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Show 'DAT FUNNY OLE CAL." ONB OK THI LAST OF A GOODLY UACK NOW FAST 1'ASSINO AWAY. "Jes' to link I'ae got to be liviu' 'mong trash alter being used to take care of missis, an' all de white fulku'ea money alyin' roun' loose, an' a look-iu'-glass ez big ex de side ol a house to see tu'self in why, chile, el my missis only knowed how I'ue abused she'd raise right up out of her grave. For I never was used to uiggors, I wasn't, an' eft wasn't for Amos hyar, don' you s'pose I'd bo livin' iu such a place. Chile, I can't stand it." It was in part due to such complaints com-plaints as this, and partly to the tact that the poor woman's souse of propriety pro-priety appeared iu the highest degree eccentric to folks wholly devoid of propriety, that they called her "De Funny Ole Gal." She was very . dari, very fat, and very proper. Ne one ever heard her make use of an expletive, aud there were few or none of the levee people with whom sue would associate. But her moat notorious eccentricity was a passion for talking in a most idolatrous htrain about her "Missis," who had beeu dead for many years. Grotesque as were her eflorta to manage a long calico train with trace. or her psntiva Ln malcn pf:nt courtesies to some white visitor, there was always perceptible in her gestures and attitudes an attempt to copy the natural elegance of some comely woiuau, accustomed to fair fashion and tue luxuries of life. When the officers ol the levee conducted us for the tiro I time into the dingy basement on the Upper row. where she and Amos lived , we cculd not avoid fancying fan-cying her to be a living caricature of quaint fashiouB and quaint manners iu vogue among the cultivated classes of an older generation. Amoi, an old crippled rag-picker, bad little to say and Bat motionless in a dark corner; but the old woman was hearty and voluble in her welcome. "Lor! but I'bo glad to see you! Come inl I'se glad to see you white folks, for white's my own color if I hc-v a blackakin. Why.Maraler Brazil, do you know dese niggers roun' hyar treat me jest so I waa nobody? I'se seen de time, Marater Brazil, when I'd go oui'n de field an' take my pick of all de niggahs to help bouse cleaning, and I'd make 'em all know I waa ober 'em, too; an' I wouldn't tske one ob diB poor trash roun' hyar; 1 no, dar ain't one niggah on dis row I'd 'low to dust my missis' parlor j no, dar aiu't Marster Brazil." "Where is ahe now ?" wa ventured to a?k. "Who? My missis? Why, chile, you don 'epoae ef my missis wub 'live I'd be roun' hyar 'mong all dese niggabs. No, indeed, chile ; my missis would'n see me 'bused by such traBh. Sue blebed dar was'n no one like me nowhar my missis did." "She muBt have thought a good deal of you, then?" "My missiB? Yes, 'udeed, chile ! my missis dat I raised on dis breast ob mine I Amos! open dat yar bott'm dra'r in de bureau, and bring me my missis's will, tell I ebow dese white folks what my missis said 'bout me." Old Amos tottered to the other end of the room, and, after muob tugging and pulling at a certain groaning drawer, succeeded in obtaining "missis's will" a very old, very crumpled, and it must be confessed a very dirty sheet of note-paper, yellow aud faded. "Read it, honey," said tbe Funoy Ole Gal, as we turned the paper toward to-ward the foggy glimmer of the dingy window. 'Smells for all de worl' like missis's dresses used to Bmell," said the Funny Ole Gal. So we, loo, fan cied dreaming of the thought of Solomon: "And the smell of thy garments is as the smell of frankincense." frankin-cense." The will was well Digh illegible; tbe ink had almost faded to one color with the paper, though the sweet scent of flowers still clung faithfully to the little document, like the ghost of a dead love. We only caught the words: "Denreet Lot Charlotte have the wedding wed-ding stt and tha and teacups. Sho has been faithful and "An' I'se got dem all, too, 'cep' de 8ii gab. bowl dat Amos broke; but I'se got de pieces all tied up, an' I'se got my missis's glasses, an' I'se got de lowl'a I used, to wash her wiL" We saw tbem all; old English china witn quaint blue uragon patterns on a white ground, aud rich guild ing and enamel, but all badly cracked aod chipped; fragments of graceful glasaware with twisted stems, and much that spoke of wealth and luxury, lux-ury, and old-time comfort. "Jes' to t'iuk dat dese yar glasses wub at my missis' weddio' ; and I'ae now got to live among diB ole niggah trash !" muttered the Funny Ole Gal adly. "Why do you live among them if you don't like them?" we asked, rather brutally. Then she told us how her mlsBis died soon after her marriage, and now the slaves were ail set free by her wish, and bow the family became scattered. Uriah had wasted the patrimony and , diofl vnnn- William hfl mfp smith. and was killed in a duel; David haa gone to the far west, and was never again heard from. The old "place" had been Bold and passed into the hands of strangers. But "missis" was buried near the river on the "old place," and so aunt Charlotte loved the river, and loved to see all the white boats that daily passed by a certain cer-tain green slope on the Kentucky Bide, where there waa a long mound and a pale Btone and the shadow of drooping trees. Night or day, when the Maysville packet steams up to the levee, the Funny Old Gal is always at her door on tbe Row to watch her boat come in and hear its cry of welcome, thinking that it has passed by the low mound marked by a gray stone and low drooping trees; that its steam song has awakened the voiceB of the dear hills about the old home, and that perhaps tbe unsteady Bhadow of its smoky breath haa floated over "missis's" grave. Cincinnati Commercial. |