Fac, Massa, fac, I does assure you. When you like supper,
Massa?"
"At ten o'clock," sais I.
"Well, den, I will go and get sunthen nice for you. Oh! my ole missus
was a lubbly cook; I don't believe in my heart de Queen ob England
could hold a candle to her! she knowed twenty-two and a half ways to
cook Indian corn, and ten or twelve ob 'em she inwented herself dat
was de stonishment ob ebbery one."
"Half a way," I said, "what do you mean by that?"
"Why, Massa, de common slommachy way people ab ob boiling it on de
cob; dat she said was only half a way. Oh, Lordy gracious, one way she
wented, de corn was as white as snow, as light as puff, and so
delicate it disgested itself in de mout."
"You can go," said Cutler.
"Tankee, Massa," said Sorrow, with a mingled air of submission and
fun, as much as to say, "I guess I don't want leave for that, anyhow,
but I thank you all the same as if I did," and making a scrape of his
hind-leg, he retired.
"Slick," said Cutler, "it isn't right to allow that nigger to swallow
so much rum! How can one wonder at their degradation, when a man like
you permits them to drink in that manner?"
"Exactly," sais I, "you think and talk like all abolitionists, as my
old friend Colonel Crockett used to say, the Yankees always do. He
said, 'When they sent them to pick their cherries, they made them
whistle all the time, so that they couldn't eat any.
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