on yer to go wid us?"

"Boys," said Uncle Daniel, and there was grief in his voice, "I'se
mighty glad you hab a chance for your freedom; but, ez I tole yer, I
promised Marse Robert I would stay, an' I mus' be as good as my word.
Don't you youngsters stay for an ole stager like me. I'm ole an' mos'
worn out. Freedom wouldn't do much for me, but I want you all to be as
free as the birds; so, you chillen, take your freedom when you kin get
it."

"But, Uncle Dan'el, you won't say nothin' 'bout our going, will you?"
said the youngest of the company.

Uncle Daniel slowly arose. There was a mournful flash in his eye, a
tremor of emotion in his voice, as he said, "Look yere, boys, de boy dat
axed dat question war a new comer on dis plantation, but some ob you's
bin here all ob your lives; did you eber know ob Uncle Dan'el gittin'
any ob you inter trouble?"

"No, no," exclaimed a chorus of voices, "but many's de time you've held
off de blows wen de oberseer got too mean, an' cruelized us too much,
wen Marse Robert war away. An' wen he got back, you made him settle de
oberseer's hash."

"Well, boys," said Uncle Daniel, with an air of mournful dignity, "I'se
de same Uncle Dan'el I eber war. Ef any ob you wants to go, I habben't a
word to say agin it. I specs dem Yankees be all right, but I knows Marse
Robert, an' I don't know dem, an' I ain't a gwine ter throw away dirty
water 'til I gits clean."