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She knew her life of bondage would be hard there, and she would not have much chance of getting her freedom. But it was better than the mortification of going back. So she was sold to Mr. Pervis, the slave-trader. Mr. Pervis made about fifty purchases in Baltimore and the vicinity, and then organizing his gang he started for the South.

During the Reconstruction period and many years following, he, with such characters as Sap Grant, Neal Simonds, Henry Sallins, Watson and others, made nights hideous on Dry Pond by their brawls and frolics. In introducing Teck Pervis to the reader, I wish to briefly call attention to that peculiar class in the South known as the "Poor Whites."

"Well, can't I have as many lunches as I like?" Curtis replied. "I had lunch, I say, at a place in Market Street, and there I read in a paper that Peters & Pervis, the tin food people, were offering a prize of three thousand dollars for a solution to a puzzle contained on the inside cover of one of their tins. I immediately determined to enter for it.

The best whites were there even ministers of the gospel; but then preachers are not always on the right side; and Teck Pervis had promised his wife that he'd not allow himself to be a tool for hungry broken down aristocrats who only wished to use the poor as cats' paws. He took a big swallow of coffee, drummed nervously with his fingers upon the table.

"Who air yu er talkin ter Mandy?" said her husband coming to the door and peeping over his wife's shoulder. "I tho't er trader er some sort wus er passin." The wife turned and looked astonished at her husband. "Why fer ther lan sake, what's er comin over ye Teck Pervis? I tho't yer'd be fas er sleep after bein so late ter meetin las nite.

Teck Pervis sauntered in, sat down folded his arms upon the table, and sheepishly watched his wife as she flitted from place to place in the humble little kitchen. Mrs. Pervis paused, and her eyes met her husband's gaze. "Well what in ther wor'l is ter matter Teck Pervis? Why air ye gazin at me so dis mornin, turn yer cup and tak yer coffy."

Some were washing faces, others sipping coffee as a forerunner of something hotter that would stimulate and give force to the spirit of deviltry that the work of the day required. "Gentermen," said Teck Pervis, standing in the middle of the hall and holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "This is ther day thet ther white people of North Ca'liny is going ter show Mr.

Have yer back slided an fergot yer religin erready Teck Pervis?" Teck was dumb. "Yo Red Shirts Ruff Riders an broke down ristecrats kin go on an do yer devilment but mark what Mandy Pervis says, God'l Mighty will giv yu uns ther wurk er yer hans."

Teck Pervis arose, yawned, walked up and then down the floor among the men who lay asleep with their weapons beside them. He made a deep, long, loud whistle; the men began to arise one after another, and soon the room was in a bustle.

Teck Pervis dipped his hands into the basin, poured the cool water on his head until his gray hair hung in thick mats over his face then leisurely drawing the towel from the nail beside the door, lazily wiped his head and face. The smell of fried bacon and delicious coffee arose from the kitchen; the rattling of dishes was to him sufficient token of the putting of victuals on the table.