istah Jim Williams's, en
take de buggy fum dere ter town. He 'spec's ter be gone a long time,
suh, en say prob'ly he ain' nebber comin' back."

The man drove on. There were a few words exchanged in an undertone
between my wife and Mabel, which I did not catch. Then Annie
said: "Julius, you may stop the rockaway a moment. There are some
trumpet-flowers by the road there that I want. Will you get them for me,
John?"

I sprang into the underbrush, and soon returned with a great bunch of
scarlet blossoms.

"Where is Mabel?" I asked, noting her absence.

"She has walked on ahead. We shall overtake her in a few minutes."

The carriage had gone only a short distance when my wife discovered that
she had dropped her fan.

"I had it where we were stopping. Julius, will you go back and get it
for me?"

Julius got down and went back for the fan. He was an unconscionably long
time finding it. After we got started again we had gone only a little
way, when we saw Mabel and young Murchison coming toward us. They were
walking arm in arm, and their faces were aglow with the light of love.

I do not know whether or not Julius had a previous understanding with
Malcolm Murchison by which he was to drive us round by the long road
that day, nor do I know exactly what motive influenced the old man's
exertions in the matter. He was fond of Mabel, but I was old enough, and
knew Julius well enough, to be skeptical of his motives. It is certain
that a most excellent understanding existed between him and Murchison
after the reconciliation, and that when the young people set up
housekeeping over at the old Murchison place Julius had an opportunity
to enter their service. For some reason or other, however, he preferred
to remain with us. The mare, I might add, was never known to balk again.

A NEGRO SCHOOLMASTER IN THE NEW SOUTH by W. E. Burghardt Du Bois

Once upon a time I taught school in the hills of Tennessee, where the
broad dark vale of the Mississippi begins to roll and crumple to greet
the Alleghanies. I was a Fisk student then, and all Fisk men think that
Tennessee--beyond the Veil--is theirs alone, and in vacation time they
sally forth in lusty bands to meet the county school commissioners.
Young and happy, I too went, and I shall not soon forget that summer,
ten years ago.

First, there was a teachers' Institute at the county-seat; and there
distinguished guests of the superintendent taught the teachers fractions
a