“Chillen, git on de bo’de, Chillen, git on de bo’de, Chillen, git on de bo’de, bo’de, bo’de, Dere’s room for many a mo’,”-- were the words that came in high but not unmusical tones from the depths of the kitchen, where I knew Jule was struggling with the week’s ironing. After puzzling over them for some time I cried, “What _does_ she mean, auntie?” Auntie laughed. “Oh, you Yankee! Will you never learn negro talk? Do they never sing about the ‘gospel ship’ in Boston? That is what Jule means.” “Oh, is that it?” I replied, laughing in my turn. “I couldn’t imagine how she was going to ‘get on a board’ with her two hundred pounds of flesh. “I’m tired of sewing: I guess I’ll go down and talk to her a little while.” Jule welcomed me to her snug kitchen, with a smile which disclosed her shining white teeth; and I seated myself by her ironing-table, and begged her to tell me of the days “befo’ de wah.” “Tell me how you became free,” I said, as she resumed her work. “Were you set free, or did you run away?” hoping secretly that the latter was the case. Her black eyes sparkled, and she tossed her gayly turbaned head, as she answered-- “’Deed, miss, I just runned away.” “You did, Jule? How did you do it? Weren’t you frightened?” “Well, honey, de good Lord just done helped me.” “The Lord helped you? How?” “Ah, chile, de Lord just as powerful now as when He showed de chillen of Isr’el de way to de promus land!” “Of course,” I replied; “but He doesn’t interpose in the affairs of men as He did then. We have no pillars of fire, and no parting of the sea.” “‘Deed, miss, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout your ’posing, and we didn’t have no pillow of fire; but de Lord done helped me hisself.” “Well, tell me all about it, please.” “You see, miss, we lived just outside dis yere city. One night somehow de cullud people hearn tell that Pres’dent Linkum was gwine to set all de niggahs in de District free, and ole mars was gwine to run us all down South to git clar ob de proclamashun. David, de dining-room boy, was a likely fellar; he had been about with young mars, and could read and write; so he heard de talk, and made up his mind to run away to Washington dat very night. Any one who wanted to could go ’long. Well, most of ’em was ready to go, my mammy among ’em. She said I could go too: but we didn’t know how I was to git away; fur, you see, miss, I was nurse to young mars’ chillen, and slept with dem in a room that you couldn’t git out’en ’thout gwine through his and Mis’ Virginny’s room. De do’ that went out into the hall was right at de head of their bed, and creaked mighty loud. I asked mammy what I should do, and she said, ‘Trus’ de Lord.’