wrought up, while the Squire,
also somewhat excited, continued:--

"I will give you a house in the free settlement, out in the slashes,
and your young master will always take care of you."

Another rather disconcerting pause was broken by a second "Yes,
Marster;" and the old man, picking up his hat, shuffled out.

The Squire glanced at Harry with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes,
but the boy's face expressed such blank disappointment that he took
pity upon him, and, picking up a newspaper, dismissed the matter.

Upon the following evening a low knock was heard at the study door,
then a fumbling at the latch, and old Jerry once more stood upon the
threshold.

"Well, old man, what is it now?" his master asked kindly. "Come, out
with it!" he repeated, as the old man, with a feeble grin, stood
helplessly fingering his hat. "What's the matter?"

And old Jerry, slowly scratching his head, made answer:--

"Thank, Marster; I's come to ax Marster what I done to 'splease Mars?"

"Displease me! Why, what has put that notion into your head?"

"I dunno, Mars, what I's done, but I's skeared Mars mout be set agin
me, 'cause he say he gwine sen' me offen de plantation."

Then Harry explained that he was to be set free, and eagerly enlarged
upon the delights of liberty. The hog-feeder listened, but was
unmoved: he obstinately declined to accept his freedom, his plea being
that "the varments" would "'stroy up his creeturs" if he were not
there to look after them.

"De black sow, she got a fine litter o' pigs now, an' de foxes is
a'ter 'em de blessed time."

After this no more could be urged, and Jerry, scraping his foot, went
out with a mind full of content.

FOOTNOTE:

[2] As this is a true tale of an old-time plantation negro, I think it
but fair to state that he had a "chist" full of good clothes; but,
with a parsimony not uncommon among his race, he preferred to protect
his feet with old bits of blanket, instead of using the excellent
home-knit woollen socks which lay snugly hidden away in his "chist;"
and it was the same feeling which caused him to wrap himself now into
an old garment made up of patches, although three good ones lay snugly
folded away in the same chest.

THE JUNIOR RESERVE

It was in the early summer of 1864 that the family at Swan Manor was
thrown off its balance by the calling out of "The Junior Reserves."
That unfledged boys, and among them their own little smooth-cheeked
Billy, s