And Uncle Rob related Ann's story to his master, and wound up by
saying:

"An' now, marster, my min', hit's made up. I wants ter buy de little
chap, an' give 'im ter his mammy, de one wat God give 'im to. Hit'll
go mighty hard wid me ter part fum all dat money, caze I ben years pun
top er years er layin' uv it up, an' hit's er mighty, cumfut ter me er
countin' an' er jinglin' uv it; but hit ain't doin' nobody no good er
buried in de groun', an' I don't special need it myse'f, caze you
gives me my cloes, an' my shoes, an' my eatin's, an' my backer, an' my
wisky, an' I ain't got no cazhun fur ter spen' it; an' let erlone dat,
I can't stay hyear fureber, er countin' an' er jinglin' dat money, wen
de angel soun' dat horn, de ole nigger he's got ter go; he's boun' fur
ter be dar! de money can't hol' 'im! De Lord, he ain't gwine ter say,
'Scuze dat nigger, caze he got money piled up; lef 'im erlone, fur ter
count dat gol' an' silver.' No, sar! But, marster, maybe in de
jedgmun' day, wen Ole Bob is er stan'in' fo' de Lord wid his knees er
trim'lin', an' de angel fotches out dat book er hisn, and' de Lord
tell 'im fur ter read wat he writ gins 'im, an' de angel he 'gin ter
read how de ole nigger drunk too much wisky, how he stoled
watermillions in de night, how he cussed, how he axed too much fur
doct'in' uv hosses, an' wen he wuz men'in' cheers, how he wouldn't
men' 'em strong, so's he'd git ter men' 'em ergin some time; an' den'
wen he read all dat an' shet de book, maybe de Lord he'll say, 'Well,
he's er pow'ful sinful nigger, but den he tuck his money, he did, an'
buy'd de little baby fur ter give 'im ter his mammy, an' I sha'n't be
too hard on' im.

"Maybe he'll say dat, an' den ergin maybe he won't. Maybe he'll punish
de ole nigger ter de full stent uv his 'greshuns; an' den, ergin,