Bushrod. De Bushrods is de fambly what I cum fum
myse'f, kaze w'en ole Miss marry Marster, my mammy fell ter her, en
w'en I got big 'nuff, dey tuck me in de house fer ter wait on de table
en do er'n's, en dar I bin twel freedom come out. She 'uz mighty
high-strung, ole Miss wuz, yit I sees folks dese days put on mo' a'rs dan
w'at ole Miss ever is. I ain't 'sputin' but w'at she hilt 'er head
high, en I year my mammy say dat all the Bushrods in Ferginny done
zactly dat a way.

"High-strung yer, headstrong yander," continued Mingo, closing one eye,
and gazing at the sun with a confidential air. "Ef it hadn't er bin fer
de high-strungity-head-strongityness er de Bushrod blood, Miss Deely
wouldn't 'a never runn'd off wid Clay Bivins in de roun' worril, dough
he 'uz des one er de nicest w'ite mens w'at you 'mos' ever laid yo'
eyes on. Soon ez she done dat, wud went 'roun' fum de big house dat de
nigger w'at call Miss Deely name on dat plantation would be clap on de
cote-house block, en ole Miss she shot 'erse'f up, she did, en arter
dat mighty few folks got a glimpse un 'er, 'ceppin' hit 'uz some er de
kin, en bless yo' soul, _dey_ hatter look mighty prim w'en dey come
whar she wuz. Ole Marster he ain't say nothin', but he tuck a fresh
grip on de jimmy-john, en it got so dat, go whar you would, dey want no
mo' lonesomer place on de face er de yeth dan dat Wornum plantation, en
hit look like ruination done sot in. En den, on top er dat, yer come de
war, en Clay Bivins he went off en got kilt, en den freedom come out,
en des 'bout dat time Miss Deely she tuck 'n' die.

"I 'clar' ter gracious," exclaimed Mingo, closing his eyes and frowning
heavily, "w'en I looks back over my shoulder at dem times, hit seem
like it mighty funny dat any un us pull thoo. Some did en some didn't,
en dem w'at did, dey look like deyer mighty fergitful. W'en de smash
come, ole Marster he call us niggers up, he did, en 'low dat we 'uz all
free. Some er de boys 'low dat dey wuz a-gwineter see ef dey wuz free
sho 'nuff, en wid dat dey put out fer town, en some say ef dey wuz free
dey wuz free ter stay. Some talk one way en some talk 'n'er. I let you
know I kep' my mouf shot, yit my min' 'uz brimful er trouble.

"Bimeby soon one mornin' I make a break. I wrop up my little han'ful er
duds in a hankcher, en I tie de hankcher on my walkin'-cane, en I put
out arter de army. I walk en I walk, en 'bout nine dat night I come ter
Ingram Ferry. De flat wuz on t