CHAPTER XI.
THE TEACHING OF HOSEA BALLOU.
February first brought Matthias Jones. Father met him at the village, and our curiosity which was aroused regarding this new comer, was thoroughly gratified at his appearance. A better specimen of a southern negro was never seen. He was above the medium size, broad-shouldered; his hair thick and wooly, sprinkled with grey, and covering a large, flat surface on the top of his head. His nose was of extra size, mouth in proportion, and his eyes, which were not dull, expressed considerable feeling, and you would know when you looked at them he was honest. His gait was slow, slouchy as I called it, and, as he walked leisurely along the path, Ben whispered, "My soul, what feet!" Sure enough, they seemed to stretch back too far, and they were immense.
He took supper with us, and then father and Ben both went over to his future home with him, and introduced him to Aunt Peg and Plint. He was to work for father, and would be over in the "mornin'," he said.
"I wonder if he was a slave, Emily?" said Ben.
"I think so," said I. "We will question him to-morrow if we get a chance," and we did, for the day was stormy, and father did not go to the woods, but kept Matthias at work in the barn cleaning up, etc. About four o'clock his work was finished, and we invited him to come in and sit awhile.
"Now, Ben," I said, and we seated ourselves for a conference.
"Mr. Jones," said I, "you came from the South, did you?"
"'Pears like I did, Miss, an' it's a mighty cool country yere; I'm nigh froze in de winter, I is sartin."