e movement of his hand across his eyes.
"I can see the great Italian marble mantels suppo'ted on lions' heads, the
inlaid floor and wainscotin'."--Here the major sank upon the divan again,
shutting both eyes reverently, as if these memories of the past were a
sort of religion with him.

"And the way those niggers loved us! And the many holes they helped us out
of. Sit down there, and let me tell you what Anthony did for me once." I
obeyed cheerfully. "Some years ago I received a telegram from a very
intimate friend of mine, a distinguished Baltimorean,--the Nestor of the
Maryland bar, suh,--informin' me that he was on his way South, and that he
would make my house his home on the followin' night." The major's eyes
were still shut. He had passed out of his reverential mood, but the effort
to be absolutely exact demanded concentration.

"I immediately called up Anthony, and told him that Judge Spofford of the
Supreme Co't of Maryland would arrive the next day, and that I wanted the
best dinner that could be served in the county, and the best bottle of
wine in my cellar." The facts having been correctly stated, the major
assumed his normal facial expression and opened his eyes.

"What I'm tellin' you occurred after the war, remember, when putty near
everybody down our way was busted. Most of our niggers had run away,--all
'cept our old house-servants, who never forgot our family pride and our
noble struggle to keep up appearances. Well, suh, when Spofford arrived
Anthony carried his bag to his room, and when dinner was announced, if it
_was_ my own table, I must say that it cert'ly did fa'rly groan with the
delicacies of the season. After the crabs had been taken off,--we were
alone, Mrs. Slocomb havin' gone to Baltimo',--I said to the judge: 'Yo'
Honor, I am now about to delight yo' palate with the very best bottle of
old madeira that ever passed yo' lips. A wine that will warm yo' heart,
and unbutton the top button of yo' vest. It is part of a special
importation presented to Mrs. Slocomb's father by the captain of one of
his ships.--Anthony, go down into the wine-cellar, the inner cellar,
Anthony, and bring me a bottle of that old madeira of '37--stop, Anthony;
make it '39. I think, judge, it is a little dryer.' Well, Anthony bowed,
and left the room, and in a few moments he came back, set a lighted candle
on the mantel, and, leanin' over my chair, said in a loud whisper: 'De
cellar am locked, suh, and I'm 'feard Mis'