“‘Brer Pete,’ sezee, bimeby, ’gimme a drink er dem bitters out’n dat green bottle on de she’f yander.  I’s gwine fas’, en it’ll gimme strenk fer ter finish dis wuk.’

“Brer Pete look’ up on de mantelpiece, en he seed a bottle in de corner.  It was so da’k in de cabin he could n’ tell whe’r it wuz a green bottle er no.  But he hilt de bottle ter de cunjuh man’s mouf, en he tuk a big mouff’l.  He had n’ mo’ d’n swallowed it befo’ he ‘mence’ ter holler.

“’You gimme de wrong bottle, Brer Pete; dis yer bottle ’s got pizen in it, en I’s done fer dis time, sho’.  Hol’ me up, fer de Lawd’s sake! ’tel I git th’oo turnin’ Brer Primus back.’

“So Pete hilt him up, en he kep’ on wukkin’ de roots, ’tel he got de goopher all tuk off’n Brer Primus ‘cep’n’ one foot.  He had n’ got dis foot mo’ d’n half turnt back befo’ his strenk gun out enti’ely, en he drap’ de roots en fell back on de bed.

“‘I can’t do no mo’ fer you, Brer Primus,’ sezee, ’but I hopes you will fergib me fer w’at harm I done you.  I knows de good Lawd done fergib me, en I hope ter meet you bofe in glory.  I sees de good angels waitin’ fer me up yander, wid a long w’ite robe en a starry crown, en I’m on my way ter jine ’em.’  En so de cunjuh man died, en Pete en Primus went back ter de plantation.

“De darkies all made a great ’miration w’en Primus come back.  Mars Jim let on lack he did n’ b’lieve de tale de two niggers tol’; he sez Primus had runned erway, en stay’ ’tel he got ti’ed er de swamps, en den come back on him ter be fed.  He tried ter ‘count fer de shape er Primus’ foot by sayin’ Primus got his foot smash’, er snake-bit, er sump’n, w’iles he wuz erway, en den stayed out in de woods whar he could n’ git it kyoed up straight, ‘stidder comin’ long home whar a doctor could ‘a’ ’tended ter it.  But de niggers all notice’ dey marster did n’ tie Primus up, ner take on much ’ca’se de mule wuz gone.  So dey ’lowed dey marster must ‘a’ had his s’picions ’bout dat cunjuh man.”

My wife had listened to Julius’s recital with only a mild interest.  When the old man had finished it she remarked:—­

“That story does not appeal to me, Uncle Julius, and is not up to your usual mark.  It isn’t pathetic, it has no moral that I can discover, and I can’t see why you should tell it.  In fact, it seems to me like nonsense.”

The old man looked puzzled as well as pained.  He had not pleased the lady, and he did not seem to understand why.

“I’m sorry, ma’m,” he said reproachfully, “ef you doan lack dat tale.  I can’t make out w’at you means by some er dem wo’ds you uses, but I’m tellin’ nuffin but de truf.  Co’se I did n’ see de cunjuh man tu’n ’im back, fer I wuz n’ dere; but I be’n hearin’ de tale fer twenty-five yeahs, en I ain’ got no ’casion fer ter ’spute it.  Dey ’s so many things a body knows is lies, dat dey ain’ no use gwine roun’ findin’ fault wid tales dat mought des ez well be so ez not.  F’