s bleeding body, bruised and broken by the fiery young
two-year-old he was trying to subdue. Patsy did not sob or whimper,
though his heart ached, for over all the feeling of his grief was a
mad, burning desire to ride that horse.

His tears were shed, however, when, actuated by the idea that times
would be easier up North, they moved to Dalesford. Then, when he
learned that he must leave his old friends, the horses and their
masters, whom he had known, he wept. The comparatively meagre
appointments of the Fair-grounds at Dalesford proved a poor
compensation for all these. For the first few weeks Patsy had dreams
of running away--back to Kentucky and the horses and stables. Then
after a while he settled himself with heroic resolution to make the
best of what he had, and with a mighty effort took up the burden of
life away from his beloved home.

Eliza Barnes, older and more experienced though she was, took up her
burden with a less cheerful philosophy than her son. She worked hard,
and made a scanty livelihood, it is true, but she did not make the
best of what she had. Her complainings were loud in the land, and her
wailings for her old home smote the ears of any who would listen to
her.

They had been living in Dalesford for a year nearly, when hard work
and exposure brought the woman down to bed with pneumonia. They were
very poor--too poor even to call in a doctor, so there was nothing to
do but to call in the city physician. Now this medical man had too
frequent calls into Little Africa, and he did not like to go there. So
he was very gruff when any of its denizens called him, and it was even
said that he was careless of his patients.

Patsy's heart bled as he heard the doctor talking to his mother:

"Now, there can't be any foolishness about this," he said. "You've got
to stay in bed and not get yourself damp."

"How long you think I got to lay hyeah, doctah?" she asked.

"I'm a doctor, not a fortune-teller," was the reply. "You'll lie there
as long as the disease holds you."

"But I can't lay hyeah long, doctah, case I ain't got nuffin' to go
on."

"Well, take your choice: the bed or the boneyard."

Eliza began to cry.

"You needn't sniffle," said the doctor; "I don't see what you people
want to come up here for anyhow. Why don't you stay down South where
you belong? You come up here and you're just a burden and a trouble to
the city. The South deals with all of you better, both in poverty and
crime