“Chris’mus. Marse George. Chris’mus! an’ jes listen to dem niggers singin’ under de winder!” Although a sound sleeper, George always waked quickly, and in an instant he recognized the Christmas melody that floated upward from the ground outside. A dozen or so of the field-hands were marching around the house just as the first faint grayness of the Christmas Day appeared, and singing, in their rich, sweet, untrained voices, a song with the merry refrain,