ills de glasses
an' draps in de ice an' de mint. Time de mens drink dat so an' so dey
done forgot dey's tired; dey 'lax, an' when de ladies come down de
stairs all dredd up, dey thinks dey's angels walkin' in gol' shoes. Dem
wuz good times befo' de war an' befo' Marse Peter got shot. From de day
Marse Peter rode his big grey hoss off to fight, we never seed him no
more. Mis' Laura never even know if dey buried him or not.

After de mens all went to de war dey won't no use for no more drams, so
Mis' Laura took me away from de sideboa'd an' made me a watchman. Dat
is, I wuz set to watch de commissary to see dat de niggers wuzn' give no
more den dey share of eats, den I looked after de chickens an' things,
kaze de patter-rollers wuz all 'roun' de country an' dey'd steal
everythin' from chickens to sweet taters an cawn, den dey'd sell it to
de Yankees. Dat's when I named dat ole mean fightin' gander General Lee.

Everywhare I went 'roun' de place dat gander wuz right at my heels. He
wuz de bigges' gander I ever seed. He weighed near 'bout forty pounds,
an' his wings from tip to tip wuz 'bout two yards. He wuz smart too. I
teached him to drive de cows an' sheeps, an' I sic'd him on de dogs when
dey got 'streperous. I'd say, Sic him, General Lee, an' dat gander would
cha'ge. He wuz a better fighter den de dogs kaze he fit wid his wings,
his bill, an wid his feets. I seed him skeer a bull near 'bout to death
one day. Dat bull got mad an' jump de fence an' run all de niggers in
de cabins, so I called General Lee an' sic'd him on dat bull. Dat bird
give one squawk an' lit on dat bull's back, an' yo' never seed such
carryin's on. De bull reared an' snorted an' kicked, but dat gander held
on. He whipped dat bull wid his wings 'twell he wuz glad to go back in
de lot an' 'have hese'f. After dat all I had to do to dat bull wuz show
him General Lee an' he'd quiet down.

Now I's goin' to tell yo' 'bout Mis' Laura's diamon' ear rings.

De fus' Yankees dat come to de house wuz gentlemens, 'cept dey made us
niggers cook dey supper an' shine dey muddy boots, den dey stole
everythin' dey foun' to tote away, but de nex ones dat come wuz mean.
Dey got made kaze de fus' Yankees done got de pickin's of what Mis'
Laura hadn' hid. Dey cut open de feather beds lookin' for silver; dey
ripped open de chair cushings lookin' for money, dey even tore up de
carpets, but dey didn' fin' nothin' kaze all de valuables done been
buried. Even mos' of de wi