William Hepworth Dixon, White Conquest: Volume 2

[160] version of the same figure treated by another artist The sun is no ideal etcher. A lens has caught the Negro as he is; sitting in the sideway of a builder's yard, abutting on the street, among a litter of chips and dirt. The yard wants cleansing, and the darky has been set to brush it up, but the seducing sunshine is too much for him. No Negro likes to work, and every Negro likes to loll and doze. Instead of sweeping out the yard, Sam has dropped among the chips and dirt. He trifles with the handle of his broom, and bends his cheek into his palm, and passes happily into the land of dreams. He wants no light to see his way. He only seeks to be left alone, that he may close his eyes, and let the sunshine burn into his back and feet. Such is your practical picture of the Negro imp.

“Guess you'll find most of our national wards asleep, like Sam,” laughs a friend. Some specimens of a class of Negroes who can hold their own, are found along the James River. We hear of men who, leaving the towns with all their vices, have taken bits of ground, and, after many struggles, have begun to make money, and to put their savings into farms. Several Negroes on the James River