"I would like to know what title we shall have to our lands, or to the improvements we shall make?" was the plain question of a tall black man.

"You will have the faith and honor of the United States," was the reply.

Rev. Mr. French informed them that the government could not give them deeds of the land, but that General Sherman had issued the order, and without doubt President Lincoln would see it was carried out. "Can't you trust the President who gave you your freedom?" he asked.

A stout man, with a yellow complexion, rose in the centre of the house: "I have a house here in the city. I can get a good living here, and I don't want to go to the islands unless I can be assured of a title to the land; and I think that is the feeling of four fifths present."

"That's so!" "Yes, brother!" was responded. There was evidently a reluctance to becoming pioneers in such an enterprise,—to leaving the city unless the guaranty were sure.

Another man rose. "My bredren, I want to raise cotton, and I'm gwine."

It was a short but effective speech. With keen, sharp intellect, he had comprehended the great commercial question of the day. He knew that it would pay to raise cotton on lands which had been held at fabulous prices when the staple was worth but ten or fifteen cents. He was going to improve the opportunity to raise cotton, even if he did not become a holder of the estate.

"I'm gwine ye, brudder!" "So will I!" and there was a general shaking of hands as if that were sealing a contract. Having determined to go, they joined in singing "The Freedmen's Battle-Hymn," sung as a solo and repeated in chorus:—

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FREEDMEN'S BATTLE-HYMN.