'I'se got de stuff dat'll fix de rumatics, massa.'
'Thank you, Jim; a glass will do me good. Where did you get it?' I
asked, thinking it strange the Colonel should leave his brandy-bottle
within reach of the darkies, who have an universal weakness for spirits.
'Oh, I keeps de keys; de Cunnel hisself hab to come to me wen he want
suffin' to warm hisself.'
It was the fact; Jim had exclusive charge of the wine-cellar; in short,
was butler, barber, porter, footman, and body-servant, all combined.
'Now, massa, you lay right whar you is, and I'll make you ober new in
less dan no time.'
And he did; but I emptied the brandy-bottle. Lest my temperance friends
should be horror-stricken, I will mention, however, that I took the
fluid by external absorption. For all rheumatic sufferers, I would
prescribe, hot brandy in plentiful doses, a coarse towel, and an active
Southern darky, and if on the first application the patient is not
cured, the fault will not be the nigger's. Out of mercy to the
chivalry, I hope our government, in saving the Union, will not
annihilate the order of body-servants. They are the only perfect
institution in the Southern country, and, so far as I have seen, about
the only one worth saving.
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