Uncle Gabriel's Account of His Campaigns

FINDING that the autobiography, which I wrote out for Edmond Brook, has excited some interest among my friends, I sent for Gabriel Edwards, who is the very freedman to whom I paid a clock for planting our garden in turnips, and requested him to give me some account of his life, and of his campaigns in Virginia, with his two young masters, the Mosleys. Gabriel demurred for a time, maintaining that I had written down what Edmond Brook told me on his death-bed ; that I had in reality written it out so badly, that I had to get my father to write it over for me ; and yet. when it was liked, on account merely of the importance and excellence of Edmond Brook’s character, I had taken to myself all the credit of it.

Gabriel therefore insisted that, if he now furnished me an account of his life and services in the late war, he alone should have the credit of the narration.

My feelings were also much affected, when he alleged, as an additional reason for this demand, that a Western author had lately attempted to prove him and his fellows to be but beasts of the earth ; that even his friends at the North were not of opinion that any of his race could distinguish themselves by their literary ability ; and that therefore, feeling in himself consciousness of a talent for narrative, he must have the credit of his own efforts.

I therefore acknowledged my error with regard to Edmond Brook, and agreed to send forward this sketch, in the name of Gabriel Edwards, Violet merely correcting the language and transcribing, and confessing that she does that so poorly that it may probably have to be done over again.

I belonged to the estate of an heiress ; and one of the first circumstances which I can remember is seeing her mounted on a beautiful pony, and accompanying her father, who was my old master, round the cotton-fields. I was about twelve years old when I first saw my young mistress; for I was a field hand, and lived half a mile distant from my master’s house, in a village of cottages, which we had entirely to ourselves. Mother used to order me to keep out of the white people’s sight; she was afraid they would find out that I was big enough to pick cotton. As the overseer owned a plantation near, and was not much on the place, thinking himself a great gentleman as well as master, I was twelve years old before I was called upon to do any work. At that time master went looking over his book one morning, in which he had set down the name and age of every negro. He there discovered five of us, between ten and twelve years of age, who were not doing any work. He knew that it was a practice among our people, on large plantations, to keep children out of the masters’ sight as long as possible, as they grew up. So he did not trouble himself to scold, but only sent word to the overseer to put us five to picking cotton. About nine o’clock at night, the overseer, Mr. Williams, came along through the quarter. We would not one of us have been there had it been daytime. Every one was frightened when we saw him stop at our cabin-door. He called my father out and said, “ Where is Gabriel ? I wish to see him.” I came, and he looked at my height, make, and size. “ He will do very well,” he said ; “ bring him with you to the field in the morning.” “ Yes, sir,” said my father, and he rode on. We watched him stop at four other doors, and we knew very well what his errand was. Mammy began to grumble, but pa stopped her. “ Mimy,” he said, “ Gabe has had his meal and meat and his woollen cloth from master ever since he was born ; he has a right to call for him to work, and I have nothing to say against it.” Mammy stopped grumbling, and the next morning pa washed and dressed me clean, and carried me to the field with him. I was given a large open bag tied round my neck, and my task was to fill it with cotton.

About ten o’clock, master and Miss Flora came riding along. I stopped to stare ; I thought I never had seen such a pretty creature and such a pretty pony. Miss Flora had a little basket of ginger-cakes on her arm, and she rode up to me and gave me a handful ; the other children ran up to her too, and she gave all some. Thus I loved Miss Flora from the very first time I saw her.

After a while I used to finish my task early in the day, and go up to the great house, and linger about the kitchen. A great deal of company used to be always coming and going. Miss Flora was master’s only child. The whole plantation and all of us would some day go to her, and so the young gentlemen of the town were always gathering round her, like bees after a honeycomb; and Miss Flora liked the fun amazingly: she used to keep them dangling after her, half a dozen at a time. Particular the young doctors, how they used to come around ! There was one smart young fellow that could talk like a book. Miss Flora most run away with him once. I am sure she was engaged to him. Then there were two more that thought she liked them, and high fun it was to all of us as well as her. The way the silver quarters and halves used to fly round to them that held the horses was n’t slow, and one feller used to give me silver to know what Miss Flora said when he was gone. I always told him she liked him the best, for her maid said so ; and he always gave me a quarter for saying so.

