He had a high appreciation of himself, and also a deep veneration for his superiors.  And thus it happened that, when in the presence of his betters, he maintained a certain sort of droll dignity in himself while treating them with the utmost deference.  He was faithful in his dealings with his numerous employers, all of whom he looked upon as so many helpless dependents under his protection, for whose well-being in certain respects he was strictly responsible.  So much for his character.  In circumstances he was a free man, living with his wife and children, who were also free, in a small house on Mr. Brudenell’s estate, and supporting his family by such a very great variety of labor as had earned for him the title of “Professor of Odd Jobs.”  It was young Herman Brudenell, when a boy, who gave him this title, which, from its singular appropriateness, stuck to him; for he could, as he expressed it himself, “do anything as any other man could do.”  He could shoe a horse, doctor a cow, mend a fence, make a boot, set a bone, fix a lock, draw a tooth, roof a cabin, drive a carriage, put up a chimney, glaze a window, lay a hearth, play a fiddle, or preach a sermon.  He could do all these things, and many others besides too numerous to mention, and he did do them for the population of the whole neighborhood, who, having no regular mechanics, gave this “Jack of all Trades” a plenty of work.  This universal usefulness won for him, as I said, the title of “Professor of Odd Jobs.”  This was soon abbreviated to the simple “Professor,” which had a singular significance also when applied to one who, in addition to all his other excellencies, believed himself to be pretty well posted up in law, physic, and theology, upon either of which he would stop in his work to hold forth to anyone who would listen.

Finally, there was another little peculiarity about the manner of the professor.  In his excessive agreeability he would always preface his answer to any observation whatever with some sort of assent, such as “yes, sir,” or “yes, madam,” right or wrong.

This morning the professor entered the presence of Mrs. Brudenell, hat in hand, smiling and respectful.

“Well, Morris, who has brought you here this morning?” inquired the lady.

“Yes, madam.  I been thinkin’ about you, and should a-been here ’fore this to see after your affairs, on’y I had to go over to Colonel Mervin’s to give one of his horses a draught, and then to stop at the colored, people’s meetin’ house to lead the exercises, and afterwards to call at the Miss Worthses to mend Miss Hannah’s loom and put a few new spokes in Miss Nora’s wheel.  And so many people’s been after me to do jobs that I’m fairly torn to pieces among um.  And it’s ‘Professor’ here, and ‘Professor’ there, and ‘Professor’ everywhere, till I think my senses will leave me, ma’am.”

“Then, if you are so busy why do you come here, Morris?” said Mrs. Brudenell, who was far too dignified to give him his title.