"An' did ye not marry a nagur?"
"Why, no! my husband was a white man, who died a number of years ago."
"And was he a black man?"
"He was a white man, and he left me with eight children, all under age, and the youngest and the oldest have followed their father."
"In fath, ye've seen a dale of trouble, I'm sure; and we heard that black man we often saw comin' from schule with ye an' that yellow lass an' boy was your chilther."
"That mulatto girl and boy live near my boarding-place, and they generally come and go with me to school and return; and that black man is a young man who has never had the privilege of going to school and learning to read and write and the use of figures, until I opened this school. Now he can read, write, and can use figures to good advantage."
"But it's a pity we didn't know ye before. We've been hearin' all this about ye, an' not a bit of it true. Our people was about to set fire to your schule-house—in faith, they said they'd give ye a dressin' of tar an' fithers, an' our praste forbid it."
"I knew nothing of that," said I; "but I wanted you to understand me before I left, which will be in four weeks. Then they will have a fine young colored man from Oberlin College to teach their school."
"But what a pity that is, for I'm sure they'll not get another such a tacher as you. Indade, I'm sorry to hear you're to lave us; I'd like to have my little gal go to your schule, if ye'll take 'er."
The man who was the systematic curser came to his door: "Indade, missus, we didn't know ye; an' now we'll fight for ye, an' we are sorry we didn't know ye for so long."