The River's Children: An Idyl of the Mississippi

by Ruth McEnery Stuart

Israel spoke first.

"Hannah!" he said.

"What, Isrul?"

"I ready to go home to-night, Hannah. Marse Harol' done come. We done finished our 'sponsibility—an' de big river's a-flowin' on to de sea—an' settin' heah, I 'magines I kin see Mis' Aggie lookin' down on us, an' seem like she mought want to consult wid us arter our meetin' wid Marse Harol' an' we passin' Blossom along. What you say, Hannah?"

"I been tired, ole man, an' ef we could 'a' went las' night, like you say, seem like I 'd 'a' been ready—an', of co'se, I'm ready now, ef Gord wills. Peace is on my sperit. Yit an' still, when we rests off a little an' studies freedom free-handed, we won't want to hasten along maybe. Ef we was to set heah an' wait tell Gord calls us,—He ain't ap' to call us bofe together, an' dey'd be lonesome days for the last one. But ef we goes 'long wid Marse Harol', he an' Blossom'll be a heap o' comfort to de one what's left."

"Hannah!"

"Yas, Isrul."

"We's a-settin' to-night close to de brink—ain't dat so?"

"Yas, Isrul."

"An' de deep waters is in sight, eh, Hannah?"