A short time ago, I was speaking to an old woman whom I knew when she was a slave upon McKinnon’s estate; and among other questions, I asked her, “Juncho,” (her name,) “are you happier now than when you was a slave—are you better off now than you was then? or would you be satisfied to return to slavery, and become once more the property of your old master?“ “Missis,” returned the poor old creature, “me no going to tell ’tory, me ’peak de truth; me no better off now den me war den, nor no so well self; for den me hab house and garden, an me could raise ’tock, (meaning poultry, &c.,) an plant yam, an pittates, (potatoes,) an green, an ebery ting else; and now me free, me hab notting.” “And where is your house now?” I asked, to hear what she would say. “Why, wen August com, massa call me, and he say, Me no want you to lib here no more; you no good to work, you must go, me want your house to gib to one oder somebody dats ’trong; no ole like you; and you garden me want. So you know, missis, me forced to go; so me come to town wid me daughter, and me lib wid she, for me can do but lilly work now.” “Then you would rather be a slave again?” “Oh, no, missis, me no want to be slabe gen, me sure. God made me free—God put it in buckra heart to set me free, an me bless God for it; me no want to be slabe gen.” “But I understood you, that you were better off in the time of slavery—that you had many comforts then that you cannot obtain now, and yet you tell me you do not want to be a slave again—tell me the reason.” “Well, missis, it true me better off den dan me am now, for since me free, me no get much; sometimes me no eat bread all day, for me daughter hab so many pic’nees (children) she no able to gib me much; but den me no me free; me no God gib me free, and slabery is one bad something sometimes.” I went on to ask her what she meant by a “bad something,” for I was anxious to know what the negroes thought of slavery and freedom. “S’pose, den,” said Juncho, “s’pose you hab one pic’nee, dat pic’nee sick; well, he put in de sick house; me ’bliged to go field, me want to go see me sick pic’nee, but me no must go, me hab to work till ebening ’praps; wen work done, me go see me poor sick pic’nee, but me must no ’top wid he. Me hab make haste go; den me pic’nee say, ‘Mammy, ’top wid me, no go, mammy:’ but me forced to go and leabe me poor pic’nee. Den ’gen, missis, ’praps me pic’nee do something bad, something he no ought to do, and massa take he and tie he two hands up to one tree, else he make two men ’tretch he upon de ground, an den de driber lick he so, an me cry to see him lick so, and me pic’nee bawl, but me no dare say, ‘Don’t do so, massa; let him go,’ but me hab to go way and lebe he dere; so you see, missis, dat make me say me no lub slabery. Now wen me noung, me hab to work hard, hab dig cane hole, weed cane, pick grass, do ebery ting; but now me ole, and no able to work, dey take away me