rite up, Miss--rite into dat
Masr's face an' eyes--'I'm neber gwine to hab no more chilun,' an' he
says to me, 'Matt, you got to do jes as I say,' an' I swear agin, an' he
cuss and swear, an' then, I got sich a floggin'--Miss, but I didn't
keer, an' I would never done as dat man sed, an' I 'spected to die, but
a New Orleans trader cum dat way, an' I was sold, and Mas'r Sumner said,
de las' thing, 'You'll get killed now, Matt.' 'All right, Mas'r,' I sed,
'de Lord is a waitin' an' He's a good fren, too,' an' off I went. Dar we
wur in a pen in New Orleans, waitin' fur we didn't know what, an' on
come a fever an' dat trader know he's got to die. Den, to make peace wid
de Lord at the las't jump he done giv us all freedom, an' money to git
us into dat great city ov New York; an' mine lasted me clean up to Misse
Hungerford's door (Aunt Phebe), an' las' night, when I see dat nice room
over thar an' that good fire, oh! my," and the old man buried his face
in his hands and wept like a child, then looking up, he said, "Ef I cud
only ahad my chilun in thar; 'pears de Lord Himself might ahelped me a
minnit sooner--but dey is gone, all done gone, an' 'taint no use."

"You may meet them again, Mr. Jones; I hope we shall know each other
there in that better country, and if we do you'll surely know and find
them."

"Oh! Miss, that's the bery thing, it takes a load right off yere, when I
think about it," and he laid his hand on his heart, "but I'd better be
shufflin' off home, an' I'll tell you a heap more sometime," and as he
went through the yard, I heard him singing "dat New Je-ru-sa-lem,"
prolonging the last word, as if it was too musical to lose.

I told it all to Clara, and she said:

"Oh! Emily, is he not one of God's children, and is it not true that all
have that within which points to better things? How could the soul of
this poor negro stay within his body if it were not for this hope that
covers his troubles, and, like a lantern-light, throws a gleam into the
path which lies before? I hope he will live now in comfort and die in
peace. He must have been sent to you. Next time let me listen to his
story." And she did, for the next evening we walked together over to his
home, and spent two hours pleasantly enough.

Clara could not rest until sure of just how he could get along there,
and finally made an arrangement with Aunt Peg to give him his meals when
he should be there. The voice of the old man--he looked more than sixt