“Now, sis, do be careful of my precious little darlin’,” ses Mary, loud as she could to her, when she was gwine up stairs. “Oh, eat your breckfust, child, and don’t be so tarrified ’bout the baby,” ses old Miss Stallins—“you don’t ’low yerself a minit’s peace when it’s out of yer sight.” “That’s a fact,” ses sister Carline, “she won’t let nobody do anything for little Henry but herself. I know I wouldn’t be so crazy ’bout no child of mine.” “Well, but you know sister Kiz is so careless—I’m always afraid she’ll let it swaller something, or git a fall some way,” ses Mary. “Tut, tut,” ses the old woman, “ther ain’t no sense in bein’ all the time scared to deth ’bout nothing. People’s got enuff to do in this world to bear ther trouble when it comes, ’thout studdyin’ it up all the time. Take some of them good hot corn muffins,” ses she, “they’s mighty nice.” We was all eatin’ along—the old woman was talkin’ ’bout her garden and the frost, how it had nipped her Inglish peas, and I was jest raisin my coffee cup to my mouth, when I heard Kesiah scream out: “Oh, my Lord! the baby! the baby!” and kerslash! it cum rite down stairs on to the floor. Lightnin’ couldn’t knocked me off my seat quicker! Down went the coffee, and over went the table and all the vittles. Mary screamed, and old Miss Stallins fainted rite away in her cheer. I was so blind I couldn’t hardly see, but I never breathed a breth ’til I grabbed it up in my arms and run round the house two or three times, ’fore I had the hart to look at the poor little thing, to see if it was ded. By this time the galls was holt of my coat tail, hollerin’ “April Fool! April Fool!” as hard as they could, and when I cum to look, I had nothing in my arms but a bundle of rags with little Henry Clay’s clothes on. I shuck all over like I had the ager, and felt a monstrous sight more like cussin’ than laughin’. “April Fool, dingnation!” ses I: “fun’s fun; but I’m dad blamed if ther’s any fun in any sich doin’s,” and I was jest gwine to blow out a little, when I heard Mary screamin’ for me to cum to her mother. When we got in the dinin’ room, thar the old woman was, keeled over in her cheer, with her eyes sot in her hed and a corn muffin stickin’ in her mouth. Mary was takin’ on at a terrible rate, and all she could do was jest to clapp her hands and holler. “Oh, mother’s dyin’! mother’s dyin’! whar’s the baby? Oh, my poor mother! Oh, my darlin’ baby!”