and he was called Snake-bit to distinguish him. Though lame, and sick
a good deal of his time, his life had not been wasted, nor had he been
a useless slave to his master. He made all of the baskets that were
used in the cotton-picking season, and had learned to mend shoes;
besides that, he was the great horse-doctor of the neighborhood, and
not only cured his master's horses and mules, but was sent for for
miles around to see the sick stock; and then too, he could re-bottom
chairs, and make buckets and tubs and brooms; and all of the money he
made was his own: so the old man had quite a little store of gold and
silver sewed up in an old bag and buried somewhere-- nobody knew where
except himself; for Uncle Snake-bit Bob had never married, and had no
family ties; and furthermore, he was old Granny Rachel's only child,
and Granny had died long, long ago, ever since the children's mother
was a baby, and he had no brothers or sisters. So, having no cause to
spend his money, he had laid it up until now he was a miser, and would
steal out by himself at night and count his gold and silver, and
chuckle over it with great delight.

But he was a very good old man; as Mammy used to say, "he wuz de
piuses man dar wuz on de place;" and he had for years led in "de
pra'r-meetin's, and called up de mo'ners."

One evening, as he sat on a hog-pen talking to Uncle Daniel, who was a
preacher, they began to speak of the wickedness among the young
negroes on the plantation.

"Pyears ter me," said Uncle Rob, "ez ef dem niggers done furgot dey
got ter die; dey jes er dancin' an' er cavortin' ev'y night, an'
dey'll git lef', mun, wheneber dat angel blow his horn. I tell you
what I ben er stud'n, Brer Dan'l. I ben er stud'n dat what's de matter