Meanwhile the hostess busied herself with preparations for dinner, and it was soon spread on a bright cherry table, covered by a spotless white cloth. The little darkies had scattered to the several cabins, and we soon sat down to as good a meal as I ever ate at the South.
We were waited on by a tidy negro woman, neatly clad in a calico gown, with shoes on her feet, and a flaming red and yellow 'kerchief on her head. This last was worn in the form of a turban, and one end escaping from behind, and hanging down her back, it looked for all the world like a flag hung out from a top turret. Observing it, my host said:
"Aggy--showin' yer colors? Ye'r Union gal--hey?"
"Yas, I is dat, massa; Union ter de back bone;" responded the negress, grinning widely.
"All th' Union _ye_ knows on," replied the master, winking slyly at me, "is th' union yer goin' ter hitch up 'long with black Cale over ter Squire Taylor's."
"No, 'taint, massa; takes more'n tu ter make de Union."
"Yas, I knows--it gin'rally takes ten or a dozen: reckon it'll take a dozen with ye."
"John, ye musn't talk so ter th' sarvents; it spiles 'em," said his wife.
"Lor', missus, I doant keer what massa say; but I doant leff no oder man run on so ter me!"
"Nor him, massa; I makes him stan' roun' _I_ reckon."
"I reckon ye du; ye wudn't be yer massa's gal ef ye didn't."
When the meal was over, I visited, with my host, the negro houses. The hour allowed for dinner[K] was about expiring, and the darkies were preparing to return to the field. Entering one of the cabins, where were two stout negro men and a woman, my host said to them, with a perfectly serious face:
"Har, boys, I've fotched ye a live Yankee ab'lishener; now, luk at 'im all roun'. Did ye ever see sech a critter?"
"Doant see nuffin' quar in dat gemman, massa," replied one of the blacks. "Him 'pears like bery nice gemman; doant 'pear like ab'lishener;" and he laughed, and scraped his head in the manner peculiar to the negro, as he added: "kinder reckon he wudn't be har ef he war one of _dem_."
"What der _ye_ knows 'bout th' ab'lisheners? Ye never seed one--what d'ye 'spose the' luk like?"
"Dey say dey luk likes de bery ole debil, massa, but reckon taint so."
"Wal, the' doant; the' luk wusa then thet: they'm bottled up thunder an' lightnin', an' ef the' cum down har, they'll chaw ye all ter hash."