_Hold a candle to the Devil_ is a worldly maxim, which I had never an opportunity of practising to the letter until now. Much might be learned by humoring the monster--nothing by opposing him. I sat down and drank his health. "Thankee, old boy," said he. "I'm deblish glad to see you, upon my soul. Gib us your hand. How many are you got?" "Two," said I. "That's a lie," replied the nigger hastily. "I see four. But neber mind, I'm not partickler. Gib us two of 'em. I say, old boy," he continued, "don't you eat nothing? D----d sweet. Sure to make you sick. Him drink much as him like." "You wait the general's return, I presume?" said I, in the vain hope of eliciting something from this black moving barrel. The gentleman tried to look me full in the face; but his eyes rolled involuntarily, and prevented him. He contrived, however, to effect what he intended for a knowing wink, whilst he thrust out his cheek with the end of his tongue. "Oh yes, in course," he answered. "I wait till him come back. Him wait d----d long while. He! he! he!" "His departure was very sudden," I continued. "Oh, bery! All them departure's bery sudden. Missy General go bery sudden--Missy Elinor go bery sudden--rum go bery sudden," he concluded, drinking off a glassful. "I saw the general to-day. We met on the road. He told me every thing." "Stupid old codger! Him can't keep his own counsel. Dat him business, not mine. Deblish cleber old codger!" "He was much affected," said I. "The elopement of his child is a serious blow to him." The nigger performed the same pantomime as before; winking his eye, and enlarging his cheek. "Blow not so bad as a punch on the head, old boy. Deblish cleber old codger," repeated the Yahoo, laughing immoderately. "Deblish cleber 'Gustus too!" "Who is he?" I inquired. The nigger attempted to rise in his chair, and to make a profound bow, but failed in both attempts. "I'm 'Gustus!" said he, "at your sarvice--take a glass of wine with you!" I pledged the gentleman, and he continued. "You know Massa Sinclair?" "A little." "Big jackass, Massa Sinclair. Awful big. He no run away with Missy Elinor, Missy run away with him. Massa General run away with both. 'Gustus do it all." I groaned. "You ain't well? Take glass rum? Bery good rum!" "And so you did it all, Augustus? You must be a clever fellow!" "I think so. If you could but have seen us this morning. I and Massa General looking over the banisters whilst Missy Elinor was running away; and Massa Sinclair in de hall, trembling all over like a ninny, for fear Massa General should see him--Massa General and me splitting sides all the time. D----d good! like a play. He! he! he!" I groaned again. "Sure you are not well, old boy? Try the bitters." "I have had enough," said I. "I must begone." "Don't hurry, old fellow. Can't ask you again. Go to town to-morrow. Meet General Travis to-morrow night. Him sewed up. 'Gustus neber desert him." "The general will not return then?"