ut and he had
made up his mind on the answer. His uncle, who had been freed five years
before, had written him a glowing letter about Liberia.

He dreaded the subject.

"You know, of course, Sam," the Colonel began, "that your life is now in
your own hands and that I can only advise you as a friend."

"An' I sho's glad ter have ye he'p me, Marse Robert."

"I'm going to give you the best advice I can. I'm going to advise you to
do exactly what I would do if I were in your place."

"Yassah."

"If I were you, Sam, I wouldn't stay in this country. I'd go back to
the land of my black fathers, to its tropic suns and rich soil. You can
never be a full-grown man here. The North won't have you as such. The
hotel wouldn't let you sleep under its roof, in spite of my protest that
you were my body-servant. In the South the old shadow of your birth will
be with you. If you wish to lift up your head and be a man it can't be
here. No matter what comes in the future. If every black man, woman and
child were set free to-morrow, there are not enough negroes to live
alone. The white man will never make you his equal in the world he is
building. I've secured your passage to Liberia and I will pay for it
without touching the money which I gave you. What do you think of it?"

Sam scratched his head and looked away embarrassed. He spoke timidly at
first, but with growing assurance.

"I'se powerful 'fraid dat Liberia's a long way frum home, Marse Robert."

"It is. But if you wish to be a full-grown man, it's your chance to-day.
It will be the one chance of your people in the future as well. Can you
make up your mind to face the loneliness and build your home under
your own vine and fig tree? There you can look every man in the face,
conscious that you're as good as he is and that the world is yours."

"I'se feared I ain't got de spunk, Marse Robert."

"The gold in your pocket will build you a house on public lands. You
know how to farm. Africa has a great future. You've seen our life. We've
taught you to work, to laugh, to play, to worship God, to love your home
and your people. You're only twenty years old. I envy you the wealth of
youth. I've reached the hilltop of life. Your way is still upward for
a quarter of a century. It's the morning of life, boy, and a new world
calls you. Will you hear it and go?"

"I'se skeered, Marse Robert," Sam persisted, shaking his head gravely.

Lee saw the hopelessness of his task and changed hi