196 A FLORIDA SHRINE. 



posite the car-wheel foundry, and near the 

 station, as I now remember, a middle-aged 

 negress was cutting up an oak log. She 

 swung the axe with vigor and precision, and 

 the chips flew ; but I could not help saying, 

 *' You ought to make the man do that." 



She answered on the instant. " I would," 

 she said, " if I had a man to make." 



" I 'm sure you would," I thought. Her 

 tongue was as sharp as her axe. 



Ought I to have ventured a word in her 

 behalf, I wonder, when a man of her own 

 color, and a pretty near neighbor, told me 

 with admirable naivete the story of his be- 

 reavement and his hopes? His wife had 

 died a year before, he said, and so far, 

 though he had not let the grass grow under 

 his feet, he had found no one to take her 

 place. He still meant to do so, if he could. 

 He was only seventy-four years old, and it 

 was not good for a man to be alone. He 

 seemed a gentle spirit, and I withheld all 

 mention of the stalwart and manless wood- 

 cutter. I hope he went farther, and fared 

 better. So youthful as he was, surely there 

 was no occasion for haste. 



When I had skirted a cotton-field the 



