De mas'r he stand and call, 'Run to de wood for hide! Yankee come, sell you to Cuba! run for hide!' Ebry man he run, and, my God! run all toder way! "Mas'r stand in de wood, peep, peep, faid for truss [afraid to trust].
He say, 'Run to de wood!' and ebry man run by him, straight to de boat.
"De brack sojer so presumptious, dey come right ashore, hold up dere head.

Fus' ting I know, dere was a barn, ten tousand bushel rough rice, all in a blaze, den mas'r's great house, all cracklin' up de roof.
Didn't I keer for see 'em blaze?
Lor, mas'r, didn't care notin' at all, _was gwine to de boat_." Dore's Don Quixote could not surpass the sublime absorption in which the gaunt old man, with arm uplifted, described this stage of affairs, till he ended in a shrewd chuckle, worthy of Sancho Panza.

Then he resumed.
"De brack sojers so presumptious!" This he repeated three times, slowly shaking his head in an ecstasy of admiration.

It flashed upon me that the apparition of a black soldier must amaze those still in bondage, much as a butterfly just from the chrysalis might astound his fellow-grubs.
I inwardly vowed that my soldiers, at least, should be as "presumptious" as I could make them.

Then he went on.
"Ole woman and I go down to de boat; den dey say behind us, 'Rebels comin'l Rebels comin'!' Ole woman say, 'Come ahead, come plenty ahead!' I hab notin' on but my shirt and pantaloon; ole woman one single frock he hab on, and one handkerchief on he head; I leff all-two my blanket and run for de Rebel come, and den dey didn't come, didn't truss for come.
"Ise eighty-eight year old, mas'r.