the Marston servants and the contingent from Louisiana that the two sets had been separated, the old remaining on the east side and the new ones going to the west.  So, to those who had been born on the soil the name of the west plantation became a reproach.  It was a synonym for all that was worldly, wicked and unregenerate.  The east plantation did not visit with the west.  The east gave a dance, the west did not attend.  The Marstons and St. Pierres in black did not intermarry.  If a Marston died, a St. Pierre did not sit up with him.  And so the division had kept up for years.

It was hardly to be believed then that Uncle Simon Marston, the very patriarch of the Marston flock, was visiting over the border.  But on another Sunday he was seen to go straight to the west plantation.

At her first opportunity Lize accosted him:—­

“Look a-hyeah, Brothah Simon, whut’s dis I been hyeahin’ ’bout you, huh?”

“Well, sis’ Lize, I reckon you’ll have to tell me dat yo’ se’f, ’case I do’ know.  Whut you been hyeahin’?”

“Brothah Simon, you’s a ol’ man, you’s ol’.”

“Well, sis’ Lize, dah was Methusalem.”

“I ain’ jokin’, Brothah Simon, I ain’ jokin’, I’s a talkin’ right straightfo’wa’d.  Yo’ conduc’ don’ look right.  Hit ain’ becomin’ to you as de shepherd of a flock.”

“But whut I been doin’, sistah, whut I been doin’?”

“You know.”

“I reckon I do, but I wan’ see whethah you does er not.”

“You been gwine ovah to de wes’ plantation, dat’s whut you been doin’.  You can’ ’ny dat, you’s been seed!”

“I do’ wan’ ’ny it.  Is dat all?”

“Is dat all!” Lize stood aghast.  Then she said slowly and wonderingly, “Brothah Simon, is you losin’ yo’ senses er yo’ grace?”

“I ain’ losin’ one ner ‘tothah, but I do’ see no ha’m in gwine ovah to de wes’ plantation.”

“You do’ see no ha’m in gwine ovah to de wes’ plantation!  You stan’ hyeah in sight o’ Gawd an’ say dat?”

“Don’t git so ‘cited, sis’ Lize, you mus’ membah dat dey’s souls on de wes’ plantation, jes’ same as dey is on de eas’.”

“Yes, an’ dey’s souls in hell, too,” the old woman fired back.

“Cose dey is, but dey’s already damned; but dey’s souls on de wes’ plantation to be saved.”

“Oomph, uh, uh, uh!” grunted Lize.

“You done called me de shepherd, ain’t you, sistah?  Well, sayin’ I is, when dey’s little lambs out in de col’ an’ dey ain’ got sense ’nough to come in, er dey do’ know de way, whut do de shepherd do?  Why, he go out, an’ he hunt up de po’ shiverin’, bleatin’ lambs and brings ’em into de fol’.  Don’t you bothah ‘bout de wes’ plantation, sis’ Lize.”  And Uncle Simon hobbled off down the road with surprising alacrity, leaving his interlocutor standing with mouth and eyes wide open.

“Well, I nevah!” she exclaimed when she could get her lips together, “I do believe de day of jedgmen’ is at han’.”