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When I got ez fur ez Fairfax, in Louisiana, I was tuk down wid de fever, an' fer nigh 'bout six month I wa'ant ob no account whatebber. An' who yer tink tuk keer ob me den, Marse Hesden?" "I am sure I don't know," was the reply. "No, yer wouldn't nebber guess," said Nimbus; "but twa'n't nobody else but my old mammy, Lorency." "You don't say! Well, that was strange," said Hesden.
And so the record was made up in the brass-clasped book of Colonel Potestatem Desmit, the only baptismal register of the colored man who twenty-six years afterward was wondering at the names which were seeking him against his will. 697 Nimbus of Lorency Male April 24th, 1840 Sound Knapp-of-Reeds. It was a queer baptismal entry, but a slave needed no more indeed did not need that.
Wasn't a better nor sounder nigger on the river," said Desmit. "That ther warn't," replied Ware. "The rest has all been well. Lorency had a bad time over her baby, but she's 'round again as peart as ever." "So I see. And the crops?" "The best I've ever seed sence I've been here, Colonel. Never had such a stand of terbacker, and the corn looks prime.
The great man sat on the back porch, and, calling up the slaves one by one, addressed some remark to each, gave every elder a quarter and every youngster a dime, until he came to the women. The first of these was Lorency, the strapping cook, who had improved the time since her master's coming to make herself gay with her newest gown and a flaming new turban.
He was willing to gratify him in any reasonable way, and so, after some rough jokes at his expense, wrote out his marriage-license in these words, in pencil, on the blank leaf of a notebook: MR. WARE: Nimbus and Lugena want to take up with each other. You have a pretty full force now, but I have decided to keep them and sell some of the old ones say Vicey and Lorency.
She held the child toward its godfather and owner as she spoke, amid a roar of laughter from her fellow-servants. Desmit good-naturedly threw a dollar into the child's lap, for which Lorency courtesied, and then held out her hand. "What do you want now, gal?" asked Desmit.
Reg'lar ten pound, an' wuff two hundred dollars dis bressed minnit." "Is that it, Lorency?" said Desmit, pointing to the child. "Who ever saw such a thunder-cloud?" There was a boisterous laugh at the master's joke from the assembled crowd. Nothing abashed, the good-natured mother replied, with ready wit, "Dat so, Marse Kunnel. He's brack, he is.
"I hev got a drap of apple that they say is right good for this region, and a trifle of corn that ain't nothing to brag on, though it does for the country right well." Ware set out the liquor with a bowl of sugar from his sideboard as he spoke, and called to the kitchen for a glass and water. "That makes me think," said Desmit. "Here, you Lorency, bring me that portmanty from the gig."
She came forward pertly, with a young babe upon her arm. "Well, Lorency, Mr. Ware says you have made me a present since I was here?" "Yah! yah! Marse Desmit, dat I hab! Jes' de finest little nigger boy yer ebber sot eyes on. Jes' you look at him now," she continued, holding up her brighteyed pickaninny. "Ebber you see de beat ub dat?
"I'm very well, thank ye, Lorency, an' glad to see you looking so peart," he responded pleasantly. "How's Mr. Ware and the people? All well, I hope." "All tol'able, Mahs'r, thank ye." "Well, tie the horse, and get me some dinner, gal. I haven't eaten since I left home."
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