management of children, she never forbade them doing what she knew they could not help doing. Thus, as the carriage passed the lodge, a noisy group of small-sized darkies were making a public demonstration. "Massa's come home," says one. "I sees Miss Alice," says another. "I sees Miss Anna, too," said a third, though, as yet, not a face was visible to one of them. They put their heads out of the carriage, notwithstanding, to speak to them, and Alice emptied a good-sized basket of sugar-plums, which she had bought for the purpose, over their heads.
"Take care, Mark," said Mr. Weston, "don't cut about with that whip, while all these children are so near."
"If I didn't, sir," said Mark, "some of 'em would a been scrunched under the carriage wheels 'fore now. These little niggers," he muttered between his teeth, "they're always in the way. I wish some of 'em would get run over." Mark's wife was not a very amiable character, and she had never had any children.
"Hurrah! daddy, is that you?" said an unmistakeable voice proceeding from the lungs of Bacchus the younger. "I been dansin juba dis hole blessed day--I so glad you come. Ask mammy if I aint?"
"How is your mother, Bacchus?" said Mr. Weston, looking out the window.
"Mammy, she's well," said the young gentleman; "how's you, master?"
"Very well, I thank you, sir," said Mr. Weston. "Go down there and help pick up the sugar-plums."
Bacchus the elder, now slid down from the seat by Mark, and took a short cut over to his cabin.
"Poor Aunt Phillis!" said Mrs. Weston, looking after him, "I hope she will get well."
"Ah!" said Mr. Weston, "I had forgotten Phillis on this happy day. There is something, you see, Anna, to make us sigh, even in our happiest moments.
