The voice disturbed Tidy in her reverie. Her first impulse was to get up and walk away, that she might finish out her thinking in some other place, where she could be alone. But the thought flashed through her mind, that perhaps the kind-looking old nurse at her side might be able to tell her some of the many things she was so perplexed about; and, almost before she knew she was speaking, she blurted out,-- "What's them things up thar?" "Dem bright little shiny tings, honey, in de firm'ment? Laws, don' ye know? Whar's ye lived all yer days, if ye don' know de stars when ye sees 'em?" "Who owns 'em? and what they stuck up ther for?" asked the child, somewhat encouraged. "Who owns 'em? Hi! dey's de property ob de Lord ob heaben, chile, I reckons; and dey's put dar to gib us light o'nights. Jest see 'em shine! and what a sight of 'em dar is, too; nobody can't count 'em noway. And de Lord he hold 'em all in de holler ob his hand," said the old negress, shaping her great black palm to suit the idea; "and he knows 'em all by name, too. Specs 'tis wonderful; but ebery one ob dem leetle, teenty tings has got a name, and de great Lord he 'members 'em ebery one." Tidy's wonder was not at all diminished by what she heard; and the questions she wanted to ask came up so fast in her mind, she hardly knew which to utter first. What they were made out of, how they came and went, what they meant by twinkling so, were things she had long desired to know; but for the moment these were forgotten in the burning, eager curiosity she had, now that she had heard the name of their Maker, to know more of him, and where he was to be found. Half rising from her former position, and looking earnestly in the face of her humble instructor, which was beaming with her own admiration of the glorious works and power of the Lord, she exclaimed vehemently,-- "That Lord,--who's him? I's never heerd of him afore." "Laws, honey, don' ye know? He's de great Lord of heaben and earf, dat made you and me and ebery body else. He made all de tings ye sees,--de trees, de green grass, de birds, de pigs,--dere's noffin dat he didn't make. Oh, he's de mighty Lord, I tells ye, chile! Didn't ye neber hear 'bout him afore?" Tidy shook her head; she could hardly speak. "Tell me some more," she said at last. "Well, chile, dis great Lord he lib up in de heaben of heabens, way up ober dat blue sky, and he sits all de time on a great trone, and he sees ebery ting dat goes on down har in dis yer world. Ef ye does any ting bad, he puts it down in a great book he's got, and byme-by he'll punish de wicked folks right orful." "Whip?" questioned Tidy. "Whip! no; burn in de hot fire and brimstone for eber and for eber. 'Tis orful to be wicked, and hab de great Lord punish." "I ha'n't done noffin," cried out Tidy, fairly trembling with terror.