This was a species of reasoning which, for a moment, confounded my logic. Seeing that I lacked a ready reply, she went on:
"Yes, you see, Ann, we hab no use wid a soul. De white folks won't hab any work to hab done up dere, and so dey won't hab no use fur niggers."
"Doesn't this make you miserable?"
"What?" she asked, with amazement.
"This thought of dying, and rotting like the vilest worm."
"No, indeed, it makes me glad; fur den I'll not hab anybody to beat me; knock, kick, and cuff me 'bout, like dey does now."
"Poor child, happier far," I thought, "in your ignorance, than I, with all the weight of fearful responsibility that my little knowledge entails upon me. On you, God will look with a more pitying eye than upon me, to whom he has delegated the stewardship of two talents."