“Yes, mos wossfle,” said Solomon, with a grin. “Would it be too much to ask you to be kind enough to allow us to finish our rustic repast? As it was interrupted by the noise of this quadruped, we think that it would be very desirable to resume it, unless you prefer remaining here for the rest of the day imitating the animal before us.” “All right, mos possible,” said old Solomon, catching up his basket. “Couldn’t help it. Had to let out strong. Bust if I hadn’t did so. Fust man dat mentions de name ob a donkey to me, dis ole niggall bust. Dat’s so!” Saying this, Solomon kicked up one leg, then slapped one hand down hard on his knee, and stood for a moment with his head bent down, while his whole frame shook with internal laughter. At length he raised his head, and presented to the view of the boys a face as grave, as demure, and as solemn as the visage of a judge who is about to pronounce a sentence, only there was an irrepressible twinkle in each of his small black beads of eyes which took a little from the mask of gravity with which his face was covered. Then he took up the basket, and walked back towards the old French orchard. The boys passed him, reaching the cellar first. Then they all sat down again, and Solomon, for the third time, spread the table before them. “Dis heah,” said he, “chil’en, am de third and de lass time. Ef any ob you runs away, he’ll lose his bressed dinna, now an forebbermore. Amen. So you go ahead, an eat, fass as you can. De visions ain’t gwine to spile your ’gestions.” The boys were hungry, and ate in silence. Solomon stood apart unobserved, with a broad grin on his face, occasionally muttering to himself, and shaking all over with laughter. After each of these silent explosions, he would suddenly recover his gravity, mutter to himself some solemn rebuke, and look awfully grave for about half a minute, till a new explosion came. That discovery had been too much for him. He had seen the donkey when it came, but he had never heard it bray. The terror over him had been tremendous. Every night since then had been a night of fear, and it was the violent revulsion of feeling from his former panic which brought on this joyousness. It took him all the rest of the term to get over his tendency to burst forth on all occasions into fits of laughter. At length the repast was over, and Solomon at last had the satisfaction of feeling that his efforts had been fully “’preciated.” The boys felt like giants refreshed, and Solomon looked with great complacency upon the bones of the fowls and the empty dishes. “Dat’s about de ticket,” he said, as he piled the dishes into the basket. “Didn’t want to carry back such a hebby load to de ’Cad’my. Been tuggin at it all day. Got to hurry back now.” “What, Solomon! you’re not going?” said Bart. “Got to--must.” “Nonsense! We can’t spare you yet. We want to talk to you.”