"Very fine. How are you all?"

"Quite well. Any news stirring?"

"Why, no, not much. Only they say that the Methodists about here
have all joined the Amalgamation Society."

"Who says so?" inquired Martin, slightly colouring.

"Well, they say it down our way. I thought it was only a joke, at
first. But a little while after dinner, Aunt Nancy's Tom came over
to my house for some oats and hay for your new minister's horse. He
said the preachers were going to stop at the old woman's after this.
I half-doubted the rascal's story, though I let him have the
provender. Sure enough, as I came along just now, who should I see
but the preacher sitting before the door of old Nancy's log-hut, as
much at home as if his skin were the colour of ebony. These are
rather queer doings, friend Martin; I don't know what folks 'll
say."

We will not pause to describe the astonishment and confusion of
Martin, on learning this, but step down to Aunt Nancy's, where
Odell, after dining on pork and hominy, with the addition of
potatoes and corn-bread, was sitting in the shade before the log
cabin of the old negro. The latter was busy as a bee inside in
preparation of something for the preacher's supper, that she thought
would be more suited to his mode of living and appetite, than pork,
corn-bread, and hominy.