Den Ole Mars teck nubba pinch ub snuff, dust he shut flounces wid it, cut hissef on de leg wid he ridin’ whup an’ say: “Sookey, I change meh mine; when Saul cum back he kin wuck in de gyardin wid yo’ husban’, Stephen.” When I wen’ out de do’ da wuz Cap’n Stitchberry stan’in’ befo’ de steps wid he haid orncover’d waitin’ fuh his orders fum Mars Nickey; Stephen wuz holdin’ Sylph, Marster’s favorite mare; Music, Jerry-Myah, Sweet-lips, Jefferson, Chimes, an’ all de res’ ub de houn’s (Ole Mars wudn’ let you call ’em dogs) wuz playin’ erroun’ Stephen, chunin’ up, an’ Sylph wuz almos’ crazy fuh Ole Mars ter git in de saddle—she jes’ scorn de yearth when she gallopin’ an’ cud almos’ jump ober de moon. Well, I felt ez prowd an’ happy ez Sylph an’ de houn’s did, kase, Muhtilda, ev’ything look’d lubly ter me. So I meck up meh mind I ain’ gwine ter scold Stephen any mo’—he did look so peart, holdin’ Sylph wid uh yaller wes’ Ole Marster jes’ gib him. But what meck me mos’ happy, I heahd de wabes moanin’, I luck at de ribber, an’ da wuz de Margaret Jane wid huh sails sot, jes’ prancin’. I knew’d what dat signify—so hit won’ be long befo’ Saul cum back. Saul sing songs, play de hohn dat Little Billy gib him, wid locks an’ keys, dances, too. How-some-eber, hit’s jes’ what de qual’ty do; but da ain’ nuffin wichious erboutin Saul, an’ I sut’ny has miss him pow’ful. Da ain’ uh houn’ on dis place dat ain’ look sad sence Saul lef’. When dey cum home wid deah sore feet, ears an’ legs all scratch up, full ub briars, Saul, ’doutin Ole Mars habin’ ter tell him ev’y day, biles uh pot ub squaw-root, baves dem houn’s feet an’ legs, an’ you kin see dem settin’ ’roun’ waitin’ fuh deah turn. Heah cum Ole Miss now; look at dem chickins an’ de cows all lookin’ at huh—ub cose meckin’ mirations ter deahsebs erbout huh. Dat lady behin’ wid uh barsket on huh ahm an’ all dem keys on huh ap’on strings, is Miss Betsey Orsman, de housekeeper. Dey bin ter kivver all dat grabe ub Mars Francis wid flowers—’ceppin’ de toomstone. De vusses on hit ev’y serbent in dis house has larnt. Think ub dat! “Kyant you say ’em, Aunt Sookey?” “Yas, indeed, chile, dat I kin; but I will arsk Miss Betsey arfter Ole Miss gits by. Honey, she’s uh ’citer; she jes’ gibs huhsef up ter glory when she speechifyin’. I will ax huh kase she likes ter say it. “Miss Betsey, will you say dem vusses what’s on Mars Francis’ toomstone?” “Why, certainly, Sookey; now listen good: “The seasons as they fly, Snatch from us in their course, year after year Some sweet connection, some endearing tie. The parent, ever honored, ever dear, Claims from the filial breast the pious sigh; A brother’s urn demands the filial tear, And gentle sorrows gush from friendship’s eye. To-day we frolic in the rosy bloom Of jocund youth—to-morrow knells us to the tomb.”