weeds.  Den when it come night, de she-bird keep close onter de nest, and de he-bird go in de scrub or de redwoods or de gin’gos, nigh de clarin’, maybe right on de cabin roof, and he say to hisself—­’Now dem niggers done dere work, I’ll gib ’em a tune ter courage ’em like.’  Den he jes’ let hisself onter his singin’.  Sometime he sing brave and bold, like he say big words like missis and de folks dat lib in de big house.  Den he whisper soft an’ low widout any words, jes’ like a mammy was a-singin’ to her baby.  Den agin he sing kin’ o’ long and soft and wheedlesome, like Sambo when he come a-courtin’ o’ me.  Sho, now! come to t’ink o’ Sambo, he didn’t nebber like Mockers, a’ter one time he ’spicioned a Mocker tole tales on him.  Massa Branscome—­he were a mighty fine man and your gran’dad, Miss Olive—­he say he wouldn’t have no puss’n to rob de nests o’ Mockers, not anywheres on his ’states.  Dey did eat a pile o’ fruit, but dat was nuffin’.  Fus’ place he jes’ loved ter hear ’em sing, an’ den he ‘lowed dat dey was powerful fond o’ cottin worms, what was mighty bad some years.

“Now lots o’ coon darkies dey uster steal de youn’ Mockers jes’ afore dey lef’ de nest and sell ’em to white trash dat ud tote ’em down the ribber an’ sell ’em agin in N’Orleans, to be fetched off in ships.  And I’se hear tell dat dere ain’t any sech birds in oder countries, and dat de kings and queens jes’ gib dere gold crowns offen dere heads t’ have a cage o’ Mockers.

“Dem coons nebber got no gold crowns, howsumever.  What dey got was mos’ly a quarter foh free he-birds.  Now Sambo he was a-courtin’ an’ wanted a banjo powerful bad, an’ he didn’t want no common truck, so he ’lowed to get one up from N’Orleans.  So he ’greed to pay for it in Mockers, an’ he to’ht he know’d where he’d get ’em foh sure.  Mockers don’ nes’ in de woods and wild places, dey allus keeps roun’ de plantations near where folks libs.

“He know’d he war doin’ wrong and he felt mighty uncomfoh’ble; but he done took de youn’ Mockers on our plantation right under massa’s nose.  He war crafty like and on’y took one outen each nes’ and at night de ole birds never miss ’em.  When he got de banjo ’bout paid foh, dat time he took a whole nes’ful to onc’t an’ de birds what it b’longed to saw what he war a-doin’ an’ gib him a piece o’ dere mind, an’ folled him ’round all day an’ sat on de roof ob his quarters an’ talked all night, ’an tole him to bring back dem Mockers or dey’d tell; an’ Sambo war skeered an’ wanted to put de birds back an’ den he didn’t like to.  Nex’ day, he ‘lowed de he-Mocker wen’ to de big house, an’ tole massa ‘bout it, an’ he an’ Miss Jessamine—­dat was your ma—­dey come down to de quarters an’ tole Sambo he done took Mockers an’ ask him what had he done wid all on ‘em.  An’ he mos’ turn’ white an’ he say, ‘I sol’ ’em down de ribber’; an’ massa say, ’I’se a great mind to sell you down de ribber, too’—­but he nebber sol’ nuffin’—­gib us all our freedom.  Now, no nigger want’ to