Meanwhile, the wedding party also discussed the matter. And presently the much-troubled parson heard a tap at his door. “Come in,” he said gloomily, and in came the wedding parties, all wreathed in smiles. “Well, minister,” said the spokesman amiably, “we's been tarkin' an' tarkin' an' we's 'greed to mak' ta change!” And the parson was mightily relieved. He did not understand how lightly matrimony sits upon the negro. But that surely was nothing to the predicament of the lady who took her baby to be christened, and announced at the font in answer to the question, “How do you name this child?” “Call de chile Beel-ze-bub.” “Oh, but that's not a proper name for a child,” cried the horrified minister. The proud mother looked at him doubtfully. “But I get him outer de Bible.” “But I tell you it's a wicked name,” asseverated the minister. She sighed. All the trouble to be gone through again. “Den, minister, what I call him?” “Well, call him John if you want a Bible name. That's in the Bible.” Still the woman felt vaguely there was something wrong. “You sure dat good name for him, minister”--very earnestly. “Oh yes, quite sure,” said the minister, anxious to put as far behind them as possible the dreadful scandal of Beelzebub. So John the baby was christened, and the mother carried it outside and the minister came out and did the benevolent pastor to her and her friends. “De chile's name am John,” announced the mother. “Hoo! John!” snorted a neighbour with more knowledge, “but amn't de piccaninny a gal?” And sure enough she was. Leonie, being sent on a message, returned nonchalantly and empty-handed. “But, Leonie, where's the parcel?” Leonie smiled non-committally. “But, surely, if they didn't give you a parcel they gave you a letter?” “Oh yes, missus,” agreed Leonie readily, “dey give me a paper but he lose he's self on de way up.” And of course there was no more to be said. My wrath was as nothing to the wrath of a lady who wanted a pergola made exactly like one she had already that had been up for three or four years and was nicely covered with roses. She took the negro carpenter and showed him the pergola, measured it under his eyes, gave him the measurements and the lumber, and left him to make another on the other side of the house. Then, alas, she went away for the day. When she came back, to her horror and dismay she found her original pergola, all covered with its nicely-tended creepers--the work of years--had been taken down, stripped of its greenery, laid on the ground, and the thoughtful and careful carpenter was engaged in measuring it so as to make the new one exactly like it! What she said I don't know, but incidents like this help me to understand the punishments the slaves received of yore.