He's a raal ole peacock.

Dat's de way! 'Kase I'm ole and wuthless, no matter 'bout me; and dat ole nigger 'lowed to make a fool of hisself, dressin up drunk in a ruffled shirt.

No matter, I'll be dead and out of der way, fore long." Bacchus prayed with great effect this morning, calling himself and the whole congregation the most dreadful names, with the utmost satisfaction.
He made a short address too, warning the servants against sin in general, and a love of finery in particular.

On his return he beamed forth upon Phillis like one of her own "morning glories." The rest of the day he was brimful of jokes and religion.
The next Sunday came around.

Phillis smoked outside while Bacchus made his toilet.
"Phillis," said the old fellow, blandly, coming to the door, "I don't see my ruffled shirt out here." "High" said Phillis, "I laid your shirt with the rest; but I'll look.