r the
old man. Turn there, if you please--yonder by that lightning-scared old
oak and those top-heavy pecans is his cabin and has been for more than
sixty years. Here was the local of my grand-father's house; here was
born my mother; but all the buildings have long been gone save Uncle
Toney's cabin. Think of the hopes, the aspirations, the blisses, the
sorrows, the little world that once was here--all gone except Uncle
Toney. In my childhood I used to come here and go with him to the
graves where we have been to-day, and have sat by them for hours
listening to the stories he delights to tell of my grandfather and
mother, until their very appearance seems familiar to my vision. I know
that my grandfather was a small man, and a passionate man, and Toney
sometimes tells me I am like him. His eye was gray--so is mine; his
face sharper than round--so is mine, and sometimes my temper is
terrible--so was his;" and she laughed again that same wild thrilling
laugh as she gallopped up to the cabin and leaped down to greet the old
man, who was seated at the door of his hut beneath the shade of a
catalpa, the trunk of which was worn smooth from his long leaning
against it. He was very black and very fat. His wool was white as snow,
and but for the seams in both cheeks, cut by the knife in observance of
some ridiculous rite in his native land, would have been really
fine-looking for one of his age. He arose and shook hands with the
cousin, but did not approach the gentleman. He was evidently not
pleased with his presence and was chary of his talk.

"Ah! young missus," he said, when he received the basket, "you bring
old Toney sometin good. You is my young missus, too; but dis one is de
las one. Dey is all married and gone but dis one." (This conversation
was addressed to the cousin.) "All gone away but dis one, and when she
marry dare will be nobody to fetch dis ole nigger good tings and talk
to de ole man."

"Uncle Toney, I don't intend to marry."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the old man, "berry well, berry well! I hear dat
from ebery one ob my young misses, and where is dey now? All done
married and gone. You gwine to do jus as all on em hab done, byne by
when de right one come. Ah! may be he come now."

"You old sinner, I have a great mind to pull your ears for you."

"O no, missus, I don't know! I see fine young man dare; but maybe he
come wid Miss Ann, and maybe he belong to her."

"Uncle Toney, don't you remember I told you