“I ’members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o’ boy, ole marster hed done tole we all chil’en not to slide on de straw-stacks; an’ one day me an’ Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone ’way from home. We watched him git on he hoss an’ ride up de road out o’ sight, an’ we wuz out in de field a-slidin’ an’ a-slidin’, when up comes ole marster. We started to run; but he hed done see us, an’ he called us to come back; an’ sich a whuppin’ ez he did gi’ us!
“Fust he took Marse Chan, an’ den he teched me up. He nuver hu’t me, but in co’se I wuz a-hollerin’ ez hard ez I could stave it, ’cause I knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop. Marse Chan he hed’n open he mouf long ez ole marster wuz tunin’ ’im; but soon ez he commence warmin’ me an’ I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu’st out cryin’, an’ stept right in befo’ ole marster an’ ketchin’ de whup, sed:
“‘Stop, seh! Yo’ sha’n’t whup ’im; he b’longs to me, an’ ef you hit ’im another lick I’ll set ’im free!’
“I wish yo’ hed see old marster. Marse Chan he warn’ mo’n eight years ole, an’ dyah dey wuz—old marster stan’in’ wid he whup raised up, an’ Marse Chan red an’ cryin’, hol’in’ on to it, an’ sayin’ I b’longst to ’im.
“Ole marster, he raise’ de whup, an’ den he drapt it, an’ broke out in a smile over he face, an’ he chuck’ Marse Chan onder de chin, an’ tu’n right ’roun’ an’ went away, laughin’ to hisse’f, an’ I heah ’im tellin’ ole missis dat evenin’, an’ laughin’ ’bout it.
“‘Twan’ so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin’ ’bout de war. Dey wuz a-dictatin’ back’ads an’ for’ads ’bout it fur two or th’ee years ’fo’ it come sho’ nuff, you know. Ole marster, he was a Whig, an’ of co’se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa. Cun’l Chahmb’lin, he wuz a Dimicrat. He wuz in favor of de war, an’ ole marster and Marse Chan dey wuz agin’ it. Dey wuz a-talkin’ ’bout it all de time, an’ purty soon Cun’l Chahmb’lin he went about ev’ywhar speakin’ an’ noratin’ ’bout Firginia ought to secede; an’ Marse Chan he’wuz picked up to talk agin’ ’im. Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de dull. I sut’n’y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat mawnin’, an’ he was jes’ ez cool! Yo’ see, it happen so: Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin’ down at de Deep Creek Tavern, an’ he kind o’ got de bes’ of ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin. All de white folks laughed an’ hoorawed, an’ ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin—my Lawd! I fought he’d ’a’’ bu’st, he was so mad. Well, when it come to his time to speak, he jes’ light into Marse Chan. He call ’im a traitor, an’ a ab’litionis’, an’ I don’ know what all. Marse Chan, he jes’ kep’ cool till de ole Cun’l light into he pa. Ez soon ez he name ole marster, I seen Marse Chan sort o’ lif up he head. D’ yo’ ever sec a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethiu’ comin’ to’ds ’im from de side an’ he don’ know what ’tis? Ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin he went right on. He said ole marster hed taught Marse Chan; dat ole marster wuz a wuss ab’litionis’ dan he son. I looked at Marse Chan, an’ sez to myse’f: ’Fo’ Gord! old Cun’l Chahmb’lin better min’, an’ I hedn’ got de wuds out, when ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin ’cuse’ old marster o’ cheatin’ ’im out o’ he niggers, an’ stealing piece o’ he lan’—dat’s de lan’ I tole you ’bout. Well, seh, nex’ thing I knowed, I heahed Marse Chan—hit all happen right ’long togerr, like lightnin’ and thunder when they hit right at you—I heah ’im say:
“‘Cun’l Chahmb’lin, what you say is false, an’ yo’ know it to be so. You have wilfully slandered one of de pures’ an’ nobles’ men Gord ever made, an’ nothin’ but yo’ gray hyars protects you.’
“Well, ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin, he ra’d an’ he pitch’d. He said he wan’ too ole, an’ he’d show ’im so.
“‘Ve’y well,’ says Marse Chan.