in' and 'pression ob de pore cullud race;' den HE say
to me, just so plain as I say it to you, 'Keep up good courage, Scipio,
de time will come;'[C] and now, bless de LORD, de time am coming!"

"_What_ time is coming, Scipio?"

He gave me a quick, suspicious glance, but his face in a moment resumed
its usual expression, as he replied: "I'se sure, massa, dat I could
trust you. I feel you am my friend, but I can't say no more."

"You need not, Scip--I can guess. What you have said is safe with me.
But let me counsel you--wait for the white man. Do not let your freedom
come in blood!"

"It will come, massa, as de LORD will. When HE war freed _de earth
shook, and de vail ob de temple war rent in twain_!"

We said no more, but rode on in silence; the darky absorbed in his own
reflections, I musing over the black volcano, whose muffled echoes I
then heard "away down South in Dixie."

We had ridden on for about an hour, when an opening in the trees
disclosed a by-path, leading to a plantation. Following it for a short
distance, we came upon a small clearing, in the midst of which, flanked
by a ragged corn and potato patch, squatted a dilapidated, unpainted
wooden building, a sort of "half-way house" between a hut and a shanty.
In its door-way, seated on a chair which wanted one leg and a back, was
a suit of linsey-woolsey, adorned by enormous metal buttons, and
surmounted by a queer-looking headpiece that might have passed for
either a hat or an umbrella. I was at a loss to determine whether the
object were a human being or a scarecrow, when, at the sound of our
approach, the umbrella-like article lifted, and a pair of sunken eyes, a
nose, and an enormous beard, disclosed themselves. Addressing myself to
the singular figure, I inquired how far we were from our destination,
and the most direct route to it.

"Wal, stranger," was the reply, "it's a right smart twenty mile to the
Cunnel's, but I reckon ye'll get thar, if ye follow yer critter's nose,
and ar good at swimming."

"Why good at swimming?" I inquired.

"'Cause the 'runs' have ris, and ar considerable deep by this time."

"That's comforting news."

"Yas, to a man as seems in a hurry," he replied, looking at my horse,
which was covered with foam.

"How far is it to the nearest run?" I asked.

"Wal, it mought be six mile; it mought be seven, but you've one or two
all-fired ones to cross arter that."

Here was a pleasant predicament. It was nearly five o'cl