"Den he larf fit ter kill, an' say, 'Dat's so, dat's so, boy.' Den
he take out his pencil an' write a word er two on a slip o' paper
an' say,

"'H'yer, boy, yer gibs dat ter Marse Si War', soon ez yer gits
home. D'yer heah?'

"I tole him, 'Yes, sah,' an' comes on home an' gibs dat ter Marse
Si. Quick ez he look at it he say, 'Whar you git dat, boy? 'An' when
I tole him he sez, 'You know who dat is? Dat's old Potem Desmit!
What you say to him, you little fool?'

"Den I tell Marse War' all 'bout it, an' he lay down in de yard
an' larf fit ter kill. All de same he gib me twenty licks 'cordin'
ter de orders on dat little dam bit o' paper. An' I nebber tink o'
dat widout cussin', sence.

"Dat ar, now am de only time I ebber fault my name. Now what I
want ter change it fer, er what I want ob enny mo'? I don't want
'em. An' I tell 'em so, ebbery time too, but dey 'jes fo'ce em on
me like, an' what'll I do'bout it, I dunno. H'yer I'se got--lemme
see--one--two--tree! Fo' God, I don' know how many names I hez got!
I'm dod-dinged now ef I know who I be ennyhow. Ef ennybody ax me
I'd jes hev ter go back ter ole Mahs'r's name an' stop, kase I swar
I wouldn't know which ob de udders ter pick an' chuse from.

"I specs its all 'long o' freedom, though I can't see why a free
nigger needs enny mo' name dan the same one hed in ole slave times.
Mus' be, though. I mind now dat all de pore white folks hez got