SOUTHERN MATRON. 107

Hector had scarcely concluded when an old woman claimed
my attention. She had been sitting on a charred log, her hoe
laid by her side, her elbows resting on her knees, and her body
rocking to and fro ; but, when Hector paused she stood up, and,
courtesying with a very dismal tone and seesaw motion, said —

" He no for notting, my young missis, dat one screech-owl
been screech on de oak by Dinah house tree night last week.
When he didn't done screech, Plato took one lightwood torch,
and light 'em, and fling 'em into de tree, and den he gone. We
all say something gwine happen !"

" Miss Neely," said a lad, bustling up with great importance,
" if dat dog Growler" (pointing to him) " an't got sense ! All
night before de fire he been creep roun and roun wid he tail be-
tween he leg, and look up to maussa house, and gie such a
howl, ki ! how he howl ! and I say to marmy, ' Someting bad
gwine for happen, marmy, sure !' "

As the boy spoke, I observed the hair on the crown of his
iead tied closely up to a piece of stick an inch long, so that his
mouth and eyes stood almost ajar.
'' Why is your hair tied so tight. Bob?" said I; "it makes
your eyes stare."

His mother, who was near, came up and answered for him.
