It was appropriately the 4th of July when we arrived; and, aside from the citizens of Memphis, hundreds of colored refugees thronged the streets.  Everywhere you looked you could see soldiers.  Such a day I don’t believe Memphis will ever see again—­when so large and so motley a crowd will come together.  Our two soldier rescuers looked us up after we were in Memphis, and seemed truly glad that we had attained our freedom, and that they had been instrumental in it.  Only one thing we regret, and that is that we did not learn their names; but we were in so much trouble, and so absorbed in the business which we had in hand—­so excited by the perils of our undertaking, that we never thought to ask them their names, or to what regiment they belonged.  Then, after we got to Memphis, though we were most grateful for the service which they had rendered us, we were still so excited by our new condition and surroundings that we thought of little else, and forgot that we had no means of establishing, at a later time, the identity of those to whom we owed so much.  Freedom, that we had so long looked for, had come at last; and we gave praise to God, blessing the day when we met those two heroes.  It is true that we should have been free, sooner or later; still, but for their assistance, my wife and I might never have met again.  If I could not have gone back, which I could never have done alone, until long after, such changes might have occurred as would have separated us for years, if not forever.  Thousands were separated in this manner—­men escaping to the Union lines, hoping to make a way to return for their families; but, failing in this, and not daring to return alone, never saw their wives or children more.  Thanks to God, we were guided to these brave soldiers, and so escaped from so cruel a fate.

* * * * *

A word for my old master.

In closing this account of my years of bondage, it is, perhaps, but justice to say of my old master that he was in some respects kinder and more humane than many other slaveholders.  He fed well, and all had enough to wear, such as it was.  It is true that the material was coarse, but it was suited to the season, and, therefore, comfortable, which could not truthfully be said of the clothing of the slaves of other planters.  Not a few of these did not have sufficient clothes to keep them warm in winter; nor did they have sufficient nourishing and wholesome food.  But while my master showed these virtues, similar to those which a provident farmer would show in the care of his dumb brutes, he lacked in that humane feeling which should have kept him from buying and selling human beings and parting kindred—­which should have made it impossible for him to have permitted the lashing, beating and lacerating of his slaves, much more the hiring of an irresponsible brute, by the year, to perform this barbarous service for him.  The McGees were charitable—­as they interpreted