"What is the matter, Aunty ?" I inquired.

"Oh Lor!" said she, "Old Huckstep's pitched off his horse and broke his head, and is e'en about dead." "Thank God!" said little Simon, "The devil will have him at last." "God-a-mighty be praised!" exclaimed half a dozen others.
The hands, with one accord dropped their hoes; and crowded round the old woman, asking questions.

"Is he dead ?"--"Will he die ?" "Did you feel of him--was he cold ?" Aunt Polly explained as well as she could, that Huckstep, in a state of partial intoxication, had attempted to leap his horse over a fence, had fallen and cut a deep gash in his head, and that he was now lying insensible.
It is impossible to describe the effect produced by this news among the hands.

Men, women and children shouted, clapped their hands, and laughed aloud.

Some cursed the overseer, and others thanked the Lord for taking him away.