“'Yes, sir.'
“'Have they no relatives living?'
“'Their uncle lives in Kentucky. I shall try to carry them there.'
“'But you will find it hard work. You have only to cross the river, and in our lines you will be no longer a slave.'
“'I know it, sir. Three of my children have got their freedom, thank God, in that way. But I can't leave these children.'
“I looked down at them. They were beautiful children. The youngest was a girl, with small features, dark hair, and black eyes. The boy, of six, was pale and composed, and uttered no murmur. Both clung confidently to the old negro.
“I could not help admiring the old man, who could resist the prospect of freedom, though he had coveted it all his life, in order to remain loyal to his trust. I felt desirous of drawing him out on the subject of the war.
“'What do you think of this war?' I asked.
“He lifted up his hand, and in a tone of solemnity, said, 'I think it is the cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night, that's going to draw us out of our bondage into the Promised Land.'
“I was struck by his answer.