ned and blowed
bery hard, and made a mighty noise. Den I stuffed my coat in de crack,
so de wind could'nt blow in and lef you know I was dar, but I lef a hole
big 'nough to har. My ear froze to dat hole, massa, bery tight, I 'shore
you."

"But you must have got very wet and very cold."

"Wet, massa! wetter dan a 'gator dat's been in de riber all de week, but
I didn't keer for de rain or de cold. What I hard made me warm all de
way fru."

To my mind there was a rough picture of true heroism in that poor darky
standing for hours in his shirt-sleeves, in the cold, stormy night, the
lightning playing about him, and the rain drenching him to the
skin--that he might hear something he thought would benefit his
down-trodden race.

I noticed his clothing though bearing evident marks of a drenching, was
then dry, and I inquired: "How did you dry your clothes?"

"I staid wid some ob de cullud folks, and arter you gwoes up stars, I
went to dar cabin, and dey gabe me some dry cloes. We made up a big
fire, and hung mine up to dry, and de ole man and woman and me sot up
all night and talked ober what you and de oder gemmen said."

"Will not those folks tell what you did, and thus get you into trouble?"

"Tell! LORD bless you, massa, _de bracks am all freemasons_; dat ar ole
man and woman wud die 'fore dey'd tell."

"But are not Captain B---'s negroes contented?" I asked; "they seem to
be well treated."

"Oh! yas, dey am. All de brack folks 'bout har want de Captin to buy
'em. He bery nice man--one ob de LORD'S own people. He better man dan
David, 'cause David did wrong, and I don't b'lieve de Captin eber did."

"I should think he was a very good man," I replied.

"Bery good man, massa, but de white folks don't like him, 'cause dey say
he treats him darkies so well, all dairn am uncontented."

"Tell me, Scipio," I resumed after a while, "how it is you can repeat
that passage from Isaiah so well?"

"Why, bless you, massa, I know Aziar and Job and de Psalms 'most all by
heart. Good many years ago, when I lib'd in Charles'on, the gub'ness
learned me to read, and I hab read dat BOOK fru good many times."

"Have you read any others?" I asked.

"None but dat and Doctor Watts. I hab _dem_, but wite folks wont sell
books to de bracks, and I wont steal 'em. I read de papers sometimes."

I opened my portmanteau, that lay on the floor of the wagon, and handed
him a copy of Whittier's poems. It happened to be the only book,
exc