"De obstinate pusson!" exclaimed the negro. "And den to talk about my short day! Dat is bery onpleasaut. Short day, Missa Holden, eh? Not as you knows on. I can tell you dis child born somewhere about de twenty ob June (at any rate de wedder was warm), and mean to lib accordingly. Oh, you git out, Missa Holden! Poor parwarse pusson! What a pity he hab no suspect for de voice ob de charmer! I always hear," he added, chuckling, in that curious, mirth-inspiring way so peculiar to the blacks, "dat de black snake know how to charm best, but all sign fail in dry wedder, and de pan flash in de powder dis time." Holden paid not the least regard to the information. According to his system of fatalism he would have considered it beyond his power to alter the predetermined course of things, but it is not probable that his mind dwelt upon the thought of personal security. He went straight forward to the village, calling at places where he thought he would most likely find customers for his wares, and in no respect avoiding public observation. He had sold his baskets, and was on his return to the river, over whose frozen surface lay his road home, when he beheld a scene that solicited his attention and arrested his steps. It was an Indian burial. Holden in his round had strolled as far as the piece of table land, of which mention was made in the first chapter, to a distance of nearly a mile from the head of the Severn, and was at the moment opposite a spot reserved by the tribe, of which a small number were lingering in the neighborhood, as the revered resting-place of the bones of their ancestors, whence they themselves hoped to start for the happy hunting grounds. It was a place of singular beauty, selected apparently with a delicate appreciation of the loveliness of the scenery, for nowhere else in the vicinity was there so attractive a combination of hill and dale, and wood and water, to compose a landscape.