"I doesn't wish he was har; for I lubs young Masser, an' he is good; if he was to see me a sufferin' it wud stress him, an' make his complaint worse; an' he couldn't do no good; for dey will beat me, no matter who begs. Ob, it does seem so strange that black people was eber made. I is glad dat de chillen isn't har; for de sight ob dem cryin' round de 'post,' wud nearly kill me. I can bar anythin' fur myself, but not fur 'em. Oh, I hopes dey is dead." And here she heaved a dreadful groan. This was the first time I had heard her allude to them, and I felt a choking rush in my throat. "Don't cry, Ann, take kere ob yourself. It 'pears like my time has come. I don't feel 'feard, an' dis is de fust time I'se eber bin able to speak 'bout de chillen. If eber you sees 'em, (I niver will), tell 'em dat I niver did forget 'em; dat night an' day my mind was sot on 'em, an' please, Ann, gib 'em dis." Here she took from her neck a string that held her mother's gift, and the coin young master had given her, suspended to it. She looked at it long and wistfully, then, slowly pressing it to her lips, she said in a low, plaintive voice that went to my heart, "Poor Mammy." I then took it from her, and hid it in my pocket. A cold horror stole over me. I had not the power to gainsay her; for an instinctive idea that something terrible was going to occur, chained my lips. "Ann, I thanks you for all your kindness to me. I hopes you may hab a better time den I has hab. I feel, Ann, as if I niver should come down from dat post alive. "Trust in God, Amy." She shook her head despairingly. "He will save you." "No, God don't kare for black folks." "What did young master tell you about that? Did he not say God loved all His creatures alike?" "Yes, but black folks aint God's critters." "Yes, they are, just as much as white people." "No dey aint." "Oh, Amy, I wish I could make you understand how it is." "You kant make me belieb dat ar' way, no how you can fix it. God don't kare what a comes ob niggers; an' I is glad he don't, kase when I dies, I'll jist lay down and rot like de worms, and dere wont be no white folks to 'buse me." "No, there will be no white folks to abuse you in heaven; but God and His angels will love you, if you will do well and try to get there." "I don't want to go ther, for God is one of the white people, and, in course, he'd beat de niggers."