“Colonel Benjamin Flewellen; yes; I know the colonel well. What are you going back there for?” “Who? Me? Dat my home, suh. I bin brung up right dar, suh—right ’longside er Marster en my young mistiss, suh.” “Miss Ellen Flewellen,” said Lawyer Terrell, reflectively. At this remark the negro showed a slight interest in the conversation; but his interest did not improve his appearance. “Yasser, dat her name, sho; but we-all call her Miss Nelly.” “A very pretty name, Ananias,” remarked Lawyer Terrell. “Lord! yasser.” The negro looked up at this, but Lawyer Terrell had his eyes fixed on the muddy road ahead of him. The lawyer was somewhat youngish himself, but his face had a hard, firm expression common to those who are in the habit of having their own way in the court-house and elsewhere. “Where have you been, Ananias?” said the lawyer presently. “Who? Me? I bin ’long wid Sherman army, suh.” “Then you are quite a soldier by this time.” “Lord! yasser! I bin wid um fum de time dey come in dese parts plum tell dey got ter Sander’ville. You ain’t never is bin ter Sander’ville, is you, boss?” “Not to say right in the town, Ananias, but I’ve been by there a great many times.” Lawyer Terrell humored the conversation, as was his habit. “Well, suh,” said Ananias, “don’t you never go dar; special don’t you go dar wid no army, kase hit’s de longes’ en de nasties’ road fum dar ter yer w’en you er comin’ back, dat I ever is lay my two eyes on.” “Why did you come back, Ananias?” “Who? Me? Well, suh, w’en de army come ’long by home dar, look like eve’ybody got der eye sot on me. Go whar I would, look alike all de folks wuz a-watchin’ me. ’Bout time de army wuz a-pilin’ in on us, Marse Wash Jones, w’ich I never is done ’im no harm dat I knows un, he went ter Marster, he did, en he ’low dat ef dey don’t keep mighty close watch on Ananias dey’d all be massycreed in deir beds. I know Marse Wash tol’ Marster dat, kaze Ma’y Ann, w’ich she wait on de table, she come right outer de house en tol’ me so. Right den, suh, I ’gun ter feel sorter skittish. Marster had done got me ter hide all de stock out in de swamp, en I ’low ter myse’f, I did, dat I’d des go over dar en stay wid um. I ain’t bin dar so mighty long, suh, w’en yer come de Yankees, en wid um wuz George, de carriage driver, de nigger w’at Marster think mo’ uv dan he do all de balance er his niggers. En now, den, dar wuz George a-fetchin’ de Yankees right whar he know de stock wuz hid at.” “George was a very handy negro to have around,” said Lawyer Terrell.