long he had been in "this country," as he designated his
adopted region. He turned with some severity to one of his companions, a
stout and slatternly woman, very black, and many years his junior.

"How long is I been heah, Lucindy?"

The woman addressed, by way of answer, turned half away, and gave a
little nervous laugh. "I don't know how long you been heah, you been
heah so long; mos' forty years, I reckon." This sally called from her
companions a little ripple of amusement.

"Dat's my wife, suh," the old gentleman explained, apologetically.
"She's de one I got now; she come f'om up heah in dis ken-try." His
voice expressed all that the words were intended to convey. Lucindy, who
appeared accustomed to such contemptuous reference, merely gave another
little explosion which shook her fat shoulders.

As, however, I was expected to endorse all his views, I changed the
embarrassing subject by inquiring how he had happened to leave the old
county.

"Ole marster gi' me to Miss Fanny when she ma'yed Marse William
Fitzhugh," he explained. "I wuz ma'yed den to Marth' Ann; she wuz Miss
Fanny's maid, an' when she come up heah wid Miss Fanny, I recompany
her." He would not admit that his removal was a permanent one. "I al'ays
layin' out to go back home, but I 'ain' been yit. Dee's mos' all daid
b'fo' dis, suh?"

He spoke as if this were a fact, but there was a faint inquiry in
his eyes if not in his tone. I was sorry not to be able to inform
him differently, and, to change the subject, I started to ask him a
question. "Martha Ann--" I began, and then paused irresolute.

"She's daid too," he said simply.

"How many children have you?" I asked.

"I 'ain' got but beah one now, suh, ef I got dat one," he replied;
"dat's P'laski."

"How many have you had?"

"Well, suh, dat's a partic'lar thing to tell," he said, with a whimsical
look on his face. "De Scripturs says you is to multiply an' replanish de
uth; but I s'pecks I's had some several mo'n my relowance; dar's Jeems,
an' Peter, an' Jeremiah, an' Hezekiah, an' Zekyel, Ananias an' Malachi,
Matthew an' Saint Luke, besides de gals. Dee's all gone; an' now I 'ain'
got but jes dat P'laski. He's de wuthlisses one o' de whole gang. He
tecks after his mammy."

The reference to Pulaski appeared to occasion some amusement among his
friends, and I innocently inquired if he was Martha Ann's son.

"Nor, _suh, dat_ he warn'!" was the vehement and indignant answer. "Ef
he had '