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famous teacher, but when my
grandfather died and the family became less affluent, he took up the
practice of law — a profes-sion wholly unsuited to his temperament, yet
he spent the rest of his life
wrestling with it.
On one of my birthdays he had forgotten to buy me anything
so he took a slip of paper from his pocket and wrote, "good for one
birthday present — Uncle Ned" and gave it to me. Then he forgot all
about it. When it was finally his birthday l told him I
had a present for him. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the
slip of paper and returned it much to his amazement.
Uncle Ned was nervous and always in a terrible hurry. He
never started on time for anything. Every morning he would rush away
from the breakfast table, fumble around through batches
of papers and finally leave the house on the run in order to
catch the train at Tower Hill Station. He always got there at the
last minute and the conductor never signaled the train to start without
first looking to see if Uncle Ned was in sight. One
slippery morning Uncle Ned was running down the hill laden
with an unusual number of portfolios, books and bundles, and in spite of
the conductor calling "Take your time, Mr. Bennett — we'll wait
for you," Uncle Ned kept running; then when he had covered about half
the distance he slipped and fell and the road was strewn with all kinds
of papers and documents. Fortunately there was no wind that morning or
the train would have been very late getting to
Boston. On the train he would always keep moving from one seat to
another to chat with his various friends. Once the conductor was heard
to remark, "I don't charge
Mr. Bennett any fare — he walks all the way to Boston."
Perhaps the most classic example of Uncle Ned's restlessness |
