“You niggers, livin’ heah on dis heah little truck-patch, ain’ got no notion o’ Mount Vernon,” said Billy, loftily, one night, to an audience of the house-servants in the “charmber.” “De house is as big as de co’t-house in Fredericksburg, an’ when me an’ Marse George gits it we gwi’ buil’ a gre’t piece to it. An’ de hosses--Lord, dem hosses! You ain’ never see so many hosses sence you been born. An’ de coaches--y’all thinks de Earl o’ F’yarfax got a mighty fine coach--well, de ve’y oldes’ an’ po’es’ coach at Mount Vernon is a heap finer ’n dat ar one o’ Marse F’yarfax. An’ when me an’ Marse George gits Mount Vernon, arter Marse Laurence done daid, we all is gwine ter have a coach, lined wid white satin, same like the Earl o’ F’yarfax’s bes’ weskit, an’ de harness o’ red morocky, an’ solid gol’ tires to de wheels. You heah me, niggers? And Marse George, he say--”