Since I have grown older I have read that wonderful story of Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom; he reminded me of Darry then, and now I never think of the one without thinking of the other. But Darry, having served a different class of people from Uncle Tom's first owners, had a more polished style of manners, which I should almost call courtly; and he was besides a man of higher natural parts, and somewhat more education. But much commerce in the Court which is above all earthly dignities, no doubt had more to do with his peculiarities than any other cause.
I asked him what he was singing about home? and where his home was? He turned his face full upon me, letting me see how grave and gentle his eye was, and at the same time there was a wistful expression in it that I felt.
"Home ain't nowheres here, missie," he said. "I'm 'spectin' to go by and by."
"Do you mean home up there?" said I, lifting my finger towards the sky. Darry fairly laughed.
"'Spect don't want no other home, missie. Heaven good enough."
I stood watching him as he rubbed down the black horse, feeling surely that he and I would be friends.
"Where is your home here, Darry?"
"I got a place down there, little missie—not fur."
"When you have done that horse, will you show me your place? I want to see where you live."