Ole Mammy's Torment

nstalk grew from earth to sky. Sainthood comes slowly, like the blossom on

to George on the haymow was faithfully kept, he could no more avoid getting

ed back the coat sleeves and hitched up his suspenders, regardless of appearances. Bud fared better, for the suit that fell to his lot was but slightly worn, and almost fitted him. As for Ivy, she was decked out in such finery that the boys scarcely dared to touch her. She had been given a long

soap-box and two solid wooden wheels. He looked like a little old man, with his long coat and turned up trowsers. Bud came next in his new suit, but he had lost his hat, and was oblig

d the little wagon many times, and made a wel

ight streamed out through the cabin window. He stopped and looked in, sniffing the air wi

as sawing the reins back and forth and remorselessly switching his own legs until

against the window-pane. With a startled shriek she gave the pepper-pot such a

the house an instant later. "Next time you come gawkin' in the

, "an' he's goin' to take some mo' next week. I'm savin' up to get you all somethin' mighty nice for Chrismus." H

nds were folded on the open pages, and he was looking far away across the brown fields of tattered corn-stalks. He was much better than he had been for several weeks, and welcomed John Jay so gaily, that the child felt that a weight had somehow been lifted from him. Mammy and Uncle Billy had been whispering together many times of late, and the

peditions, and his persimmon hunts. He told about the dye Mammy had made from the sumach berries which he had carried home, and how Ivy had dropped her pet duck in

jack-stones with a handful of acorns. George was thinking as they sat there that this might be the last time that they two would ever sit i

ay looked up expectantly, but just th

aching horseman. "Howdy, Doc," he called, as the man drew rein, and f

"Here, Chadwick," he called, pitching the heavy overcoat he carried on his arm in the direction of the porch, "I wish you'd keep this for me

und the bend in the road, "pick up the gentleman's coat and hang it on a chair inside the door ther

I've found out that death isn't a cold, ugly thing, my boy, and I want you to remember all your life every word I'm saying to you now. There is nothing to dread in simply going down this road and through the gate as Doctor Leonard did, and death is no more than that. We just go down the turnpike till we get to the end of this life, and then there's the toll-gate. We

d through the child's heart in the way that the organ music used to roll. Never again in the years that followed could he hear them read without seeing all

Aunt Susan often lifted up her cracked voice in the refrain, "Oh, them golden slippahs I'm agwine to wear, when Gabriel blows his trum-pet!" How Uncle Billy could sigh for the time to come when he might walk the shining pav

utumn glory, the far hills stood up fair and golden in the westering sun. It was to some place just as real and beautiful as the hills he looked upon that George was going, not a crowded st

d gladness, and sorrow an

am gone you will think of what I am telling you now, and when the colored people all gather around to see this tired body of mine laid aside, you'll remember Dr

ds wherewith to answer him, but he nodded an assent as he we

uiringly, George had put his thin hands over his fa

e asked anxiously. "Sh

eaves,-but I've come to the end too soon. It seems so hard to come down to death empty-handed, when I have longed all these years to do so much for my people.

x months ago he could have had no understanding of such a grief as now made George's voice to tremble; but love had opened his eyes to many things, and made his sympathies keen. He drew nearer, saying almost in a whisper: "But Uncle Billy says you fought a go

omfort that had come from such an unexpected quarter, as because of a new hope that the words

ou. There are schools near at hand now. You would not have the fearful odds to contend with that I had. Will you t

as if he had really given him a sword, he drew a long breath and said with all the solemnity of a promise: