“It’s your birthday today, May Day. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. " Jonathan made no answer, but snatching a torch from a bystander, jumped into the trench and commenced a diligent search. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. ‘You obstinate little devil. .
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