towering form, slowly and steadily walking a beat, one of his own slaves! Human nature could not stand that; the prisoner was enraged, furious, and swore he would not. Addressing the guard, through clenched teeth, foaming at the mouth, he yelled out:
Sambo!“Well, massa.” “Send for the colonel to come here immediately. My own slave can never stand guard over me. It's a d-d outrage; no gentleman would submit to it.” Laughing in his sleeve, the dark-faced soldier promptly called out, “Corp'l de guard!” That dignity appeared, and presently the colonel followed. After listening to the Southerner's impassioned harangue, which was full of invectives, the colonel turned to the negro with:
Sam!“Yes, colonel.” “You know this gentleman, do you?” “ Ob course; he's Massa B., and has a big plantation in ‘ Alabam’ .” “Well, Sam, just take care of him to-night,” and the officer walked away. As the sentinel again paced his beat, the gentleman from Alabama appealed to him in an argument. “Listen, Sambo!” “You hush dar; I's done gone talkina to you now. Hush, rebel!” was the negro's emphatic command, bringing down his musket to a charge bayonet position, by way of enforcing silence.