nce, with the North for the invader, and
Virginia will prove the battle-ground. I hold it very probable that
there are men here to-night who will die in battle. You women are going
to suffer--to suffer more than we. I think of my mother and of my wife,
and I know that you will neither hold us back nor murmur. All that is
courageous, all that is heroically devoted, Virginia expects and will
receive from you." He turned to face more fully the crowding negroes.
"To every man and woman of you here, not the less my friends that you
are called my servants, emancipated at my death, every one of you, by
that will which I read to you years ago, each of you having long known
that you have but to ask for your freedom in my lifetime to have it--to
you all I speak. Julius, Shirley, Isham, Scipio, Mammy, and the rest of
you, there are hard times coming! My son and I will go to war. Much will
be left in your trust. As I and mine have tried to deal by you, so do
you deal by us--"

Shirley raised his voice. "Don' leave nothin' in trus' ter me, marster!
Kase I's gwine wid you! Sho! Don' I know dat when gent'men fight dey
gwine want dey bes' shu't, an dey hat breshed jes' right! I'se gwine wid
you!" A face as dark as charcoal, with rolling eyes, looked over mammy's
shoulder. "Ain' Marse Edward gwine? 'Cose he gwine! Den Jeames gwine,
too!" A murmuring sound came from the band of servants. They began to
rock themselves, to strike with the tongue the roof of the mouth, to
work toward a camp-meeting excitement. Out on the porch Big Mimy, the
washerwoman, made herself heard. "Des' let um _dar_ ter come fightin'
Greenwood folk! Des' let me hab at um with er tub er hot water!" Scipio,
old and withered as a last year's reed, began to sway violently.
Suddenly he broke into a chant. "Ain' I done heard about hit er million
times? Dar wuz Gineral Lafayette an' dar wuz Gineral Rochambeau, an' dar
wuz Gineral Washington! An' dar wuz Light Horse Harry Lee, an' dar wuz
Marse Fauquier Cary dat wuz marster's gran'father, an' Marse Edward
Churchill! An' dey took de swords, an' dey made to stack de ahms, an'
dey druv--an' dey druv King Pharaoh into de sea! Ain' dey gwine ter do
hit ergain? Tell me dat! Ain' dey gwine ter do hit ergain?"

The master signed with his hand. "I trust you--one and all. I'll speak
to you again before I go away to-morrow, but now we'll say good-night.
Good-night, Mammy, Isham, Scipio, Easter, all of you!"

They went, one by one,