“Dave had l’arn’ how ter read de Bible.  Dey wuz a free nigger boy in de settlement w’at wuz monst’us smart, en could write en cipher, en wuz alluz readin’ books er papers.  En Dave had hi’ed dis free boy fer ter l’arn ’im how ter read.  Hit wuz ‘g’in’ de law, but co’se none er de niggers did n’ say nuffin ter de w’ite folks ’bout it.  Howsomedever, one day Mars Walker—­he wuz de oberseah—­foun’ out Dave could read.  Mars Walker wa’n’t nuffin but a po’ bockrah, en folks said he could n’ read ner write hisse’f, en co’se he didn’ lack ter see a nigger w’at knowed mo’ d’n he did; so he went en tole Mars Dugal’.  Mars Dugal’ sont fer Dave, en ax’ ’im ’bout it.

“Dave didn’t hardly knowed w’at ter do; but he could n’ tell no lie, so he ‘fessed he could read de Bible a little by spellin’ out de words.  Mars Dugal’ look’ mighty solemn.

“‘Dis yer is a se’ious matter,’ sezee; ’it’s ‘g’in’ de law ter l’arn niggers how ter read, er ’low ’em ter hab books.  But w’at yer l’arn out’n dat Bible, Dave?’

“Dave wa’n’t no fool, ef he wuz a nigger, en sezee:—­

“’Marster, I l’arns dat it’s a sin fer ter steal, er ter lie, er fer ter want w’at doan b’long ter yer; en I l’arns fer ter love de Lawd en ter ‘bey my marster.’

“Mars Dugal’ sorter smile’ en laf ter hisse’f, like he ’uz might’ly tickle’ ’bout sump’n, en sezee:—­

“’Doan ‘pear ter me lack readin’ de Bible done yer much harm, Dave.  Dat ‘s w’at I wants all my niggers fer ter know.  Yer keep right on readin’, en tell de yuther han’s w’at yer be’n tellin’ me.  How would yer lack fer ter preach ter de niggers on Sunday?’

“Dave say he ‘d be glad fer ter do w’at he could.  So Mars Dugal’ tole de oberseah fer ter let Dave preach ter de niggers, en tell ’em w’at wuz in de Bible, en it would he’p ter keep ’em fum stealin’ er runnin’ erway.

“So Dave ‘mence’ ter preach, en done de han’s on de plantation a heap er good, en most un ’em lef’ off dey wicked ways, en ‘mence’ ter love ter hear ’bout God, en religion, en de Bible; en dey done dey wuk better, en didn’ gib de oberseah but mighty little trouble fer ter manage ’em.

“Dave wuz one er dese yer men w’at did n’ keer much fer de gals,—­leastways he did n’ ’tel Dilsey come ter de plantation.  Dilsey wuz a monst’us peart, good-lookin’, gingybread-colored gal,—­one er dese yer high-steppin’ gals w’at hol’s dey heads up, en won’ stan’ no foolishness fum no man.  She had b’long’ ter a gemman over on Rockfish, w’at died, en whose ‘state ha’ ter be sol’ fer ter pay his debts.  En Mars Dugal’ had be’n ter de oction, en w’en he seed dis gal a-cryin’ en gwine on ‘bout bein’ sol’ erway fum her ole mammy, Aun’ Mahaly, Mars Dugal’ bid ’em bofe in, en fotch ’em ober ter our plantation.

“De young nigger men on de plantation wuz des wil’ atter Dilsey, but it did n’ do no good, en none un ’em could n’ git Dilsey fer dey junesey,[3] ’tel Dave ‘mence’ fer ter go roun’ Aun’ Mahaly’s cabin.  Dey wuz a fine-lookin’ couple, Dave en Dilsey wuz, bofe tall, en well-shape’, en soopl’.  En dey sot a heap by one ernudder.  Mars Dugal’ seed ’em tergedder one Sunday, en de nex’ time he seed Dave atter dat, sezee:—­