great
people? Who do you tink wus fought good 'nuff to stan' by de side ob de
blessed Saviour? It wus a brack man! It wus a brack man, who, down yere
had been ole, an' lame, an' blind, an' ob no account--so no account he
wouldn't sell fur nuffin'. He wus tellin' dem great folks ob de great
lub ob de Lord to him, an' dar tears rolled down as dey hard him. He
tole 'em how he use to lib in Car'lina--how he wus a slave; how he'd
'most nuffin' to eat; how he wus wucked in de swamp; how, 'fore de sun
rose, an' 'way inter de night, he use to stan' in de mud an' de water,
till his bones war sore, his heart wus weary, his soul wus faint. How
his massa flog him, 'cause he couldn't wuck no more, till de blood run
down his back, an' it wus a ridged like de ploughed groun'. How his wife
wus whipped to death afore his bery eyes; how his chil'ren--all 'cept
one--war sole 'way from him; how dat one 'bused him, an' flogged him,
an' tormented him, till he wus jess ready to die. How, when his hair wus
white, his body wus bent, his strength wus gone, an' he was ole, an'
lame, an' blind, his massa drove him 'way, and make him shirk fur
himseff. How he beg in de roads; how he sleep in de woods; in de cole
an' de rain, till a good gemman take him in, gib him a bed, tend to his
wants, an' pray ober him when he die. He tole 'em all dat; but he say
dat fru it all, he hab peace; fru it all, de Lord wus good to him; fru
it all, he felt His lub in his heart; fru it all, de blessed Redeemer
wus wid him; fru it all, he knowed dat mercy an' salvation am in de
heabens! An' DEY AM DAR! Dey took him 'way, 'way from de 'arth; 'way
from his suffrin's an' his sorrers down yere, to joy, an' peace, an'
rest up dar. Up dar, whar all great an' good men call him brudder--whar
de Lord Jehobah call him son, an' whar de blessed Saviour will leff him
stan' at his right hand, foreber and eber. An' he, my friends, wus a
BRACK MAN! An' who do you 'spose he wus? Who do you 'spose he wus?'

He paused for a moment as he repeated the question, and then, in a slow,
impressive manner, continued:

'It wus ole Cale--Cunnel Dawsey's Cale; an' dat good gemman dat take him
in and pray ober him when he die--wus _my_ master--yas, bless de Lord,
he wus MY master!'

As Joe uttered these last words, Preston bowed his head, his wife sobbed
aloud, and the black people gave out a low cry, as sad as the wail which
their own mourners breathe over the dead. Fixing his eyes on a tall,
sta