e caught out after dark--a place to be threatened with
if you cried in the night and wanted the candle lighted--a landmark
where to stop when going part way home with the little girl who had
been to visit you, and who, on leaving you, ran no less swiftly than
you yourself did, half-fearing that the dusky form in the holly would
rise and try his skill at running. Verily, my heart has beat faster at
the thoughts of that dead negro than it ever has since at the sight of
a hundred live specimens, "'way down south on the old plantation."

The old schoolhouse, too, had its advantages and its disadvantages; of
the latter, one was that there, both summer and winter, but more
especially during the last-mentioned season, all the rude boys in the
place thought they had a perfect right to congregate and annoy the
girls in every possible way. But never mind, not a few wry faces we
made at them, and not a few "blockheads" we pinned to their backs! Oh!
I've had rare times in that old house and have seen rare sights, too,
to say nothing of the fights which occasionally occurred. In these
last brother Joe generally took the lead of one party, while Jim Brown
commanded the other. Dire was the confusion which reigned at such
times. Books were hurled from side to side. Then followed in quick
succession shovel, tongs, poker, water cup, water pail, water and all;
and to cap the climax, Jim Brown once seized the large iron pan, which
stood upon the stove, half-filled with hot water, and hurled it in the
midst of the enemy. Luckily nobody was killed, and but few wounded.

Years in their rapid flight have rolled away since then, and he, my
brother, is sleeping alone on the wild shore of California.

"For scarcely had the sad tones died
Which echoed the farewell,
When o'er the western prairies
There came a funeral knell;
It said that he who went from us,
While yet upon his brow
The dew of youth was glistening,
Had passed to heaven now."

James Brown, too, is resting in the churchyard, near his own home, and
'neath his own native sky.

CHAPTER II.

THE BELLE OF RICE CORNER.

Yes, Rice Corner had a belle, but it was not I. Oh, no, nobody ever
mistook _me_ for a belle, or much of anything else, in fact; _I_ was
simply "Mary Jane," or, if that was not concise enough, "Crazy Jane"
set the matter all right. The belle of which I speak was a _bona fide_
one--fine complexion, handsome features, b