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"Oh, yes; he sutney mindin' her tender. Hi! when she go to ride in
evenin' wid him, de ain' no horse-block good 'nough for her! Marse
George got to have her step in he hand; an' when dee out walkin' he got
de umbrellar holdin' 't over her all de time, he so feared de sun'll
kiss her; an' dee walk so slow down dem walks in de shade you got to
sight 'em by a tree to tell ef dee movin' 'tall. She use' to look like
she used to it too, I tell you, 'cause she wuz quality, one de
white-skinned ones; an' she'd set in dem big cheers, wid her little
foots on de cricket whar Marse George al'ays set for her, he so feared
dee'd tech de groun', jes like she on her throne; an' ole marster he'd
watch her 'mos' edmirin as Marse George; an' when she went 'way hit
sutney wuz lonesome. Hit look like daylight gone wid her. I don' know
which I miss mos', Miss Charlotte or Nancy.

"Den Marse George wuz 'lected to de Legislature, an' ole Jedge Darker
run for de Senator, an' Marse George vote gin him and beat him. An'
dat commence de fuss; an' den dat man gi' me de whuppin, an' dat breck
'tup and breck he heart.

"You see, after Marse George wuz 'lected ('Lections wuz 'lections dem
days; dee warn' no baitgode 'lections, wid e'vy sort o' wurrms
squirmin' up 'ginst one nurr, wid piece o' paper d' ain' know what on,
drappin' in a chink; didn' nuttin but gent'mens vote den, an' dee took
dee dram, an' vote out loud, like gent'mens)--well, arter Marse George
was 'lected, de parties wuz jes as even balanced as stilyuds, an' wen
dee ax Marse George who wuz to be de Senator, he vote for de Whig,
'ginst de old jedge, an' dat beat him, of co'se. An' dee ain' got
sense to know he 'bleeged to vote wid he politics. Dat he sprinciple;
he kyarn vote for Locofoco, I don' keer ef he is Miss Charlotte pa,
much less her step-pa. Of co'se de ole jedge ain' speak to him arter
dat, nur is Marse George ax him to. But who dat g'wine s'pose
women-folks got to put dee mouf in too? Miss Charlotte she write Marse
George a letter dat pester him mightily; he set up all night answerin'
dat letter, an' he mighty solemn, I tell you. An' I wuz gettin' right
grewjousome myself, 'cause I studyin' 'bout dat gal down dyah whar I
done gi' my wud to, an' when dee ain' no letters come torectly hit hard
to tell which one de anxiouser, me or Marse George. Den presney I so
'straughted 'long o' it I ax Aunt Haly 'bouten it: (She know all sich
things, 'cause she 'mos' a