h' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter
Squire Taylor's."

"No, 'taint, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union."

"Yas, I knows--it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a
dozen with ye."

"John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em," said his
wife.

"No it doant--do it, Aggy?"

"Lor', missus, I doant keer what massa say; but I doant leff no oder man
run on so ter me!"

"No more'n ye doant, gal! only Cale."

"Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' roun' _I_ reckon."

"I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't."

When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the negro houses. The
hour allowed for dinner[K] was about expiring, and the darkies were
preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were
two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly
serious face:

"Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im
all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?"

"Doant see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa," replied one of the
blacks. "Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doant 'pear like
ab'lishener;" and he laughed, and scraped his head in the manner
peculiar to the negro, as he added: "kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef
he war one of _dem_."

"What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one--what
d'ye 'spose the' luk like?"

"Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa, but reckon taint so."

"Wal, the' doant; the' luk wusa then thet: they'm bottled up thunder an'
lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash."

"I reckon!" replied the darky, manipulating his wool, and distending his
face into a decidedly incredulous grin.

"What do you tell them such things for?" I asked, good-humoredly.

"Lor, bless ye, stranger, the' knows th' ab'lisheners ar thar friends,
jest so well as ye du; and so fur as thet goes, d----d ef the' doan't
know I'm one on 'em myseff, fur I tells 'em, ef the' want to put, the'
kin put, an' I'll throw thar trav'lin 'spences inter th' bargin. Doan't
I tell ye thet, Lazarus."

"Yas, massa, but none ob massa's nigs am gwine ter put--lesswise, not so
long as you an' de good missus, am 'bove groun'."

The darky's name struck me as peculiar, and I asked him where he got it.

"_'Tain't_ my name, sar; but you see, sar, w'en massa fuss hire me ob
ole Capt'in ----, up dar ter Newbern-way, I war sort o' sorry
like--hadn't no bery goo