e indignantly. "I think
there is no worse sin and no more disgraceful thing than cruelty."

"I quite agree with you," I assented.

"A man w'at 'buses his hoss is gwine ter be ha'd on de folks w'at wuks
fer 'im," remarked Julius. "Ef young Mistah McLean doan min', he'll hab
a bad dream one er dese days, des lack 'is grandaddy had way back
yander, long yeahs befo' de wah."

"What was it about Mr. McLean's dream, Julius?" I asked. The man had not
yet finished cleaning the spring, and we might as well put in time
listening to Julius as in any other way. We had found some of his
plantation tales quite interesting.

"Mars Jeems McLean," said Julius, "wuz de grandaddy er dis yer gent'eman
w'at is des gone by us beatin' his hoss. He had a big plantation en a
heap er niggers. Mars Jeems wuz a ha'd man, en monst'us stric' wid his
han's. Eber sence he growed up he nebber 'peared ter hab no feelin' fer
nobody. W'en his daddy, ole Mars John McLean, died, de plantation en
all de niggers fell ter young Mars Jeems. He had be'n bad 'nuff befo',
but it wa'n't long atterwa'ds 'tel he got so dey wuz no use in libbin'
at all ef you ha' ter lib roun' Mars Jeems. His niggers wuz bleedzd ter
slabe fum daylight ter da'k, w'iles yuther folks's did n' hafter wuk
'cep'n' fum sun ter sun; en dey did n' git no mo' ter eat dan dey
oughter, en dat de coa'ses' kin'. Dey wa'n't 'lowed ter sing, ner dance,
ner play de banjo w'en Mars Jeems wuz roun' de place; fer Mars Jeems say
he would n' hab no sech gwines-on,--said he bought his han's ter wuk, en
not ter play, en w'en night come dey mus' sleep en res', so dey 'd be
ready ter git up soon in de mawnin' en go ter dey wuk fresh en strong.

"Mars Jeems did n' 'low no co'tin' er juneseyin' roun' his
plantation,--said he wanted his niggers ter put dey min's on dey wuk,
en not be wastin' dey time wid no sech foolis'ness. En he would n' let
his han's git married,--said he wuz n' raisin' niggers, but wuz raisin'
cotton. En w'eneber any er de boys en gals 'ud 'mence ter git sweet on
one ernudder, he 'd sell one er de yuther un 'em, er sen' 'em way down
in Robeson County ter his yuther plantation, whar dey could n' nebber
see one ernudder.

"Ef any er de niggers eber complained, dey got fo'ty; so co'se dey did
n' many un 'em complain. But dey did n' lack it, des de same, en nobody
could n' blame 'em, fer dey had a ha'd time. Mars Jeems did n' make no
'lowance fer nachul bawn laz'ness, ner sickness, ner trou