After a while master bought a splendid new carriage for Miss Flora, on her birthday, and she chose me to go behind it. How we did use to flourish about. Miss Flora visited all the fashionable people in Edisto. She had a pair of horses that could travel ten miles an hour with ease. Miss Flora did not allow the driver to use a whip. They did nothing but take her about, and they had plenty to do at that.

Miss Flora had a fine time when she was a young lady, sure enough. We went to a great many balls and parties constantly, and Miss Flora was so pretty and so rich, that there was always two or three young gentlemen goin’ with her everywhere she went, and more waiting in the piazza to help her out.

But when I grew up myself, and fell in love, I did not think Miss Flora did altogether right by all these young men, for she encouraged every one of them.

One evening we were at a great ball. I was looking in the window, and I saw Miss Flora sitting on a sofa, talking to a young gentleman. No one was near them. Miss Flora had her eyes fixed on the floor, her cheeks were crimson. She looked both ashamed and vexed. At last I saw the tears running down her cheeks.

They rose up and came out on the piazza, not seeing me. “You have used your power ungenerously,” said Mr. Cole. “You allowed me to cut a curl of your hair ; you now wear my ring upon your finger. For a year my attachment has been declared you have given me every encouragement, and now you coolly tell me that you have changed your mind. No woman has a right thus to trifle with the affections of a man. Neither riches nor beauty can give you a right to be untrue. And therefore I have forced this interview. I tell you my mind : I would not now marry you, for you are untrue at heart.”

Miss Flora could not help weeping. I heard her sob ; but he left her, after speaking the last words.

I am sorry to say that this occurrence was reported all about the neighborhood. Several persons knew the circumstances, and had observed the tears which Miss Flora could not restrain.

After this, another gentleman, who had been coming to see Miss Flora for two years, came from Charleston to see her. Miss Flora gave orders that he should not be admitted ; for though she had been receiving letters from him, she had just sent one to tell him not to come and not to write to her. I told him at the door that Miss Flora could not see him ; but he knew the parlor well, and he stalked in. There was Miss Flora and her aunt (for I forgot to tell that she had an aunt living with her). He stood up there half an hour, and he gave them both a piece of his mind. I tell you ; and he blamed the aunt; but she said Miss Flora would not mind her. When I heard him talking so loud, and grumbling at them wonderful and powerful, I went to call master. Miss Flora ran away to her room, and master acknowledged that she was to blame. They talked and talked, and at last he went, and never came back.

This also was whispered about; but Miss Flora was not done with those slim gentlemen yet. A month after she was goin’ to run away with another, and master caught her and stopped her, though I helped her all I could.

At last there came to Edisto a gentleman from Georgia. He was tall and straight, and he had the blackest eyes ; he was really a handsome gentleman. His gentleman body servant told me afterwards that he had come to South Carolina expressly to look out for a rich wife.

Well, I cannot tell you how he got in so with master and Mrs. Gilbert (Miss Flora’s aunt) ; but they thought there was nobody like him, from the first time he came into the house, and I think myself they over-persuaded Miss Flora to take him, and Miss Flora was getting so much talked about, at last she agreed to take him. People said at the time that they over-persuaded her, because they were afraid she would run away with Mr. Carter.

When I first saw Miss Flora, she was seventeen years old. She did nothing but spend money, and order dresses, and have her amusement for five years. She was twenty-two when she married Mr. Mosley; that was the name of the handsome gentleman.

I said that when I fell in love myself I knew that Miss Flora was not right to treat those gentlemen as she did, if they were most all young doctors ; even doctors have feelings when they are young.

