betokened superior intelligence. His story was a strange one. When a boy, he was with his mother, kidnapped by a hostile tribe, and sold to the traders at Cape Lopez, on the western coast of Africa. There, in the slave-pen, the mother died, and he, a child of seven years, was sent in the slave-ship to Cuba. At Havana, when sixteen, he attracted the notice of a gentleman residing in Charleston, who bought him and took him to "the States." He lived as house-servant in the family of this gentleman till 1855, when his master died, leaving him a legacy to a daughter. This lady, a kind, indulgent mistress, had since allowed him to "hire his time," and he then carried on an "independent business," as porter, and doer of all work around the wharves and streets of Georgetown. He thus gained a comfortable living, besides paying to his mistress one hundred and fifty dollars yearly for the privilege of earning his own support. In every way he was a remarkable negro, and my three days' acquaintance with him banished from my mind all doubt as to the capacity of the black for freedom, and all question as to the disposition of the slave to strike off his chains when the favorable moment arrives. From him I learned that the blacks, though pretending ignorance, are fully acquainted with the questions at issue in the pending contest. He expressed the opinion, that war would come in consequence of the stand South Carolina had taken; and when I said to him: "But if it comes you will be no better off. It will end in a compromise, and leave you where you are." He answered: "No, massa, 't wont do dat. De Souf will fight hard, and de Norf will get de blood up, and come down har, and do 'way wid de cause ob all de trubble—and dat am de nigga."

"But," I said, "perhaps the South will drive the North back; as you say, they will fight hard."

"Dat dey will, massa, dey'm de fightin' sort, but dey can't whip de Norf, 'cause you see dey'll fight wid only one hand. When dey fight de Norf wid de right hand, dey'll hev to hold de nigga wid de leff."

"But," I replied, "the blacks wont rise; most of you have kind masters and fare well."

"Dat's true, massa, but dat an't freedom, and de black lub freedom as much as de white. De same blessed LORD made dem both, and HE made dem all 'like, 'cep de skin. De blacks hab strong hands, and when de day come you'll see dey hab heads, too!"

Much other conversation, showing him possessed of a high degree of intelligence, passed between us. In answer to my question if he had a family, he said: "No, sar. My blood shall neber be slaves! Ole massa flog me and threaten to kill me 'cause I wouldn't take to de wimmin; but I tole him to kill, dat 't would be more his loss dan mine."

I asked if the negroes generally felt as he did, and he told me that many did; that nearly all would fight for their freedom if they had the opportunity, though some preferred slavery because they were sure of being cared for when old and infirm, not considering that if their labor, while they were strong, made their masters rich, the same labor would afford them provision against old age. He told me that there are in the district of Georgetown twenty thousand blacks, and not more than two thousand whites, and "Suppose," he added, "dat one-quarter ob dese niggas rise—de rest keep still—whar den would de white folks be?"

"Of course," I replied, "they would be taken at a disadvantage; but it would not be long before aid came from Charleston, and you would be overpowered."

"No, massa, de chivarly, as you call dem, would be 'way in Virginny, and 'fore dey hard of it Massa Seward would hab troops 'nough in Georgetown to chaw up de hull state in less dan no time."

"But you have no leaders," I said, "no one to direct the movement. Your race is not a match for the white in generalship, and without generals, whatever your numbers, you would fare hardly."

To this he replied, an elevated enthusiasm lighting up his face, "De Lord, massa, made generals ob Gideon and David, and de brack man know as much 'bout war as dey did; p'raps," he added, with a quiet humor, "de brack aint equal to de white. I knows most ob de great men, like Washington and John and James and Paul, and dem ole fellers war white, but dar war Two Sand (Tousaint L'Overture), de Brack Douglass, and de Nigga Demus (Nicodemus), dey war brack."

The argument was unanswerable, and I said nothing. If the day which sees the rising of the Southern blacks comes to this generation, that negro will be among the leaders. He sang to me several of the songs current among the negroes of the district, and though of little poetic value, they interested me, as indicating the feelings of the slaves. The blacks are a musical race, and the readiness with which many of them improvise words and melody is wonderful; but I had met none who possessed the readiness of my new acquaintance. Several of the tunes he repeated several times, and each time with a new accompaniment of words. I will try to render the sentiment of a few of these songs into as good negro dialect as I am master of, but I cannot hope to repeat the precise words, or to convey the indescribable humor and pathos which my darky friend threw into them, and which made our long, solitary ride through those dreary pine-barrens pass rapidly and pleasantly away. The first referred to an old darky who was transplanted from the cotton-fields of "ole Virginny" to the rice-swamps of Carolina, and who did not like the change, but found consolation in the fact that rice is not grown on "the other side of Jordan."

"Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song,
It am about ole Massa, who use me bery wrong.
In de cole, frosty mornin', it an't so bery nice,
Wid de water to de middle to hoe among de rice;
When I neber hab forgotten
How I used to hoe de cotton,
How I used to hoe de cotton,
On de ole Virginny shore;
But I'll neber hoe de cotton,
Oh! neber hoe de cotton
Any more.

"If I feel de drefful hunger, he tink it am a vice,
And he gib me for my dinner a little broken rice,
A little broken rice and a bery little fat—
And he grumble like de debil if I eat too much of dat;
When I neber hab forgotten, etc.

"He tore me from my Dinah; I tought my heart would burst—
He made me lub anoder when my lub was wid de first,
He sole my picaninnies becase he got dar price,
And shut me in de marsh-field to hoe among de rice;
When I neber had forgotten, etc.

"And all de day I hoe dar, in all de heat and rain,
And as I hoe away dar, my heart go back again,
Back to de little cabin dat stood among de corn,
And to de ole plantation where she and I war born!
Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc.

"Den Dinah am beside me, de chil'ren on my knee,
And dough I am a slave dar, it 'pears to me I'm free,
Till I wake up from my dreaming, and wife and chil'ren gone,