“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. Dey ain’t white, an’ dey ain’t black, an’ dey ain’t nuffin’; dey’s des de same kin’ er _folks_ ez de muel is er _horse!_ “An’ den dar’s Injuns; dey’s ergin ernudder kin’ er folks. “I usen ter hyear ’em say dat de deb’l made de fuss Injun. He seed de Lord er makin’ folks, an’ he ’lowed he’d make him some; so he got up his dut and his water, an’ all his ’grejunces, an’ he went ter wuck; an’ wedder he cooked him too long, ur wedder he put in too much red clay fur de water wat he had, wy, I ain’t nuber hyeard; but den I known de deb’l made ’im, caze I allers hyearn so; an’, mo’n dat, I done seed ’em fo’ now, an’ dey got mighty dev’lish ways. I wuz wid yer gran’pa at Fort Mimms, down erbout Mobile, an’ I seed ’em killin’ folks an’ sculpin’ uv ’em; an, mo’n dat, ef’n I hadn’t er crope under er log, an’ flattent myse’f out like er allergator, dey’d er got me; an’ den, ergin, dey don’t talk like no folks. I met er Injun one time in de road, an’ I axed ’im wuz he de man wat kilt an’ sculpt Sis Leah, wat usen ter b’longst ter yer gran’pa, an’ wat de Injuns kilt. I axt ’im ’ticklur, caze I had my axe erlong, an’ ef’n he wuz de man, I ’lowed fur ter lay him out. But, bless yer life, chile, he went on fur ter say, “‘Ump, ump, kinterlosha wannycoola tusky noba, inickskymuncha fluxkerscenuck kintergunter skoop.’ “An’ wen he sed dat, I tuck’n lef’ him, caze I seed hit wouldn’t do fur ter fool ’long him; an’, mo’n dat, he ’gun fur ter shine his eyes out, an’ so I des off wid my hat, an’ scrape my lef’ foot, an’ said, ‘Good ebenin’, marster,’ same ez ef he wuz er white man; an’ den I tuck thu de woods tell I come ter de fork-han’s een er road, an’ I eberlastin’ dusted fum dar! I put deze feets in motion, yer hyeard me! an’ I kep’ ’em er gwine, too, tell I come ter de outskirts uv de quarters; an’ eber sence den I ain’t stopped no Injun wat I sees in de road, an’ I ain’t meddled ’long o’ who kilt Sis Leah, nudder, caze she’s ben in glory deze fifty years or mo’, an’ hit’s all one to her now who sculpt her.” But now, as it was getting late, Daddy said he was afraid to stay out in the night air, as it sometimes “gun him de rheumatiz,” and wound up his remarks by saying,