I sang the first line:— “When Israel was in bondage, they cried unto the Lord,” without any assistance, but the boys came in powerfully on the refrain, beating time simultaneously with their four fists upon my chest. I cannot think it strange that I suddenly ceased singing, but the boys viewed my action from a different standpoint. “What makes you stop, Uncle Harry?” asked Budge. “Because you hurt me badly, my boy; you mustn’t do that again.” “Why, I guess you ain’t very strong: that’s the way we do to papa, an’ it don’t hurt _him_.” Poor Tom! No wonder he grows flat-chested. “Guesh you’s a ky-baby,” suggested Toddie. This imputation I bore with meekness, but ventured to remark that it was bedtime. After allowing a few moments for the usual expressions of dissent, I staggered upstairs with Toddie in my arms, and Budge on my back, both boys roaring the refrain of the negro hymn:— “I’m a-rolling through an unfriendly World!” The offer of a stick of candy to whichever boy was first undressed, caused some lively disrobing, after which each boy received the prize. Budge bit a large piece, wedged it between his cheek and his teeth, closed his eyes, folded his hands on his breast, and prayed:— “Dear Lord, bless papa an’ mamma, an’ Toddie an’ me, an’ that turtle Uncle Harry found; and bless that lovely lady Uncle Harry goes ridin’ with, an’ make ’em take me too, an’ bless that nice old lady with white hair, that cried, an’ said I was a smart boy. Amen.” Toddie sighed as he drew his stick of candy from his lips; then he shut his eyes and remarked:—“Dee Lord, blesh Toddie, an’ make him good boy, an’ blesh zem ladies zat told me to say it aden”; the particular “it” referred to being well understood by at least three adults of my acquaintance. The course of Budge’s interview with Mrs. Mayton was afterward related by that lady, as follows:— She was sitting in her own room (which was on the parlor floor, and in the rear of the house), and was leisurely reading “Fated to be Free,” when she accidentally dropped her glasses. Stooping to pick them up, she became aware that she was not alone. A small, very dirty, but good-featured boy stood before her, his hands behind his back, and an inquiring look in his eyes. “Run away, little boy,” said she. “Don’t you know it isn’t polite to enter rooms without knocking?” “I’m lookin’ for my uncle,” said Budge, in most melodious accents, “an’ the other ladies said you would know when he would come back.” “I’m afraid they were making fun of you—or me,” said the old lady, a little severely. “I don’t know anything about little boys’ uncles. Now, run away, and don’t disturb me any more.” “Well,” continued Budge, “they said your little girl went with him, and you’d know when _she_ would come back.” “I haven’t any little girl,” said the old lady, her indignation at a supposed joke threatening to overcome her dignity. “Now go away.”