His name wasn't Sam and he wasn't their real uncle, but everybody else called him Uncle Sam, so Joe and Lucy followed their example.

He was tall and thin and had a sharp face. A funny little tuft of hair grew on his chin and when he was thinking deeply he was fond of stroking this tuft with his big bony hand.

His clothes always seemed to be old-fashioned. When the neighbors were speaking of him they would sometimes say, "How much he looks like the newspaper pictures of 'Uncle Sam.'"

"Whenever I meet him, he somehow makes me think of America," said Joe's father. "I never knew anyone who loved his country as dearly as he does. He is perfectly happy whenever he can get anyone to listen to stories of our great men and the things that happened here long ago."

It was for these reasons that people began calling him Uncle Sam before Joe and Lucy were born.

His real name was Ebenezer Wilkins, but the children had to stop and think before they could remember it. He lived in a cosy little cottage at the end of the village and kept house there all alone from one year's end to another.

Everybody loved him. His kind blue eyes looked tenderly upon each child in the place. If measles or chicken-pox shut a boy or girl away from playmates, Uncle Sam was sure to hear of it. Then, when his day's work was done and he had eaten his supper of bread and milk, he would visit the sick child and make him forget his troubles as he told stories of boys and girls who lived in the early days of the white people in America.

Joe and Lucy were twins. Somehow or other Uncle Sam had grown to love them more than any other children in the country round. When they were babies he used to dandle them on his knees. He taught them to take their first steps alone. He bought a book of "Mother Goose's Melodies" on purpose to learn the rhymes and afterwards repeat them to the listening babies.

Sometimes he even stayed home from church on Sunday mornings so as to take care of these twins and give their father and mother a chance to go away together.

"Twins are a great care, a great care," he would say slowly. But he would add with a twinkle in his eyes, "They are never too much of a care for Uncle Sam."

"He is better than any real uncle in the world," said Joe, as he and Lucy opened the gate leading into the old man's garden.

It was a summer evening and the sun was just setting. The rows of hollyhocks and marigolds looked prettier than ever in the sunset light.

"Uncle Sam loves bright things," said Lucy, looking at the flowers. "He is always finding something new to admire. That is why I like to walk in the woods with him."

"He shows me many things I should never see myself," answered Joe.

By this time the children had reached the door of the house, and stepped inside. They never stopped to knock; Uncle Sam would not have liked it.

"I've brought you some cookies, Uncle Sam," said Lucy, handing a covered dish to the old man. "Mother made them this morning. She put raisins in them because she knew you are fond of fruit cookies."

Uncle Sam was pleased when he lifted the napkin and looked at his present.

"I can make bread and cook meat and potatoes, but cake is beyond my skill. It takes women-folks to do such work." The old man laughed softly as he put the cookies away in the cupboard.

"It is a lovely evening. Won't you come out on the porch and tell us stories in the twilight?"

As Lucy spoke, she reached up and put her arms around Uncle Sam's neck. He was so tall he had to bend down to let her do so.

"I suppose you want me to tell you about Cinderella for the fiftieth time, or maybe you would rather hear about Aladdin and his Wonderful Lamp?"

"No, Uncle Sam," said Joe before Lucy had a chance to answer. "We are getting too big for fairy stories. We have just begun to study geography at school. We like it better than anything we've ever had. So Lucy and I have been talking it over. We said we would ask you to tell us true stories now about America, and the Indians, and the brave white people who first dared to come here, you know, and all such things."

Uncle Sam fairly beamed with delight.

"I've been thinking of that very thing, children. I have been longing for the time when you would like to hear some of the history of this glorious country. You will like it, too. Why, it is better than any fairy stories that ever were told."

In five minutes more the old man was sitting in his big easy chair on the porch. Lucy was perched on one of the broad arms of the chair, and Joe on the other.

"We are all ready, so please begin," said Lucy, coaxingly.

"Very well. Shut your eyes for a minute so you cannot look at those rows of hollyhocks in front of you. I want you to see a different picture. You must take a peep at this country of ours before a white man ever set foot on it."

"All right; I am ready, for my eyes are shut tight," cried Joe with a laugh.

"Now, then. First you must notice the great forests that stretch over a large part of the land. Wild beasts are roaming about in the darkness of those woods. Wolves and foxes, bears and wildcats live a free and happy life, for the sound of a gun has never yet been heard.

"Turn your thoughts next to the great plains of the west. Thousands of buffaloes are wandering about. The herds are so vast that in some places the earth is fairly black with them.

"Here and there, over the country, stand the villages of the Red Men. They are usually built near the shores of streams or ponds so that fresh water may be plentiful.

"There are no stores, no factories, no churches, no roads, from one shore of America to the other.

"At first, it may seem strange to you that the Indians made no roads, for they were traveling a good deal of the time. They moved their homes whenever the game became scarce where they happened to be living. Besides that, they delighted in war and one tribe was continually taking some other one by surprise.

"They did not, however, go about in the way white people do. They journeyed on foot in single file and the narrow paths they trod through the forests can be seen to this day. Some of those paths are hundreds of years old. They are many miles in length. Such paths are called trails.

