and you really think that the marriage is in accordance with your...

Well, perhaps I ought not to put it quite so prosaically as that, although you and I are so much accustomed to talk that way." "Oh, yes, I quite see what you mean, Uncle," she laughed.

"You mean, do I think it in accordance with the eternal fitness of things, which of course includes my own affections and inclinations? Yes," she continued, putting her elbows on the table and her chin between her hands and looking at him as few others were able to do for any length of time straight in the eyes.

"Yes, you may call it an illustration of the law of selection, of the adaptation of the fittest to the fittest under the special circumstances of the case, suitability to environment and all that kind of scientific stuff, if you like.

Well, yes, I think I love him." The last sentence was not spoken as a girl really in love would have uttered the words.

There was just a suspicion of restraint, a little hesitation between the words, which might not have struck an ordinary person in their true meaning, but which Dr. Halkyne grasped at once.

"Then, Grace," he said, leaning back in his chair and taking a long, meditative pull at his pipe, "I may take it, I presume, that you have really made up your mind that you can marry this young man and, as the storybook says, live happily ever after." "I think so, Uncle," she replied.

"At least, of course, so far as one can foresee these things.

The men let them pick up as many small pieces of ice as they could carry, and they went on their way so much refreshed that they chattered away as gaily as possible.

Uncle John had warned them to select a camping ground long before dark.

They remembered this advice, and at about five o'clock they landed on a little low point of land a few miles below the entrance to the highlands.

They first hauled the boat a little way up the beach so that it would be sure not to float off, and then began to take the tent, the cooking things, and the provisions for supper out of her.

Why, they're regular cannibals.

And what do the rest of the poor ants do for their honey? asked Willie.

I fear they must pass a hard winter if they do not die of hunger, replied Uncle Ben.

beauties of the underground world it has often happened that in the course of excavations in search of minerals the workmen have come upon some singular hollows or openings in the rock caused by convulsions of the earth or earthquakes or caverns through which torrents have flowed in former ages and have left them for nature to ornament in the most beautiful and fantastic manner you will understand how the natural caverns are formed that you may have seen on the sea coast.

Yeah

... and Uncle.

You know? But was the, the, the main resource was the original, uh, archive-

Okay