I fell in love with my Nancy at the balls and parties given to Miss Flora when she was married. To be sure I was only seventeen then, but I thought that quite old enough to fall in love. Nancy was a beautiful girl, not darker than that you could see the color come in her cheeks. Her eyes were dark and beautiful, and her hair long and straight. Her mouth stuck out some, to be sure, but I was glad of that, because there would not look to be so much difference between us then ; for I was so sorry that I was black and kinky-headed. But I made up the difference in goodness to Nancy. I never let her bring a bucket of water, nor tote a stick of wood, from the time I was engaged to her ; and she had everything she wanted, even if I had to lift it for her.

Nancy’s mistress gave us a grand wedding at our marriage, which was about two years after Miss Flora’s, and Miss Flora gave us a fine wedding dinner at home. She took a great notion to Nancy, and wanted to buy her, but her mistress would not part with her.

And now, not to make my story too long, I will pass over some years rather briefly. In that time I had helped to lay in the grave three children of Miss Flora’s, and she still had one living. Each had died just as it became old enough to be the darling and admiration of the whole place. The one who lived longest was a beautiful little girl named after Miss Flora. She lived to be three years old, and then took a sudden cold and died.

I did wonder, when I drove Miss Flora to the funeral of that child, with the little coffin on the front seat of the carriage, if she remembered how she used to do all those gentlemen.

Miss Flora looked broken by that time ; and Mr. Mosley, when he once got everything in his power, did not care much how he treated her or what he said to her. She had to mind him.

When the war broke out, old master had been dead a long time, and Miss Flora had two sons grown up and one daughter. These two sons took a notion that they must join the army. Miss Flora prayed and begged them not, and so did Mr. Mosley. They told them they should run the blockade, and go to see the curious countries on the other side of the great water, where the people can't talk our sensible talk, but talk all sort of outlandish talk, and can’t even call a horse a horse, or meat and bread meat and bread.

Well, while they were talking about it, Mas’ Harry ran off, and went to join the army. Mr. Mosley followed him to Charleston, and persuaded him to come back on condition that he should be allowed to go, and should have a splendid horse, and me to go with him.

Mr. Mosley was as good as his word. He did not persuade him any more ; he bought him a fine horse, and me one to follow him ; and he sent us off.

But poor Miss Flora was breaking her heart about Mas’ Harry. I knew that when we left her, and I charged Nancy then, and all my family, to take care of my poor mistress, for she had been used to the sunshine, and now troubles were come to her.

Mas' Harry and I joined the 4th Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers. We went on the cars as far as a place in North Carolina, — I forget the name. Everywhere that we stopped, the ladies gathered with wreaths of flowers and baskets of refreshments. The pretty young ladies handed round tin buckets of milk and baskets of cakes, and helped all the young gentlemen themselves, and gave them bunches of flowers, and some of them made speeches and presented banners; and where we stopped at night there would be a dance got up for the young heroes, — all of them thought they were as grand heroes as General Jackson; him that fought all the Britishers, and run them all into their ships, —just himself and two aids and his battleaxe ; and every one of these youngsters thought they was goin’ to do like him, and they all thought they were heroes before they got to a battle-field. If I was a nigga, I was much older than Mas’ Harry, and I thought to myself, “ They don’t know yet what the fighting is going to do with them, — them poor children.” But Mas’ Harry thought there was nothing like going to the army, and hearing the pretty young ladies call him a hero.

We came to a place called Manassas Junction, where several roads joined together, and there they were expecting to have a fight. The Virginia Volunteers marched out to meet and to salute us, and the young ladies gave us a ball the next night.

