"What pleases you, Aunty?" I asked.
"O massa! I's tickled to tink dat massa Dr. Porter, who said dat no Yankee eber would set his foot in dis yar city, had to cut for his life, and dat a Yankee slept in his bed last night! Bless de Lord for dat!"
The white women manifested their hatred to the bitter end.
"I'll set fire to my house before the Yankees shall have possession of the city!" was the exclamation of one excited lady, when it was whispered that the place was to be evacuated; but her Rebel friends saved her the trouble by applying the torch themselves.
The colored people looked upon the Yankees as their deliverers from bondage. They spoke of their coming as the advent of the Messiah. Passing along King Street, near the citadel, with my fellow-correspondent, we met an old negress with a basket on her arm, a broad-brimmed straw hat on her head, wearing a brown dress and roundabout. She saw that we were Yankees, and made a profound courtesy.
"How do you do, Aunty?"
"O bless de Lord, I's very well, tank you," grasping my hand, and dancing for joy. "I am sixty-nine years old, but I feel as if I wan't but sixteen." She broke into a chant—
"Ye's long been a-comin,
Ye's long been a-comin,
Ye's long been a-comin,
For to take de land
"And now ye's a-comin,
And now ye's a-comin,
And now ye's a-comin,
For to rule de land."
And then, clapping her hands, said, "Bless de Lord! Bless de dear Jesus!"