The natural platform to which we had clambered was thickly
      overgrown with brambles, through which we soon discovered that it
      would have been impossible to force our way but for the scythe;
      and Jupiter, by direction of his master, proceeded to clear for
      us a path to the foot of an enormously tall tulip-tree, which
      stood, with some eight or ten oaks, upon the level, and far
      surpassed them all, and all other trees which I had then ever
      seen, in the beauty of its foliage and form, in the wide spread
      of its branches, and in the general majesty of its appearance. When we reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked
      him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a little
      staggered by the question, and for some moments made no reply. At
      length he approached the huge trunk, walked slowly around it, and
      examined it with minute attention. When he had completed his
      scrutiny, he merely said,

      “Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life.”

      “Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon be too
      dark to see what we are about.”

      “How far mus go up, massa?” inquired Jupiter. “Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you which way
      to go—and here—stop! take this beetle with you.”

      “De bug, Massa Will!—de goole-bug!” cried the negro, drawing back
      in dismay—“what for mus tote de bug way up de tree?—d—n if I do!”

      “If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to take hold
      of a harmless little dead beetle, why you can carry it up by this
      string—but, if you do not take it up with you in some way, I
      shall be under the necessity of breaking your head with this
      shovel.”

      “What de matter now, massa?” said Jup, evidently shamed into
      compliance; “always want for to raise fuss wid old nigger. Was
      only funnin any how. _Me_ feered de bug! what I keer for de bug?”
      Here he took cautiously hold of the extreme end of the string,
      and, maintaining the insect as far from his person as
      circumstances would permit, prepared to ascend the tree. In youth, the tulip-tree, or _Liriodendron Tulipferum_, the most
      magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk peculiarly smooth,
      and often rises to a great height without lateral branches; but,
      in its riper age, the bark becomes gnarled and uneven, while many
      short limbs make their appearance on the stem. Thus the
      difficulty of ascension, in the present case, lay more in
      semblance than in reality. Embracing the huge cylinder, as
      closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with his
      hands some projections, and resting his naked toes upon others,
      Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length
      wriggled himself into the first great fork, and seemed to
      consider the whole business as virtually accomplished. The risk
      of the achievement was, in fact, now over, although the climber
      was some sixty or seventy feet from the ground. “Which way mus go now, Massa Will?” he asked. “Keep up the largest branch—the one on this side,” said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and apparently with but little
      trouble; ascending higher and higher, until no glimpse of his
      squat figure could be obtained through the dense foliage which
      enveloped it. Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. “How much fudder is got for go?”

      “How high up are you?” asked Legrand. “Ebber so fur,” replied the negro; “can see de sky fru de top ob
      de tree.”

      “Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look down the
      trunk and count the limbs below you on this side. How many limbs
      have you passed?”

      “One, two, tree, four, fibe—I done pass fibe big limb, massa, pon
      dis side.”

      “Then go one limb higher.”

      In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing that the
      seventh limb was attained. “Now, Jup,” cried Legrand, evidently much excited, “I want you to
      work your way out upon that limb as far as you can. If you see
      anything strange, let me know.” By this time what little doubt I
      might have entertained of my poor friend’s insanity, was put
      finally at rest. I had no alternative but to conclude him
      stricken with lunacy, and I became seriously anxious about
      getting him home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be
      done, Jupiter’s voice was again heard. “Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far—’tis dead limb
      putty much all de way.”

      “Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?” cried Legrand in a
      quavering voice. “Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail—done up for sartain—done
      departed dis here life.”

      “What in the name heaven shall I do?” asked Legrand, seemingly in
      the greatest distress. “Do!” said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, “why
      come home and go to bed. Come now!—that’s a fine fellow. It’s
      getting late, and, besides, you remember your promise.”

      “Jupiter,” cried he, without heeding me in the least, “do you
      hear me?”

      “Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain.”

      “Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if you think
      it very rotten.”

      “Him rotten, massa, sure nuff,” replied the negro in a few
      moments, “but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought ventur out
      leetle way pon de limb by myself, dat’s true.”

      “By yourself!—what do you mean?”

      “Why I mean de bug. ’Tis _berry_ hebby bug. Spose I drop him down
      fuss, and den de limb won’t break wid just de weight ob one
      nigger.”

      “You infernal scoundrel!” cried Legrand, apparently much
      relieved, “what do you mean by telling me such nonsense as that? As sure as you drop that beetle I’ll break your neck. Look here,
      Jupiter, do you hear me?”

      “Yes, massa, needn’t hollo at poor nigger dat style.”

      “Well! now listen!—if you will venture out on the limb as far as
      you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I’ll make you a
      present of a silver dollar as soon as you get down.”

      “I’m gwine, Massa Will—deed I is,” replied the negro very
      promptly—“mos out to the eend now.”

      “_Out to the end!_” here fairly screamed Legrand, “do you say you
      are out to the end of that limb?”

      “Soon be to de eend, massa,—o-o-o-o-oh! Lor-gol-a-marcy! what is
      dis here pon de tree?”

      “Well!” cried Legrand, highly delighted, “what is it?”

      “Why taint noffin but a skull—somebody bin lef him head up de
      tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de meat off.”

      “A skull, you say!—very well—how is it fastened to the limb?—what
      holds it on?”

      “Sure nuff, massa; mus look.