how you live that way."

"Oh, we lives all right," answered the man; "we has plenty to eat an'
drink, an' clothes to wear, an' some place to stay. I reckon folks ain't
got much use fu' nuffin' mo'."

Dokesbury sighed. Here indeed was virgin soil for his ministerial
labors. His spirits were not materially raised when, some time later, he
came in sight of the house which was to be his abode. To be sure, it was
better than most of the houses which he had seen in the Negro part of
Mt. Hope; but even at that it was far from being good or
comfortable-looking. It was small and mean in appearance. The weather
boarding was broken, and in some places entirely fallen away, showing
the great unhewn logs beneath; while off the boards that remained the
whitewash had peeled in scrofulous spots.

The minister's guide went up to the closed door, and rapped loudly with
a heavy stick.

"G' 'way f'om dah, an' quit you' foolin'," came in a large voice from
within.

The guide grinned, and rapped again. There was a sound of shuffling feet
and the pushing back of a chair, and then the same voice asking: "I bet
I'll mek you git away f'om dat do'."

"Dat's A'nt Ca'line," the guide said, and laughed.

The door was flung back as quickly as its worn hinges and sagging bottom
would allow, and a large body surmounted by a face like a big round full
moon presented itself in the opening. A broomstick showed itself
aggressively in one fat shiny hand.

"It's you, Tom Scott, is it--you trif'nin'----" and then, catching sight
of the stranger, her whole manner changed, and she dropped the
broomstick with an embarrassed "'Scuse me, suh."

Tom chuckled all over as he said, "A'nt Ca'line, dis is yo' new
preachah."

The big black face lighted up with a broad smile as the old woman
extended her hand and enveloped that of the young minister's.

"Come in," she said. "I's mighty glad to see you--that no-'count Tom
come put' nigh mekin' me 'spose myse'f." Then turning to Tom, she
exclaimed with good-natured severity, "An' you go 'long, you scoun'll
you!"

The preacher entered the cabin--it was hardly more--and seated himself
in the rush-bottomed chair which "A'nt Ca'line" had been industriously
polishing with her apron.

"An' now, Brothah----"

"Dokesbury," supplemented the young man.

"Brothah Dokesbury, I jes' want you to mek yo'se'f at home right erway.
I know you ain't use to ouah ways down hyeah; but you jes' got to set in
an' git ust to 'e