“You did, Jule? How did you do it? Weren’t you frightened?”
“Well, honey, de good Lord just done helped me.”
“The Lord helped you? How?”
“Ah, chile, de Lord just as powerful now as when He showed de chillen of Isr’el de way to de promus land!”
“Of course,” I replied; “but He doesn’t interpose in the affairs of men as He did then. We have no pillars of fire, and no parting of the sea.”
“‘Deed, miss, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout your ’posing, and we didn’t have no pillow of fire; but de Lord done helped me hisself.”
“Well, tell me all about it, please.”
“You see, miss, we lived just outside dis yere city. One night somehow de cullud people hearn tell that Pres’dent Linkum was gwine to set all de niggahs in de District free, and ole mars was gwine to run us all down South to git clar ob de proclamashun. David, de dining-room boy, was a likely fellar; he had been about with young mars, and could read and write; so he heard de talk, and made up his mind to run away to Washington dat very night. Any one who wanted to could go ’long. Well, most of ’em was ready to go, my mammy among ’em. She said I could go too: but we didn’t know how I was to git away; fur, you see, miss, I was nurse to young mars’ chillen, and slept with dem in a room that you couldn’t git out’en ’thout gwine through his and Mis’ Virginny’s room. De do’ that went out into the hall was right at de head of their bed, and creaked mighty loud. I asked mammy what I should do, and she said, ‘Trus’ de Lord.’
“Well, we niggers went to bed same as ever, and de house was shut up. I didn’t go to sleep, but tried to trus’ de Lord. De chillen was sleeping sound, and so was young mars and Mis’ Virginny, when I heard a little tap on de winder, and knew it was de signal. I got on my knees in de bed, and I prayed hard, and I prayed strong. Then I took my shoes in my hand, and crep’ frou de do’ into young mars’ room, and round to de hall-do’, and put my hand on de knob. ’Deed, miss, but my heart was a-beatin’; for, if de do’ should creak, we were lost. ‘Good Lord, don’t let it creak,’ I whispered, and turned de knob. Bress yo’ heart, honey! that do’ opened jest as soft as a white baby’s bref,—that do’ that had always screeched like a nigger when he’s hurt. I stepped into de hall, shet de do’ behind me, went down stairs, an’ out by de smoke-house, an’ dare they all were; but, if de good Lord hadn’t helped me, I shouldn’t have been among ’em. Bress de Lord! Hallelujah!”