"I s'pose ye know ez haow they've set the niggers free."
"Yes," replied Perez, "I heard of that when I was away, but I didn't
know the reason why they'd set em free, till I got home."
"What dew ye callate 's the reason?"
"I see they've made slaves of the poor folks, and don't need the
niggers any more," replied Perez, as quietly as if he were making the
most casual remark.
But still the people stared at him and looked questioningly at each
other, so bereft of magnetic force is language, though it express our
inmost convictions, when we do not believe that the heart of the
speaker beats in sympathy with what he says.
"I don' quite git yer idee. Haow dew ye make out that air 'bout poor
folks bein slaves?" said Ezra Phelps dryly.
It was evident that any man who thought he was going to get at the
real feelings of these rustics without first gaining their confidence,
little understood the shrewd caution of the race.
"I make it out this way," replied Perez. "I find pretty much every
rich man has a gang of debtors working for him, working out their
debts. If they are idle, if they dispute with him, if they don't let
him do what he pleases with them and their families, he sends them to
jail with a word, and there they stay till he wants to let them out.
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