of the instrument made possible some changes in the manner of playing it.

Instead of pushing on the keys, in the ordinary, common way, my Uncle’s organ was played with a rotary sweep of the whole arm, the hand, meanwhile, firmly grasping the lever. This enabled him to put more expression into the music. I would like to say right here that my Uncle’s organ was invented long before the day of patent piano-players, and that we, as a family, have about decided to prosecute the makers of these cheap, clap-trap instruments, in behalf of Uncle Antonio.

It was gratifying to see Uncle’s face when he played. With all mechanical difficulties overcome, he was free to give his entire attention to the fine shadings and hidden meanings of the composition. It was pleasing, also, to note how close he came to the hearts of the people. Even the little children would come and stand around Uncle Antonio when he played upon his organ, and musicians in the neighbourhood, gnashing their teeth in jealous rage, would close their windows to keep my Uncle’s notable accomplishments from belittling their own. It is ever thus. Upon my own trail have sprung up a score or more of writers on Natural History—but I must not say more, lest I be thought too personal.

Uncle Antonio, also, was a lover of the wild animals. He had one pet, in particular, which meant much to him—a genuine African Monkey, imported at great expense and difficulty. He had taught the intelligent animal a great many cunning tricks—in fact, Jocko could do almost everything but speak. Through Jocko I had first come to an understanding of Uncle Antonio. There is an old saying to the effect that, in order to know a man, you must first meet his Dog, and then see them together. In the same way, you must have known Jocko in order to comprehend my Uncle.

I was within a quarter of a mile of my cabin, my pulses bounding with happy anticipation, when a low moan, which seemingly came from a broken heart, struck my ear. I paused and stood like a marble statue—a trick I had learned from my kindred of the wild. Then the curious sound was repeated.

Stealthily, I made my way toward the cabin, but I was not yet so skilled in woodcraft that my feet made no noise. Before I reached the door, my Uncle came out, and a glance at his face showed me that he had met with a great loss.

Like other geniuses, Uncle was somewhat careless in his attire. As a family, we had often laboured with him on this point, but to no avail. The unfettered spirit of the great 

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