way down the elm-shaded
street, I said to his father:

'How that boy rides; he's a perfect Centaur.'

'Yes, he _is_ a good horseman. He's been trained to it. You know we
think manly exercises an essential part of a gentleman's education.'

'And you let Joe keep his own horse?'

'Yes, it's awfully expensive; but old Joe raised the colt for the boy,
and I couldn't deny him.'

We rode on until we reached the outskirts of the town, when we stopped
before a small, tumble-down shanty, built of rough boards, and roofed
with the same material. In the narrow front yard, a large iron pot,
supported on two upright poles, was steaming over a light wood fire. The
boiling clothes it contained were being stirred by a brawny, coal black
negro woman, with an arm like the Farnese Hercules, and a form as stout
as Wouter Van Twiller's. The yellow boy, Ally, was heaping wood on the
fire.

'How do you do, aunty?' said Preston, as we drew up at the rickety gate.

'Right smart, massa, right smart,' replied the woman; then turning round
and recognizing the Squire, she added: 'Oh, massa Preston, am dat 'ou?
Oh! I'se so 'joiced 'ou got Ally; I'se _so_ 'joiced! De Lord hear my
prayer, massa--de Lord hear my prayer. I feel like I die wid joy, de
Lord so good ter me. Oh, He'm so good ter me!'

'The Lord is good to all who love Him; He never fails those that trust
in Him,' said Preston, solemnly.

'No more'n He doan't, massa; no more'n he doan't. De good missus tole me
dat jess af'er dey toted de pore chile 'way; but I couldn't b'lieve it,
massa, I couldn't b'lieve it. It 'peared like I neber see 'im
agin--neber see 'im agin, but I prayed de Lord, massa, I prayed de Lord
all de time--all de time dat de chile wus 'way; I hab no sleep, I eat
most nuffin, an' my heart grow so big, I fought it would clean broke;
but lass night, jess wen it 'peared like I couldn't stan' it no more;
wen I wus a cryin' an' a groanin' to de Lord wid all my might, den,
massa, de Lord, He hard me, an' He open de door, an' de little chile run
in, an' put him arms round my neck, and he telled me I need neber cry no
more, 'case de good massa Preston hab got him! Oh, it wus too much,
massa, fur 'ou's so good, de Lord's so good, massa! Oh, I feel like I
should die ob joy.' Here she sat down on a rude bench near by, covered
her face with her apron, and sobbed like a child. Preston's eyes filled
with tears, but brushing them hastily away, he asked, as if to change
the sub