" Bog's aunt had no legs that she would own to.
After supper, Bog heaved a sigh, and said that he would go round to
Uncle Ith's; and asked his aunt if she had any word to send by him.
"Oh, no; nothing partickler," said she. "He don't care about me."
Uncle Ith, as everybody called him, was Bog's uncle on his mother's
side. Uncle Ith and the aunt had a standing difference touching that
rheumatism. Whenever they met--which was rarely--Uncle Ith would ask
her, with a wink, how she was; and when she candidly told him that she
was in a dreadful state, he would laugh at her, and say that half of it
was "imagination." This indignity he had repeated so often, that,
latterly, she scorned to complain in his presence, and bore her anguish
in noble silence.
"All right," said Bog, who took no part in these family differences. He
put on his cap, and left the house.
CHAPTER IV.
UP IN THE AIR.
"Uncle Ith" was one of the city bellringers, and lived at the top of a
tower a hundred feet high, which vibrated with every stroke of the great
bell hanging midway between his airy perch and the ground.
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