miling.

Crow's mother, Tempest, had been a worker in her better days, but she
had grown fatter and fatter until now she was so lazy and broad that her
chief pleasure seemed to be sitting in her front door and gossiping with
her neighbors over the fence, or in abusing or praising little Solomon,
according to her mood.

Tempest had never been very honest. When, in the old days, she had hired
out as cook and carried "her dinner" home at night, the basket on her
arm had usually held enough for herself and Crow and a pig and the
chickens--with some to give away. She had not meant Crow to understand,
but the little fellow was wide awake, and his mother was his pattern.

But this is the boy's story. It seemed best to tell a little about his
mother, so that, if he should some time do wrong things, we might all,
writer and readers, be patient with him. He had been poorly taught. If
we could not trace our honesty back to our mothers, how many of us would
love the truth?

Crow's mother loved him very much--she thought. She would knock down any
one who even blamed him for anything. Indeed, when things went well, she
would sometimes go sound asleep in the door with her fat arm around
him--very much as the mother-cat beside her lay half dozing while she
licked her baby kitten.

But if Crow was awkward or forgot anything--or didn't bring home money
enough--her abuse was worse than any mother-cat's claws.

One of her worst taunts on such occasions was about like this: "Well,
you is a low-down nigger, I must say. Nobody, to look at you, would
b'lieve you was twin to a angel!"

Or, "How you reckon yo' angel-twin feels ef he's a-lookin' at you now?"

Crow had great reverence for his little lost mate. Indeed, he feared the
displeasure of this other self, who, he believed, watched him from the
skies, quite as much as the anger of God. Sad to say, the good Lord,
whom most children love as a kind, heavenly Father, was to poor little
Solomon Crow only a terrible, terrible punisher of wrong, and the little
boy trembled at His very name. He seemed to hear God's anger in the
thunder or the wind; but in the blue sky, the faithful stars, the
opening flowers and singing birds--in all loving-kindness and
friendship--he never saw a heavenly Father's love.

He knew that some things were right and others wrong. He knew that it
was right to go out and earn dimes to buy the things needed in the
cabin, but he equally knew it was wrong to get thi