floor, they have, and put more mats onto it—fur and colored. An’ the stuff—oh, Lord! China—all that blue china he got fr’m ol’ Mis’ Simms, an’ them ol’ stoneware platters that Mis’ Rivers was goin’ to fire away, an’ he give her two dollars for the lot—all that’s scattered round on tables and shelves. An’ that ol’ black secr’tary he got fr’m Lord knows where, an’ brakes growin’ in colored pots standin’ right up there, an’ statyers o’ men an’ women—no heads onto ’em, some ain’t got; it’s all one to him—he’d buy any ol’ thing so’s ’twas broke, you might say. An’ them ol’ straight chairs—no upholsterin’ on ’em, an’ some o’ them wicker kind that bends any way, with pillers in ‘em. An’ cups and sassers, with a tea-pot ’n’ kittle; an’ he makes tea himself an’ drinks it—I swear it’s so. An’ a guitar, an’, Lord, the pictures! You can’t see no wall for ’em!
“‘It’s a mighty lucky thing, havin’
