ON THE ST. AUGUSTINE ROAD. 157 
sits well on any man, whatever the color of 
his skin. 
In that respect he was like another boy of 
about his own age, who lived in the cabin 
directly before us, but whom I did not see 
till I had been several times over the road. 
Then he happened to be at work near the 
edge of the field, and I beckoned him to me. 
He, too, was serious and manly in his bear- 
ing, and showed no disposition to go back to 
his hoe till I broke off the interview, — as if 
it were a point of good manners with him to 
await my pleasure. Yes, the plantation was 
a good one and easily cultivated, he said, in 
response to some remark of my own. There 
were five in the family, and they all worked. 
“ We are all big enough to eat,” he added, 
quite simply. He had never been North, 
but had lately declined the offer of a gen- 
tleman who wished to take him there, — 
him and “another fellow.” He once went 
to Jacksonville, but could n’t stay. “ You 
ean get along without your father pretty 
well, but it’s another thing to do without 
your mother.” He never meant to leave 
home again as long as his mother lived; 
which was likely to be for some years, I 
