"Nuffin, massa; I war only tinkin'," he abstractedly replied.
"And what are you thinking about?"
"I's wond'rin', massa, if de Lord mean de darkies in dose words of HIS dat Massa B—— read dis mornin'."
"What words do you mean?
"Dese, massa: 'O dou 'fflicted! tossed wid de tempest, and habin no comfort, behold, I will make you hous'n ob de fair colors, and lay dar foundations wid safomires. All dy chil'ren shill be taught ob de Lord, and great shill be dar peace. In de right shill dey be 'stablished; dey shill hab no fear, no terror; it shan't come nigh 'em, and who come against dem shill fall. Behold! I hab make de blacksmif dat blow de coals, and make de weapons; and I hab make de waster dat shill destroy de oppressors.'"
If he had repeated one of Webster's orations I could not have been more astonished. I did not remember the exact words of the passage, but I knew he had caught its spirit. Was this his recollection of the reading heard in the morning? or had he previously committed it to memory? These questions I asked myself; but, restraining my curiosity, I answered: "Undoubtedly they are meant for both the black and the white."
"Do dey mean, massa, dat we shall be like de wite folks—wid our own hous'n, our chil'ren taught in de schools, and wid weapons to strike back when dey strike us?"
"No, Scipio, they don't mean that. They refer principally to spiritual matters. They were a promise to all the world that when the Saviour came, all, even the greatly oppressed and afflicted, should hear the great truths of the Bible about God, Redemption, and the Future."
"But de Saviour hab come, massa; and dose tings an't taught to de black chil'ren. We hab no peace, no rights; nuffin but fear, 'pression, and terror."
"That is true, Scipio. The Lord takes His own time, but His time will surely come."