"Oh, mammy," said the boy, regardless of the threat in his enthusiastic state of mind, "jist listen, daddy's gwine to play 'Did you ever see the devil?'"
"Will any body listen to the boy? If you don't go to bed"
"Oh, mammy, please lem me go. Dare's Jake, he's gwine to dance. Massa said I'd beat Jake dancin one o' dese days."
"High," said Phillis; "where's the sore foot you had this morning?"
"Its done got well. It got well a little while ago, while I was asleep."
"Bound for you; go long," said Phillis.
Bacchus was about to go, without the slightest addition to his toilet.
"Come back here," said Phillis, "you real cornfield nigger; you goin there naked?"
The boy turned back, and thrust his legs in a pair of pants, with twine for suspenders. His motions were much delayed, by his nervous state of agitation, the consequence of the music which was now going on in earnest.
He got off finally, not without a parting admonition from his mother.
"Look here," said she, "if you don't behave yourself, I'll skin you."
Allusion to this mysterious mode of punishment had the effect of sobering the boy's mind in a very slight degree. No sooner was he out of his mother's sight than his former vivacity returned.
His father, meanwhile, had turned down a barrel, and was seated on it. Every attitude, every motion of his body, told that his soul, forgetful of earth and earthly things, had withdrawn to the regions of sound. He kicked his slippers off keeping time, and his head dodged about with every turn of the quick tune. A stranger, not understanding the state of mind into which a negro gets after
