“Den ole marster lost he eyes. D’ yo’ ever hyah ’bout dat? Heish! Didn’ yo’? Well, one night de big barn cotch fire. De stables, yo’ know, wuz under de big barn, an’ all de hosses wuz in dyah. Hit ’peared to me like ’twarn’ no time befo’ all de folks an’ de neighbors dey come, an’ dey wuz a-totin’ water, an’ a-tryin’ to save de po’ critters, an’ dey got a heap on ’em out; but de ker’ige-hosses dey wouldn’ come out, an’ dey wuz a-runnin’ back’ads an’ for’ads inside de stalls, a-nikerin’ an’ a-screamin’, like dey knowed dey time hed come. Yo’ could heah ’em so pitiful, an’ pres’n’y ole marster said to Ham Fisher (he wuz de ker’ige-driver), ‘Go in dyah an’ try to save ’em; don’ let ’em bu’n to death.’ An’ Ham he went right in. An’ jes’ arfter he got in, de shed whar it hed fus’ cotch fell in, an’ de sparks shot ’way up in de air; an’ Ham didn’ come back, an’ de fire begun to lick out under de eaves over whar de ker’ige-hosses’ stalls wuz, an’ all of a sudden ole marster tu’ned and kissed ole missis, who wuz standin’ nigh him, wid her face jes’ ez white ez a sperit’s, an’, befo’ anybody knowed what he wuz gwine do, jumped right in de do’, an’ de smoke come po’in’ out behine ’im. Well, seh, I nuvver ’specks to hyah tell Judgment sich a soun’ ez de folks set up. Ole missis she jes’ drapt down on her knees in de mud an’ prayed out loud. Hit ’peared like her pra’r wuz heard; for in a minit, right out de same do’, kyarin’ Ham Fisher in his arms, come ole marster, wid his clo’es all blazin’. Dey flung water on ’im, an’ put ’im out; an’, ef you b’lieve me, yo’ wouldn’ a-knowed ’twuz ole marster. Yo’ see, he hed find Ham Fisher done fall down in de smoke right by de ker’ige-hoss’ stalls, whar he sont him, an’ he hed to tote ’im back in his arms th’oo de fire what hed done cotch de front part o’ de stable, an’ to keep de flame from gittin’ down Ham Fisher’s th’ote he hed tuk off his own hat and mashed it all over Ham Fisher’s face, an’ he hed kep’ Ham Fisher from bein’ so much bu’nt; but he wuz bu’nt dreadful! His beard an’ hyar wuz all nyawed off, an’ his face an’ han’s an’ neck wuz scorified terrible. Well, he jes’ laid Ham Fisher down, an’ then he kind o’ staggered for’ad, an’ ole missis ketch’ ’im in her arms. Ham Fisher, he warnt bu’nt so bad, an’ he got out in a month or two; an’ arfter a long time, ole marster he got well, too; but he wuz always stone bline arfter dat. He nuvver could see none from dat night.
“Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an’ he sut’n’y did nuss ole marster faithful—jes’ like a ’ooman. Den he took charge o’ de plantation arfter dat; an’ I use’ to wait on ’im jes’ like when we wuz boys togedder; an’ sometimes we’d slip off an’ have a fox-hunt, an’ he’d be jes’ like he wuz in ole times, befo’ ole marster got bline, an’ Miss Anne Chahmb’lin stopt comin’ over to our house, an’ settin’ onder de trees, readin’ out de same book.
“He sut’n’y wuz good to me. Nothin’ nuvver made no diffunce ’bout dat. He nuvver hit me a lick in his life—an’ nuvver let nobody else do it, nudder.
“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 whoppin’ ez he did gi’ us!
“Fust he took Marse Chan, an’ den he teched me up. He nuvver 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 whop, sed:
“‘Stop, seh! Yo’ sha’n’t whop ’im; he b’longs to me, an’ ef you hit ’im another lick I’ll set ’im free!’
“I wish yo’ hed see ole marster. Marse Chan he warn’ mo’n eight years ole, an’ dyah dey wuz—ole marster stan’in’ wid he whop 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 whop, an’ den he drapt it, an’ broke out in a smile over he face, an’ he chuck’ Marse Chan onder der 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 wuz 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’vywhar 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 duil. 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 t’ought he’d ’a’ bu’st, he wuz 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 see a hoss rar he head up right sudden at night when he see somethin’ 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’ ole marster o’ cheatin’ ’im out o’ he niggers, an’ stealin’ 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 togedder, like lightnin’ an’ thunder when dey hit right at you—I heah ’im say: