"There are two beautiful little children in this house, who are twins, because they came into this world at the very same time. They are each six years old—a boy and a girl.
"I asked Richard where he came from? He said: 'Why, don't you know? Sally and I were dug up from under a cotton tree.' Wasn't that funny?
"Then his mamma said: 'Richard, sing "Morning's ruddy beams, in the Eastern sky,"' and he shouted out—
"'Morning's ready beams
Eascum eascum skri,'
then stopped, and giving one eye a queer little twist, said: 'How does that suit you?' In the afternoon the children went to a party, and Richard brought home an orange for his mother, and said: 'I'm going to save this for your Christmas present,' which sounded very funny as Christmas was eight months off.
"The next morning we had flannel cakes for breakfast. Really, and truly, they are made of eggs, milk, and flour; but just for fun I pretended to be astonished, and exclaimed: 'Flannel Cakes! Dear me! who ever heard of such a thing? Why, Richard, what are they made of? Flannel?'
"'Why, no, you goose,' said Richard, 'they are made of flannel flour.'
"I could not help laughing when he called me a goose; but his mother said he was very naughty; and then he ran and hid his head in her dress and began to cry. You see, he was a little bit of a boy—and did not mean to be impolite—and I think myself, I would have been a goose, if I had really and truly believed the cakes were made of flannel; don't you, you little darling?
"I have a very curious snake-skin to show you when I return. Edward, Richard's big brother, found it in the woods, and made it a present to me. A snake! What a present! and to think of a snake wanting to wriggle out of his skin! You wouldn't do such a thing, would you?
"Yesterday a beautiful little mulatto girl came to see me, and brought me, from her mistress, a basket full of splendid flowers. She was about five years old. A great black man with his head covered with white wool came with her to take care of her, because she was so little. He looked as if he had been out in a snowstorm without his hat; but really his head was white because he was so old. His name was Jeringo. 'Well, little one,' said I, 'what is your name?'