The stranger has spent the day in viewing the city, and at
nightfall, the negro, true to his engagement, presents his sable
figure at his lodgings. A servant having shown him up stairs, he is
ushered into his presence, where, seeming bewildered, he looks about
inquiringly, as if doubting the object for which he has been
summoned. Abjectly he holds his tattered cap in his hand, and
tremblingly inquires what master wants with him.
"Have confidence, my good fellow," the stranger speaks, with a
smile; "my mission is love and peace." He places a chair beside a
small table in the centre of the room; bids the negro sit down,
which he does with some hesitation. The room is small; it contains a
table, bureau, washstand, bed, and four chairs, which, together with
a few small prints hanging from the dingy walls, and a square piece
of carpet in the centre of the room, constitute its furniture. "You
know Marston's plantation-know it as it was when Marston resided
thereon, do you?" enquires the stranger, seating himself beside the
negro, who evidently is not used to this sort of familiarity.
"Know 'um well, dat I does," answers the negro, quickly, as if the
question had recalled scenes of the past.
"And you know the people, too, I suppose?"
"Da'h people!" ejaculates the negro, with a rhapsody of enthusiasm;
"reckon I does."
"Will you recount them."
The negro, commencing with old master, recounts the names of Miss
Franconia, Clotilda, Ellen, Aunt Rachel, old Daddy Bob, and Harry.
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