ed him to apply
for a loan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was
doubtful whether that relative's constricted affairs would permit him
to furnish help. The Major was forced to make an apologetic address to
Mrs. Vardeman regarding the delayed payment for board, referring to
"delinquent rentals" and "delayed remittances" in a rather confused
strain.

Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source.

Late one afternoon the door maid came up and announced an old colored
man who wanted to see Major Talbot. The Major asked that he be sent up
to his study. Soon an old darkey appeared in the doorway, with his hat
in hand, bowing, and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite
decently dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone
with a metallic luster suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was
gray--almost white. After middle life, it is difficult to estimate the
age of a negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major
Talbot.

"I be bound you don't know me, Mars' Pendleton," were his first words.

The Major rose and came forward at the old, familiar style of address.
It was one of the old plantation darkeys without a doubt; but they had
been widely scattered, and he could not recall the voice or face.

"I don't believe I do," he said kindly--"unless you will assist my
memory."

"Don't you 'member Cindy's Mose, Mars' Pendleton, what 'migrated
'mediately after de war?"

"Wait a moment," said the Major, rubbing his forehead with the tips of
his fingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those
beloved days. "Cindy's Mose," he reflected. "You worked among the
horses--breaking the colts. Yes, I remember now. After the surrender,
you took the name of--don't prompt me--Mitchell, and went to the
West--to Nebraska."

"Yassir, yassir,"--the old man's face stretched with a delighted
grin--"dat's him, dat's it. Newbraska. Dat's me--Mose Mitchell. Old
Uncle Mose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars', your pa, gimme a pah
of dem mule colts when I lef' fur to staht me goin' with. You 'member
dem colts, Mars' Pendleton?"

"I don't seem to recall the colts," said the Major. "You know. I was
married the first year of the war and living at the old Follinsbee
place. But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope
you have prospered."

Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside
it.

"Yessir; of late I done mouty famous. When I