d one of 'em is writin'."

"Yes, dat's jes wat I hyearn," said Uncle Bob. "I hyearn 'em say dat dey
had de fuss' Defemation uv Ondepen'ence on de fourf uv July, an' eber
sence den de folks ben er habin' holerday an' barbecues on dat day."

"What's er Defemation, Uncle Bob?" asked Dumps, who possessed an
inquiring mind.

"Well, I mos' furgits de zack meanin'," said the old man, scratching his
head; "hit's some kin' er writin', do, jes like Miss Diddie say; but,
let erlone dat, hit's in de squshionary, an' yer ma kin fin' hit fur
yer, an' 'splain de zack meanin' uv de word; but de Defemation uv
Ondepen'ence, hit happened on de fuss fourf uv July, an' hit happens
ev'y fourf uv July sence den; an' dat's 'cordin' ter my onderstandin' uv
hit," said Uncle Bob, whipping up his horses.

"What's dat, Brer Bob?" asked Daddy Jake; and as soon as Uncle Bob had
yelled at him Dumps's query and his answer to it, the old man said:

"Yer wrong, Brer Bob; I 'members well de fus' fourf uv July; hit wuz er
man, honey. Marse Fofer July wuz er _man_, an' de day wuz name atter
him. He wuz er pow'ful fightin' man; but den who it wuz he fit I mos'
furgot, hit's ben so long ergo; but I 'members, do, I wuz er right
smart slip uv er boy, an' I went wid my ole marster, yer pa's gran'pa,
to er big dinner wat dey had on de Jeems Riber, in ole Furginny; an' dat
day, sar, Marse Fofer July wuz dar; an' he made er big speech ter de
wite folks, caze I hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's. I nuber seed 'im,
but I hyeard he wuz dar, do, an' I knows he _wuz_ dar, caze I sho'ly
hyeard 'em clappin' uv dey han's; an', 'cordin' ter de way I 'members
bout'n it, dis is his birfday, wat de folks keeps plum till yet, caze
dey ain't no men nowerdays like Marse Fofer July. He wuz er gre't man,
an' he had sense, too; an' den, 'sides dat, he wuz some er de fus'
famblys in dem days. Wy, his folks usen ter visit our wite folks. I helt
his horse fur 'im de many er time; an', let erlone dat, I knowed some uv
his niggers; but den dat's ben er long time ergo."

"But what was he writin' about, Daddy?" asked Diddie, who remembered the
picture too well to give up the "writing part."

"He wuz jes signin' some kin' er deeds or sump'n," said Daddy. "I dunno
wat he wuz writin' erbout; but den he wuz er man, caze he lived in my
recommembrunce, an' I done seed 'im myse'f."

That settled the whole matter, though Diddie was not entirely satisfied;
but, as the wagon drove up to the cr