An odd incident, coming to mind just here, will point the general estimate of the importance of the Tredegar Works. A special train was crossing the bridge, en route for Petersburg, at a time when transportation was rare. A huge negro, blacker than the soot upon his face, sat placidly on the platform of the rear car.
"What are you doing here?" was asked by the officer in charge.
"Rid'n' t' Petesbug," was the placid reply.
"Have you paid your fare?"
"Don' got nun t' pay, boss. Rides onner pass, I does!"
"Work for the government?"—this rather impatiently.
Ebo rolled his eyes, with expression of deep disgust, as he responded, grandly:
"No—sah! Fur t'uther consarn!"
CHAPTER XII.