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Rh make no noise, the narrator said, “I want to talk with one of you, and the rest keep about your work.” The negroes appointed a man to talk with him, and the rest went on with their work. Questioning the negro, he learned that his name was Phil; that Phil’s master was an officer, on duty in Charleston, “banking up against the Yankees,” as Phil expressed it, where some of them had been killed and others wounded by the Yankee shells. “Well now, Phil,” said our friend, “did you ever see a Yankee?”

“No, sah.”

“I suppose you think they are bad people?”

“No, sah. De Yankees is de friends oh de black people.”

“ How do you know that the Yankees are your friends?”

“Oh, we hear massa talking ’bout it. He call ’em d——d abolitionists. We knows what dat means.”

“What do you understand by an abolitionist?”

“Means de—de year ob jubilee am comin’, when we’s all gwine to be free.”

“Well, Phil, that is a very good definition; but who told you that you are to be made free?”

“Oh, we gets it.”

“Well, Phil, 1 am a Yankee; can you do anything for me?”

“I knowed ye was. Do any ting? what ye want done ? I can do ebery ting?”

“I want something to eat, and there are more of us. How many can you feed.”

“I can feed an army of ye,” said Phil. Phil was getting excited.

With extreme caution they crept through the bushes to where they had camped for the day. Some conversation was had in which Phil asked anxiously if the slaves