"I have traveled over one of the Indian trails. It was in the state of New York. It made me feel queer as I thought of the painted Red Men who so long ago made that path through the dark woods.

"The clothing and houses of these people were quite different in the different parts of this country. The games and festivals of one tribe were often unlike those of any other.

"Some Indians lived in tents covered with the skins of wild animals. Others had houses of birch bark. Then again, there were tribes who braided grasses into pretty mats with which they covered the framework of their houses.

"The food was also different. In the south, where the air is warm and pleasant almost all the year, the Red Men ate a great deal of fruit. Up here in the north they lived largely on the corn that the women planted and tended, while out on the great plains they ate quantities of buffalo meat."

Lucy's eyes opened wider and wider as the old man talked.

"I didn't need to close them at all," she said. "I can always see the pictures you paint with words. You make them so bright, Uncle Sam."

"Some other time, my dear, we will talk more about the Red Children, but now we will turn to the first white men who visited America.

"The first visitors from Europe were bold Norsemen. Their homes were in the far north. There were many deep, narrow bays along the shores of their own country and they loved the ocean from the time they were born. While they were still children, they learned to sail over its rough waves, and by the time they were young men they were quite fearless. The worst storms and the fiercest winds did not make them tremble.

"From year to year they kept sailing farther and farther westward in their queer boats."

"Why were they queer, Uncle Sam?" asked Lucy.

"They would seem queer to us because they had such high prows and sterns and because large figures of dragons and other strange creatures were often carved on the ends of the boats. The sails, too, were of a different shape from any you ever saw.

"But let me go on with my story. It happened one time that some Vikings, as these brave Norse seamen were called, sailed so far into the west that they came to an island they had never seen before. This was Iceland. You have heard the name, haven't you, children?"

"Yes, Uncle Sam."

"Iceland lies about half-way between Europe and America, but it is much farther north than we are. The Norsemen who came upon it by accident, called it Snowland."

"I think that is a pretty name. I wish it were called Snowland, now," said Lucy, half to herself.

"Yes, it is a pretty name," said Uncle Sam. Then he went on.

"The one who first saw Iceland did not remain there. He went back to Norway. Four years later, another Norseman was driven to the coast of Iceland by a storm. Before he left it, he sailed all around its shores and found it was an island.

"When he got home again, he said it was such a pleasant place that another daring Viking decided to go to Iceland to live. He carried seeds for planting and cattle to furnish milk and meat. He stayed there all one winter. It was so cold that the poor cattle died.

"When spring came, the Norseman made ready to plant his seeds, but the land was still covered with ice. 'This is not a fit place for anyone to live,' he cried. He once more packed his goods on his ship and sailed for Norway.

"That, however, was not the end of the white men's life in Iceland. Ten years after that another band of Norsemen went there and settled. They lived in peace and comfort. Children were born and grew up in that cold island of the north. They were carefully taught by their parents and became wise men and women. This settlement in Iceland lasted for hundreds of years.

"You children may wonder why I tell you so much about the Norsemen coming to Iceland, but it is like the first step of a ladder. Perhaps you are getting tired, though, and do not wish to hear any more to-night."

"O no, we are not a bit tired, Uncle Sam," said both Lucy and her brother.

"Well, then, if Iceland was the first step toward America, Greenland was the second one.

"Some of the early settlers in Iceland were driven westward in a storm while they were out sailing. It was then that they first saw the rocky shores of Greenland.

"A good many years after this there was a certain man living in Iceland named Eric the Red. He did not get along very well with his neighbors and had many quarrels with them. He said to himself:

"'I will seek that land west of us and will make a home for myself there.'

"He sailed away from Iceland and was not heard of again for three years. When he came back on a visit, he spoke of the place where he had been living as 'Greenland.' He thought:

"'If I give it a good name, others will like to go there and settle.'"

"Now I know why it was called Greenland," said Lucy, laughing. "Whenever we sing 'From Greenland's Icy Mountains,' I always wonder about the name. I knew it must be a cold and icy land, because of the words of the hymn."

"Yes, that was the way of it. The name Greenland sounded very pleasant to the people of Iceland and a large company of them went back with Eric to settle among the icy mountains you sing about.

"We come now to the third accident and the third step that brought the Norsemen to our own land.

"Eric the Red had sons. They were bold and daring sailors, like their father. During the long winter evenings they used to listen to the stories of the older people. There was one that they liked best of all. It was the tale of a young man named Biarne who was trying to find the way from Iceland to Greenland. His father had gone there with Eric, and Biarne wished to follow him.

"He started off in the right direction. When he had sailed out of sight of land, a thick fog settled down. Then a north wind began to blow. Day after day, the ship was driven by the strong north wind. Biarne could do nothing but wonder, 'Where are we going? Surely, this wind will never carry us to Greenland.'

"At last the fog cleared away and not long after that the Norseman and his crew found they were sailing near a shore on which trees were growing. Low hills rose behind it. It could not be Greenland, truly, for Biarne had been told that the hills there were high and that they were covered with ice.

