"John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em," said his wife.
"No it doant—do it, Aggy?"
"Lor', missus, I doant keer what massa say; but I doant leff no oder man run on so ter me!"
"No more'n ye doant, gal! only Cale."
"Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' roun' I reckon."
"I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't."
When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the negro houses. The hour allowed for dinner[K] was about expiring, and the darkies were preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly serious face:
"Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?"
"Doant see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa," replied one of the blacks. "Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doant 'pear like ab'lishener;" and he laughed, and scraped his head in the manner peculiar to the negro, as he added: "kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one of dem."
"What der ye knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one—what d'ye 'spose the' luk like?"