ch a matter. Yes, found him dead;
an' he roused up his neighbors an' they all come an' looked at the hoss,
but he didn't kere fur, as I tell you, he war dead. An' now the talk is
that the preacher known that thar war suthin' wrong with him, an' jest
wanted to git rid of him. Dave, you know, went up to the mourner's bench
some time ago an' got a right lively artickle of religion; but when his
hoss died he 'lowed, he did, that he didn't want no sich religion that
this here preacher would fetch an' he ups an' cusses, he does, an'
flings his religion away."

"Wall," said Jasper, "this here is news. What air they goin' to do about
it?"

"Kain't do nothin', I reckon. Dave would whup the preacher, but the gal
he is a goin' to marry told him he shouldn't. Say, Jasper, I was on my
way down to Smithfield, an' I didn't know but you mout want suthin'
fotch from down thar."

"No, ain't a hurtin' fur nothin' at the present. Lemme see. Yes, I want
you to give a order to the stone-cutter for a tombstone for mammy's
grave."

"How big?"

"Oh, 'bout three feet by six."

"Reckon you'll want suthin' cut on the rock."

"Yes. Sot up mighty nigh all night a drawin' of it off. Got it right
here." From his pocket he took a piece of paper and began to read: "'Old
Black Mammy, come here nobody don't know when an' went home on the
eighteenth of June, 1884. Her skin mout have been as dark as the night
when thar ain't no moon an' no stars, but her soul is like the risin' of
the sun when thar ain't a cloud in the sky.'" Mrs. Mayfield had turned
to listen, and Jasper inquired of her: "Will that do, ma'm?"

"Yes, Uncle Jasper, it is very expressive."

"Wall, would you mind goin' over it an' fixin' it up for me?"

"I wouldn't change a word of it," she said, and he thanked her.

"Jasper," said Laz, "I didn't know you could write."

"Wall," the old man drawled, "I kain't write as putty as the county
clerk, but I kin write as big. So you like it, ma'm?"

"Yes, Uncle Jasper."

"Wall," said he, looking at his work, "it's the truth, an' thar ain't
nuthin' skeercer than truth on grave-yard rocks."

Margaret came out of the house. "Howdy, Laz."

"Ain't runnin' no foot races, but so as to be about."

"Folks all as well as usual?"

"Ain't hearn no loud complaint."

"Miz Mayfield," said Margaret, "Kintchin fotch me a letter from the
post-office this mornin' an' as my eyes ain't right good to-day, I wish
you'd come in an' read it to me."