* * * * * Through the tangles of the past a picture rises, though the Scheherazade of the nursery has passed away, the voice comes no more to the childish ears, for the little maid too is gone; perhaps the stories are half forgotten, but a word, a thought, stirs the pulse of memory. “Tell a devil tale, Ellen.” “Naw, I hain’t gwine tell you ’n’ Charlie no mo’ devil tales.” “Please, Ellen, we’ll go to sleep in two minutes if you will.” “Tell about Uncle ’Jah, the devil, and the dark of the moon.” “I hain’t gwine tell hit—Miss ’Tishy say you git skeered an’ don’ go ter sleep, an’ I hain’t gwine tell ’em ter yo’ no mo’.” “Oh, Ellen, yes, we will; they don’t scare us. We’ll get right in bed and listen, and by the time you are through we’ll be asleep. Mamma won’t care.” “But she do keer; she say you mustn’t heah ’em no mo’. Dey gibs her de horrors.” “Go on, Ellen. She was just afraid that we’d be scared in the night, but we are too big for that now. Go on about the devil and Uncle ’Jah.” “Miss ’Tishy be mighty mad!” “But we won’t tell her. Her mammy used to tell her those tales when she was little; she said so.” “An’ yo’ won’t tell yo’ maw?” “No, we won’t tell her.” “Yo’ sho’ yo’ won’t tell?” “Cross my heart and body, we won’t, Ellen!” * * * * * “Well, one time dey hab er powerful Big Meetin’ on de place whar Unc’ ’Jah lib, an’ dar was er mighty prophesyin’ an’ ’zortin’ ’count er hit. “Dey was er-prophesyin’ ’bout dis an’ prophesyin’ ’bout dat, but dar wa’n’t many sinners got up twel er stranger kim up an’ sot inter prophesyin’, an’ den sech er gittin’ erbout yo’ nebber did see; dar wa’n’t ’nough benches fur de mo’ners, an’ dey des laid down in de straw. “Some uv ’em ’low de stars gwine fall ergin; an’ some uv ’em ’low de stars hain’t gwine fall, but de pest’_lence_ er kimmin’; an’ some ’low de pest’_lence_ ain’ kimmin’, but dey gwine hab er rain er sarpents; but de stranger he ’zort an’ prophesy louder an’ longer, an’ he ’low dat arter de Big Meetin’, de debil gwine be loose on de place an’ gwine take de form uv er sarpent, er tarrypin, er man, an’ er fly, an’ he gwine pester mightily de chillen er de promus; but de sarpent dey kin shoot, de tarrypin dey kin kill, an’ de man dey kin see, but hit gwine ter be mighty hard ter ketch up wid de fly, specuil in fly-time, ’case de debil choose de innercentest house-fly he kin fin’. “But de stranger say de debil do de mos’ tore-down things es er fly, ’case he kin go ever’whar, an’ walk on de ceiling top side down des er-seein’ things dat’s hid, an’ he kin git erroun’ faster ’n de man, an’ fas’ ergin es de sarpent, an’ er hundred times es fas’ es de tarrypin. He taken de tarrypin so’s ter git de ’scusin’ er movin’ slow. Well, Unc’ ’Jah he don’ pay no ’tention ter de prophesyin’ an’ de churchin’, ’case he do he own prophesyin’ an’ workin’, so he des lay low an’ keep still.