me out."

"Well, you'se been cuttin' up some shine, an' dat's a fac'. Come in an'
stop you noise. You can sleep on de lounge. We don' want to pay ten
dollahs in de mawnin to get you out ob de caboose."

Uncle Sheba was glad to avail himself of this rather equivocal
hospitality, and eagerly sought to win Kern's sympathy by relating his
grievance. His son-in-law leaned against the chimney-side that he might,
in his half-dressed condition, enjoy the warmth of the coals covered with
ashes on the hearth, and listened. He was a tall, straight negro of
powerful build, and although his features were African, they were not
gross in character. The candle on the mantel near him brought out his
profile in fine silhouette, while his quiet steady eyes indicated a nature
not stirred by trifles.

"You'se a 'publican, Kern, an' you knows dat we culled people got ter take
keer ob ourselves."

"Yes, I'se a Republican," said Kern, "but wat dat got ter do wid dis
matter? Is Aun' Sheba gwine ter take any ob your money? Ef she set her
heart on helpin' her ole Missus an' young Missy an' arn de money herself,
whose business is it but hers? I'se a Republican because I belebe in
people bein' free, wedder dey is white or black, but I ain't one ob dem
kin' ob Republicans dat look on white folks as inemies. Wot we do widout
dem, an' wat dey do widout us? All talk ob one side agin de toder is fool
talk. Ef dere's any prosperity in dis lan' we got ter pull tergedder.
You'se free, Uncle Sheba, an' dere ain't a man in Charleston dat kin
hender you from goin' to work termorrow."