I wondered what was meant by being "free," and supposed from his appearance it must be some very dreadful and unfortunate condition of humanity. My mother heard him very kindly, and directed him to the kitchen, where "Aunt Christian" would give him plenty to eat. Although there were already many old negroes to be supported, who no longer considered themselves young enough to work, this old man was added to the number, and a cabin built for him. To the day of his death he expressed gratitude to my mother for taking care of him, and often entertained us with accounts of _his_ "old marster times," which he said were the "grandes' of all." By way of apology for certain knotty excrescences on his feet he used to say: "You see dese yer knots. Well, dey come fum my bein' a monsus proud young nigger, an' squeezin' my feet in de tightes' boots to drive my marster carriage 'bout Petersbu'g. I nuver was so happy as when I was drivin' my coach an' four, and crackin' de postilion over de head wid my whip." These pleasant reminiscences were generally concluded with: "Ah! young misses, _you'll_, nuver see sich times. No more postilions! No more coach an' four! And niggers drives _now_ widout white gloves. Ah! no, young misses, _you'll_ nuver see nothin'! _Nuver_ in _your_ time." With these melancholy predictions would he shake his head, and sigh that the days of glory had departed. Each generation of blacks vied with the other in extolling the virtues of their particular mistress and master and "_their times_"; but, notwithstanding this mournful contrast between the past and present, their reminiscences had a certain charm. Often by their cabin firesides would we listen to the tales of the olden days about our forefathers, of whom they could tell much, having belonged to our family since the landing of the African fathers on the English slave ships, from which their ancestors had been bought by ours. Among these traditions none pleased us so much as that an unkind mistress or master had never been known among our ancestors, which we have always considered a cause for greater pride than the armorial bearings left on their tombstones. We often listened with pleasure to the recollections of an old blind man--the former faithful attendant of our grandfather--whose mind was filled with vivid pictures of the past. He repeated verbatim conversations and speeches heard sixty years before--from Mr. Madison, Mr. Jefferson, Mr. Clay, and other statesmen, his master's special friends. "Yes," he used to say, "I stay wid your grandpa ten years in Congress, an' all de time he was secretary for President Jefferson. He nuver give me a cross word, an' I nuver saw your grandma de leas' out of temper nuther but once, an' dat was at a dinner party we give in Washington, when de French Minister said something disrespectful 'bout de United States."