Old Samba and |Massa.|
A friend of mine said he was down in Natchez before the war, and he and a friend of his went out riding one Saturday -- they were teaching school through the week -- and they drove out back from Natchez. It was a beautiful day, and they saw an old slave coming up, and they thought they would have a little fun. They had just come to a place where there was a fork in the road, and there was a sign-post which read, |40 miles to Liberty.| One of the young men said to the old darkey driver, |Samba, how old are you?| |I don't know, massa. I guess I'se about eighty.| |Can you read?| |No, sah; we don't read in dis country. It's agin the law.| |Can you tell what is on that sign-post?| |Yes, sah; it says 40 miles to Liberty.| |Well, now,| said my friend, |why don't you follow that road and get your liberty. It says there, 'only 40 miles to Liberty.' Now, why don't you take that road and go there?| The old man's countenance changed, and he said, |Oh, young massa, that is all a sham. If the post pointed out the road to the liberty that God gives, we might try it. There could be no sham in that.| My friend said he had never heard anything more eloquent from the lips of a preacher. God wants all his sons to have liberty.