One very hot, sultry day in August, Isaac and his young master Ben went on a fishing trip about twenty miles from Raleigh. After they had traveled several miles conversing pleasantly, as the manner was in those days between master and servant, silence reigned for a few minutes, during which time Isaac was closely observing his surroundings; he soon spied a woodpecker tapping on the bark of a seasoned oak tree. Umph! says Isaac, “dat woodpecker must have a strong constitution to peck a hole in dat tree.” He shot at a bird one day and missed him, the bird alighted in a tree nearby, and began to pick himself. “Look at dat rascal,” said Isaac, “pickin' my shots out of his back.”

One night he was aroused front his slumbers by dreams of burglars. He took his old army musket (True Blue he called it), went out in the yard and shot at what he thought was a man; when he re-entered the house his son said, “Father, did you kill him?” No, siree, but God knows I filled dat ole beegum full of shot.”

One day Isaac went rabbit hunting. He shot at a rabbit, and was asked if he killed him. “No, said he, “de powder got between de rabbit an' de shots; de shots passed by him, but he smelt de powder an' de smoke, an' you ought to heerd him snort!”

One day “Mars Ben”, walking down the street, met Isaac looking very anxious. “What's the matter, old man?” “Dat steer you bought fur me is mired in Mr. Gatling's mill pond an' I can't git him out.” “Who have you to help you?” “Well, little John Gatling is dar an' Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor ain't workin' any, he jes' doin' de plannin'. We bin tryin' to undermine him, but t'aint no use, for he jis gits deeper and deeper.”

Later on the steer was extricated. Marse Ben, meeting Isaac, said, “Well, old man, I hear you got your steer out of the pond; what did he do when he got out, was he much exhausted?” “No, siree; de doggoned old rascal jest went to eatin' grass like dere was nothin' de matter wid him. Marse Ben, don't yon ever buy me ernuther pop-eyed steer, a pop-eyed steer is ungodly. Don't put a bit in all ox's mouth. De Bible speaks bitterly agin it.”

“Marse Ben, I heerd Miss Lucy was gwine to git married agin'; is dat so?” “Yes, Isaac, she is to marry Mr. Baldy Capehart, and I hope she will be happy, for she is very lonely now.” “Bless my soul! I clare to gracious it's a mortification to seriousness!”

Sukey, after the Civil War was over, lived near Oakwood Cemetery. Soon after the erection of a monument to my father, which was surmounted by a bust under a canopy, I came to Raleigh on a visit. As usual, she came to see me, and as she lived near and I had not yet seen the bust, I asked her if she thought it resembled my father. She replied, “It's mity like marster, all but one thing; it ain't got no arms. Marster was such a busy man, always at work, it ought to have arms put to it.” “I hope you are getting on well, Aunt Sukey.” “Yes, ma'am, I git so full of de Spirit some times you could hear me holler over here (about one mile) if de win' was blowin' de right way. I spect if I eber gits to Heben, de Lord will say, “take Sukey out of dar, for she hollers too loud.”

One summer night about twelve o'clock my mother was awakened by Sukey (who had just returned from a revival) kneeling at her bedside, saying, “Mistis, Mistis, pray for me,—Judy Freeman has got religion and I can't git it.” My mother tried to soothe, and promised to pray for her. Later on she gave evidence of having “come through.” Not long afterward while in church she felt happy, and began to shout, saying, “Oh! I feel I can fly to heaven!” Some of the sisters said to her, “Aunt Sukey, do try,” and under the influence of excitement she really did jump out of the window, and of course fell to the ground; fortunately it was very low and she sustained no injury. One of her friends asked her why she failed to fly. She replied, “I dunno, honey, 'cept as how I didn't git de right flop”!