"He des took he life in
he hand en come down in de lan' ob de shadder, de gret, dark shadder
dat's been restin' on de hearts ob de slabes. We had no fader, no
muder, no wife, no chile. Dey didn't 'long to we fer dey cud be sole
right out'n our arms en we see dem no mo'. De gret shadder ob slav'y
swallow dem up. Young mars'r face de bullit, face de so'ed, face de
curse ter say we free. May de Lawd be he shiel' en buckler, compass
'im roun' wid angel wings, stop de han' riz ter strike, tu'n away de
bullit aim at he heart. May de Lawd brung 'im gray hars at las lak
mine, so he see, en his chil'n see, en our chil'n see de 'liverance
he hep wrought out.
"En dar's young mistis. She hab a heart ter feel fer de po' slabe.
She al'ays look kin' at us, en she stood 'tween us en woun's en
death; w'en all was agin us en she in de watehs ob triberlation
hersef, she say 'fo' dem all, 'No harm come ter us.' She put her lil
w'ite arm roun' her ole mammy." ("Dat she did," cried Aun' Jinkey,
who was swaying back and forth where the fire lit up her wrinkled
visage, "en de gret red welt on her shol'er now.
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