watching the rim of the rising moon across the 

 dark, stubby corn-field. It was November, and 

 the silver light was spreading a plate of frost over 

 the field and its long, silent rows of corn-shocks. 



When Uncle Jethro studied the clouds or the 

 moon in this way, it meant a trip to the mea- 

 dows or the swamp ; it was a sure sign that geese 

 had gone over, that the possums and coons were 

 running. 



I knew to-night for I could smell the per- 

 fume of the ripe persimmons on the air that 

 down by the creek, among the leafless tops of 

 the persimmon-trees, Uncle Jethro saw a possum. 



"Is it Br'er Possum or Br'er Coon, Uncle 

 Jethro ? " I asked, slyly, just as if I did not know. 



"Boosh! boosh!" sputtered the old darky, 

 terribly scared by my sudden appearance. 

 "Wat yo' 'xplodin' my cogitations lak dat fo'? 

 Wat I know 'bout any possum 1 ? Possum, boy? 

 Possum? Wat yo' mean ?" 



"Don't you sniff the 'siminons, Uncle Jeth?" 



Instinctively he threw his nose into the air. 



"G' 'way, boy j g' 'way fum yhere ! I ain't seen 

 no possum. I 's thinkin' 'bout dat las' camp- 

 meetin' in de pines" ; and he began to hum : 



