When Ma bimeby upon ’em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin’ o’ smily roun’ the lips, An’ teary roun’ the lashes. For she was jes’ the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary. The blood clost roun’ her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin’, Tell mother see how metters stood, And gin ’em both her blessin’. Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o’ Fundy; An’ all I know is they was cried In meetin’ come nex’ Sunday. _James Russell Lowell._ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ _THE WONDERFUL TAR-BABY STORY._ [Illustration: “‘MAWNIN’!’ SEZ BRER RABBIT, SEZEE.”] “DIDN’T the fox never catch the rabbit, uncle Remus?” asked the little boy the next evening. “He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s you bawn—brer fox did. One day after brer rabbit fool him wid dat calamus root, brer fox went ter wuk en got ’im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun what he call a tar-baby, en he tuck dish yere tar-baby en he sot ’er in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer ter see wat de news wuz gwineter be. En he didn’t hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come brer rabbit pacin’ down de road—lippity-clippity, clippity-lippity—dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer fox, he lay low. Brer rabbit come prancin’ ’long twel he spy de tar-baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz ’stonished. De tar-baby, she sot dar, she did, en brer fox, he lay low. “‘Mawnin’!’ sez brer rabbit, sezee; ‘nice wedder dis mawnin’,’ sezee. “Tar-baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en brer fox, he lay low. “‘How duz zo’ sym’tums seem ter segashuate?’ sez brer rabbit, sezee. “Brer fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de tar-baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. ‘How you come on, den? Is you deaf?’ sez brer rabbit, sezee; ’kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,’ sezee. “Tar-baby stay still, en brer fox, he lay low. “‘Youer stuck up, dat’s w’at you is,’ says brer rabbit, sezee, ’en I’m gwineter kyore you, dat’s w’at I’m a gwineter do,’ sezee. “Brer fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummuck, he did, but tar-baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. “‘I’m gwineter larn you howter talk ter ’specttubble fokes ef hit’s de las’ ack,’ sez brer rabbit, sezee. ‘Ef you don’t take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I’m gwineter bus’ you wide open,’ sezee. “Tar-baby stay still, en brer fox, he lay low.