but dey all gone ded, an nobody nose me. I tell you, boss, when you git in de desart ef nobody ses nuffin, de runaway ketchers can't kotch you. I am berry ole now, and my home folks are all ded an gone an I no nobody. De ghost ob de white man dat I kilt hants me all de time, wharebber I go, an I is a misable man. I am now on my way to de desart to hide myself an die." I asked him who he belonged to at the time he committed the murder. Replying, he said: "I longed to Capt. Richard Brothers, in de desert." "Well," I said, "did he ever know what became of you?" "I nebber heard any more from him arter I got in the desart. I heard dat he dide in 1817 ob de cole plague, or black tongue." "You are correct in what you have said, uncle," I replied. "I do not wish to interview you any longer on that subject. He was my grandfather and lived at the place mentioned by you. I hear the old people speak of the circumstances. You were his carriage driver at the time, and your name is 'Long Davy.'" "Yas, sar, dat is my name, but don't tell anybody 'bout it. I had a brudder libbing in de low parrish of Nansemond county, but he is ded. His name was George." I said, "Uncle Davy, you are correct. On one occasion, being at Driver's Store, in lower parrish of Nansemond, I saw a tall and very polite colored man drive up. I was struck with his appearance, and asking him his name, he said George W. Coston, sir. Then you are from Sunsbury, Gates county, North Carolina." "I was from that place," he replied, "but have been living in the lower parish since the breaking out of the war." "Were you a slave or free-born," I inquired. "I was a slave," he responded. "Who was your first owner that you recollect." "Capt. Richard Brothers, on the desart road, Nansemond county, Va., who died with the cold plague in 1817," he readily answered. He appeared to be very much pleased when I told him that his first master was my grandfather. He looked at me very straight and asked me my mother's name, and upon my answering Margaret, he said he thought he could see a family likeness, and said my mother was the first mistress he ever had, she "drawing" him in the division of my grandfather's property. I left him at Driver's Store and never saw him again. I have since heard that he was dead. I often thought of the circumstances of the meeting. Such frequently occurs and brings up recollections that are buried in oblivion. The corroborative testimony of George satisfied me that "Davy" was true in what he related to me about what happened at Orapeake Mill Pond, in Gates county, North Carolina, near the beautiful village of Jonesville, on the Grand Trunk Railroad.