night and mornin'. I've heard tell that witches can't hear the Lord's
name, and stay, nohow. Maybe Miss Vessy'll say in Meshach's old hat:
'Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, bless the bed that I lie on.' That'll
make the old devil jess fly up an' away."

"No, gals," insisted Aunt Hominy, "cammermile is all dat'll keep him
from a-measurin' of us in. Don't ole Meshach go to church, too, and hab
a prayer-book an'--listen dar, honey! ef she ain't a singin' to him!"

As Virgie answered the bell, Aunt Hominy took down her cherished
camomile and sprinkled the little children, and gave them each a glass
of sassafras beer to bless their insides.

"Lord a bless 'em!" exclaimed the old lady, "ef de slave-buyer comes,
Aunt Hominy'll take 'em to de woods an' jess git los', an' live on
teaberries, slippery-ellum, haws, an' chincapins. We don't gwyn stay an'
let ole Meshach starve us like a lizzer."

"Aunt Hominy," said Roxy, "maybe, old lady, ef you bake a nice loaf of
Federal bread, or a game-pie, or a persimmon custard, an' send it to ole
Meshach, he won't sell us to the slave-buyers. He never gets nothing
good to eat, an' don't know what it is. A little taste of it'll make him
want mo'."

"Roxy, gal," said Aunt Hominy, "I'd jess like to make a dumplin'-bag out
o' dat steeple-hat he got. When I skinned de dumplin' de hat would be
bad spiled, chillen, an' den de Judge would git his lan' back dat
Meshach's measured in. For de Judge would say, 'Meshach, ye hain't
measured me fair. Wha's yer yard-stick, ole debbil?' Den Meshach he say,
'De hat I tuk it in wid, done gone burnt by dat ole Hominy, makin' of
her puddin's.' 'Den,' says de Judge, 'ye ain't measured me squar. I
won't play. Take it all back!' Chillen, we must git dat ar ole hat, or
de slave-buyers done take us all."

They started to take another peep of cupidity and awe at the storied
hat, when Virgie emerged from the parlor door with the dreaded article
in her hand, and, hanging it on the peg, came with superstitious fear
and relief into the colonnade. Aunt Hominy hurried her to the kitchen,
strewed her with herb-dust, waved a rattle of snake's teeth in a pig's
weazen over her head, and ended by pushing a sweet piece of preserved
watermelon-rind down her throat.

"Did it hurt ye, honey?" inquired Aunt Hominy, with her eyes full of
excitement, referring to the hat.

"'Deed I don't know, aunty," Virgie answered; "all I saw was Miss Vessy,
looking away from me, as if she m