h them and see what had become of Mr. Lynn
and Annie. The whole party accordingly went back to the river. After
searching about for some time, one of the men espied something black
on the surface of the snow, at a great distance down the river. They
all proceeded to the spot, and were dreadfully shocked on arriving
there to find that the black spot was a part of Mr. Lynn's arm and
that his body was beneath, frozen, and buried up in the snow."

When Mammy heard these words, she threw up her arms, and exclaimed,
"Lord, have mercy 'pon my soul! What! Mr. Lynn hisself?"

To her imagination Mr. Lynn was a most real person. The book was now
brought to her and she, with little Caroline, looked with deep and
mournful interest at the picture of the empty sleigh.

"It certainly is a awful country to live in; seem like it ain't fitten
for a dog, much less white folks. To think o' Mr. Lynn hisself bein'
froze to death. Well! well! well! It certainly was onexpected."

The children's story books furnished Mammy with many thoughts. Among
them was a set of German nursery tales, full of quaint colored
pictures, in which she took especial pleasure. Seated by the nursery
fire, the baby asleep in his crib and the others out at play, she
would turn the leaves feeling that each picture was a living portrait.
Slovenly Peter, Rocking Phillip, and Greedy Jacob were her favorites.
Once when shown a pretzel, she exclaimed, "Ef it ain't the very thing
what Jacob had in his hand when he busted," and, taking the pretzel in
her hand, she contemplated it with a thoughtful and sentimental air.

The nursery door was now burst open, and in rushed Harry, bringing
with him a blast of fresh cold air; black Ned came too, and both
brought upon their feet enough snow to cover the carpet with moist
tracks.

"You Ne-Ne-Ned, ain't you got no mo' manners than to be a-tracking up
de house dis way? Go 'long out and clean your feet;" but the hubbub
was too great for Mammy's words to be heeded; pig-tails were being
brandished aloft, and the children all clustered round Harry and Ned,
asking questions and clamoring for pig-tails.

"Look!" said Harry. "Here's somefin better'n pig-tails," and he drew
from his pocket the mangled remains of a dozen or more snow-birds.

A scramble now ensued, and Sibyl--having secured as many as she
wanted--retired to a corner, and silently fell to plucking them, while
Sedley, who was as vainglorious as a Comanche, capered about on