“Now dar wuz er nudder little Fraid name Dreary; an’ she wuz sad an’ gloomy, an’ neber dance, nor play, nor nuf’n; but would jes go off poutin’, like to herse’f.  Well, one day she seed er big flat stone under a tree.  She said ter herse’f, ’I ain’t gwine ter be like dat foolish Cheery, dancin’ an’ laughin’ foreber, caze she thinks such things ez flowers an’ grass kin make folks happy; but I’m gwine ter do er rael good ter eb’ybody,” so she laid er spell on de stone, so dat w’en anybody sot on de stone an’ wush anything dey’d hab jes w’at dey wush fur; an’ so as ter let er heap er folks wush at once, she made it so dat eb’y wush would make de stone twice ez big ez ‘twuz befo’.

“Po’ little Cheery was mighty troubled in her min’ w’en she foun’ out ‘bout’n hit, an’ she beg Dreary ter tuck de spell off; but no, she wouldn’t do it.  She ’lowed, do, ef anybody should eber wush anything fur anybody else, dat den de stone might shrink up ergin; fur who, she sez ter herse’f, is gwine ter wush fur things fur tudder folks?  An’ she tol’ de little birds dat stay in de tree de stone wuz under, when anybody sot on de stone dey mus’ sing, ‘I wush I had,’ an’ ’I wush I wuz,’ so as ter ‘min’ ’em ’bout’n de wushin’-stone.  Well, ’twan’t long fo’ de gyarden wuz plum crowded wid folks come ter wush on de stone, an’ hit wuz er growin’ bigger an’ bigger all de time, an’ mashin’ de blossoms an’ grass; an’ dar wan’t no mo’ merry chil’en playin’ ’mong de trees an’ wadin’ in de streams; no soun’s ob laughin’ and joy in de gyarden; eb’ybody wuz er quarlin, ‘bout’n who should hab de nex’ place, or wuz tryin’ ter study up what dey’d wush fur; an’ Cheery wuz jes ez mizer’bul as er free nigger, ’bout her gyarden.

“De folks would set on de stone, while de little birds would sing, ’I wush I had,” an’ dey’d wush dey had money, an’ fren’s, an’ sense, an’ happiness, an’ ‘ligion; an’ ’twould all come true jes like dey wush fur.  Den de little birds would sing, ‘I wush I wuz,” an’ dey’d wush dey wuz lubly, an’ good, an’ gran’; un’ ’twould all come ter pass jes so.

“But all dat time nobody neber wush nobody else was rich, an’ good, an’ lubly, an’ happy; fur don’t yer see de birds neber sung, ’I wush you wuz,’ ’I wush dey had,” but all de time ‘I wush I wuz,’ ’I wush I had.’  At last, one day dar come inter de gyarden er po’ little cripple gal, who lived ’way off in er ole tumble-down house.  She wuz er little po’ white chile, an’ she didn’t hab no farder nor mudder, nor niggers ter do fur her, an’ she had to do all her own wuck herse’f.”

“Bress de Lord!” ejaculated Aunt Milly, who was becoming very much interested in the story, while tears gathered in Dump’s blue eyes; and even Diddie was seen to wink a little at the forlorn condition of “de po’ white chile.”