e wurl, en' ef yo' gwine do ennything fo'
me, do hit now.' Yessir, he lit a seegar en blow de smoke thru hi' nose
en say, 'Do hit now!'

"De boy dun fergit how his daddy fotch him up an' feed him an' clothe
him, but dat doan' count wid chillun. Dey kine er reason hit dis way:
'Yo' 'sponsibul fo' my bein' heah, en yo' bleeged to teck keer uv me'.
De ole man kiner swole up, but he drawed his check on de bank--de Bible
doan' say how much, but hit mus' ter been a pile, fer de Bible doan'
fool wid little things. De boy wen' 'roun' to tell 'em all good-bye, an'
his mammy jes' fell on his neck an' wep'. He wuz de black sheep, an' hit
seem dat de mammies allus love dese black sheep de best. When he cum to
tell his brother good-bye, de brother kiner put hi' han' to hi' mouf en
say, 'Doan' yo' write back to me when yo' git busted,' en de Prodegale
Son he say, 'Pooh, pooh, yo' clod-hopper.'

"Dar wuz de ole folks sottin' on de poach as he wen' down de road. Dey
could see him ergin crowin' in de craddle; dey could see him larnin'
how to teck his fust step, en back in de years, dey could heah de fust
word he ever said--de fust one mos' uv us says, _mammy_.

[Illustration: "De Prodegale Son."]

"He rech de city, en dere wuz frens waitin' him by de score, en dey say,
'Whut a fine genermun! Whut a spote! All wool en a yahd wide!' Yassir!
An he smile an' swole up an' say, 'Le's have sunthin!' Dey go inter de
bar, en de barkeeper smile en say, 'Whut's yourn, gents?' Some say ole
fashun toddy, some say gin, en' so on. De young man res' hi' foot on de
railin' uv de bar, en look at hi'sel' in de glass, en he see de dimun
rings on his fingers jes' glis'nin', an' when de licker gits to workin'
inside him, he look in de glass ergin, en 'lows to hi'sel', 'I reckon
I'se jes' about de wahmest thing in dis hyar town,'--an' he wuz! He
foots all de bills. Lawse! how he meck frens. He tell er story, en dey
all jes' laff fit ter bust, an' say, 'Hain' he great!' De ladies uv de
town, some uv 'em, dey roll dey black eyes at him an' say, 'Hain' he
sweet!' He done fergot de little girl wid de blue eyes an' de gold ha'r
blowin' in de win'. De gamblers tuck a crack at him, too--dey kin tell a
sucker three miles off. Dey showed him how to handle de kyards an' roll
de bones, en he rar'd back in a sof' cheer wid a black seegar in hi'
mouf an' see his money slip erway. Lawse! yo' oreter see his room whar
he stay. He slep' in a feather-tick nine foot deep, an