FOLKS FROM DIXIE
"I reckon you would n't think that my folks ever owned slaves; but they did. Everybody was good to them except me, and I was young and liked to show my authority. I had a little black boy that I used to cuff around a good deal, altho' he was near to me as a brother. But sometimes he would turn on me and give me the trouncing that I deserved. He would have been skinned for it if my father had found it out; but I was always too much ashamed of being thrashed to tell."
The speaker laughed, and Nelse joined him. "Bless my soul!" he said, "ef that ain't jes' the way it was with me an' my Mas' Tom—"
"Mas' Tom!" cried the stranger; "man, what's your name?"
"Nelse Hatton," replied the Negro.
"Heavens, Nelse! I'm your young Mas' Tom. I'm Tom Hatton; don't you know me, boy!"
"You can't be you can't be!" exclaimed the Negro.
"I am, I tell you. Don't you remember the scar I got on my head from falling off old Baldy's back? Here it is. Can't you see?" cried the stranger, lifting the long hair away
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