_Scud._ Hold on, now! I'm going to straighten this account clear out. What was this here Scudder? Well, he lived in New York by sittin' with his heels up in front of French's Hotel, and inventin'-- _George._ Inventing what? _Scud._ Improvements--anything, from a stay-lace to a fire-engine. Well, he cut that for the photographing line. He and his apparatus arrived here, took the judge's likeness and his fancy, who made him overseer right off. Well, sir, what does this Scudder do but introduces his inventions and improvements on this estate. His new cotton gins broke down, the steam sugar-mills burst up, until he finished off with his folly what Mr. M'Closky with his knavery began. _Mrs. P._ O, Salem! how can you say so? Haven't you worked like a horse? _Scud._ No, ma'am, I worked like an ass--an honest one, and that's all. Now, Mr. George, between the two overseers, you and that good old lady have come to the ground; that is the state of things, just as near as I can fix it. [Zoe _sings without,_ L.] _George._ 'Tis Zoe. _Scud._ O, I have not spoiled that anyhow. I can't introduce any darned improvement there. Ain't that a cure for old age; it kinder lifts the heart up, don't it? _Mrs. P._ Poor child! what will become of her when I am gone? If you haven't spoiled her, I fear I have. She has had the education of a lady. _George._ I have remarked that she is treated by the neighbors with a kind of familiar condescension that annoyed me. _Scud._ Don't you know that she is the natural daughter of the judge, your uncle, and that old lady thar just adored anything her husband cared for; and this girl, that another woman would a hated, she loves as if she'd been her own child. _George._ Aunt, I am prouder and happier to be your nephew and heir to the ruins of Terrebonne, than I would have been to have had half Louisiana without you. _Enter_ Zoe, _from house,_ L. _Zoe._ Am I late? Ah! Mr. Scudder, good morning. _Scud._ Thank'ye. I'm from fair to middlin', like a bamboo cane, much the same all the year round. _Zoe._ No; like a sugar cane; so dry outside, one would never think there was so much sweetness within. _Scud._ Look here; I can't stand that gal! if I stop here, I shall hug her right off. [_Sees_ Pete, _who has set his pail down_ L. C. _up stage, and goes to sleep on it_.] If that old nigger ain't asleep, I'm blamed. Hillo! [_Kicks pail from under_ Pete, _and lets him down._] [_Exit,_ L. U. E. _Pete._ Hi! Debbel's in de pail! Whar's breakfass? _Enter_ Solon _and_ Dido _with coffee-pot, dishes, &c.,_ R. U. E. _Dido._ Bless'ee, Missey Zoe, here it be. Dere's a dish of pen-pans--jess taste, Mas'r George--and here's fried bananas; smell 'em, do, sa glosh.