Mrs.Weston fanned Alice, who, with closed eyes, laid languidly on the lounge.
"Miss Janet," said Lydia, speaking very softly, "who made de lightning-bugs ?" "God made them," said Miss Janet.
"Did God make de nanny-goats, too ?" "You know that God made every thing," said Miss Janet.

"I have often told you so." "He didn't make mammy's house, ma'am; I seed de men makin it." "No; man makes houses, but God made all the beautiful things in nature.

He made man, and trees, and rivers, and such things as man could not make." Lydia looked up at the sky.

The sun had set, and the moon was coming forth, a few stars glistened there.

Long, fleecy clouds extended over the arch of heaven, and some passing ones for a moment obscured the brightness that gilded the beautiful scene.
"Miss Janet," said Lydia, "its mighty pretty there; but 'spose it was to fall." "What was to fall ?" "De sky, ma'am." "It cannot fall.