The Story of My Childhood
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plaint expressed with my best linguistic ability:
"Baby los' 'im—pitty bird—baby los' 'im—baby mos' caught him—pitty bird—baby mos' caught 'im."
At length they succeeded in inducing me to listen to a question, "But where did it go, Baby?"
Among my heart-breaking sobs I pointed to a small round hole under the doorstep. The terrified scream of my mother remained in my memory forever more. Her baby had "mos' caught" a snake.
I recall nothing more for nearly a year and a half, when my terrors again took possession. An esteemed and greatly beloved relative of the family had died. The funeral services were to be held four miles away. All the household would attend ex-
