l, pausing to twine it gently around her finger before
tendering it to Joe.

"Ralph's hair is a little darker, I believe, than it was when you cut
this, Joe," she remarked, going to the light for a nearer view.

"Dat ar' cu'l didn' grow on dis Ralph's head, honey; I cut dat offen
de head ob dat odder Ralph w'at's a lyin' in de grabeya'd, w'en he was
littler dan dis one; an' I'se 'done carried dat cu'l close to my heart
fo' upwa'ds ob fo'ty yeah," responded Joe simply, as he took the bit
of hair from Jessie's finger, and carefully replaced it. "W'en I
dies," he continued, "I ain' carin' w'at sort ob a berryin' I gets,
ner w'at sort ob clo'se my ole body is wrapped up in, but I'd like
fur to be suah dat dish yer bit o' hair goes inter de groun' wid me."

He looked up at us, his beloved young master's children, solemnly and
questioningly, as though exacting a promise, which was given, though
no words were spoken on either side. Eyes have a language of their
own.

"Now ef yo'll done fotch me de ink bottle, Miss Leslie, honey, I'se
boun' ter fill out dish yer blanket check, same like de cashier done
tole me," Joe went on with a business-like change of tone.

The ink bottle, with pen and holder, was produced and placed on the
table which Joe immediately cleared for action by removing every
article upon it until he had a clear sweep of some three or four feet,
then he sat down and proceeded, slowly, slowly, to fill out the check
in Jessie's favor. It was a task that required time and infinite
painstaking. We had not known that Joe could write, and I am afraid
that, even when he announced that the work was done and the check
filled out, we were by no means sure of it, for wonderful indeed were
the hieroglyphics through whose agency Joe proclaimed his purpose.
There was one thing certain, however, no sane cashier, having once
seen that unique signature, could for a moment doubt its authenticity.

Mr. Wilson glanced over the document, as Joe at length put it in
Jessie's hand. "That's all right," he said, in his hearty, re-assuring
way. "You've got it all as straight as a string, Joe"--which he had
not, so far as mechanical execution went--"we'll have no trouble now.
Put that away safely, Jessie, and let's be going."

"Shall we take the Bible now?" Jessie asked, after she had complied
with his directions.

"Oh, no; time enough for that when Joe comes down. Put on a warm
bonnet and shawl, now," he continued, "for the night