I fin's it kinder lonesome, suh. I goes out an' picks cotton in de
fall, an' I does arrants an' little jobs roun' de house fer folks w'at
'll hire me; an' w'en I ain' got nothin' ter eat I kin gor oun' ter de
ole house an' wo'k in de gyahden er chop some wood, an' git a meal er
vittles f'om ole Mis' Nichols, who's be'n mighty good ter me, suh.
She's de barbuh's wife, suh, w'at bought ouah ole house. Dey got mo'
dan any yuther colored folks roun' hyuh, but dey he'ps de po', suh,
dey he'ps de po'."

"Which speaks well for them, Peter. I'm glad that all the virtue has
not yet gone out of the old house."

The old man's talk rambled on, like a sluggish stream, while the
colonel's more active mind busied itself with the problem suggested by
this unforeseen meeting. Peter and he had both gone out into the
world, and they had both returned. He had come back rich and
independent. What good had freedom done for Peter? In the colonel's
childhood his father's butler, old Madison, had lived a life which,
compared to that of Peter at the same age, was one of ease and luxury.
How easy the conclusion that the slave's lot had been the more
fortunate! But no, Peter had been better free. There were plenty of
poor white men, and no one had suggested slavery as an improvement of
their condition. Had Peter remained a slave, then the colonel would
have remained a master, which was only another form of slavery. The
colonel had been emancipated by the same token that had made Peter
free. Peter had returned home poor and broken, not because he had been
free, but because nature first, and society next, in distributing
their gifts, had been niggardly with old Peter. Had he been better
equipped, or had a better chance, he might have made a better showing.
The colonel had prospered because, having no Peters to work for him,
he had been compelled to work for himself. He would set his own
success against Peter's failure; and he would take off his hat to the
memory of the immortal statesman, who in freeing one race had
emancipated another and struck the shackles from a Nation's mind.

_Four_

While the colonel and old Peter were thus discussing reminiscences in
which little Phil could have no share, the boy, with childish
curiosity, had wandered off, down one of the shaded paths. When, a
little later, the colonel looked around for him, he saw Phil seated on
a rustic bench, in conversation with a lady. As the boy seemed
entirely comfortable