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"Ki!" laughed Ben, "white darkey. Mind ole dad, Mars' John, as took off in der swamp? Um asked dat Linkinite ef him saw dad up Norf. Guess him's free now. Ki! ole dad!" "The swamp was the place for him," said Lamar. "I remember." "Dunno," said the negro, surlily: "him's dad, af'er all: tink him's free now," and mumbled down into a monotonous drone about
Another one: 'Tobacco is an Indian weed, And from the devil doth proceed It robs the pocket and burns the clothes And makes a chimney of the nose. "When de slaves gits sick, deir mammies luked af'er em but de Marse gived de rem'dies. Yes, dere wuz dif'runt kinds, salts, pills, Castah orl, herb teas, garlic, 'fedia, sulphah, whiskey, dog wood bark, sahsaparilla an' apple root.
But Bone learns something from them in exchange. He does not boast so often now of being "ole Mars' Joe's man," sits and thinks profoundly, till he goes to sleep. "Not of leavin' yer, Mist' Dode, I know what free darkies is, up dar; but dar's somefin' in a fellah's 'longin' ter hisself, af'er all!" Dode only smiles at his deep cogitations, as he weeds the garden-beds, or fodders the stock.
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