t Yankee done
dug too close under de roots, en prune de branches too close ter de
vime, en all dat lime en ashes done burn' de life out'n de vimes, en dey
des kep' a-with'in' en a-swivelin'.

"All dis time de goopher wuz a-wukkin'. When de vimes sta'ted ter
wither, Henry 'mence' ter complain er his rheumatiz; en when de leaves
begin ter dry up, his ha'r 'mence' ter drap out. When de vimes fresh' up
a bit, Henry 'd git peart ag'in, en when de vimes wither' ag'in, Henry
'd git ole ag'in, en des kep' gittin' mo' en mo' fitten fer nuffin; he
des pined away, en pined away, en fine'ly tuk ter his cabin; en when de
big vime whar he got de sap ter 'n'int his head withered en turned
yaller en died, Henry died too,--des went out sorter like a cannel. Dey
didn't 'pear ter be nuffin de matter wid 'im, 'cep'n' de rheumatiz, but
his strenk des dwinel' away 'tel he did n' hab ernuff lef ter draw his
bref. De goopher had got de under holt, en th'owed Henry dat time fer
good en all.

"Mars Dugal' tuk on might'ly 'bout losin' his vimes en his nigger in de
same year; en he swo' dat ef he could git holt er dat Yankee he 'd wear
'im ter a frazzle, en den chaw up de frazzle; en he'd done it, too, for
Mars Dugal' 'uz a monst'us brash man w'en he once git started. He sot de
vimya'd out ober ag'in, but it wuz th'ee er fo' year befo' de vimes got
ter b'arin' any scuppernon's.

"W'en de wah broke out, Mars Dugal' raise' a comp'ny, en went off ter
fight de Yankees. He say he wuz mighty glad dat wah come, en he des want
ter kill a Yankee fer eve'y dollar he los' 'long er dat grape-raisin'
Yankee. En I 'spec' he would 'a' done it, too, ef de Yankees had n'
s'picioned sump'n, en killed him fus'. Atter de s'render ole miss move'
ter town, de niggers all scattered 'way fum de plantation, en de vimya'd
ain' be'n cultervated sence."

"Is that story true?" asked Annie doubtfully, but seriously, as the old
man concluded his narrative.

"It's des ez true ez I'm a-settin' here, miss. Dey's a easy way ter
prove it: I kin lead de way right ter Henry's grave ober yander in de
plantation buryin'-groun'. En I tell yer w'at, marster, I would n' 'vise
you to buy dis yer ole vimya'd, 'caze de goopher 's on it yit, en dey
ain' no tellin' w'en it's gwine ter crap out."

"But I thought you said all the old vines died."

"Dey did 'pear ter die, but a few un 'em come out ag'in, en is mixed in
'mongs' de yuthers. I ain' skeered ter eat de grapes, 'caze I knows de