Well, by'mby de nigger he waked up; but, dar now!
he wuz bu'nt black, an' his hyar wuz all swuv'llt up right kinky.
"De Lord, seein, he wuz spilte, he didn't 'low fur ter finish 'im, an'
wuz des 'bout'n ter thow 'im 'way, wen de white man axt fur 'im; so de
Lord he finished 'im up des like he wuz, wid his skin black an' his
hyar kunkt up, an' he gun 'im ter de white man, an' I see he's got 'im
plum tell yit."
"Was it you, Daddy?" asked Dumps.
"Wy , no, honey, hit wan't me, hit wuz my forecisters."
"What's a forecister, Daddy?" asked Diddie, rather curious about the
relationship.
"Yer forecisters," explained Daddy, "is dem uv yer way back folks,
wat's born'd fo' you is yerse'f, an' fo' yer pa is. Now, like my ole
marster, yer pa's gran'pa, wat riz me in ole Furginny, he's you
chil'en's forecister; an' dis nigger wat I'm tellin' yer 'bout'n, he
waz my fuss forecister; an' dats' de way dat I've allers hyearn dat he
come ter be black, an' his hyar kinky; an' I b'lieves hit, too, caze
er nigger's de sleepies'-headed critter dey is; an' den, 'sides dat'
I've seed er heap er niggers in my time, but I ain't nuber seed dat
nigger yit wat's wite, an' got straight hyar on his head.
"Now I ain't er talkin' 'bout'n murlatters, caze dey ain't no reg'lar
folks 'tall; dey's des er mixtry.
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