ch of the plantation, and popularly supposed to be "cluss onto"
two hundred years of age; and who was wont to aver that when _he_
arrived in that part of the country, when he was a boy, the squirrels
all had two tails apiece, and the Mississippi River was such a small
stream that people bridged it, on occasion, with a fence-rail. Thus
meditating upon the glorious possibilities of his future, Sam got ready
for breakfast, and went down. It was not until he had absorbed an
enormous quantity of fried pickled-pork and hot corn-cakes, and finally
with reluctance ceased to eat, that his mother told him what had caused
the noise a little while before,--how old Bose, the fox-hound, had with
felonious intent come into the kitchen, and surreptitiously "supped up"
the chicken-soup that had been prepared for Sam's birthday breakfast;
and further, how the said delinquent had added insult to injury, by
contemptuously smashing the bowl that he had emptied.

"I alluz did 'low," exclaimed Sam, in justifiable wrath, "as dat 'ar
ole houn' Bose wuz de triflin'est meanest dog in de whole State ob
Claiborne County!"

Sam, however, was too true a philosopher to cry long over spilt
milk--or soup. He reflected that the breakfast he had just taken would
prevent his eating any soup, even if he had it. "I isn't injy-rubber,"
said he to himself, with which beautiful and happy thought his frown
was superseded by a smile, the smile developed into his normal grin,
and he began to chant an appropriate stanza from one of his favorite
lyrics:

"O-o-o-old Uncle John!
A-a-a-aunt Sally Goodin!
When you got enough corn-bread
It's des as good as puddin'."

The excellent Aunt Phillis was much affected by this saint-like
conduct on the part of her son. She sighed; fearing that the boy was
too good to live.

"Nemmind, Sam," said she; "you needn't tote no wood to-day, or fetch no
water, or do nuffin. Go down to de quarters, an' git Pumble to play wid
you."

Pumble was a boy who in age and tastes corresponded closely with Sam,
as he did in complexion. His real name, at full length, was
Pumblechook,--he having been so christened at the instance of Mahs'r
George, in honor of the immortal corn-and-seedsman. Off went Sam in
search of this boy; and he found him at the back of the maternal
mansion splitting up pine-knots for kindlings. Sam approached him with
a very slow, dignified step, and a look of commiseration.

"Hey, nigger!"