their heads and say:  “You better quit skeering that chile.”  But there was one pleasure above all the rest, it was to hear any one tell “tales.”  When my mother would have a visitor, very frequently the lady would bring a nurse to care for one child or children, she might bring with her.  Oh, how pleased the black and white children would be to see such visitors.  We would gather around and in every way made our pleasure known.  Would give them doll-rags, nuts, or apples, and in many ways express our delight at having them come.  As soon as they were made comfortable, the next thing was:  “Tell us a tale.”  And seating ourselves around on the floor, or in a close group, we would be all attention.  Of course there would be some raw heads and bloody bones, but not so much as the stories told at night in the cabins.

One of the prettiest stories I ever heard, and never tired of hearing, that taught me a great moral, was about two girls the children of a couple who were hard working people.  One of the girls was named Sarah, the other Mary.  Sarah was a very pretty girl with curls.  Mary was rather ugly and had straight hair.  Curls in my childhood days were something very much sought for.  Although Sarah was pretty in the face she had very rude ways; she would not speak kindly and politely; would not help her hard working mother; but was idle and quarrelsome, always wanted some one to wait on her; while Mary was the reverse; would pick up chips to make a fire, would sweep the yard and bring water, and was kind to all, especially to her mother.  One day the well went dry and there was no water to make the tea for supper.  Mary saw her mother crying and said:  “Don’t cry, mother; I will go and get some at the Haunted Spring.”

Her mother said:  “Oh, no, dear sweet child, those goblins will kill you.”

“No, mother,” replied Mary.  “I will beg them to let me have some water for dear father, and I am not afraid.”

So her mother got a light bucket for her, and went to the top of the hill with her, and said:  “God bless you, my dear child, and bring you back to me.”

Then Mary went on until she came to the high iron gate.  She said:  “Please gate open and let me through.  I mind my father and mother and love everybody.”

And the gate opened and she passed into the “haunted” grounds—­ She saw a funny, little, short man come running with a stick and said:  “Please, nice man, don’t hit me.  I have come down to get some good water to make tea for my father’s supper.  He has been working all day, and our well has gone dry.  May I please have some of your spring water?”

“Well, little girl, as you talk so nice, you can have some.  Tell the little folks to open the briars for you.”