By his sidling manner, about to ask some favour,
when the following colloquy ensued.
_Overseer_. - Well, you black rascal, what do you stand grinning there
for?
_Negro_. - Please, mas'r, want Lucy for wife.
_Overseer_. - Wife, you scoundrel, what do you want a wife for; be off
with you, and mind your horses. (He was employed as a teamster on the
estate.)
_Negro_. - Oh, mas'r, I loves Lucy.
_Overseer_. - And she loves you, I suppose. A fine taste she must have,
indeed. Where are you going to live?
_Negro_ - Got room in No. 2 cabin, if mas'r please let 'um.
_Overseer_. - Well, now listen; go along, and take her, but, you lazy
dog, if you get into any scrapes, and don't work like live coals, I'll
send her to the other estate (which was situated forty miles distant),
and flay you alive into the bargain.
The poor fellow, after thanking the overseer (not for his politeness,
certainly), darted off to communicate the joyful intelligence to his
affianced, making the welkin ring with his shouts. The gentleman who
described this scene said that it was always the custom on his father's
estate to give a gallon or two of whiskey for the attendant
merry-making.
After numerous stoppages, the train at length reached Charleston.
