"An' how's de law ter know which is de lawful chillen ef hit ain't on dat ar paper?"
"Sure enough," said the clerk, with amusement. "That would have been a good idea, but, you see, Nimbus, the law didn't go that far."
"Wal, hit ought ter hev gone dat fur. Now, Mister Clerk, couldn't you jes' put dat on dis yer paper, jes' ter "commodate me, yer know."
"Perhaps so," good-naturedly, taking back the certificate; "what do you want me to write?"
"Wal, yer see, dese yer is our chillen. Dis yer boy Lone—Axylone, Marse Desmit called him, but we calls him Lone for short—he's gwine on fo'; dis yer gal Wicey, she's two past; and dis little brack cuss Lugena's a-holdin' on, we call Cap'n, kase he bosses all on us—he's nigh 'bout a year; an' dat's all."
The clerk entered the names and ages of the children on the back of the paper, with a short certificate that they were present, and were acknowledged as the children, and the only ones, of the parties named in the instrument.
And so the slave Nimbus was transformed, first into the "contraband" and mercenary soldier George Nimbus, and then by marriage into Nimbus Desmit.
CHAPTER VI.
THE TOGA VIRILIS.
But the transformations of the slave were not yet ended. The time came when he was permitted to become a citizen. For two years he had led an inchoate, nondescript sort of existence: free without power or right; neither slave nor freeman; neither property nor citizen. He had been, meanwhile, a bone of contention between the Provisional Governments of the States and the military power which controlled them. The so-called State Governments dragged him toward the whipping-post and the Black Codes and serfdom. They denied him his oath, fastened him to the land, compelled him to hire by the year, required the respectfulness of the old slave "Mahs'r" and "Missus," made his employer liable for his taxes, and allowed recoupment therefor; limited his avocations and restricted his opportunities. These would substitute serfdom for chattelism.