It was toward the middle of the week that I went down to Accomac to attend a great Union meeting there, and it's my private opinion, my boy, my private opinion, that the human tongue is not without its province in this war. But before the meeting commenced, and whilst I was reflecting upon the fact that it was the day on which the Prince of Wales was to be married, a redeemed contraband saluted me, and says he: "Mars'r, I hab been made a free man by Mars'r Lincoln, and hab opened a Refreshment Saloon on de European plan. If you want to dine, sar, here's my card. My name is Mister Negg." I looked at the card as he left me, and found it to read thus:-- HAMAN NEGG'S RESTAURANT. ICH DIEN OYSTERS IN EVERY STYLE. There was one thing about this inscription that I did not understand, and says I to a chap near me: "See here, my patriotic friend, what does this mean? What kind of things are Ich Dien Oysters?" "Oh," says he, obligingly, "you do not understand the Hanoverian tongue. '_Ich Dien_' is the Prince of Wales' motto, and means '_I serve_.' The phrase 'Ich Dien Oysters in Every Style' means, 'I serve oysters in every style.'" Then it was, my boy, that I saw in Mr. Negg's device the despised African's testimonial of gratitude to Great Britain for the recent reaction of anti-slavery sentiment there. A more delicate compliment, my boy, was never offered to the mother country, who has given us all at least 290[3] reasons for loving her. [3] Persons who despise Europe may remember, that, "The 290," (supposed to mean, from 290 British Merchants) was the original name of the rebel pirate "Alabama." And speaking of redeemed contrabands, reminds me of the new African hymn, which the more pious colored Americans of South Carolina might denominate DE GREAT HALLELUGERUM. "My mars'r's gwine away to fight With Mars'r Linkum's horde, An' now dis chile's at libaty To dance an' bress de Lord. Dar's no more swearin' round de house When missus cut up bad; Dar's no more kickin' niggers' shins, And, darfor', I is glad. "When mars'r take his horse to go, He kindly say to me: 'I hab such confidence in you, I leab you all, you see; Of all de niggers round de place, I trust to you alone.' By golly! dat's what mars'r say To eb'ry nig he own! "'Now if dem Bobumlitionists Should kill me dead,' says he, 'I hab instruct your missus kind To set you niggers free.' But mars'r say dat bery same Wheneber he get sick, And bressed Jesus wrastle him To make him holy quick. "'Dem Yankees, dam um all,' says he, 'Am comin' down to steal You niggers, and to sell you then For Cuba cochineal. De Suvern chiverly,' says he, 'Am fightin' jist fo' you.' Now mars'r swearum when he lie, And, darfor', dat wont do!