edies. After that
come vital statistics about calves and pigs and an estimate of the wheat
crop. And now I'll quote some:

"'And what do you think! Old Uncle Jake, who was seventy-six last
Wednesday, must go travelling. Nothing would do but he must go to New
York and see his "young Marster Blandford." Old as he is, he has a deal
of common sense, so I've let him go. I couldn't refuse him--he seemed to
have concentrated all his hopes and desires into this one adventure into
the wide world. You know he was born on the plantation, and has never
been ten miles away from it in his life. And he was your father's body
servant during the war, and has been always a faithful vassal and
servant of the family. He has often seen the gold watch--the watch that
was your father's and your father's father's. I told him it was to be
yours, And he begged me to allow him to take it to you and to put it
into your hands himself.

"'So he has it, carefully enclosed in a buck-skin case, and is bringing
it to you with all the pride and importance of a king's messenger. I
gave him money for the round trip and for a two weeks' stay in the city.
I wish you would see to it that he gets comfortable quarters--Jake
won't need much looking after--he's able to take care of himself. But
I have read in the papers that African bishops and colored potentates
generally have much trouble in obtaining food and lodging in the Yankee
metropolis. That may be all right; but I don't see why the best hotel
there shouldn't take Jake in. Still, I suppose it's a rule.

"'I gave him full directions about finding you, and packed his valise
myself. You won't have to bother with him; but I do hope you'll see that
he is made comfortable. Take the watch that he brings you--it's almost a
decoration. It has been worn by true Carterets, and there isn't a stain
upon it nor a false movement of the wheels. Bringing it to you is the
crowning joy of old Jake's life. I wanted him to have that little outing
and that happiness before it is too late. You have often heard us talk
about how Jake, pretty badly wounded himself, crawled through the
reddened grass at Chancellorsville to where your father lay with the
bullet in his dear heart, and took the watch from his pocket to keep it
from the "Yanks."

"'So, my son, when the old man comes consider him as a frail but worthy
messenger from the old-time life and home.

"'You have been so long away from home and so long among the people