Mr.Slosson's corn whisky had already wrought a marked transformation in the case of Slosson himself.
His usually terse speech was becoming diffuse and irrelevant, while vacant laughter issued from his lips.

Yancy was apparently unaffected by the good cheer of which he had partaken, but Murrell's dark face was flushed.

The Scratch Hiller's ability to carry his liquor exceeded anything he had anticipated.
"You-all run along to bed, Nevvy," said Yancy, as Hannibal entered the room.

"I'll mighty soon follow you." Eph secured a tin candle-stick with a half-burnt candle in it and led the way into the passage back of the bar.
"Mas'r Slosson's jus' mo' than layin' back!" he said, as he closed the door after them.
"I reckon you-all will lay back, too, when you get growed up," retorted Hannibal.
"No, sir, I won't.

White folks won't let a nigger lay back.