"Bress yo deer life, Miss Alice, ef yu seed how dis po ole heart was a flip flappin, fust peert und den slow, lak a yaller hammer beatin ergen er dedded gum, fust on wun side und den on de tuther, yu'd say ter yosef, 'po Clarsy!' Fo de Lawd, I'm skeert mo wusser dan yu is, und ef dis heer flustrashun is ergwine on much fudder de Lawd is gwine ter rane down fire und brimstone on dese niggers lak he dun on dem Mallyskites, und I specks er grate big hunk is ergwine to hit Ned und Joshaway too, rite slam twixt de eyeballs. Dem dare niggers, jamby granddaddies of Methuserlum, lookin lak hants in all dem fethers and brass buttons, er heppin all ober de taters und de korn und de cotton, und bress de Lawd, ef I must tell de truf, dey is as perished up ez a mash hen er settin on turkle eggs. Yu needn't larf lak dat, Miss Alice; de Lawd is gwine ter show dese niggers whos er totin de biggest strane, und when he sez de wurd, dey's ergwine ter be dedder dan last yur's gode wines, und--" "Perhaps, Clarissa," interrupted Alice, "these troublous times are but mercies in disguise?" "Oh, my King!" ejaculated Clarissa in alarm, "Murder's gwine ter rise, yu sez? Oh, my hebbens! Is yu aiming fur dem kallamities tu cum immegiate, missis?" Alice laughed away the old negress' fears and replied in explanation: "I said they were mercies--mercies in disguise." "Dat is mo better, Miss Alice," observed Clarissa, slightly mollified. "Kase I knoed ef dat tuther fing wuz ergwine ter hap'n, me und yu und ole marser mout git kilt fo enybody but de niggers spishuned er resurreckshun. Ole Clarsy's skin is powerful black missis, und dis kinky hed is pided lak dat ole wether's in de medder, but I'm ergwine ter stan by yu und ole marser twell de eend, und when Ole Marser up yander sez de word, I'm ergwine ter ax yu ter berry Clarsy at ole missis' feet; und den ef she heers de trumpet fust she'll call Clarsy, und ef I heers it fust I'm ergwine ter call her, und den me und her will jine hans und fly erway ter glory." The pathos of this affectionate speech brought tears to the eyes of her young mistress, and the thought came out of her great sympathetic nature: "Reconstruction so far has been a great smelting furnace--it has separated the pure from the impure, and with its refining heat has grappled with hooks of steel the hearts of mistress and servant. Would that I could dictate a fitting eulogium for the faithful negroes; for those who are groping still amid the shadows of an epoch that seems obedient to no law but of caprice and change." If I get to Heaven, Clarissa will be at the portal with some such expression upon her tongue as this: "Bress yer hart, missis, I've been waitin right here fur yer ever since I heard yer wus er cummin. Come wid me, young missis, und let me show yer dis beautifullest city in de hole wurrel."