in their actual
interdependence is scarcely possible. There is, however, a mode of
rendering the process as a whole tolerably comprehensible. Though the
genesis of the rearrangement of every evolving aggregate is in itself
one, it presents to our intelligence'"--

"John," interrupted my wife, "I wish you would stop reading that
nonsense and see who that is coming up the lane."

I closed my book with a sigh. I had never been able to interest my wife
in the study of philosophy, even when presented in the simplest and most
lucid form.

Some one was coming up the lane; at least, a huge faded cotton umbrella
was making progress toward the house, and beneath it a pair of nether
extremities in trousers was discernible. Any doubt in my mind as to
whose they were was soon resolved when Julius reached the steps and,
putting the umbrella down, got a good dash of the rain as he stepped up
on the porch.

"Why in the world, Julius," I asked, "didn't you keep the umbrella up
until you got under cover?"

"It's bad luck, suh, ter raise a' umbrella in de house, en w'iles I
dunno whuther it's bad luck ter kyar one inter de piazzer er no, I 'lows
it's alluz bes' ter be on de safe side. I did n' s'pose you en young
missis 'u'd be gwine on yo' dribe ter-day, but bein' ez it's my pa't ter
take you ef you does, I 'lowed I 'd repo't fer dooty, en let you say
whuther er no you wants ter go."

"I'm glad you came, Julius," I responded. "We don't want to go driving,
of course, in the rain, but I should like to consult you about another
matter. I'm thinking of taking in a piece of new ground. What do you
imagine it would cost to have that neck of woods down by the swamp
cleared up?"

The old man's countenance assumed an expression of unwonted seriousness,
and he shook his head doubtfully.

"I dunno 'bout dat, suh. It mought cos' mo', en it mought cos' less, ez
fuh ez money is consarned. I ain' denyin' you could cl'ar up dat trac'
er Ian' fer a hund'ed er a couple er hund'ed dollahs,--ef you wants ter
cl'ar it up. But ef dat 'uz my trac' er Ian', I would n' 'sturb it, no,
suh, I would n'; sho 's you bawn, I would n'."

"But why not?" I asked.

"It ain' fittin' fer grapes, fer noo groun' nebber is."

"I know it, but"--

"It ain' no yeathly good fer cotton, 'ca'se it's top low."

"Perhaps so; but it will raise splendid corn."

"I dunno," rejoined Julius deprecatorily. "It's so nigh de swamp dat de
'coons'll eat up all de cawn."

"I