y Pearline, an'
Uncle Jimmy-Jawed Jup'ter, an' ev'ybody, an' Sam Lamb, an' Aunt Minerva,
an' alley Aunt Blue-Gum Tempy's Peruny Pearline's chillens, an' give
Aunt Minerva a billy goat or a little nanny if she'd ruther, an' bless
Major Minerva, an' make me a good boy like Sanctified Sophy, fey Jesus'
sake. Amen.'"

"What is that you have tied around your neck, William?" she asked, as
the little boy rose to his feet.

"That's my rabbit foot; you won't never have no 'sease 't all an' nobody
can't never conjure you if you wears a rabbit foot. This here one is the
lef' hin' foot; it was ketched by a red-headed nigger with crosseyes
in a graveyard at twelve er'clock on a Friday night, when they's a full
moon. He give it to Aunt Cindy to tie 'roun' my nake when I's a baby.
Ain't you got no abbit foot?" he anxiously inquired.

"No," she answered. "I have never had one and I have never been
conjured either. Give it to me, William; I can not allow you to be so
superstitious," and she held out her hand.

"Please, Aunt Minerva, jest lemme wear it to-night," he pleaded. "Me
an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln's been wearin' us rabbit foots ever sence we's
born."

"No," she said firmly; "I'll put a stop to such nonsense at once. Give
it to me, William."

Billy looked at his aunt's austere countenance and lovingly fingered his
charm; he opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated; slowly he
untied the string around his neck and laid his treasure on her lap; then
without looking up, he ran into his own little room, closing the door
behind him.

Soon afterward Miss Minerva, hearing a sound like a stifled sob coming
from the adjoining room, opened the door softly and looked into a sad,
little face with big, wide, open eyes shining with tears.

"What is the matter, William?" she coldly asked.

"I ain't never slep' by myself," he sobbed. "Wilkes Booth Lincoln always
sleep on a pallet by my bed ever sence we's born an'--'I wants Aunt
Cindy to tell me 'bout Uncle Piljerk Peter."

His aunt sat down on the bed by his side. She was not versed in the ways
of childhood and could not know that the little boy wanted to pillow his
head on Aunt Cindy's soft and ample bosom, that he was homesick for his
black friends, the only companions he had ever known.

"I'll you a Bible story," she temporized. "You must not be a baby. You
are not afraid, are you, William? God is always with you."

"I don' want no God," he sullenly made reply, "I wants so