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"Mister Buggone," interrupted Aun' Sheba in a passion which was bursting all restraint, "you'se wrestin' Scripter to you'se own 'struction. Ef you am de head ob dis fam'ly, I'se gwine ter sit down an fole my hans, an you can jes' git out an earn my libin' an' yours too. Git up dar now, an' bring in de wood an' de kinlin' fer de mawnin', an' when mawnin' come, you make de fiah.
Massa Tom and Frank said we'd better go as quick as eber we could. Dey said dem Yankees would put us in dere wagons and make us haul like we war mules. Marse Tom ain't libin' at de great house jis' now. He's keepin' bachellar's hall." "Didn't he go to the battle?" "No; he foun' a pore white man who war hard up for money, an' he got him to go."
"Marster war away when Miss 'Liza treated my Katie so mean, an' when I tole him 'bout it, he war tearin' mad, an' went ober an' saw ole Gundover, an' foun' out he war hard up for money, an' he bought Katie and brought her home to lib wid me, and we's been a libin in clover eber sence. Marster Robert has been mighty good to me.
"He!" she continued in a voice that would have been quite audible to any one standing near. "Upon my libin' soul, wot brung him h'yar? Miss Rob don' wan' him round, nohow. I done druv him off wunst. Upon my libin' soul, he's done brung his bag behin' him on de saddle, an' I reckon he's gwine to stay."
'Dat's all true as I's libin', says de triflin' mule. 'All right, den, says de cullud man, Harris, 'if you kin come from de ford on Scott's Creek in a hour an' a half, you kin carry de mail jes' as well as any udder mule, an' I's gwine ter buy a big cart whip, an' make you do it.
"God bless you, my boy; I've need of your services now," says Tom, still holding the hard hand of the old negro firmly grasped in his own, and discovering the object of his mission. "Jus' tote a'ter old Cato, Mas'r Tom. Maria's down da, at Undine's cabin, yander. Ain't no better gal libin dan Miss Maria," replies Cato, enlarging on Maria's virtues. There is no time to be lost.
Then he ejaculated: "The Devil's daughter!" and went into his library. "I wonders," said Peggy when she returned to the kitchen, "how you all's gwine to like habin dat ole Miss Keswick libin h'yar as you all's mistiss." "Who's gwine to hab her?" growled Aunt Judy. "You all is," sturdily retorted Peggy. "Dar ain't no use tryin' to git out ob dat.
"Well, dat's what ails my young Miss an' dat's whut's de matter wid me an' Carline an' Mike. Ain't none ob us used to libin' in other folks' houses an' mixin' up wid other folkses families. 'Course hit's mighty fine to be rich an' put on airs, but hit's lonesome.
After Iola had left the settlement, accompanied by Robert as far as the town, it was a pleasant satisfaction for the two old friends to settle themselves down, and talk of times past, departed friends, and long-forgotten scenes. "What," said Mrs. Johnson, as we shall call Robert's mother, "hab become ob Miss Nancy's husband? Is he still a libin'?"
The complexion of the Libn, which the people pronounce "Libin," suggests grey granite profusely intersected with white quartz: hence, probably, the name, identical with Lebanon and Libanus "the Milk Mountain." The title covers a multitude of peaks: the Bedawin have, doubtless, their own terms for every head and every hollow.
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