Arter dat invention, I used to enjoy my sleep
grand. I went into de hottest place in de sun, laid up my face to him,
and sleep like a cedar stump, but den I allus put my veil on."
"To keep the flies off?" said I.
"Lordy gracious! no, master, dey nebber trouble me; dey is afraid in
de dark, and when dey see me, dey tink it is night, and cut off."
"What is the use of it, then?"
"To save my complexion, Massa; I is afraid it will fade white. Yah,
yah, yah!"
While we were engaged in eating our steak, he put some glasses on the
table and handed me a black bottle, about two-thirds full, and said,
"Massa, dis here fog ab got down my troat, and up into my head, and
most kill me, I can't tell wedder dat is wine or rum, I is almost
clean gwine distracted. Will Massa please to tell me?"
I knew what he was at, so sais I, "If you can't smell it, taste it."
Well, he poured a glass so full, nobody but a nigger could have
reached his mouth with it without spilling. When he had swallowed it
he looked still more puzzled.
"Peers to me," he said, "dat is wine, he is so mild, and den it peers
to me it's rum, for when it gets down to de stomach he feel so good.
But dis child ab lost his taste, his smell, and his finement,
altogedder."
He then poured out another bumper, and as soon as he had tossed it
off, said, "Dat is de clear grit; dat is oleriferous--wake de dead
amost, it is de genuine piticular old Jamaicky, and no mistake.
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