whom every sable son and daughter loves most dearly, Daddy Daniel has arranged a system of evening prayer meetings, which will be held in the little church, twice a week.  And, too, there prevails a strong desire for an evening gathering now and then, at which the young shiners may be instructed how to grow.  A curiously democratic law, however, offers a fierce impediment to this; and Daddy Daniel shakes his head, and aunt Peggy makes a belligerent muttering when told such gatherings cannot take place without endangering the state’s rights.  It is, nevertheless, decided that Kate, and Nan, and Dorothy, and Webster, and Clay, and such like young folks, may go to “settings up” and funerals, but strictly abstain from all fandangoes.  Dad Daniel and his brother deacons cannot countenance such fiddling and dancing, such break-downs, and shoutings, and whirlings, and flouncing and frilling, and gay ribboning, as generally make up the evening’s merriment at these fandangoes, so prevalent on neighbouring plantations about Christmas time.  “Da don’ mount to no good!” Daniel says, with a broad guffaw.  “Nigger what spect t’ git hi’ way up in da world bes lef dem tings.”  And so one or two more screws are to be worked up for the better regulation of the machinery of the plantation.  As for Master Rosebrook-why, he wouldn’t sell a nigger for a world of money; and he doesn’t care how much they learn; the more the better, provided they learn on the sly.  They are all to be freed at a certain time, and although freedom is sweet, without learning they might make bad use of it.  But master has had a noble object in view for some days past, and which, after encountering many difficulties, he has succeeded in carrying out to the great joy of all parties concerned.

One day, as the people were all busily engaged on the plantation, Bradshaw’s familiar figure presents itself at the house, and demands to see Harry.  He has great good news, but don’t want to tell him “nofin” till he arrives at the Villa.  “Ah, good man” (Bradshaw’s face beams good tidings, as he approaches Harry, and delivers a note) “mas’r specs ye down da’ wid no time loss.”  Bradshaw rubs his hands, and grins, and bows, his face seeming two shades blacker than ever, but no less cheerful.

“Master wants me to preach somewhere, next Sunday,—­I know he does,” says Harry, reading the note, which requests him to come immediately into the city.  He will prepare to obey the summons, Dan and Sprat meanwhile taking good care of the horse and carriage, while Bradshaw makes a friendly visit to a few of the more distinguished cabins, and says “how de” to venerable aunties, who spread their best fare before him, and, with grave ceremony, invite him in to refresh before taking his return journey into the city; and Maum Betsy packs up six of her real smart made sweet cakes for the parson and Bradshaw to eat along the road.  Betsy is in a strange state of bewilderment to know why master wants to take the new parson away just now, when he’s so happy, and is only satisfied when assured that he will be safely returned to-morrow.  A signal is made for Dad Daniel, who hastens to the cabin in time to see everything properly arranged for the parson’s departure, and say:  “God bless ’um,—­good by!”