The old man came back in about five minutes.  He walked slowly, and seemed very careful about bearing his weight on the afflicted member.

“I sont ’Liza Jane fer ter wake Tom up,” he said.  “He’s down in de orchard asleep under a tree somewhar.  ’Liza Jane knows whar he is.  It takes a minute er so fer ter wake ’im up.  ’Liza Jane knows how ter do it.  She tickles ‘im in de nose er de yeah wid a broomstraw; hollerin’ doan’ do no good.  Dat boy is one er de Seben Sleepers.  He’s wuss’n his gran’daddy used ter be.”

“Was his grandfather a deep sleeper, Uncle Julius?” asked my wife’s sister.

“Oh, yas, Miss Mabel,” said Julius, gravely.  “He wuz a monst’us pow’ful sleeper.  He slep’ fer a mont’ once.”

“Dear me, Uncle Julius, you must be joking,” said my sister-in-law incredulously.  I thought she put it mildly.

“Oh, no, ma’m, I ain’t jokin’.  I never jokes on ser’ous subjec’s.  I wuz dere w’en it all happen’.  Hit wuz a monst’us quare thing.”

“Sit down, Uncle Julius, and tell us about it,” said Mabel; for she dearly loved a story, and spent much of her time “drawing out” the colored people in the neighborhood.

The old man took off his hat and seated himself on the top step of the piazza.  His movements were somewhat stiff and he was very careful to get his left leg in a comfortable position.

“Tom’s gran’daddy wuz name’ Skundus,” he began.  “He had a brudder name’ Tushus en’ ernudder name’ Cottus en’ ernudder name’ Squinchus.”  The old man paused a moment and gave his leg another hitch.

My sister-in-law was shaking with laughter.  “What remarkable names!” she exclaimed.  “Where in the world did they get them?”

“Dem names wuz gun ter ’em by ole Marse Dugal’ McAdoo, wat I use’ ter b’long ter, en’ dey use’ ter b’long ter.  Marse Dugal’ named all de babies w’at wuz bawn on de plantation.  Dese young un’s mammy wanted ter call ’em sump’n plain en’ simple, like ‘Rastus’ er ‘Cæsar’ er ’George Wash’n’ton;’ but ole Marse say no, he want all de niggers on his place ter hab diffe’nt names, so he kin tell ’em apart.  He’d done use’ up all de common names, so he had ter take sump’n else.  Dem names he gun Skundus en’ his brudders is Hebrew names en’ wuz tuk out’n de Bible.”

“Can you give me chapter and verse?” asked Mabel.

“No, Miss Mabel, I doan know ’em.  Hit ain’ my fault dat I ain’t able ter read de Bible.  But ez I wuz a-sayin’, dis yer Skundus growed up ter be a peart, lively kind er boy, en’ wuz very well liked on de plantation.  He never quo’lled wid de res’ er de ban’s en’ alluz behaved ‘isse’f en’ tended ter his wuk.  De only fault he had wuz his sleep’ness.  He’d haf ter be woke up ev’y mawnin’ ter go ter his wuk, en’ w’enever he got a chance he’d fall ersleep.  He wuz might’ly nigh gittin’ inter trouble mod’n once fer gwine ter sleep in de fiel’.  I never seed his beat fer sleepin’.  He could sleep in de sun er sleep in de shade.  He