"When Biarne refused to land, his men were quite angry. 'I must go on with my search for my father,' he told them. 'I only care now to find him.'

"Again they set sail and after two more days they saw land again. It was low and wooded, so Biarne knew that this could not be the country he was seeking.

"'I will not stop here,' he told his men. Of course they grumbled, but they were obliged to do as he wished.

"Three more days passed, and a land with high and snowy mountains came into sight.

"'I am sure this is not Greenland, either,' said Biarne, and he would not stop. He sailed along its shores, however, long enough to find it was an island.

"In three days from that time, he reached the shores of Greenland. When Biarne at last cast anchor he was very near that part of the country where his father was living.

"Whenever Eric's sons heard this story of Biarne, they thought, 'When we grow up, we will go to sea. Then we will try to find the country with green hills and many trees. Who knows what else we shall see in such a pleasant land?"

"The time came at last when the eldest son of Eric was old enough to start on a long voyage. It was in the year 1000. Biarne went with him.

"The first shore that met their eyes was Newfoundland. They landed and found it was a plain covered with stones. They returned to the ships and soon Nova Scotia came in sight.

"After they had looked over that land, they started once more and sailed southward. They came to our own New England. I believe they were not a hundred miles away from where we are this very minute.

"They were much pleased with the place. They found plenty of large salmon in the waters. Trees grew everywhere about them. The air was much warmer and pleasanter than in Greenland.

"There was one thing which delighted them more than anything else. They found vines with great bunches of grapes growing upon them. This is how it happened. One night one of their party was missing. He had gone with a few men to look around and see what they could discover. This man was a German and his name was Tyrker. His friends came back without him. He had wandered away from them. They believed he was lost.

"Everyone felt bad. They thought they should never see him again. Some of them went to hunt for the missing man. They had not gone far when they met him. He seemed wild with joy. He could hardly speak, he was so glad. At first, his friends thought he had lost his mind.

"After a while he was able to say that he had found vines with grapes upon them. He knew what they were, for he had seen grapes growing in his own country of Germany.

"It seemed too good to be true. They all knew that the wine they liked so well was made from grapes. They followed Tyrker and found the vines he had described.

"What a treasure they had discovered! Stores of grapes were gathered day after day and carried on board the ship. Trees were also cut down, for the people in Greenland would be glad to have all the lumber their friends could bring them.

"The Vikings said, 'We will call this place Vinland because of the grape vines we have found.'

"As soon as the ship had been loaded with all it could carry, the joyful party left our shores and turned northward once more. During their short visit here they saw no other people.

"When they reached home they told such bright stories of their visit that others wished to go to Vinland.

"Another party of Norsemen soon started. When they got here, they met some people who must have been Eskimos. These savages were quite short and had broad faces. They had skin boats such as the Eskimos use to this day."

"I never heard of Eskimos around here!" said Joe in surprise.

"I don't know how to explain it except in this way," replied Uncle Sam. "In those days the Eskimos, or some of them, must have lived along these shores, for the Norsemen certainly found them here. The Indians may have driven them away afterwards. We can only guess about it.

"The last Norsemen who came here did not stay long. Many things happened to prevent it. I will tell you of one of these, because it is really funny.

"A bull which the Norsemen had brought among their cattle rushed out of the woods one day. It frightened some Eskimos who had come to trade with the white men. They managed to reach their boats and paddled away as fast as they could go. They thought the bull was some dreadful creature the Norsemen would use against them in war.

"They went away, as I said, but they returned with great numbers of their own people. The Vikings said that they were now like a rushing torrent. They came to fight and to drive the white men from their shores.

"It would have been a sad day for the Norsemen if it had not been for one brave woman. They were fleeing from the Eskimos when she rushed out and faced the savages. She did not try to attack them, but began to strike at herself with a sword. They were so startled that they turned and fled to their boats.

"This was only one of the many adventures the Vikings had in Vinland. They had so many troubles that after a few years they made up their minds to remain in Greenland."

"How do you know all these things are true, Uncle Sam? Did the Norse people write books about them?"

"Those are good questions, Joe. The Norsemen did not write any history of themselves at that time. They did not know how to write. They were great story-tellers, however, and during the long winter evenings they used to tell, over and over again, the things that had happened to them. They made songs about their adventures. Their children learned these songs and when they grew up they taught them to their children. Hundreds of years afterwards Roman priests came among them and told them of the Christian God. At the same time the priests taught them to read and write. They now began to write down the history of their people.

"But, dear me, children, I have been so busy talking I never thought how late it is growing. There is your father at the gate. He must be coming for you."

"Thank you, Uncle Sam," said Lucy, as she kissed the old man good-night, "I enjoyed what you told us ever so much."

"I am glad you started with the Norsemen," said Joe. "I always like to hear the first part of anything. So, of course, as you are going to tell us the story of America, we ought to know the very beginning of it."

"My dear boy," said Uncle Sam, "no one knows the real beginning. All I could do was to start with the coming of the white men to this country."