"And I am so comfo'table here. I had a po'ter-house steak this
mornin'--you're sure you won't have one?" I shook my head. "A po'ter-house
steak, suh, that'll haunt my memory for days. We, of co'se, have at home
every variety of fish, plenty of soft-shell crabs, and 'casionally a
canvasback, when Hardy or some of my friends are lucky enough to hit one,
but no meat that is wo'th the cookin'. By the bye, I've come to take Jack
home with me; the early strawberries are in their prime, now. You will
join us, of course?"

Before I could reply, Jefferson entered the room, laid a tray of cigars
and cigarettes with a small silver alcohol lamp at my elbow, and, with a
certain inquiring and, I thought, slightly surprised glance at the major's
sprawling attitude, noiselessly withdrew. The major must have caught the
expression on Jefferson's face, for he dropped his telescope leg, and
straightened up his back, with the sudden awkward movement of a similarly
placed lounger surprised by a lady in a hotel parlor. The episode seemed
to knock the enthusiasm out of him, for after a moment he exclaimed in
rather a subdued tone:--

"Rather remarkable nigger, this servant of Jack's. I s'pose it is the
influence of yo' New York ways, but I am not accustomed to his kind."

I began to defend Jefferson, but he raised both hands in protest.

"Yes, I know--education and thirty dollars a month. All very fine, but
give me the old house-servants of the South--the old Anthonys, and
Keziahs, and Rachels. They never went about rigged up like a stick of
black sealing-wax in a suit of black co't-plaster. They were easy-goin'
and comfortable. Yo' interest was their interest; they bore yo' name,