The Adventures of Jonathan Gullible - Bastiat Institute

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Chapter 18 • Uncle Samta • Uncle Samta
Eve when Uncle Samta returns to sprinkle some toys and trinkets in
every house.”
“Oh,” said Jonathan, with a look of relief. “So Uncle Samta
gives everything back again?”
“Hardly! But people like to imagine that he does. I try to stay
awake in order to keep track of what he takes and what he returns.
It’s a kind of a hobby of mine, you might say. By my calculation,
Uncle Samta keeps most for himself and a few favoured households
around town. But,” said the old man, pounding his palm against a
railing in frustration, “Uncle Samta is careful to give everyone a
little bit to keep them happy. That makes everyone stay asleep the
following April when he comes back again to take what he wants.”
“I don’t understand,” said Jonathan “Why don’t people stay
awake, report the thief, and keep their own belongings? Then they
could buy whatever trinkets they want and give them to whomever
they please.”
The old man chuckled and shook his head at Jonathan’s naiveté.
“Uncle Samta is really everyone’s childhood fantasy. Parents have
always taught their children that Uncle Samta’s toys and trinkets,
like the Dream Machine’s free lunches, come magically out of the
sky and at no cost to anyone.”
Seeing Jonathan’s haggard appearance the old man said, “Looks
like you’ve had a rough day, young fella.”
“I was looking for a place to spend the night,” Jonathan said,
shyly.
“Well, you look like a nice lad,” said the man, “Why don’t you
stay with us. Rose and I enjoy company.”
Jonathan welcomed the old man’s offer. Inside Jonathan met
Rose, the old man’s plump wife; she cheerily brought him a cup
of hot chocolate and a plate of freshly baked cookies. After the
last crumb disappeared, Jonathan stretched out on a divan that the
couple had made up with some blankets and a pillow. The old man
lit a long pipe and leaned back into the cushions of his rocking
chair.
Their home was not large, not richly furnished, and defi nitely
not new. But, to the tired young stranger, it was the perfect refuge. A
small fi re in the fi replace warmed and lit the wood-panelled room.