_air_ you a-beckonin' at me faw?"

He let his servant draw him aside and address him in a whisper.

"Oh, go 'way!" said the parson with a jerk. "Who's goin' to throw me?
What? Speak louder. Why, Colossus, you shayn't talk so, saw. 'Pon my
soul, you're the mightiest fool I ever taken up with. Jest you go down
that alley-way with this yalla boy, and don't show yo' face untell yo'
called!"

The negro begged; the master wrathily insisted.

"Colossus, will you do ez I tell you, or shell I hev' to strike you,
saw?"

"Oh Mahs Jimmy, I--I's gwine; but--" he ventured nearer--"don't on no
account drink nothin', Mahs Jimmy."

Such was the negro's earnestness that he put one foot in the gutter, and
fell heavily against his master. The parson threw him off angrily.

"Thar, now! Why, Colossus, you must of been dosted with sumthin'; yo'
plum crazy.--Humph, come on, Jools, let's eat! Humph! to tell me that,
when I never taken a drop, exceptin' for chills, in my life--which he
knows so as well as me!"

The two masters began to ascend a stair.

"_Mais_, he is a sassy; I would sell him, me," said the young Creole.

"No, I wouldn't do that," replied the parson; "though there is people in
Bethesdy who says he is a rascal. He's a powerful smart fool. Why, that
boy's got money, Jools; more money than religion, I reckon. I'm shore he
fallen into mighty bad company--" they passed beyond earshot.

Baptiste and Colossus, instead of going to the tavern kitchen, passed to
the next door and entered the dark rear corner of a low grocery, where,
the law notwithstanding, liquor was covertly sold to slaves. There, in
the quiet company of Baptiste and the grocer, the colloquial powers of
Colossus, which were simply prodigious, began very soon to show
themselves.

"For whilst," said he, "Mahs Jimmy has eddication, you know--whilst he
has eddication, I has 'scretion. He has eddication and I has 'scretion,
an' so we gits along."

He drew a black bottle down the counter, and, laying half his length
upon the damp board, continued:--

"As a p'inciple I discredits de imbimin' of awjus liquors. De imbimin'
of awjus liquors, de wiolution of de Sabbaf, de playin' of de fiddle,
and de usin' of bywords, dey is de fo' sins of de conscience, an' if any
man sin de fo' sins of de conscience, de debble done sharp his fork fo'
dat man.--Ain't dat so, boss?"

The grocer was sure it was so.

"Neberdeless, mind you--" here the orator brimmed his glass fro