nce of difficulties originating in the affair of the cow. The
Judge had sought an early opportunity to converse with him on the
subject.

"A negro's cow," said he, "is as good as anybody's cow; and I consider
Mr. Williams as good a man as you are."

The white coachman couldn't stand that; and the result was that the
Gingerfords had a black coachman in a few days. The situation was
offered to Mr. Williams, and very glad he was to accept it.

Thus the wrath of man continued to work the welfare of these humble
Christians. It is reasonable to doubt whether the Judge was at heart
delighted with his new neighbors; and jolly Mr. Frisbie enjoyed the joke
somewhat less, I suspect, than he anticipated. One party enjoyed it,
nevertheless. It was a serious and solid satisfaction to the Williams
family. No member of which, with the exception, perhaps, of Joe,
exhibited greater pleasure at the change in their situation than the
old patriarch. It rejuvenated him. His hearing was almost restored. "One
move more," he said, "and I shall be young and spry agin as the day I
got my freedom,"--that day, so many, many years ago, which he so well
remembered! Well, the "one move more" was near; and the morning of a new
freedom, the morning of a more perfect youth and gladness, was not
distant.

It was the old man's delight to go out and sit in the sun before the
door, in the clear December weather, and pull off his cap to the Judge
as he passed. To get a bow, and perhaps a kind word, from the
illustrious Gingerford, was glory enough for one day, and the old man
invariably hurried into the house to tell of it.

But one morning a singular thing occurred. To all appearances--to the
eyes of all except one--he remained sitting out there in the sun after
the Judge had gone. But Fessenden's, looking up suddenly, and staring at
vacancy, cried,--

"Hollo!"

"What, child?" asked Mrs. Williams.

"The old man!" said Fessenden's. "Comin' into the door! Don't ye see
him?"

Nobody saw him but the lad; and of course all were astonished by his
earnest announcement of the apparition. The old grandmother hastened to
look out. There sat her father still, on the bench by the apple-tree,
leaning against the trunk. But the sight did not satisfy her. She ran
out to him. The smile of salutation was still on his lips, which seemed
just saying, "Sarvant, Sah," to the Judge. But those lips would never
move again. They were the lips of death.

"What is the ma