The Press., 1894-02-08

You arc Jtrj1g to run aaody, isdm" ence. Independent he was. No prince ever ruled with sway more potent than this bachelor planter, surrounded by his blacks and acknowledging none other than his own will.
 This marked character was man be- low medium height. His figure inclined very decidedly to portliness, and be- yond long, narrow mustache and thin imperial of black and gray his face was clean shaven. Iron gray hair in abundance crept out from under the white felt hat he generally wore, and his mixed suit of gray was illumined by ruffied shirt and broad spreading cuffs of the finest linen.
 Self willed and eccentric are weak words with which to stamp this gentle man s actions. In the long days of his idleness, when the legislature was not in session, the negro was an unfailing source of amusement and study to him and his sole diversion, for he despised books from the day he left college, and beyond a sporting journal and a paper from d neighboring city he had no periodical. Of course he. was Whig.
 Upon the day which 1 have selected to open a page in the experience of Major Crawford Worthington he was sitting upon his broad veranda, which swept back from the front around to the shady eastern exposure and over looked the spacious back yard. Two score pickanninies in short shirts had scrambled in front of him for small sill l~o the ground beneath. The tears wrung from him by their contortions and fun ny pastures had dried upon his cheeks, and weary of the sport he had turned away the black athletes by means of a few gourds of cold water skillfully ap- piled to their half clad forms, had set tied back to enjoy the afternoon and fell a-dreaming.
 He remembered, in that easy method common to dreams, how years before he had sat upon that same porch watch ing favorite old negro catching chick ems in the yard. "IsamI' he had said, and moving with jerky little motions that seemed always to attune themselves to his masters moods as expressed in his tones Isam had minced up the steps. "Isam, he had continued, you are fixing to run away!'
 He remembered the startled look that swept over the funny little mans coun- tenance and his answer:
 "Lord mussy, Mass Crafud, who- ev'r hyah de like CT dat?"
 ''Yes, sir, and you are fixing to start right away"
 There had been genuine grief in the negro's voice as he replied:
 '' 'Fo' Gawd, Mass Craffud, you dun got de wrong nigger dis time. Isam is nigh onter 50 year ole, en he ain' nev'r lef' de place on CT run yet. No, sah!"
 Isam, however, spurred on by the suggestion, had really run off, and the overseer had secured the country for him in vain. The black was enjoying freedom beyond recall, but one morn ing while the major was breakfasting alone, and his two servants who attend ed the table were busy with fybrush and waff1es, Isam suddenly stood in the doorway. His clothes were torn and soiled, and his face wore a hangdog look that was in truth comical Since that day old Isam had run away an- nually about the same time of the year, and this without any apparent cause.
 Evidently this was what the major was thinking of, for smiles came and went upon his face like shadows un- der the swaying mimosa. And when at