“The war made great changes for your people, uncle.”
“Yas, we’s free now. I tank de Lord dat day de news come dat my chil’en’s free.”
AFRICA.
“But you yourself, uncle? It did not make so much difference to you?” I said, noticing the age and infirmity of the old man. But straightening his bent body, and raising his whitened head with a proud happiness in his old eyes, he answered,
“I breave anoder breff ebber sense, mistis, dat I do.”
Farther on I found a woman sitting at the door of a little shop with sweets to sell, and purchased some for the sake of making a mental sketch of her picturesque head with its white turban. “I have not the exact change, but will send it to you to-morrow,” I said, intending to fee the Sabre to execute the errand. “Who shall I say it is?”
“Why, Viny, course. Every body knows Aunt Viny.”
“I want to go over to Africa, Aunt Viny. Can you tell me the way?”
“Certain. You goes—You know St. Francis Street?”