"An' he neber hab no mo' miseries, honey," said Aunt Dicey, drawing
near; "no Ku Klux come into de garden ob de Lord to scare him or hurt
him; bress his little heart!"

"Wish we all dere, safe an' happy like he! Let me wash off de blood an'
dress him clean for de grave," said Aunt Sally, the nurse of the
quarter, gently taking the child, while Mr. Travilla and Elsie bound up
the wounded arm, speaking soothingly to the sufferer, and promising the
doctor's aid as soon as it could be procured.

Aunt Sally sat near attending to the last offices for the tiny corpse,
little Elsie looking on, with big tears coursing down her cheeks.
Presently going to her mother's side, she whispered a few words in her
ear.

"Yes, dear, you may go to the bureau drawer and choose it yourself," was
the prompt reply, and the child ran into the house, returning directly
with a baby's slip of fine white muslin, delicately embroidered.

"Put this on him, Aunt Sally," she said; "mamma gave me leave to get
it."

Then going to the bereaved mother, and clasping the dusky, toil-worn
hand with her soft, white fingers, "Don't cry, Minerva," she said, "you
know poor little Ben was always sick, and now he is well and happy. And
if you love Jesus, you will go to be with him again some day."

Evidently much gratified by the honor done her dead babe, Minerva sobbed
out her thanks for that, and the dressing of her wounded arm, and
dropping a courtesy, followed Aunt Sally as she bore the corpse into