“His porter, Nicholas, was his admirable second; not a porter at all, but a body-servant; as different from the ordinary Pullman-car porter as light from darkness. In fact, it turned out that he had been an old servant of the Captain’s. I happened to speak of him to the Captain, and he said: ‘Yes, sir, he’s a very good boy; I raised him, or rather, my father did; he comes of a good stock; plenty of sense and know their places. When I came on the road they gave me a mulatto fellow whom I couldn’t stand, one of these young, new, “free-issue” some call them, sir, I believe; I couldn’t stand him, I got rid of him.’ I asked him what was the trouble. ‘Oh! no trouble at all, sir; he just didn’t know his place, and I taught him. He could read and write a little--a negro is very apt to think, sir, that if he can write he is educated--he could write, and thought he was educated; he chewed a toothpick and thought he was a gentleman. I soon taught him better. He was impertinent, and I put him off the train. After that I told them that I must have my own servant if I was to remain with them, and I got Nick. He is an excellent boy (he was about fifty-five). The black is a capital servant, sir, when he has sense, far better than the mulatto.’ “I became very intimate with the old fellow. You could not help it. He had a way about him that drew you out. I told him I was going to New Orleans to pay a visit to friends there. He said, ‘Got a sweetheart there?’ I was rather taken aback; but I told him, ‘Yes.’ He said he knew it as soon as I spoke to him on the platform. He asked me who she was, and I told him her name. He said to me, ‘Ah! you lucky dog.’ I told him I did not know that I was not most unlucky, for I had no reason to think she was going to marry me. He said, ‘You tell her I say you’ll be all right.’ I felt better, especially when the old chap said, ‘I’ll tell her so myself.’ He knew her. She always travelled with him when she came North, he said.