“Hi dar, Marse Dan’l, you knows me! Lordy, I’se your boy Joe dat used ter ketch yo hoss down at the plantation!”
“Of course, Joe! Of course.”
“I know Marse Dan’l aint forget old Uncle Rube,” said an aged negro pushing his way to the front.
“That I haven’t Reuben! and how’s Aunt Julie Ann?
“She des tollable, Marse Dan’l. We’se bof un us had de plumbago. How is you all sence de wah?”
“Oh! first rate, Reuben. We manage somehow to get enough to eat and if we do that nowadays we can’t complain.”
“Dats de God’s truf, Marster sho! En now Marse Dan’l, we all wants you ter make us er speech en ’splain erbout dis freedom ter us. Dey’s so many dese yere Buroers en Leaguers round here tellin’ us niggers what’s er coming’, twell we des doan know nuttin’ fur sho.”
“Yassir dat’s hit! You tell us er speech Marse Dan’l!”
The white men crowded up nearer and joined in the cry. There was no escape. In a few moments the court house was filled with a crowd.
When he arose a cheer shook the building, and strange as it may seem to-day, it came with almost equal enthusiasm from white and black.