“So shut your mouf as close as deafh,
And all you niggas hole your breafh,
And make de banjo chime.”
However, there was in this company, a man some forty years old, who, like a large number of the slaves, had been separated in early life from his relatives, and was now following in the wake of the Union army, hoping to meet some of those dear ones.
This was Mark Myers. At the age of twenty he fled from Winchester, Va., and although pursued by bloodhounds, succeeded in making good his escape. The pursuers returned and reported that Mark had been killed. This story was believed by all.
Now the war had opened the way, Mark had come from Michigan, as a servant for one of the officers; Mark followed the army to Harper’s Ferry, and then went up to Winchester. Twenty years had caused a vast change, and although born and brought up there, he found but few that could tell him anything about the old inhabitants.
“Go to an ole cabin at de edge of de town, an’ darh you’ll find ole Unkel Bob Smart, an’ he know ebbrybody, man an boy, dat’s lived here for forty years,” said an old woman of whom he inquired. With haste Mark proceeded to the “ole cabin,” and there he found “Unkel Bob.”
“Yer say yer name is Mark Myers, an’ yer mamma’s name is Nancy,” responded the old man to the inquiries put to him by Mark.
“Yes,” was the reply.
“Well, sonney,” continued Uncle Bob, “de Myers niggers was all sold to de traders ’bout de beginnin’ ov de war, septin some ov de ole ones dat dey couldn’t sell, an’ I specks yer mamma is one ov dem dat de traders didn’t want. Now, sonney, yer go over to de Redman place, an’ it ’pers to me dat de oman yer’s lookin’ fer is over darh.”
Thanking Uncle Bob, Mark started for the farm designated by the old man. Arriving there, he was told that “Aunt Nancy lived over yarnder on de wess road.” Proceeding to the low log hut, he entered, and found the woman.
“Is this Aunt Nancy Myers?”