“I tell ye, Rosann, ’tatoes an’ honey an’ okra is a tousan’ times better’n pigs; ye don’ have ter feed ’em, an’ tend ’em, and watch ’em eaten theirselves up. Dey jess grows an’ grows for nothin’. Ef more folks growed ’tatoes an’ okra in dis country, times’d be better’n dey is.” Rosann did not answer him, she seldom did; and now her attention was called to a horse and rider that had turned from the main road and were advancing up the narrow lane that led to Cuddy’s house. Mounted visitors were not frequent at Cuddy’s humble home, even on gubernatorial business; and when he and Rosann saw that the horseman was no less a person than Constable Cranston, of North Kingston, they stared in open-mouthed amazement. No less astonished were they when the sheriff announced his errand--that he had come to arrest the “Gov’nor” for debt. Suit had been brought against him and judgment rendered, and his arrest was the next step. For Cuddymonk, like many another philosopher and many another politician, was careless and even tricky in business matters, and had been accused by both black and white neighbors of “never paying fer nothing if he could help it.” That he should have been arrested for this special debt was to him most astonishing, and he denounced it as keen injustice. He thus protested to the sheriff: “Mass’ Cranston, yer don’t know what yer a-doin’. I don’t owe ole man Hazard nothin’! Yer see, it was jess like dis. I say ter him, I mus’ hab er pig ter raise. He say ter me, ‘Take one ob mine;’ an’ he press me ter take it, kase it’s a runtlin’, an’ he’s afear’d it’ll die. An’ Rosann, she knows how ter mother runtlin’s, so I takes der pig. An’ I say, ‘Ole man Hazard, I pay you free dollar ob de money I git for der pig.’ He say, ‘All right, Cuddy.’ Now I don’t nebber git no money fer dat pig. I buy de corn ter feed der pig of Peleg Brown; an’ when I kill de pig an’ take him ter Peleg ter sell, he don’ come ter ser much as de corn he eat. I t’ink he shrink kase I kill him in de discrease ob de moon. So I nebber got nothin’ fer de pig, so in course I don’ owe ole man Hazard nothin’. I ain’t got no money ter pay wid, anyway. I tell ye, Mass’ Cranston, times nebber’ll be good in dis country till corn’s a pistareen a bushel an’ pork a pistareen a pound. Den de pore man’ll hab some chance.” Mr. Cranston knew old Cuddy too well to allow him to proceed into the discussion of political economy; and he interrupted the “Gov’nor,” saying, with much gravity, that the law must take its course, nor could the execution of justice be delayed; that since Cuddy could not pay, he must come at once with him to jail. The negro rose cheerfully, saying, as he hobbled into the house: