Didn’t he think they were very foolish to fight that way for nothing? He didn’t know, twan’t for him to say. Dey was old enough and ageable enough to know best for demselves. Thus the freedman. The Virginian of the ruling class was even more cautious. “He hain’t nary a politic,” explained our driver. “He’s been first one thing and then the other, just accordin’ to which side happened to be camped around; but he’s a poor sneakin’ nigger-driver at heart.” We drove from end to end of the two battle-fields, and found these to be its only inhabitants. In fifteen miles of driving through what had once been a cultivated country, we saw but a single fence. At the railroad station, on our return, we found quite a number of negroes. They had always lived here, and wanted to live here still. They were willing to work, but their old masters weren’t willing to hire them. Didn’t we think that the Government ought to give them lands? ----- Footnote 43: Judge Kelley, of Philadelphia. CHAPTER XXXII. Richmond, after Six Months of Yankee Rule. In my first visit to the Southern States, beginning in the spring of 1865, and ending in mid-summer, there were peculiar circumstances to be taken into account, in drawing conclusions as to any of the questions which the loyal portion of the nation was asking about the South. Our party was constantly surrounded by men desirous of impressing their own views. Southern politicians were endeavoring to convince the Chief-Justice of the returning loyalty of their people. Naturally, they suppressed unfavorable facts and expressions. Intelligent negroes were arguing the fitness of their people for suffrage. Naturally, they did what they could to hold the unfit ones away. Whoever approached the Chief-Justice or his party, was likely to have some special motive for doing so, either of courtesy or of interest. Naturally, whatever did not comport with that motive was glossed over, or kept out of sight.