"Are these the boxes?"
"No, them is our provision boxes, master. Show de gemman some of der tobacco, dah." (To the boy.)
A couple of negroes here passed along near us; the old man hailed them:
"Ho dah, boys! Doan you want to buy some backey?"
"No." (Decidedly.)
"Well, I'm sorry for it." (Reproachfully.)
"Are you bound homeward, now?" I asked.
"No, master; wish me was; got to sell all our backey fuss; you don't want none, master, does you? Doan you tink it pretty fair tobacco, sar? Juss try it: it's right sweet, reckon you'll find."
"I don't wish any, thank you; I never use it. Is your master with you?"
"No, sar; he's gone across to Marion, to-day."
"Do you like to be travelling about, in this way?"
"Yes, master; I likes it very well."
"Better than staying at home, eh?"
"Well, I likes my country better dan dis; must say dat, master; likes my country better dan dis. I'se a free nigger in my country, master."
"Oh, you are a free man, are you! North Carolina is a better country than this, for free men, I suppose."
"Yes, master, I likes my country de best; I gets five dollar a month for dat boy." (Hastily, to change the subject.)
"He is your son, is he?"
"Yes, sar; he drives dat waggon, I drives dis; and I haant seen him fore, master, for six weeks, till dis mornin'."
"How were you separated?"
"We separated six weeks ago, sar, and we agreed to meet here, last night. We didn', dough, till dis mornin'."