Mas’ Harry joined a mess with several other young men, and they had me to cook for them, Mas’ Harry had a plenty of money. Poor Miss Flora had told me, almost the last thing she said to me, that if I did not take care of Mas’ Harry she would haunt me when she died. I did my best to take care of her child for her, and I would have done it anyway. I got some fellows to help me, and I built Mas’ Harry a real comfortable cabin with a good chimney to it; and, when he was on guard, he never came in, night or day, but there was dry clothes and hot coffee and victuals for him.

When the battle of Manassas came on, Mas’ Harry had been sent some miles off by some of the officers, and I was so glad, when I heard the firing, that he was gone. The 4th Regiment was ordered to stop the advance of the enemy, — to keep them amused, they called it, — and one of the officers told me to call Mas’ Harry.

‘‘Poor amusement where that firing is,” said I to myself; “ 1 not goin’ to call Miss Flora’s child to no such amusement.” So they marched on, and I stayed still. “ Law, I’m so glad Mas Harry gone ! ” I kept saying to myself.

About eleven o’clock here came Mas’ Harry. “ O Gabe ! help me,” said he ; “give me your horse.”

“Law, Mas’ Harry,” said I, “you listen to me; nobody knows you are here ; just stay here with me till the fighting is done, and then come out.”

“ No indeed, Gabe,” says he ; “ I’m going to do my part. Don’t you know how General Jackson run the Britishers ? I’m going to do so, too.” ¹

“Ah, Mas’ Harry, if you git killed, what will Miss Flora say to me ? She ’ll think I did n’t take care of you.”

“ Get along, Gabe ! I’m not a baby now ” ; and off Mas’ Harry was gone. I followed him. I was determined, if he was wounded, to take care of him and bring him off. I and two other men-servants hid behind a haystack, and watched them. I saw Mas’ Harry go right up to where General Bee was. His men were standing as stiff as if the bullets and cannon-balls were only rose leaves and summer breezes.

I saw General Evans send Mas’ Harry about with orders. I did not thank him. Thinks I, “It’s not you Miss Flora is going to scold if he gets hurt.” He was done carrying orders for General Evans, and he was near General Bee when he fell. I was sorry for General Bee, but I kept trying to watch Mas’ Harry through all the smoke and confusion.

At last I saw the enemy run. Then I came to follow Mas’ Harry. All this time I could not see the 4th Regiment anywhere. I thought they were all killed. I saw dead bodies lying everywhere in piles. There would be five or six against one tree, and the wounded men groaning. Some were shot most to pieces, and yet living. The poor fellows begged me for water. I found Mas' Harry among them, giving them water too. Mas’ Harry was no way hurt, so that one dreadful day to me was over.

Mas’ Harry and I and all the campservants were taking up the wounded men, and bringing them in, and helping the doctors, till twelve o’clock that night. Then I put Mas’ Harry in mind to write to his ma, and as soon as possible I took the letter and posted it myself, to let her know that Mas’ Harry was safe.

I do not rightly remember the next battle in which Mas’ Harry was engaged, but he was exceedingly praised and admired for carrying orders, as he had done for General Evans. I heard after this first battle, which I remember the name of, — Manassas, — that General Evans had sent away all his aids. He then called for some one to carry orders. For a few moments no one volunteered. Then Mas’ Harry offered himself.

Though he was but eighteen years old, and though Manassas was his first battle, yet he had conducted himself with so much bravery and sense, that he was complimented and noticed by all the officers near him, and was placed on General Evans’s staff for a while. But this very success of Mas’ Harry’s proved unfortunate. When Mas’ Elias heard all this, he could not be kept at home. Here he came too, to join the army, and my brother Mike to wait upon him.

The night before the skirmish at Fairfax, there were twenty young men in and around our tent, drinking wine, and having a fine time. They all complimented Mas’ Harry, so that at last he got a little too much set up. Mas’ Elias, he thought his brother was going to be a greater man than Stonewall Jackson.

I heard Mas’ Harry tell how General Bee had given this name to this new General Jackson. Just as Mas’ Harry got near to him, he shouted to his men, who had begun to waver: “See Jackson, there! He stands as firm as a stone wall. Let us show that the South-Carolinians can stand fire as well.” Poor General Bee, he fell directly afterwards ; but he had given the name to Jackson by which he was known from that time.

But my poor Mas’ Harry, he had now fought through several battles without receiving a scratch, and he had become quite used to it, and quite confident.

On this fatal morning of the skirmish, he and Mas’ Elias had marched off with the rest of the white men, and Mike and I, and some more of us, were watching them from behind some pines. We saw Mas’ Harry gallop towards us, with orders from General Evans. A discharge of cannon took place just then, and we could not see him any more for the smoke. We got a spy-glass, but we still could not see him. After a dreadful time, at last Mas’ Harry’s horse came back without his rider.

If Mas’ Harry had been my own child, I could not have cried any more. And yet I cried more for poor Miss Flora than for him. But we could not do anything until night, and we did not know what had become of Mas’ Elias either. He belonged to Colonel Marshall’s regiment from South Carolina. At last the troops began to come back, though the battle was not gained. They were going to fight the next day again. O, that was awful when they took to fighting two or three days before they were done ! Mas’ Elias was all right. We told him we had missed Mas’ Harry ever since morning, but we knew the spot where he disappeared. He told us to give him a horse, and lead the way; we never spoke until we reached the spot. There was a heap of dead bodies right there. We had a lantern, and we turned them over searching for Mas’ Harry. Poor Mas’ Elias stood still and white as a stone figure. Boy as he was, not seventeen, he did not cry.

At last we came to poor Mas’ Harry. There he lay, shot right through the body,— a hole blown through him big as my hand. O, there was no life in him ! I threw myself on the body. I just screamed, “ O, Miss Flora’s child, and I was to take care of him! I rather have him died when he was a baby ! ” — O Miss Violet, it’s not easy for me to talk about poor Mas’ Harry now !

We made a litter of pine boughs, and we brought him to his tent. Mas’ Elias walked behind, and then he began to cry.

Colonel Marshall gave Mas’ Elias leave of absence that same night, and in the morning he came back with a coffin. We laid Mas’ Harry in it. A pretty young lady, that had danced with him one week before, came with some others and brought flowers to strew upon him. They kissed his poor, cold face, — for his mother, they said, — and then told me to tell her that none was so beloved and none so brave as he was. They scattered their flowers in the coffin. They cut locks of his hair; some they kept, and some they sent to his mother.

When they were gone, .Mas’ Elias took his last kiss. We closed the coffin and put it in an ambulance to go to Richmond. I was to take it home on the railroad. Mas’ Elias had written to telegraph his father to be ready for it.

I sat in the baggage-car with poor Mas’ Harry all the way. I would not leave his coffin until we came to his mother.

When we got to Charleston I took the steamer for Edisto, to carry him home the last time.

Mr. Mosley met us at the wharf. He never shed a tear, but Miss Flora and little Miss Annie, O how they did cry! The coffin was set on a lounge in the drawing-room.

They opened the coffin, and Mas’ Harry lay there in his full uniform, looking quite natural. Miss Flora lay down by him, with her arm stretched out over him, until he was taken away to the funeral, the next evening.

Many people came in to see him, but Miss Flora never took notice of any one who came and went. She kept holding his hand in hers, and did not seem to know anything that passed, until they took away the coffin. Mr. Mosley had to hold her still when that was done.

There was not a servant on the place who did not crowd to the piazza, to have a last look at our young master. None of us had ever liked Mr. Mosley, nor ever called him master out of his own hearing;² but we all did love Miss Flora and her children, for they were our own master’s flesh and blood like. We all cried afresh when we saw Mas’ Harry, for the first time, not answer to any of us.

The grand carriages, full of all the relations and friends of the family, went first. Then came the wagons full of us servants, and many more followed behind on foot.

When the coffin was set down in the church, Mas’ Harry’s sash and sword were laid upon it. I never heard a word of the service; all I knew was that this was the last of him,—that we were going home without him.

They placed the last sod over the coffin, by the side of the little children whom I had so often carried about in my arms, and played with, and helped to bury. But I saw some of the people begin to talk all sorts of news as soon as they came out of the churchyard. Some of them called to me, as the last person from the seat of war. But I sent them word I did not know anything about the victory or the battle : I was not going to talk to them about anything, and Mas’ Harry just laid in his grave.

A week afterwards Miss Flora sent for me ; she was lying in her bed pale and wasted. Little Miss Annie sat on the bed by her, with a Bible in her hand. Miss Flora kept asking me, Did Mas’ Harry read his Bible in camp ? Did he say anything to me about going to heaven if he was killed ? What did he say the last night ?

Now Mas’ Harry had been drinking wine late with all his young companions that night, and I am afraid he had never thought about getting killed.

But I looked at my poor mistress, who had always been good to me; I remembered the pretty young girl she was, when first I saw her ; I looked at her now, so wasted and worn with trouble and grief. I said to myself, “Law, Miss Flora, I will do you one more service, if I never speak again.”

So I told her that Mas’ Harry had had a prayer-meeting in his tent the very night before he was killed, and that there was a colporture in camp, who constantly read the Bible and prayed with him, and that he had been exhorting Mas’ Elias to be good that very night.

Miss Flora stretched out her poor little thin hand and shook hands with me. “ I thank you, Gabriel,” she said. “ O, what a comfort it is to me to know this ! It is the greatest comfort you could have given me. O Annie, my daughter, and you, my faithful servant, I must say it ! when I lay my children in the grave, I then remember how, in my vain and thoughtless youth, I used often to enter the house of God without a thought, save of my dress and jewels, and of the number of beaux by whom I was attended. O Annie, I must tell you not to be like your poor mother ! ”

Mis Flora could not speak any more for some moments, and I was going, but she stretched out her hand to keep me. She desired me to go back to Mas’ Elias and to remain with him, and take care of him.

“ Mr. Mosley has written to try and have Elias sent home,” she said ; “ but if not, stay with him, and take care of him, and may God in mercy spare me this one.”

I went back to Virginia to Mas’ Elias. Mike was there with him, but I was determined to take care of him too. But the worst of it was, you could not do anything with these white young men. Mas’ Elias had seen his brother killed before his eyes, you may say; yet when I wanted him to take sick, or to keep out of the way a little, he would say, “No, Gabe, I am fighting for my country, I will go forward and do my duty.”

“ Law, Mas’ Elias, what your country going to do for you ? Mind your poor mother ; that is who you had better mind ; and when Mike bring you word they are going to fight, just stay in your bed a little. If they get here to the tents, I will tell you in good time.”

Mas' Elias just laughed in my face. “O Gabe,” said he, “ I would feel my honor and the honor of my family stained by such an idea.”

“O Mas’ Elias, you had better stay in your bed than get killed like Mas’ Harry.”

“ No, Gabe,” he said, “ I was wrong to insist on leaving my poor mother, and coming to the army ; but now I am here, I will do my duty.”

Well, Mas’ Elias kept on fighting through several battles, and I got to thinking that he was not going to be hurt or killed, though I always watched his regiment all through the day.

Mas’ Elias was much more serious after Mas’ Harry was killed ; he really did use to read his Bible, and listen to preaching, and buy books from the colporture and read them.

