his wife; "kase I see'd he war gettin' inter de dumps like, an' I
'llowed yer'd chirk him up a bit ef yer jes hed him over h'yer a
while."

"Shan't do it," said the bright-eyed woman saucily.

"Kase why?" queried her husband.

"Kase Bre'er 'Liab don't come oftener. Dat's why."

"Dar, now, jes see what yer done git fer being so contrary-like,
will yer?" said the master to his guest. H'yer, you Axylone,"
he continued to his eldest born, " fo'd up yer han's while Bre'er
'Liab ax de blessin'. You, too, Capting," shaking his finger at
a roll of animated blackness on the end of the seat opposite.

"Now, Bre'er 'Liab."

The little black fingers were interlocked, the close-clipped, kinky
heads were bowed upon them; the master of the house bent reverently
over his plate; the plump young wife crossed her hands demurely
on the bright handle of the big coffee-pot by which she stood, and
"Bre'er 'Liab," clasping his slender fingers, uplifted his eyes
and hands to heaven, and uttered a grace which grew into a prayer.
His voice was full of thankfulness, and tears crept from under his
trembling lids.

The setting sun, which looked in upon the peaceful scene, no doubt
flickered and giggled with laughter as he sank to his evening couch
with the thought, "How quick these 'sassy' free-niggers do put on