But, a week later, Derrick returned to Concord, ragged and bruised. His clothes had been rent in many places and his head badly wounded. He hobbled up town and called on Dr. Smith, to whom he told the story of his visit to Washington, and recited the fearful tale of woe that follows:
“Marster, I ’clare ’fo’ Gawd dat I’ll never leave home ergin while I live. Dere’s mo’ good foks in Concord dan anywhere else. I’ll die right here. Dem Washington foks is de meanes’ people dat I ever seed. De niggers is bigity an’ de white men don’t pay no ’tention to you, an’ dat’s one place de poleesmens don’t take no draggin’ fer dey’ll knock you down fer lookin’ mad. I sho’ did think that judgment day had come when I got dere.
“De trip up dere on de train wuz fust-class. I seed lots uv fine people on de way. But no sooner dan I lit on de groun’ at Washington my trouble started.
“I followed de yudder travelers f’um de train out to de street, where I met a big buck nigger, wearin’ uv a beaver. I know’d dat he was fixin’ to go to de festerbul. He had on er Jim-swinger coat an’ high-top boots. I step up to him an’ say: ‘Is dis de day fer de President’s big blow-out to de niggers an’ de big white foks?’ De rascal look me up an’ down an’ all over an’ ax: ‘What is you talkin’ ’bout, ole Rube? What do you know ’bout de President’s functions?’ I stop right dere fer I seed de kinder nigger I wuz talkin’ to. He was too highferlutin’ fer me, talkin’ ’bout functions; when er nigger quits sayin’ festerbul it’s time to let him erlone. I axed him de way to de Big House an’ he sed, ‘Go to de yavenue an’ up.’ I say, ‘What’s dat?’ He answer, ‘It’s de bigges’ street in de town.’
“I move on till I meet er pleasant lookin’ white gem’man who say dat he’s frum Alabam. I knowed dat he wuz uv de bes’ stock in de country, fer he had on good clothes an’ er big wide brim hat, one la’k ole master useter wear. I pull off my hat an’ say, ‘Boss, does you live here?’ ‘No,’ he say, ‘why?’
“I seed dat he wuz all right, so I pop er few questions to him. ‘Boss, is dis de day uv de festerbul at de Big House fer de culled peoples an’ yudders?’ Well, sir, he smile way down to his Adam’s apple, des la’k de question do him good, and say, ‘Is you thinkin’ ’bout ’tendin’ one uv de White House to-do’s?’
“‘Yes, sir, dat’s what I come up here fer; I lives in Concord, North Caroliny, wid Marse Jim Cannon, Marse John Wadsworth an’ de rest. I sho’ do wish dat you’d hep me git in. I’se des as good as dem yaller niggers dat’s been ’vited.’
“He des chuckle when I tol’ him ’bout my bizness up dere. He reach in his pocket an’ fetch out a ticket wid his name on it an’ when he write, ‘Let dis nigger in de White House to de festerbul,’ he handed it to me an’ say, ‘Dat’ll git you in.’
“‘But, uncle,’ he say, ‘dey don’t call de to-do’s festerbuls, la’k dey do down Souf, but dey is functions an’ ceptions.’