olonel said to
me,--

'Now, my dear friend, I hope you will pardon _me_ for this occurrence. I
sincerely regret you have been insulted in my house.'

'Don't speak of it, my dear sir; the fellow is ignorant, and really
thinks I am an abolitionist. It was his zeal in politics that led to his
warmth. I blame him very little,' I replied.

'But he lied, Massa K----,' chimed in Jim, very warmly; 'you neber said
you war an ab'lishener.'

'You know what _they_ are, don't you, Jim?' said the Colonel, laughing,
and taking no notice of Jim's breach of decorum in wedging his black
ideas into a white conversation.

'Yas, I does dat,' said the darky, grinning.

'Jim,' said the Colonel, 'you're a prince of a nigger, but you talk too
much; ask me for something to-day, and I reckon you'll get it; but go
now, and tell Chloe (the cook) to get us some dinner.'

The darky left, and, excusing myself, I soon followed suit.

I went to my room, laid down on the lounge, and soon fell asleep. It was
nearly five o'clock when a slight noise in the apartment awoke me, and,
looking up, I saw the Colonel quietly seated by the fire, smoking a
cigar. His feet were elevated above his head, and he appeared absorbed
in no very pleasant reflections.

'How is the sick boy, Colonel?' I asked.

'It's all over with him, my friend. He died easy; but 'twas very painful
to me, for I feel I have done him wrong.'

'How so?'

'I was away all summer, and that cursed Moye sent him to the swamp to
tote for the shinglers. It killed him.'

'Then you are not to blame,' I replied.

'I wish I could feel so.'

The Colonel remained with me till supper-time, evidently much depressed
by the events of the morning, which had affected him more than I could
have conceived possible. I endeavored, by cheerful conversation, and by
directing his mind to other topics, to cheer him, and in a measure
succeeded.

While we were seated at the supper-table, the black cook entered from
the kitchen,--a one-story shanty, detached from and in the rear of the
house,--and, with a face expressive of every conceivable emotion a negro
can feel,--joy, sorrow, wonder, and fear all combined,--exclaimed, 'O
massa, massa! dear massa! Sam, O Sam!'

'Sam,' said the Colonel; 'what about Sam?'

'Why, he hab--dear, dear massa, don't yer, don't yer hurt him--he hab
come back!'

If a bombshell had fallen in the room, a greater sensation could not
have been produced. Every individual arose