naturally inquisitive nature, coupled with a wonderful memory, had made
him a veritable walking encyclopedia. With such an uncle it is no wonder
that Bill knew everything. Of course, there were some things that puzzled
even Bill. But all such difficulties, after a reasonable amount of
brain-work had failed to clear them, were submitted to Uncle Ed. Uncle Ed
was always prompt (that was one thing we liked about him), and no matter
where he was or what he was doing he would drop everything to answer a
letter from the society.



The Old Trunk.

But hold on, I am getting ahead of my story. I was rummaging through the
attic the other day, and came across an old battered trunk, one that I
used when I went to boarding-school down in south Jersey. That trunk was
certainly a curiosity shop. It contained a miscellaneous assortment of
glass tubes, brass rods, coils of wire, tools, fish hooks--in fact, it was
a typical collection of all those "valuables" that a boy is liable to
pick up. Down in one corner of the trunk was a black walnut box, marked,
with brass letters, "Property of the S. S. I. E. E. of W. C. I." On my
key-ring I still carried the key to that box, which had not been opened
for years. I unlocked the box and brought to light the "Records and
Chronicles of the Society for the Scientific Investigation, Exploration
and Exploitation of Willow Clump Island." For hours I pored over those
pages, carried back to the good old times we used to have as boys along
the banks of the Delaware River, until I was brought sharply back to the
present by the sound of the dinner bell. It seemed that the matter
contained in those "Chronicles" was too good to be kept locked up in an
old trunk. Few boys' clubs ever had such a president as Bill, or such a