she'll be turning preacher next, and going north to join the
abolitionists."

"Mas'r," said Rachel, "'t wouldn't do to mind what you say. Neber
mind, you get old one ob dese days; den you don't make so much fun
ob old Rachel."

"Shut up your corn-trap," Marston says, smiling; and turning to his
guests, continues-"You hear that, gentlemen; she talks just as she
pleases, directs my household as if she were governor." Again, Aunt
Rachel, summoning her dignity, retorts,

"Not so, Mas'r Deacon, (turning to Deacon Rosebrook,) "'t won't
square t' believe all old Boss tell, dat it won't! Mas'r take care
ob de two cabins in de yard yonder, while I tends de big house."
Rachel was more than a match for Marston; she could beat him in
quick retort. The party, recognising Aunt Rachel's insinuation,
joined in a hearty laugh. The conversation was a little too pointed
for Marston, who, changing the subject, turned to Harry, saying,
"now, my old boy, we'll have a little more of your wisdom on
religious matters." Harry had been standing the while like a forlorn
image, with a red cap in his hand.

"I can preach, mas'r; I can do dat, fo'h true," he replied quickly.
"But mas'r, nigger got to preach against his colour; Buckra tink
nigger preachin' ain't good, cus he black."

"Never mind that, Harry," interrupts Marston: "We'll forget the
nigger, and listen just as if it were all white. Give us the very
best specimen of it. Daddy Bob, my old patriarch, must help you; and