al response, and they have
no idea of letting any difficulty be peaceably settled.

The definite reply which these people require to the ordinary
salutation of Hahdy? or Huddy? into which it has degenerated here, is
very amusing, and a corresponding inquiry is expected in return, to
which they give the most minute answers. "Good morning, Hacklis
(Hercules), how are you to-day?" "Stirring, tank you, Ma'am, how
youself?" and if I had a headache I should no more think of saying
"pretty well" than if I were being cross-questioned at the bar--the
inquiry is so sincere and expects such a particular reply. "Dunno,
Missus--tank de Lord for life," is a common rejoinder, as well as "Not
so well, tank you, ma'am."

This is as good a place as any for some more examples of
negro speech and negro ways. The sayings of Rose, in
particular, were a constant source of interest and
amusement. H. W. writes that she "tells me everything, in
her simplicity, even to the fact that her father has silver
money which he keeps buried, and that her mother sends her
to the pen for milk before it comes up here!"

[_May 16._] Rose commented, "You lub Miss Helen," and then in a few
minutes, "Miss Helen lub you. All two (both). I love Miss Helen, too.
Miss Helen one _nice_ buckra. You more rough 'long er Miss Helen. Miss
Helen _so_ softle--when him touch me I no feel 'um--me feel you--you
so strong." All this with inimitable gesture and expression and a
"leetle" and "middling-sized-bear" voice that was inexpressibly droll.

[_May 17._] As I sat down to write this morning, Rose came in to dust.
"Miss Hy't, you gwine write Norf?" Yes, Rose. I told her that little
Robert sent me the pictures and a letter from little Mary. It pleased
her very much, and she said she wanted to see them. "Me lub Robert and
Mary." Thinking I should like to get at some of her notions, I asked
her, What do you mean by love, Rose? "Me dunno--brothers and sisters."
Don't you love any one else, Rose? "Me dunno." Why, you said yesterday
that you loved Miss Helen, and just now that you loved Robert and
Mary. "Me lub dem." By this time the top of her head was in contact
with the floor, when she suddenly raised herself to a kneeling posture
and pointing up, said a moment after, "Me lub God," and in a few
minutes, as if she were quoting, "An dem dat foller arter Christ."
What do you mean by that, Rose? "Me dunno," and I found she had not
the least idea. Pr