“For what, Peter?”
“‘Cause, master, the sun too hot [an odd reason for a negro to give] that side, and when he rain we no able to keep de door open.”
“Well, well, when a carpenter gets a little leisure, you shall have one.”
A few weeks after, I was at the plantation, and riding past the quarters one Sabbath morning, beheld Peter, his wife and children, with his old father, all sunning themselves in the new gallery.
“Missus, you promise me a Chrismus gif’.”
“Well, Jane, there is a new calico frock for you.”
“It werry pretty, Missus,” said Jane, eying it at a distance without touching it, “but me prefer muslin, if you please: muslin de fashion dis Chrismus.”
“Very well, Jane, call to-morrow, and you shall have a muslin.”
The writer would not think of controverting the truth of these anecdotes. Any probable amount of high-post bedsteads and mosquito “bars,” of tobacco distributed as gratuity, and verandas constructed by leisurely carpenters for the sunning of fastidious negroes, may be conceded, and they do in no whit impair the truth of the other facts. When the reader remembers that the “gang” of some opulent owners amounts to from five to seven hundred working hands, besides children, he can judge how extensively these accommodations are likely to be provided. Let them be safely thrown into the account, for what they are worth.
At all events, it is pleasing to end off so disagreeable a chapter with some more agreeable images.