"Who was Uncle Tom?" asked the boy.
"They used to say that he was a wizard. I will tell you all about him some day. Let us listen now to your father's violin."
The house was still, save that the sea winds stirred the crisp autumn leaves in the great trees near and the nine o'clock bell fell solemnly on the air. A watchman went by, saying, "All is well!"
Yes, all is well in hearts like these—hearts that can pity, love, forbear, and feel.
CHAPTER IV.
FRANKLIN'S STORY OF A HOLIDAY IN CHILDHOOD.
As barren as was the early Puritan town in things that please the fancy of the child, Josiah Franklin's home was a cheerful one. It kept holidays, when the violin was played, and some pennies were bestowed upon the many children.
Let us enter the house by the candle-room door. The opening of the door rings a bell. There is an odor of tallow everywhere. One side is hung with wickings, to be cut and trimmed.