"There's not much to tell about myself, Reuben," I replied. "I've been living alone,—reading, smoking, and thinking a little. Then I fancied that I'd like the country, and here I am."

"Where'd you get that?" He jerked one squat thumb toward my crippled retainer.

"Picked him up out of the street several months ago, after he'd been run over by a carriage."

"Same soft heart as ever, Abner. Remember when one of the boys at school poked that nest of damned little English sparrows out of the gutter? There was about sixteen of 'em, and you gathered the ugly little devils up[49] into your new hat and tried to raise 'em. Don't—you—re-member, Abner?"

[49]

His fat sides shook, as he ejaculated the last sentence with difficulty.

"Yes," I answered, smiling. "My efforts were useless, for the little fellows all died. I felt sorry for them."

"I wish they were all in—hello! yonder's Henry, by jolly!"

I looked out of the window, and saw an old-fashioned rockaway draw up beside the curbing. The horse which drew it was a high-headed bay; the harness and the vehicle were spotless. A negro lad of near twenty, black as the night before creation, sat on the front seat, and on the rear seat was a man worth looking at twice. As the negro hastily scrambled down and opened the door, this gentleman alighted. He was a trifle over six feet tall; his face was wrinkled and kindly; his brows were gray and shaggy, and[50] his eyes were gray. A patriarchal white beard flowed down over his breast, and his suit was of black broadcloth. Such an evident air of gentility sat upon him, that I mentally congratulated myself that I was to be associated with him. An instant later I heard his stentorian voice in the hall.

[50]

"Walker! Walker! Is that fellow Stone here yet? I can't wait all morning for him, for there's plenty of ploughin', and plenty of lazy niggers back at the farm! Hello! Why, is this Stone?"

And the hand that closed over mine was strong with the strength of the soil.

[51]

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