ich
told plainly he was rather too familiar with that delicious compound of
strychnine and whiskey.

'Yas, massa, good as black Jack; dat's my name, massa, dat's my
name--yah, yah,' and he turned his face, wet with merry tears, and
distended in an uncommonly broad grin, up to mine. In a moment, however,
his eye caught Preston's. His broad visage collapsed, his distended
mouth shrank to a very diminutive opening, and his twinkling eyes
assumed a peculiarly stolid expression, as he added, in a deprecatory
tone:

'No, massa Robert, not so good as black jack; not so good as dat--'ou
knows I doan't keer fur him; you knows I doan't knows him no more, massa
Robert.'

'I know you never knew him,' replied Preston, playing on his name. 'He's
a hardened old sinner. He has sinned away the day of grace, I'm sure.
But you know better than to ask presents of strangers. Give it back to
the gentleman at once.'

An indescribable expression stole over the old negro's visage as he
thrust his hand through his thin, frosty wool, looked pleadingly up at
his master's face, and, seeing no signs of relenting there, slowly and
reluctantly opened his palm and offered me the money.

'No, no, Preston, let him keep it; it won't do him any harm,' I said.

'No more'n it woan't, good massa, not a morsel ob harm,' exclaimed the
darky, his small eyes twinkling again with pleasurable anticipation, and
his broad face widening into its accustomed grin: 'I woan't take nary a
drop, massa Robert, nary a drop!'

'Well,' said his master, 'you can keep it if you'll promise not to drink
it all to-morrow. So much whiskey would spoil your prayer at the
meeting.'

'So it 'ould, massa Robert; so much as dat; but Jack allers prays de
stronger fur a little, massa Robert, jess a little--it sort o' 'pears
ter warm up a ole man's sperrets, and ter fotch all de 'votion right
inter him froat.'

'I suppose it does; all the devotion you ever feel. You're an old
sinner, Jack, past praying for, I fear,' replied Preston,
good-naturedly, turning his horse to go.

'Not pass prayin' fur 'ou, massa Robert, not pass dat, an' ole Jack
neber will be, nudder--not so long as he kin holler loud 'nuff fur de
Lord ter yere. 'Ou may 'pend on dat, massa Robert, 'ou may 'pend on
dat.'

As we rode away, I asked Preston if the old black led the services at
the negro meetings.

'Yes, I am obliged to let him. He was formerly the plantation preacher,
and, with all his faults, the bl