"How are you getting on, Mose?" asked an anxious creditor of an impecunious colored farmer.

"Wull, boss, pickin's kinder slim erroun' de cabin jes' now, but I'm a livin' in hopes. I've got two yakers er cotton's dat's middlin' fine, an' ten yakerser worter-millyuns dat am de bes' I ever see; an' ef I doan't git er millyun yakers er hebben dis fall, I miss my guess mighty bad!"