Chapter Fifteen.
“Ole Zip.”
Scipio opened the dialogue:—
“Gollies, young mass’r! Ole Zip ’joiced to see um well ’gain—daat he be.”
“Scipio is it?”
“Ye’, mass’r—daat same ole nigger. Doctor told um to nuss de white genl’um. Won’t young missa be glad haself!—white folks, black folks—all be glad, Wugh!”
The finishing exclamation was one of those thoracic efforts peculiar to the American negro, and bearing a strong resemblance to the snort of a hippopotamus. Its utterance signified that my companion had finished his sentence, and waited for me to speak.
“And who is ‘young missa’?” I inquired.
“Gorramighty! don’t mass’r know? Why, de young lady you fotch from de boat, when twar all ober a blaze. Lor! what a swum you make—half cross de riber! Wugh!”