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Updated: May 13, 2025
Over the broad meadows, filled with scattered wild flowers, the sound of the chant still floated, with a shrill and troubled sweetness, upon the wind. As he listened the little negro broke into a jubilant refrain, beating his naked feet in the dust: "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Me et a gin." Then he looked slyly up at his young master. "I 'low dar's one thing you cyarn do, Marse Champe."
Den don' th'ow no oak leaves on dis niggah, for dey don' grow dyar. Gawd A'moughty, lis'en to de river roarin'! I's hidin' by de river I's hidin' by de river! I's hidin' by de river Jordan!" Deb swayed to and fro, beating her hands in her excitement. "I see a boat a great big boat! It's as big as the Ark! The finders are in it, and the dogs and the guns! Let us pray!
"Good-by, Dolly, and Mirandy, and Sukey Sue!" they shouted, while the women, bowing over the rolling wheels, tossed back a fragment of the song: "We hope ter meet you in heaven, whar we'll Part no mo', Whar we'll part no mo'; Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Me et a gin." "Twel we meet agin," chirped the little girls, tripping into the chorus.
Only a little black woman crouching in one corner bowed herself and wept. The children had fallen back against the stone wall, where they hung staring. "Good-by, Dolly!" they called cheerfully, and the woman answered with a long-drawn, hopeless whine: "Gawd A'moughty bless you twel we Meet agin." Zeke broke from the group and ran a few steps beside the wagon, shaking the outstretched hands.
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