om, so far, had brought but little of
brightness into the lives of these humble people.

A dramatic situation that will one day enter into a story, came during
the supper festivities. A sudden excitement among the negroes was
followed by cries, some of merriment and some of fear, and by a stampede
of the juniors. In the red light of the bonfire an old negro suddenly
appeared, reining up a splendid grey horse. The old man was seated in a
red-wheeled road cart, enveloped in a flopping linen duster, and wore a
silk hat. His "Whoa, Chainlightning!" resounded all over the place. Then
he stood up and began to shout about Moses and the Hebrew children being
led out of Egypt into the promised land. Major Tommey listened for a
brief instant and rushed out. The newcomer met him with an equal rush
and their loud greetings floated back to us clear as the notes of a
plantation bell: "Eneas, you black rascal, where have you been?"

"O! Lord, Marse George! Glory be ter God! Out o' de wilderness! De
projeckin' son am back ergin!"

"It's Eneas!" screamed the little bride, gathering up her skirts and
rushing out. In the strong light, as the wedding party hurriedly
followed, we could see the old negro hanging to his master as he filled
the night with his weird cries. Catching the excitement, the negroes
around began to moan and chant, taking their text from the old man's
words.

"Where have you been, sir?" The Major was trying to free himself and
choking with tears and laughter.

"All over de blessed worl', Marse George! But I'm home ergin!--You hyar
me, niggers?--home ergin!"

"Stop, sir!"--But suddenly the old man grew rigid in the grasp of a
momentous thought. His voice sank to a whisper audible to only a few of
us:

"Marse George, wha's Nancy?"

"Nancy is dead, Eneas," said the Major, sadly.

"Thank God!" said the old man fervently.

"Where is my trunk, Eneas?" The old negro was making a horn of his hands
and giving the plantation halloo. With his eyes set on the banking
shadows beyond the fire, he waited, an inscrutable smile on his wrinkled
face. Presently, into the circle of light came an old grey mare, drawing
a wagon in which sat a yellow woman, hovering a small colony of
children.

"I done brought you a whole bunch o' new Yellerhama, Burningham niggers,
Marse George! Some folks tell me dey is free, but I know dey b'long ter
Marse George Tommey des like Lady Chain and her colt! Marse George, you
oughter see dat hor