ub it out; yit I lay I've seed a heap of white people lots meaner'n
Free Joe. He grins--an' that's nigger--but I've ketched his under jaw
a-tremblin' when Lucindy's name uz brung up. An' I tell you," she went
on, bridling up a little, and speaking with almost fierce emphasis, "the
Old Boy's done sharpened his claws for Spite Calderwood. You'll see
it."

"Me, Rebecca?" said Mr. Staley, hugging his palsied arm; "me? I hope
not."

"Well, you'll know it then," said Miss Becky, laughing heartily at her
brother's look of alarm.

The next morning Micajah Staley had occasion to go into the woods after
a piece of timber. He saw Free Joe sitting at the foot of the poplar,
and the sight vexed him somewhat.

"Git up from there," he cried, "an' go an' arn your livin'. A mighty
purty pass it's come to, when great big buck niggers can lie a-snorin'
in the woods all day, when t'other folks is got to be up an' a-gwine.
Git up from there!"

Receiving no response, Mr. Staley went to Free Joe, and shook him by the
shoulder; but the negro made no response. He was dead. His hat was off,
his head was bent, and a smile was on his face. It was as if he had
bowed and smiled when death stood before him, humble to the last. His
clothes were ragged; his hands were rough and callous; his shoes were
literally tied together with strings; he was shabby in the extreme. A
passer-by, glancing at him, could have no idea that such a humble
creature had been summoned as a witness before the Lord God of Hosts.

LITTLE COMPTON

VERY few Southern country towns have been more profitably influenced by
the new order of things than Hillsborough in Middle Georgia. At various
intervals since the war it has had what the local weekly calls "a
business boom." The old tavern has been torn down, and in its place
stands a new three-story brick hotel, managed by a very brisk young man,
who is shrewd enough to advertise in the newspapers of the neighboring
towns that he has "special accommodations and special rates for
commercial travelers." Although Hillsborough is comparatively a small
town, it is the centre of a very productive region, and its trade is
somewhat important. Consequently, the commercial travelers, with
characteristic energy, lose no opportunity of taking advantage of the
hospitable invitation of the landlord of the Hillsborough hotel.

Not many years ago a representative of this class visited the old town.
He was from the North, and, being