Iola Leroy - Shadows Uplifted | Page 8

wanted to go back a free man. He war
orful weak when Marster brought him de free papers. He jis' ris up in
de bed, clutched dem in his han's, smiled, an' gasped out, 'I'se free at
las'; an' fell back on de pillar, an' he war gone. Oh, but he war spunky.
De oberseers, arter dey foun' out who he war, gin'rally gabe him a wide
birth. I specs his father war some ole Guinea king."
"Well, chillen," said Uncle Daniel, "we's kept up dis meeting long

enough. We'd better go home, and not all go one way, cause de
patrollers might git us all inter trouble, an' we must try to slip home by
hook or crook."
"An' when we meet again, Uncle Daniel can finish his story, an' be
ready to go with us," said Robert.
"I wish," said Tom Anderson, "he would go wid us, de wuss kind."

CHAPTER III.
UNCLE DANIEL'S STORY.
The Union had snapped asunder because it lacked the cohesion of
justice, and the Nation was destined to pass through the crucible of
disaster and defeat, till she was ready to clasp hands with the negro and
march abreast with him to freedom and victory.
The Union army was encamping a few miles from C----, in North
Carolina. Robert, being well posted on the condition of affairs, had
stealthily contrived to call a meeting in Uncle Daniel's cabin. Uncle
Daniel's wife had gone to bed as a sick sister, and they held a
prayer-meeting by her bedside. It was a little risky, but as Mr. Thurston
did not encourage the visits of the patrollers, and heartily detested
having them prying into his cabins, there was not much danger of
molestation.
"Well, Uncle Daniel, we want to hear your story, and see if you have
made up your mind to go with us," said Robert, after he had been
seated a few minutes in Uncle Daniel's cabin.
"No, chillen, I've no objection to finishin' my story, but I ain't made up
my mind to leave the place till Marse Robert gits back."
"You were telling us about Marse Robert's mother. How did you get
along after she died?"

"Arter she war gone, ole Marster's folks come to look arter things. But
eberything war lef' to Marse Robert, an' he wouldn't do widout me. Dat
chile war allers at my heels. I couldn't stir widout him, an' when he
missed me, he'd fret an' cry so I had ter stay wid him; an' wen he went
to school, I had ter carry him in de mornin' and bring him home in de
ebenin'. An' I learned him to hunt squirrels, an' rabbits, an' ketch fish,
an' set traps for birds. I beliebs he lob'd me better dan any ob his kin'.
An' he showed me how to read."
"Well," said Tom, "ef he lob'd you so much, why didn't he set you
free?"
"Marse Robert tole me, ef he died fust he war gwine ter leave me
free--dat I should neber sarve any one else."
"Oh, sho!" said Tom, "promises, like pie crusts, is made to be broken. I
don't trust none ob dem. I'se been yere dese fifteen years, an' I'se neber
foun' any troof in dem. An' I'se gwine wid dem North men soon's I gits
a chance. An' ef you knowed what's good fer you, you'd go, too."
"No, Tom; I can't go. When Marster Robert went to de front, he called
me to him an' said: 'Uncle Daniel,' an' he was drefful pale when he said
it, 'I are gwine to de war, an' I want yer to take keer of my wife an'
chillen, jis' like yer used to take keer of me wen yer called me your
little boy.' Well, dat jis' got to me, an' I couldn't help cryin', to save my
life."
"I specs," said Tom, "your tear bags must lie mighty close to your eyes.
I wouldn't cry ef dem Yankees would make ebery one ob dem go to de
front, an' stay dere foreber. Dey'd only be gittin' back what dey's been a
doin' to us."
"Marster Robert war nebber bad to me. An' I beliebs in stannin' by dem
dat stans by you. Arter Miss Anna died, I had great 'sponsibilities on
my shoulders; but I war orful lonesome, an' thought I'd like to git a wife.
But dere warn't a gal on de plantation, an' nowhere's roun', dat filled de
bill. So I jis' waited, an' 'tended to Marse Robert till he war ole 'nough
to go to college. Wen he went, he allers 'membered me in de letters he

used to write his grandma. Wen he war gone, I war lonesomer dan eber.
But, one day, I jis' seed de gal dat took de