ave been so fond of
her master and mistress, nor so proud of the family and its position. I
spent many an hour near Aunt Fountain's cake and beer stand, for I liked
to hear her talk. Besides, she had a very funny name, and I thought
there was always a probability that she would explain how she got it.
But she never did.

I had forgotten all about the Tomlinsons until the advertisement I have
mentioned was accidentally brought to my notice, whereupon memory
suddenly became wonderfully active. I am keenly alive to the happier
results of the war, and I hope I appreciate at their full value the
emancipation of both whites and blacks from the deadly effects of negro
slavery, and the wonderful development of our material resources that
the war has rendered possible; but I must confess it was with a feeling
of regret that I learned that the Tomlinson Place had been turned into a
dairy farm. Moreover, the name of Ferris Trunion had a foreign and an
unfamiliar sound. His bluntly worded advertisement appeared to come from
the mind of a man who would not hesitate to sweep away both romance and
tradition if they happened to stand in the way of a profitable bargain.

I was therefore much gratified, some time after reading Trunion's
advertisement, to receive a note from a friend who deals in real estate,
telling me that some land near the Tomlinson Place had been placed in
his hands for sale, and asking me to go to Rockville to see if the land
and the situation were all they were described to be. I lost no time in
undertaking this part of the business, for I was anxious to see how the
old place looked in the hands of strangers, and unsympathetic strangers
at that.

It is not far from Atlanta to Rockville--a day and a night--and the
journey is not fatiguing; so that a few hours after receiving my
friend's request I was sitting in the veranda of the Rockville Hotel,
observing, with some degree of wonder, the vast changes that had taken
place--the most of them for the better. There were new faces and new
enterprises all around me, and there was a bustle about the town that
must have caused queer sensations in the minds of the few old citizens
who still gathered at the post-office for the purpose of carrying on
ancient political controversies with each other.

Among the few familiar figures that attracted my attention was that of
Aunt Fountain. The old China tree in the shade of which she used to sit
had been blasted by lightning or