“Yes, sar, it was that—ho, ho, ho! It was a man by the name of ——, from Tennessee, what bought me. He made a business of goin’ roun’ and buyin’ up people, and bringin’ ’em down here, speculatin’ on ’em. Ho, ho! he did well that time. But I’d ’a’ liked it better, for all that, to have stayed in ole Varginny. ’Tain’t the heat, tho’ it’s too hot here sometimes; but you know, sar, I was born and raised in Varginny, and seems like ’twould be pleasanter to live thar. It’s kinder natural to people to hanker arter the place they wos raised in. Ho, ho! I’d like it a heap better, tho’ this ole man’s a good mass’r; never had no better mass’r.”
“I suppose you became a Catholic after you got here?”
“Yes, sar” (hesitatingly).
“I suppose all the people are Catholics here?”
“Here? Oh, no, sar; they was whar I wos first in this here country; they wos all Catholics there.”
“Well, they are all Catholics here, too—ain’t they?”
“Here, sar? Here, sar? Oh, no, sar!”
“Why, your master is not a Protestant, is he?”
After two deep groans, he replied in a whisper:
“Oh, sar, they don’ have no meetin’ o’ no kind, roun’ here!”