I looked at him again, more eagerly than before. I knew Gouverneur Morris well by reputation, though I had never seen him, as one of the most polished and scholarly men of the country, and the devoted friend of Hamilton, whom I idolized as all that was brilliant, great, and noble. But my eagerness was largely due to Bandy Jim's suggestion that they were discussing the Mississippi question in Congress, and as I looked more keenly I hoped he was on the right side, for I thought that broad white brow could think great thoughts and those clear-cut lips could utter them with force.
"Why do you think it will be on the Mississippi this morning, uncle?" I inquired, amused that the old darky should seem to know the doings in Congress. "Do you go up to the Capitol to listen to the debates?"
"Sometimes, sah, but mos'ly I reads dem in de 'Post,' sah!" And the proud air with which he let me know of his unusual accomplishment beggars description.
"And so you can read, Uncle? And who taught you?"
"Ole Miss, sah. I's a free nigger, sah. Ole Miss gib me my papers so I mought stay wid my fambly when she follow de gin'ral and his father to Mulberry Hill in Kaintuck'."
I confess Bandy Jim seemed like an old friend at once when I found he had belonged to the Clarkes, and in my delight at seeing "one of the family" in a strange land, I slipped from Fatima's back and grasped him by the hand.
When he found I was just from Kentucky and Mulberry Hill, he was more excited than I, and especially was he eager for news of "Marse William."
"He mah baby, sah!" he repeated over and over, his old eyes shining with visions of other days.
"An' Yorke, sah,—you know Yorke?—he mah son!" with great dignity and much evident pride in a son of such distinction.
I had many things to tell him of Yorke's prowess and address that pleased the old fellow greatly. I might also have recounted the many times when I had had all the will in the world to horsewhip the rascal, but I did not distress his old father with any of his shortcomings.