“Marse Chan he comed home from college toreckly, an’ he sut’n’y did nuss ole marster faithful—­jes’ like a ’ooman.  Den he took charge of de plantation arfter dat; an’ I use’ to wait on ‘im jes’ like when we wuz boys togedder; an’ sometimes we’d slip off an’ have a fox-hunt, an’ he’d be jes’ like he wuz in ole times, befo’ ole marster got bline, an’ Miss Anne Chahmb’lin stopt comin’ over to our house, an’ settin’ onder de trees, readin’ out de same book.

“He sut’n’y wuz good to me.  Nothin’ nuver made no diffunce ’bout dat.  He nuver hit me a lick in his life—­an’ nuver let nobody else do it, nurr.

“I ‘members one day, when he wuz a leetle bit o’ boy, ole marster hed done tole we all chil’en not to slide on de straw-stacks; an’ one day me an’ Marse Chan thought ole marster hed done gone ’way from home.  We watched him git on he hoss an’ ride up de road out o’ sight, an’ we wuz out in de field a-slidin’ an’ a-slidin’, when up comes ole marster.  We started to run; but he hed done see us, an’ he called us to come back; an’ sich a whuppin’ ez he did gi’ us!

“Fust he took Marse Chan, an’ den he teched me up.  He nuver hu’t me, but in co’se I wuz a-hollerin’ ez hard ez I could stave it, ’cause I knowed dat wuz gwine mek him stop.  Marse Chan he hed’n open he mouf long ez ole marster wuz tunin’ ’im; but soon ez he commence warmin’ me an’ I begin to holler, Marse Chan he bu’st out cryin’, an’ stept right in befo’ ole marster an’ ketchin’ de whup, sed: 

“‘Stop, seh!  Yo’ sha’n’t whup ‘im; he b’longs to me, an’ ef you hit ’im another lick I’ll set ‘im free!’

“I wish yo’ hed see old marster.  Marse Chan he warn’ mo’n eight years ole, an’ dyah dey wuz-old marster stan’in’ wid he whup raised up, an’ Marse Chan red an’ cryin’, hol’in’ on to it, an’ sayin’ I b’longst to ’im.

“Ole marster, he raise’ de whup, an’ den he drapt it, an’ broke out in a smile over he face, an’ he chuck’ Marse Chan onder de chin, an’ tu’n right ‘roun’ an’ went away, laughin’ to hisse’f, an’ I heah ‘im tellin’ ole missis dat evenin’, an’ laughin’ ’bout it.

“‘Twan’ so mighty long arfter dat when dey fust got to talkin’ ‘bout de war.  Dey wuz a-dictatin’ back’ads an’ for’ads ’bout it fur two or th’ee years ‘fo’ it come sho’ nuff, you know.  Ole marster, he was a Whig, an’ of co’se Marse Chan he tuk after he pa.  Cun’l Chahmb’lin, he wuz a Dimicrat.  He wuz in favor of de war, an’ ole marster and Marse Chan dey wuz agin’ it.  Dey wuz a-talkin’ ‘bout it all de time, an’ purty soon Cun’l Chahmb’lin he went about ev’ywhar speakin’ an’ noratin’ ’bout Firginia ought to secede; an’ Marse Chan he wuz picked up to talk agin’ ’im.  Dat wuz de way dey come to fight de duil.  I sut’n’y wuz skeered fur Marse Chan dat mawnin’, an’ he was jes’ ez cool!  Yo’ see, it happen so:  Marse Chan he wuz a-speakin’ down at de Deep Creek Tavern, an’ he kind o’ got de bes’ of ole Cun’l Chahmb’lin.  All de white folks laughed an’ hoorawed, an’