One of Phillis’s chiefest virtues was, that she had been able to bring Bacchus into subjection, with the exception of his love for an occasional spree.  Spoiled by an indulgent master, his conceit and wilfulness had made him unpopular with the servants, though his high tone of speaking, and a certain pretension in his manner and dress, was not without its effect.  He was a sort of patriarch among waiters and carriage-drivers; could tell anecdotes of dinners where Washington was a guest; and had been familiar with certain titled people from abroad, whose shoes he had had the honor of polishing.  The only person in whose presence he restrained his braggadocio style was Phillis.  Her utter contempt for nonsense was too evident.  Bacchus was the same size as his master, and often fell heir to his cast-off clothes.  A blue dress-coat and buff vest that he thus inherited, had a great effect upon him, bodily and spiritually.  Not only did he swagger more when arrayed in them, but his prayers and singing were doubly effective.  He secretly prided himself on a likeness to Mr. Weston, but this must have been from a confusion of mind into which he was thrown, by constantly associating himself with Mr. Weston’s coats and pantaloons.

He once said to Phillis, “You might know master was a born gentleman by de way his clothes fits.  Dey don’t hang about him, but dey ’pears as if dey had grow’d about him by degrees; and if you notice, dey fits me in de same way.  Pity I can’t wear his shoes, dey’s so soft, and dey don’t creak.  I hates boots and shoes all time creakin, its so like poor white folks when they get dressed up on Sunday.  I wonders often Miss Anna don’t send me none of master’s old ruffled shirts.  ’Spose she thinks a servant oughtn’t to wear ’em.  I was a wishin last Sunday, when I gin in my ’sperience in meetin, that I had one of master’s old ruffled shirts on.  I know I could a ’scoursed them niggers powerful.  Its a hard thing to wear a ruffled shirt.  Dey sticks out and pushes up to people’s chins—­I mean people dat aint born to wear ’em.  Master wears ’em as if he was born in ’em, and I could too.  I wish you’d put Miss Janet up to gittin one or two for me.  Miss Janet’s mighty ’bliging for an ole maid; ’pears as if she liked to see even cats happy.  When an ole maid don’t hate cats, there aint nothin to be feared from ’em.”

Phillis ruled her husband in most things, but she indulged him in all his whims that were innocent.  She determined he should have, not an old ruffled shirt, but a new one.  She reported the case to Miss Janet, who set two of her girls to work, and by Saturday night the shirt was made and done up, and plaited.  Bacchus was to be pleasantly surprised by it next morning appearing on the top of his chest.