etting her work in her new interest.

"Miss Ellis. I done forgot de other name. Ellis they call her way down
thar whar Sam was sold, when dat man with the big splot on his forerd
like that is on your'n steal me away and sell me in Virginny. Miss, ever
hearn tell o' dat? We thinks he's takin' a bee line for Canada, when
fust we knows we's in ole Virginny, and de villain not freein' us at
all. He sell us. Me he most give away, 'case I was so old, and the mas'r
who buy some like Mas'r Hugh, he pity, he sorry for ole shaky nigger.
Sam tell him on his knees how he comed from Kaintuck, but Mas'r Sullivan
say he bought 'em far, and that the right mas'r sell 'em sneakin' like
to save rasin' a furse, and he show a bill of sale. They believe him
spite of dis chile, and so Sam 'long to anodder mas'r."

"Yes; but the lady, Miss Ellis. Where did you find her?" Adah asked, and
Sam replied:

"I'se comin' to her d'rectly. Mas'r Fitzhugh live on big plantation--big
house, too, with plenty company; and one day she comed, with great
trunk, a visitin' you know. She'd been to school with Miss Mabel, Mas'r
Fitzhugh's daughter."

"Are you sure it's the same?" Adah asked.

"Yes, miss, Sam sure, he 'members them curls--got a heap of 'em; and
that neck--oh, wear that neck berry low, so low, so white, it make even
ole Sam feel kinder, kinder, yes, Sam feel very much that way."

Adah could not repress a smile, but she was too much interested to
interrupt him, and he went on:

"They all think heap of Miss Ellis, and I hear de blacks tellin' how she
berry rich, and comed from way off thar wher white niggers
live--Masser-something."

"Massachusetts?" suggested Adah.

"Yes; that's the very mas'r, I 'member dat."

"Was Ellis her first or last name?" Adah asked, and Sam replied:

"It was neider, 'twas her Christian name. I'se got mizzable memory, and
I disremembers her last name. The folks call her Ellis, and the blacks
Miss Ellis."

"A queer name for a first one," Adah thought, while Sam continued:

"She jest like bright angel, in her white gownds and dem long curls, and
Sam like her so much. She promise to write to Mas'r Browne and tell him
whar I is. I didn't cry loud then--heart too full. I cry whimperin'
like, and she cry, too. Then she tell me about God, and Sam listen, oh,
listen so much, for that's what he want to hear so long. Miss Nancy, in
Kuntuck, be one of them that reads her pra'rs o' Sundays, and ole mas'r
one that hollers