hich
he coveted, and without which even his miserable condition would be
rendered more miserable still.

His greatest trouble was the fact that he was not allowed to visit his
wife; but he soon found a way out of his difficulty. After he had been
ordered away from the Calderwood place, he was in the habit of wandering
as far in that direction as prudence would permit. Near the Calderwood
place, but not on Calderwood's land, lived an old man named Micajah
Staley and his sister Becky Staley. These people were old and very
poor. Old Micajah had a palsied arm and hand; but, in spite of this, he
managed to earn a precarious living with his turning-lathe.

When he was a slave Free Joe would have scorned these representatives of
a class known as poor white trash, but now he found them sympathetic and
helpful in various ways. From the back door of their cabin he could hear
the Calderwood negroes singing at night, and he sometimes fancied he
could distinguish Lucinda's shrill treble rising above the other voices.
A large poplar grew in the woods some distance from the Staley cabin,
and at the foot of this tree Free Joe would sit for hours with his face
turned toward Calderwood's. His little dog Dan would curl up in the
leaves near by, and the two seemed to be as comfortable as possible.

One Saturday afternoon Free Joe, sitting at the foot of this friendly
poplar, fell asleep. How long he slept, he could not tell; but when he
awoke little Dan was licking his face, the moon was shining brightly,
and Lucinda his wife stood before him laughing. The dog, seeing that
Free Joe was asleep, had grown somewhat impatient, and he concluded to
make an excursion to the Calderwood place on his own account. Lucinda
was inclined to give the incident a twist in the direction of
superstition.

"I 'uz settn' down front er de fireplace," she said, "cookin' me some
meat, w'en all of a sudden I year sumpin at de do'--scratch, scratch. I
tuck'n tu'n de meat over, en make out I ain't year it. Bimeby it come
dar 'gin--scratch, scratch. I up en open de do', I did, en, bless de
Lord! dar wuz little Dan, en it look like ter me dat his ribs done grow
terge'er. I gin 'im some bread, en den, w'en he start out, I tuck'n
foller 'im, kaze, I say ter myse'f, maybe my nigger man mought be
some'rs 'roun'. Dat ar little dog got sense, mon."

Free Joe laughed and dropped his hand lightly on Dan's head. For a long
time after that he had no difficulty in seeing hi