de hoss back. En w'en de man w'at
come ter bring Lightnin' Bug tol' Sis' Becky her pickaninny wa'n't dead,
Sis' Becky wuz so glad dat she 'lowed she wuz gwine ter try ter lib 'tel
she got back whar she could see little Mose once mo'. En w'en she retch'
de ole plantation en seed her baby kickin' en crowin' en holdin' out his
little arms to'ds her, she wush' she wuz n' cunju'd en did n' hafter
die. En w'en Aun' Nancy tol' 'er all 'bout Aun' Peggy, Sis' Becky went
down ter see de cunjuh 'oman, en Aun' Peggy tol' her she had cunju'd
her. En den Aun' Peggy tuk de goopher off'n her, en she got well, en
stayed on de plantation, en raise' her pickaninny. En w'en little Mose
growed up, he could sing en whistle des lack a mawkin'-bird, so dat de
w'ite folks useter hab 'im come up ter de big house at night, en whistle
en sing fer 'em, en dey useter gib 'im money en vittles en one thing er
ernudder, w'ich he alluz tuk home ter his mammy; fer he knowed all 'bout
w'at she had gone th'oo. He tu'nt out ter be a sma't man, en l'arnt de
blacksmif trade; en Kunnel Pen'leton let 'im hire his time. En bimeby he
bought his mammy en sot her free, en den he bought hisse'f, en tuk keer
er Sis' Becky ez long ez dey bofe libbed."

My wife had listened to this story with greater interest than she had
manifested in any subject for several days. I had watched her furtively
from time to time during the recital, and had observed the play of her
countenance. It had expressed in turn sympathy, indignation, pity, and
at the end lively satisfaction.

"That is a very ingenious fairy tale, Julius," I said, "and we are much
obliged to you."

"Why, John!" said my wife severely, "the story bears the stamp of truth,
if ever a story did."

"Yes," I replied, "especially the humming-bird episode, and the
mocking-bird digression, to say nothing of the doings of the hornet and
the sparrow."

"Oh, well, I don't care," she rejoined, with delightful animation;
"those are mere ornamental details and not at all essential. The story
is true to nature, and might have happened half a hundred times, and no
doubt did happen, in those horrid days before the war."

"By the way, Julius," I remarked, "your story doesn't establish what
you started out to prove,--that a rabbit's foot brings good luck."

"Hit's plain 'nuff ter me, suh," replied Julius. "I bet young missis
dere kin 'splain it herse'f."

"I rather suspect," replied my wife promptly, "that Sis' Becky had no
r