“ ‘All,’ sezee, ‘ ’cep’n’ de noo nigger Mistah Dunkin fotch ober heah en lef’ on trial, w’iles you wuz gone.’
“ ‘Oh, yas,’ ’lows Mars Jeems, ‘tell me all ’bout dat noo nigger. I heared a little ’bout dat quare noo nigger las’ night, en it wuz des too redik’lus. Tell me all ’bout dat noo nigger.’
“So seein’ Mars Jeems so good-na-chu’d ’bout it, Mars Johnson up en tol’ ’im how he tied up de noo han’ de fus’ day en gun ’im fo’ty ’ca’se he wouldn’ tell ’im ’is name.
“ ‘Ha, ha, ha!’ sez Mars Jeems, laffin’ fit ter kill, ‘but dat is too funny fer any use. Tell me some mo’ ’bout dat noo nigger.’
“So Mars Johnson went on en tol’ ’im how he had ter starbe de noo nigger ’fo’ he could make ’im take holt er a hoe.
“ ‘Dat wuz de beatinis’ notion fer a nigger,’ sez Mars Jeems, ‘puttin’ on airs, des lack he wuz a w’ite man! En I reckon you didn’ do nuffin ter ’im?’
“ ‘Oh, no, suh,’ sez de oberseah, grinnin’ lack a chessy-cat, ‘I didn’ do nuffin but take de hide off’n ’im.’
“Mars Jeems lafft en lafft, ’tel it ’peared lack he wuz des gwine ter bu’st. ‘Tell me some mo’ ’bout dat noo nigger, oh, tell me some mo’. Dat noo nigger int’rusts me, he do, en dat is a fac’.’
“Mars Johnson didn’ quite un’erstan’ w’y Mars Jeems sh’d make sich a great ’miration ’bout de noo nigger, but co’se he want’ ter please de gent’eman w’at hi’ed ’im, en so he ’splain’ all ’bout how many times he had ter cowhide de noo nigger, en how he made ’im do tasks twicet ez big ez some er de yuther han’s, en how he’d chain ’im up in de ba’n at night en feed ’im on co’n-bread en water.
“ ‘Oh! but you is a monst’us good oberseah; you is de bes’ oberseah in dis county, Mistah Johnson,’ sez Mars Jeems, w’en de oberseah got th’oo wid his tale; ‘en dey ain’ nebber be’n no nigger-breaker lack you roun’ heah befo’. En you desarbes great credit fer sendin’ dat nigger ’way befo’ you sp’ilt ’im fer de market. Fac’, you is sech a monst’us good oberseah, en you is got dis yer plantation in sech fine shape, dat I reckon I doan need you no mo’. You is got dese yer darkies so well train’ dat I ’spec’ I kin run ’em myse’f fum dis time on. But I does wush you had ’a’ hilt on ter dat noo nigger ’tel I got home, fer I’d ’a’ lack ter ’a’ seed ’im, I su’t’nly should.’
“De oberseah wuz so ’stonish’ he didn’ ha’dly know w’at ter say, but fin’lly he ax’ Mars Jeems ef he wouldn’ gib’im a riccommen’ fer ter git ernudder place.
“ ‘No, suh,’ sez Mars Jeems, ‘somehow er ’nuther I doan lack yo’ looks sence I come back dis time, en I’d much ruther you wouldn’ stay roun’ heah. Fac’, I’s feared ef I’d meet you alone in de woods some time, I mought wanter ha’m you. But layin’ dat aside, I be’n lookin’ ober dese yer books er yo’n w’at you kep’ w’iles I wuz ’way, en fer a yeah er so back, en dere’s some figgers w’at ain’ des cl’ar ter me. I ain’ got no time fer ter talk ’bout ’em now, but I ’spec’ befo’ I settles wid you fer dis las’ mont’, you better come up heah ter-morrer, atter I’s look’ de books en ’counts ober some mo’, en den we’ll straighten ou’ business all up.’
“Mars Jeems ’lowed atterwa’ds dat he wuz des shootin’ in de da’k w’en he said dat ’bout de books, but howsomeber, Mars Nick Johnson lef’ dat naberhood ’twix’ de nex’ two suns, en nobody roun’ dere nebber seed hide ner hair un ’im sence. En all de darkies t’ank de Lawd, en ’lowed it wuz a good riddance er bad rubbage.
“But all dem things I done tol’ you ain’ nuffin ’side’n de change w’at come ober Mars Jeems fum dat time on. Aun’ Peggy’s goopher had made a noo man un ’im enti’ely. De nex’ day atter he come back, he tol’ de han’s dey neenter wuk on’y fum sun ter sun, en he cut dey tasks down so dey didn’ nobody hab ter stan’ ober ’em wid a rawhide er a hick’ry. En he ’lowed ef de niggers want ter hab a dance in de big ba’n any Sad’day night, dey mought hab it. En bimeby, w’en Solomon seed how good Mars Jeems wuz, he ax’ ’im ef he wouldn’ please sen’ down ter de yuther plantation fer his junesey. Mars Jeems say su’t’nly, en gun Solomon a pass en a note ter de oberseah on de yuther plantation, en sont Solomon down ter Robeson County wid a hoss en buggy fer ter fetch his junesey back. Wen’ de niggers see how fine Mars Jeems gwine treat ’em, dey all tuk ter sweethea’tin’ en juneseyin’ en singin’ en dancin’, en eight er ten couples got married, en bimeby eve’ybody ’mence’ ter say Mars Jeems McLean got a finer plantation, en slicker-lookin’ niggers, en dat he ’uz makin’ mo’ cotton en co’n, dan any yuther gent’eman in de county. En Mars Jeems’s own junesey, Miss Libbie, heared ’bout de noo gwines-on on Mars Jeems’s plantation, en she change’ her min’ ’bout Mars Jeems en tuk ’im back ag’in, en ’fo’ long dey had a fine weddin’, en all de darkies had a big feas’, en dey wuz fiddlin’ en dancin’
