ess yo' soul,
chile, hit done drap out 'mos' 'fo' I git ter 'Gusty, in de Nunited
State er Georgy. Time I struck de railroad I kin see de troops
a-troopin', en year de drums a-drummin'. De trains wuz des loaded down
wid um. Let 'lone de passenger kyars, dey wuz in de freight-boxes yit,
en dey wuz de sassiest white mens dat yever walk 'pon topside de groun'.
Mon, dey wuz a caution. Dey had niggers wid um, en de niggers wuz sassy,
en ef I hadn't a-frailed one un um out, I dunner w'at would er 'come un
me.

"Hit cert'n'y wuz a mighty long ways fum dese parts. I come down yer fum
Ferginny in a waggin w'en I wuz des 'bout big nuff fer ter hol' a plow
straight in de' furrer, but 'tain't look like ter me dat 'twuz sech a
fur ways. All day en all night long fer mighty nigh a week I year dem
kyar-wheels go clickity-clock, clickity-clock, en dem ingines go
choo-choo-choo, choo-choo-choo, en it look like we ain't never gwine git
dar. Yit, git dar we did, en 'tain't take me long fer ter fin' de place
whar my young marster is. I laid off ter fetch 'im home; well, ma'am,
w'en I look at 'im he skeer'd me. Yassum, you may b'lieve me er not
b'lieve me, but he skeer'd me. Stiddier de boy w'at I wuz a-huntin'
fer, dar he wuz, a great big grow'd-up man, en bless yo' soul, he wuz
a-trompin' roun' dar wid great big boots on, en, mon, dey had spurrers
on um.

"Ef I hadn't er year 'im laugh, I nev'd a-know'd 'im in de roun' worl'.
I say ter myse'f, s' I, I'll des wait en see ef he know who I is. But
shoo! my young marster know me time he lays eyes on me, en no sooner is
he see me dan he fetched a whoop en rushed at me. He 'low: 'Hello,
Daddy! whar de name er goodness you rise fum?' He allers call me Daddy
sence he been a baby. De minute he say dat, it come over me 'bout how
lonesome de folks wuz at home, en I des grabbed 'im, en 'low: 'Honey,
you better come go back wid Daddy.'

"He sorter hug me back, he did, en den he laugh, but I tell you dey
wa'n't no laugh in me, kaze I done see w'iles I gwine long w'at kinder
'sturbance de white folks wuz a-gettin' up, en I know'd dey wuz a-gwine
ter be trouble pile 'pon trouble. Yit dar he wuz a-laughin' en
a-projickin', en 'mongs' all dem yuther mens dey wa'n't none un um
good-lookin' like my young marster. I don't keer w'at kinder cloze he
put on, dey fit 'im, en I don't keer w'at crowd he git in, dey ain't
none un um look like 'im. En 'tain't on'y me say dat; I done year lots
er yuther folks say