groun's, wid de new sun shinin' on it so peaceful.

"Miss Anne she nuvver went home arfter dat; she stay wid ole marster
an' ole missis ez long ez dey lived. Dat warn' so mighty long, 'cause
ole marster he died dat fall, when dey wuz fallerin' fur wheat--I had
jes' married Judy den--an' ole missis she warn' long behine him. We
buried her by him next summer. Miss Anne she went in de hospitals
toreckly arfter ole missis died; an' jes' fo' Richmond fell she come
home sick wid de fever. Yo' nuvver would 'a' knowed her fur de same
ole Miss Anne. She wuz light ez a piece o' peth, an' so white, 'cep'
her eyes an' her sorrel hyar, an' she kep' on gittin' whiter an'
weaker. Judy she sut'n'y did nuss her faithful. But she nuvver got no
betterment! De fever an' Marse Chan's bein' kilt hed done strain her,
an' she died jes' 'fo' de folks wuz sot free.

"So we buried Miss Anne right by Marse Chan, in a place whar ole
missis hed tole us to leave, an' dey's bofe on 'em sleep side by side
over in de ole grabeyard at home.

"An' will yo' please tell me, marster? Dey tells me dat de Bible sey
dyar won' be marryin' nor givin' in marriage in heaven, but I don'
b'lieve it signifies dat--does yo'?"

I gave him the comfort of my earnest belief in some other
interpretation, together with several spare "eighteen-pences," as he
called them, for which he seemed humbly grateful. And as I rode away I
heard him calling across the fence to his wife, who was standing in
the door of a small whitewashed cabin, near which we had been standing
for some time:

"Judy, have Marse Chan's dawg got home?"

MR. BIXBY'S CHRISTMAS VISITOR.

BY CHARLES S. GAGE.

_Appleton's Journal, December 30, 1871._

At the head of the first flight of stairs, and on opposite sides of
the landing, were the respective rooms of Mr. Bixby and Mr. Bangs. The
house in which they lived stood in a quiet and retired street on the
lower and western side of New York, a locality which was once
inhabited by fashionable families, afterward by old-fashioned
families, and at the time of our story by the keepers of
boarding-houses for single men.

Mr. Henry Bixby and Mr. Alfred Bangs were single men--Mr. Bangs, the
wine-merchant, because he liked wine and song so well that he never
had leisure to think of women, because he was fat, because he was red
in the face, and, if more reasons are necessary, because his fingers
were chubby and short. For twenty years, day by day, Mr.