"No, humbler, and yet greater, than a philosopher," he replied.
"All right, I'm ready to grant anything. By the way, tell me something about the Senator and his family."
"If he has told you nothing, I am at liberty to tell nothing, for, as yet, you are a stranger."
"Oh, I see. He's a shrewd politician, isn't he?"
"He is a gentleman and he is not dull. He was my friend w'en dem scoun'rels—"
I looked at him in surprise. His fall into the dialect of his brethren had come like a slap. He bowed his head, and I know that had not the blackness of his skin prevented it he would have blushed in his disgrace. He did not look up again until I spoke to him, and then he showed me a sorrow-stricken countenance.
"Don't take it so hard, Brother Washington. Such lapses must come once in a while. You remind me of an old fellow who lost his religion occasionally by swearing."
"Haw-haw," he laughed. "One in my church right now. Swore at his mule the other day and then dropped down in the corner of the fence and offered to mortgage his crop to the Lord for one more chance. Yas, Sah—I mean yes, Sir," he added, the shadow of disgrace falling again upon his countenance. "If you have finished your supper I will remove the dishes," he said.
"Thank you," and as he took up the tray I continued, "And by the way, you needn't sit with me to-night. I don't need you; I am not so badly hurt as they thought I was; and, in fact, I can sleep better if left absolutely alone."
"It shall be as you desire, Sir," he said, turning upon me with a look of kindly reproach. "But I will pray for you."