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Updated: May 25, 2025
Ole Mass'r 'Sancon berry good to de coloured people teach many ob um read de books 'specially 'Rore. 'Rore he 'struckt read, write, many, many tings, and young Missa 'Genie she teach her de music. 'Rore she 'complish gal berry 'complish gal. Know many ting; jes like de white folks. Plays on de peany plays on de guitar guitar jes like banjo, an Ole Zip play on daat heamseff he do. Wugh!"
"Gorramighty! don't mass'r know? Why, de young lady you fotch from de boat, when twar all ober a blaze. Lor! what a swum you make half cross de riber! Wugh!" "And am I in her house?" "Ob sartin, mass'r daat ar in de summer-house for de big house am on oder side ob de garden all de same, mass'r." "And how did I get here?" "Golly! don't mass'r 'member how?
"No, you won't. Be off; I don't want you." The boy looked at me aghast, and his thick lower lip worked. "Mass' George get tire poor old Pomp?" "Yes. Be off!" "Mass' George send poor old Pomp 'way?" "Yes. Don't bother. Can't you see I don't want you?" "Wugh!" Pomp threw himself down on his face, and rested his forehead on his crossed arms. "Don't do that," I said.
With an effort I collected myself, and tamed down my horse, now chafing to continue his gallop. In doing so his head was turned in the direction of the village. Scipio thought I was going to ride back. "Sure mass'r not go till he rest a bit? Missa 'Genie not home, but dar am 'Rore. 'Rore get mass'r glass ob claret; Ole Zip make um sangaree. Day berry, berry hot. Wugh!"
She lingered over him for long, peering at him through the dusk to miss nothing of his bloomy brownness. He curled up when he slept like a little animal, and his breath drove through him deeply and more serenely than any adult's. At last she felt compelled to kiss him, and, without waking up, he shook his head about and said disgustedly, "Wugh!" as she rose and left him.
After that he proceeded to open the cases which had so long been objects of interest to his own party, and objects of intense curiosity to the Eskimos, who crowded round the entrance of the shallow cavern with eager looks, while their leader went to work with hammer and chisel on the copper fastenings. "Wugh!
Won't young missa be glad haself! white folks, black folks all be glad, Wugh!" The finishing exclamation was one of those thoracic efforts peculiar to the American negro, and bearing a strong resemblance to the snort of a hippopotamus. Its utterance signified that my companion had finished his sentence, and waited for me to speak. "And who is `young missa'?" I inquired.
He was just closing it after the carriage. "Oh!" thought I, "I may as well be sure as to whom I am galloping after." With this idea I inclined my horse's head a little, and drew up in front of Scipio. "Gollies! how young mass'r ride! Ef he don't do daat business jes up to de hub! Daat 'im do. Wugh!" Without taking notice of his complimentary speech, I inquired hastily if Mademoiselle was at home.
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