"Your grandfather? I must shake hands with him."
"Sarvant, Sah," said the old man, cap off, bowing and smiling there in the December twilight.
"He's deaf as can be," said Mr. Williams; "you'll have to talk loud, to make him hear. He's more 'n a hunderd year old."
"You astonish me!" exclaimed the Judge. "A very remarkable old person! I should delight to converse with him,—to know what his thoughts are in these new times, and what his memories are of the past, which, I suppose, is even now more familiar to his mind than the objects of to-day. God bless you, my venerable friend!" shaking hands a second time with the ancient black, and speaking in a loud voice.
"Tankee, Sah,—very kind," smiled the flattered old man. "Sarvant, Sah."
"'Tis you who are kind, to take notice of young fellows like me," pleasantly replied the Judge.—"Well, good evening, friends. I shall always be glad to know if there is anything I can do for you. Ha! what is this?"
It was the cow and calf coming back again, followed by Joe and Fessenden's.
"Gorry!" cried Joe,—"wa'n't that man mad? Thought he'd bite th' ole cow's tail off!"
"What man? My man?"
"Yes," said honest Fessenden's; "he said he'd be damned if he'd have a nigger's critters along with his'n!"