THE CRICKET ON THE HEARTH. 281 



awful mortality goin' on party stiddy among folks's re- 

 lations in these parts, fer I never know'd a Fall around 

 here that the crickets didn't holler like the nation. 

 W'y the fields's full uv 'em, and some uv 'em alluz 

 manage to creep in doors. Now, fer my part, I alluz 

 heerd tell that the cricket was rather lucky'n other- 

 wise." 



"So'tis, Sary Ann, so't is," said Dan. " Yo's all 

 out dar 'boout de crickets." 



" Wat do you know about crickets, Fd like to 

 know ?" exclaimed Sarah, evidently scenting a contro- 

 versy. 



"I knows a heap, Sary Ann — a heap!" was the re- 

 joinder. 



The old man took a deep whiff of tobacco, then folded 

 his arms over his knees, lowered his body upon his 

 arms, and shutting his eyes, dropped into a droning, 

 subdued tone, as though he were speaking to some one 

 in the air. 



"Wen I was a pickaninny, in ole Marylan'," he 

 said, "not mo'n knee high to a duck, my mammy — a 

 Virginny woman she wuz — wunst cought me killin' a 

 cricket. I kin see des's plain's day de awful look on 'er 

 face es she grabbed me, en signed de cross ober me, en 

 den shuk me tel I farly chatter'd. 



" 'Doan ye nebber do dat agane, chile,' she said. She 

 wuz so skeered thet she panted fer breaf, and could 

 skarcely speak a word. 'I know ye done 't widout 

 a-thinking, but hit's awful wrong to kill crickets, 

 'spec'lly dem as 's in dohs, Dey's de sperits uv ole 



