We had a faithful and affectionate good friend, ally and adviser in "Uncle Dan'l," a middle-aged slave whose head was the best one in the negro quarter, whose sympathies were wide and warm, and whose heart was honest and simple and knew no guile.

He has served me well, these many, many years.
I have not seen him for more than half a century, and yet spiritually I have had his welcome company a good part of that time, and have staged him in books under his own name and as "Jim," and carted him all around--to Hannibal, down the Mississippi on a raft, and even across the Desert of Sahara in a balloon--and he has endured it all with the patience and friendliness and loyalty which were his birthright.

It was on the farm that I got my strong liking for his race and my appreciation of certain of its fine qualities.

This feeling and this estimate have stood the test of sixty years and more and have suffered no impairment.
The black face is as welcome to me now as it was then.
In my schoolboy days I had no aversion to slavery.

I was not aware that there was anything wrong about it.