“But what did you do after you got to the smoke-house?” I asked.
“Oh, I was de las’ one; so we started right off. It was snowing, and I couldn’t stop to put on my shoes; but I was a stout girl, gwine on fo’teen, and didn’t mind de cold, for I was gwine to be free.”
“Weren’t you pursued?”
“Oh, yes, miss! By and by we heard horses come pounding along. We were nigh de cross-roads where de woods was thick; so we crep’ under de branches of de fir-trees. Pretty soon young mars and de overseer come ’long, and stopped to wonder which road we had taken. They swore and cussed right smart for a while, and then took de aqueduct road to Georgetown. When they had been gone a little while, we crep’ out, and took de other road that led all ’round ’cross de creek to Washington. ’Bout morning we saw de Yankee tents, and at noon we was free, bress de Lord!”
“Well, Jule, I’m much obliged for your story,” I said, rising to go, for auntie was calling me.
“‘Deed, honey, you’s welcome. Always put yo’ trus’ in de Lord, chile, He’ll keep de do’ from creaking.’”
As I went up stairs, she began to sing in a high key and with great fervor,—
“I’ll lub my Jesus till I die,
Hallelujah!
He leaned from out de hebbenly sky,
Hallelujah!”
—Well-Spring.