At last came a night Skirmish. Mas’ Elias went with his company to make a reconnoissance, they called it. The company was driven back by some of the enemy, who were also spying around to see what we were about. But Mas’ Elias did not come back among them. I asked his messmates where he was. They said they saw him fall, and were sure he was killed, and did not stop to bring him off. But two of them said they would go with Mike and me to find him, apd show us the place. We took a white flag with us. But when we reached the exact spot where he fell, Mas’ Elias was not there. I could not help it. I quarrelled and railed at the men for not bringing him off ; for he had been sharing with them whatever he had. But in the midst of it, he knew my voice, and answered. He was behind a rock not far off. Though dreadfully wounded, he had crawled there. We ran to him, and we were so overjoyed to find him alive that we forgot we had been quarrelling. He was dreadfully wounded ; his leg was shot through and his arm broken. When we raised him, to lay him on a blanket which we had brought, he fainted with pain. We passed some Yankee soldiers also taking up their dead and wounded ; but each party carried a white flag, and was not molested by the other.

When we got the doctor to Mas’ Elias, he was still insensible. The doctor examined his wounds. Some other poor fellows had been brought in, and were laid by Mas’ Elias ; for we had carried him to the hospital.

His leg was so shattered, that the doctor said it would have to be cut off, and perhaps his arm also. I told the doctor how rich Miss Flora was, and that she would give any money to the one who should save her son. I called some of the white men, who belonged to Mas’ Elias’s mess, and they agreed in all that I said. This doctor then called another, and after that Mas' Elias received particular attention. I used to send Mike away for everything that was wanted, and I never left him day or night. I saw some poor fellows brought into the hospital, shot all to pieces, one might say, and yet they would recover. I saw another, who had only a flesh wound in the calf of his leg ; he died of gangrene the very day after Mas' Elias was brought there.

I noticed that the nurse washed all the wounds with the same sponge and basin and rags. I never let that nurse come near Mas’ Elias. I bought everything separate for him. I washed his wounds myself, and I made Mike wash the sponges in running water every time I used them.

Mas’ Elias never spoke, or seemed to know anything until after his leg was taken off, which they did the next day. It was cut off above the knee ; his arm was dreadfully mangled ; and O how hard it was to handle him and not hurt him! Sometimes he was cross ; but Mike and I never minded it; he was not cross when he could help it. He took notice that there were two of us to attend him, and one nurse to a dozen others. He told us to help the others all we could; but they were mostly poor buckrah ; we would not leave our mistress’s child to attend to them. Day after day I watched beside his bedside in that hospital. The sweet spring came on, and the bright sunny days, but still I never left him, unless I left Mike with him, and then for a few moments only. Mike had every wish to be of service to Mas’ Elias, but he never had the head-piece that I have, nor the natural understanding. So I always stayed myself, and sent him about.

Every day some poor fellow died and was carried out. They all looked for Mas’ Elias to be the next one. A lady used to come and read the Bible to him, and write to his mother for him ; he told us more than once that he felt quite willing to die, and that his mind was very quiet. This calmness of mind I think saved him, for at length he began to recover. As soon as he was able to be moved, the doctor ordered him to a private house near by.

The people made very much of him there, and the ladies watched over him as though he had been their own child ; but as soon as he could sit up, he longed to get home to his mother.

The Sea Islands being in the hands of the enemy, we had received letters, that Miss Flora’s family had taken refuge at a place in the up-country called Dark Corner. Mr. Mosley bought a cottage and farm in the country, near that village, and it was there we were to carry Mas’ Elias, as soon as he could be moved.

But though he got well, and was in good health again, yet it always seemed most melancholy to me to see one whom I could remember so active and smart, with one leg cut off and one arm disabled.

Miss Flora did not seem fo mind anything, so that her son was restored to her. Mr. Mosley had a good head of his own, and had bales and bales of cotton put by, and silver put up, so that we generally have had comforts all the time.

When the family went back to Edisto, Miss Flora gave me a deed in writing of a house and twenty-five acres of good land, — for my faithfulness, she said. Mas’ Elias gave me a horse, plough, and wagon, and provisions for a year. So I and my wife and children live here as happy and comfortable as can be.

And all I hope for now is never to see another war, nor any more fighting ; and I wish you to believe that one of my race can tell a history if we can get a writer to put it down.

GABRIEL EDWARDS.