“Massr Grubb he swar he bought ’em all, an’ paid for ’em in cash dollar. Mar’m Pow’ll she swar de berry contr’y. Da judge he decide for Massr Grubb, ’kase great Massr Ringgoh he witness; an’ folks do say Massr Ringgol now got dat paper in um own safe keeping an’ war at tha bottom ob tha whole bizness.”
“Atrocious scoundrels! oh, villains! But tell me, Jake, what became of Madame Powell?”
“Shortly arter, tha all gone ’way—nob’dy know wha. Da mar’m haself an’ dat fine young fellur you know, an’ da young Indyen gal dat ebbery body say war so good-lookin’—yes, Massr George, tha all gone ’way.”
At that moment an opening in the woods enabled me to catch a glimpse of the old house. There it stood in all its grey grandeur, still embowered in the midst of beautiful groves of orange and olive. But the broken fence—the tall weeds standing up against the walls—the shingles here and there missing from the roof—all told the tale of ruin.
There was ruin in my heart, as I turned sorrowing away.
Note 1. That portion of Florida reserved for the Seminoles by the treaty of Moultrie Creek made in 1823. It was a large tract, and occupied the central part of the peninsula.
Note 2. Master or proprietor; universally in use throughout the Southern States. From the Dutch “baas.”