it to-morrow by noon, with push, and in that case you
have a chance to beat the Philadelphia emissary several hours. I have
five thousand dollars at stake already; I believe I shall get damages of
forty times five if I can retain that man."

"I am ready to start at once," said the Judge, rising up; "I can read
these papers on the way. The saddle was my cradle, and I have a good
horse. My valise can follow me on the stage to-morrow."

"Unless you see the best reasons for it, my name is not to be mentioned
to any one as a party to this suit; I am not popular with juries."

"Then good-bye, Milburn," said the Judge, but did not extend his hand.
"As you treat my daughter, may God treat you!"

"Amen," exclaimed the money-lender, as the Judge's feet passed over the
door-sill below, and he sank back to the bed, exhausted again.

* * * * *

While the proceedings described occupied the white people, the servants,
Roxy and Virgie, in their clean Sunday suits, loitered around the bridge
behind the store, or strayed a little way up the Manokin brook, hearing
the mocking-bird rend his breast in all the ventriloquy of genius.

"Virgie," said Samson Hat, meeting them under the willow-tree, "when I
carries you off and marries you, I s'pect you'll be climbin' up in my
loft, too, makin' it comf'able fo' me."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you old, black, impertinent
servant of darkness!" Virgie said. "Indeed, when I look at a man, he
must be almost white--not all white, though, like Roxy's beau."

"Who's he, Roxy?" Samson asked.

Roxie blushed, and said she had no beau, and never wanted one.

"Roxy's beau," says Virgie, "is that poor, helpless Mr. Jack Wonnell. He
comes to see her every day. He's devotion itself. Indeed, Samson, if you
are going to marry me, and Roxy marry all those bell-crown hats, we
shall cure the town of its two greatest afflictions."

"Bad ole hats?" asks Samson.

"Roxy'll burn all the bell-crowns for her beau, and I'll bury the
steeple-hat and you that cleans it, and the people will be so glad
they'll set me free and I can go North."

"Look out, Virgie; I'll put dat high-crown hat on you like Marster
Milburn put de bell on de buzzard. He went up to dat buzzard one day
wid a little tea-bell in his hand an' says, 'Buzzard, how do ye like
music?' Says de buzzard, tickled wid de compliment, 'I'm so larnid in
dat music, I disdains to sing; I criticises de birds dat d