ly dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone
with a metallic lustre 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.

"Yassir; of late I done mouty famous. When I first got to Newbraska,
dey folks come all roun' me to see dem mule colts. Dey ain't see
no mules like dem in Newbraska. I sold dem mules for three hundred
dollars. Yassir--three hundred.

"Den I open a blacksmith shop, suh, and made some money and bought
some lan'. Me and my old 'oman done raised up seb'm chillun, and
all doin' well 'cept two of 'em what died. Fo' year ago a railroad
come along and staht a town slam ag'inst my lan', and, suh, Mars'
Pendleton, Uncle Mose am worth leb'm thousand dollars in money,
property, and lan'."

"I'm glad to hear it," said the major heartily. "Glad to hear it."

"And dat little baby of yo'n, Mars' Pendleton--one what you name Miss
Lyddy--I be bound dat lit