IN this little work the author has preferred to follow the simple truth, feeling all interweaving of fiction to be out of keeping with the character of whom she has written. Beyond the use of a story-teller's license, sparingly indulged in, this story is strictly true. As the details of everyday life would prove monotonous to the reader, the writer has given but little more than the outlines of the life of this beloved servant; and though a short work—only a re-creative hour for the busy American—a simple story simply told, it is written as a tribute to the memory of one who was faithful in all her ways, with the hope that her name may be honored and remembered. It is known that the speech of the Tennessee negro differs slightly from his extreme southern kinsman. Aunt Dice was free from many of the stumblings or more uncouth forms of the negro dialect. The word "master" she used with an "o" sound, as in "moster." Her way was her own; she borrowed no form. In conclusion, need it be said that it is yet the hope and desire of the Family to remove the sacred dust of this honored servant to her chosen place of burial, where Cesar sleeps and the Candlesticks bloom?