“And dis time dar wam't no place on de flatform fur me at de festibul out in dat Fisher's Gyarden as dey names it, do' it taint nothin' 'ceptin' a grove of trees. Always befoah dis I set up on de very fust and fo'most row--yas suh, always befoah dis hit wuz de rule. But dis yeah dey tek and give my place to dat 'bovish young nigger preacher dat calls hisse'f de Rev'rund J. Fontleroy Jones. His name is Buddy Jones--tha's whut it tis--and I 'members him when he wam't nothin' but jes' de same ez de mud onder yore feet. Tha's de one whut gits my place on de flatform, settin' there in a broadcloth suit, wid a collar on him mighty nigh tall nuff to saw his nappy haid off, which it wouldn't be no real loss to nobody ef it did. “But I reckin I still is got my pride lef ef I ain't got nothin' else. My grandmaw, she wuz a full blood Affikin queen and I got de royal Congo blood in my veins. So I jes' teks my foot in my hand and comes right on away and lef' dat trashy nigger dar, spreadin' hisse'f and puffin' out his mouf lak one of dese yere ole tree frogs.” There was a forlorn complaint creeping into his words; but he cast it out and cackled his derision for the new generation, and all its works. “Dey ain't botherin' me none, wid dere airs, dat dey ain't. I kin git long widout 'em, and I wuz gwine on home 'bout my own business w'en I seen dese lights up yere, and I says to myse'f dat some of my own kind of w'ite folks is holdin' fo'th and I'll jess drap up dar and set a spell wid 'em, pervidin' I'se welcome, which I knows full well I is. “So you go right ahaid, boss, wid whutever it 'tis you's fixin' to do. I 'low to jes' set yere and res' my frame.” “Course you are welcome,” said Judge Priest, “and we'll be mighty glad to have you stay as long as you're a mind to. We feel like you sort of belong here with us anyway, Unde Ike, account of your record.” The old negro grinned widely at the compliment, showing two or three yellowed snags planted in shrunken bluish gums. “Yas suh,” he assented briskly, “I reckin I do.” The heat which wilted down the white men and made their round old faces look almost peaked, appeared to have a briskening effect upon him. Now he got upon his feet. His lowliness was falling away, his sense of his own importance was coming back to him. “I reckin I is got a sorter right to be yere, tho' it warn't becomin' in me to mention it fust,” he said. “I been knowin' some of you all gen'l'men since 'way back befoah de war days. I wonder would you all lak to hear 'bout me and whut I done in dem times?” They nodded, in friendly fashion, but the speaker was already going on as though sure of the answer: “I 'members monstrous well dat day w'en my young marster jined out wid de artillery and Ole Miss she send me 'long wid him to look after him, 'cause he warn't nothin' but jess a harum-scarum boy noway. Less see, boss--dat must be goin' on thutty or forty yeah ago, ain't it?”