Dese wristbands is made out o' cotton, and I b'lieves in my soul Aunt Peggy done dis stitchin widout any spectacles." Phillis knocked the ashes out of her pipe, and puffed on.
"Look here, Phillis," said Bacchus, going to the door as fast as the uncertain condition of his pantaloons would allow him, "did you 'spose I was sich a fool as to wear dis to meetin to-day ?" "Yes, I did," said Phillis.
"Why, t'aint fit for a nigger to hoe corn in, its as big as a hay-stack." "Have you tried it on ?" asked Phillis.
"T'aint no use," said Bacchus, "I can tell by de looks." "I'm sorry you don't like it," said Phillis.
"Like it," said Bacchus, contemptuously, "why, if it twasn't for the trouble of going to my chist, I'd wear one of my old ones.

Cuss de ruffles, I wish you'd cut 'em off." Bacchus went in, and in due time made his appearance in full dress.

He wore the blue coat and buff vest, and a pair of white pantaloons, made after the old style.

His shoes were as bright as his eyes, and his hat dusted until it only wanted an entire new nap to make it as good as new.

His hair was combed in a sort of mound in front, and the _tout ensemble_ was astounding.
He passed Phillis in a dignified way, as if she were a valuable cat that he would not like to tread upon.
Phillis looked after him with a most determined expression of face.