Published for the Passenger Department Seaboard Air Line Railway, Portsmouth, Va. He was always a queer old codger--my Great Uncle Abner. I had never laid eyes on him myself, but his eccentricities were tradition to me, and when I thought of him at all, it was as a half-cracked old fellow living alone in a shack, on a sandy key, somewhere off the coast of Florida. Naturally one doesn't get close-range impressions of uncles of this sort, especially if one's own life runs in very different channels, and if one has enough money to get along on, and one's "sandy-key-uncle" is not thought to have much of this world's goods.…
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