A cataract began to form on Uncle Willie's eyes, and every day he
could see just a little less plainly than the day before. The
prospects were that he would soon be blind, and without his eyesight
he could neither hunt nor fish.
But with his growing age and misfortune Uncle Willie was never a whit
less cheerful. He had to earn his living and he kept at his work.
"'Tis the way of the Lard," said he. "He's blessed me with fine health
all my life, and kept the house warm, and we've always had a bit to
eat, whatever. The Lard has been wonderful good to us, and I'll never
be complainin'."
It was never Uncle Willie's way to complain about hard luck. He always
did his best, and somehow, no matter how hard a pinch in which he
found himself, it always came out right in the end.
Finally Uncle Willie's eyesight became so poor that it was difficult
for him to see sufficiently to get around, and one day last summer
(1921) he stepped off his fish stage where he was at work, and the
fall broke his thigh. This happened at the very beginning of the
fishing season, and put an end to the summer's fishing for Uncle
Willie, and, of course, to all hope of hunting and trapping during
last winter.
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