On Monday evening, July 15th, when the contrabands deposited their tools in the court-house, I requested them to stop a moment in the yard.  I made each a present of some tobacco, which all the men and most of the women use.  As they gathered in a circle around me, head peering over head, I spoke to them briefly, thanking them for their cordial work and complimenting their behavior, remarking that I had heard no profane or vulgar word from them, in which they were an example to us,—­adding that it was the last time I should meet them, as we were to march homeward in the morning, and that I should bear to my people a good report of their industry and morals.  There was another word that I could not leave without speaking.  Never before in our history had a Northern man, believing in the divine right of all men to their liberty, had an opportunity to address an audience of sixty-four slaves and say what the Spirit moved him to utter,—­and I should have been false to all that is true and sacred, if I had let it pass.  I said to them that there was one more word for me to add, and that was, that every one of them was as much entitled to his freedom as I was to mine, and I hoped they would all now secure it.  “Believe you, boss,” was the general response, and each one with his rough gravelly hand grasped mine, and with tearful eyes and broken utterances said, “God bless you!” “May we meet in Heaven!” “My name is Jack Allen, don’t forget me!” “Remember me, Kent Anderson!” and so on.  No,—­I may forget the playfellows of my childhood, my college classmates, my professional associates, my comrades in arms, but I will remember you and your benedictions until I cease to breathe!  Farewell, honest hearts, longing to be free! and may the kind Providence which for-gets not the sparrow shelter and protect you!

During our encampment at Hampton, I occupied much of my leisure time in conversations with the contrabands, both at their work and in their shanties, endeavoring to collect their currents of thought and feeling.  It remains for me to give the results, so far as any could be arrived at.

There were more negroes of unmixed African blood than we expected to find.  But many were entirely bleached.  One man, working on the breastworks, owned by his cousin, whose name he bore, was no darker than white laborers exposed by their occupation to the sun, and could not be distinguished as of negro descent.  Opposite our quarters was a young slave woman who had been three times a mother without ever having been a wife.  You could not discern in her three daughters, either in color, feature, or texture of hair, the slightest trace of African lineage.  They were as light-faced and fair-haired as the Saxon slaves whom the Roman Pontiff, Gregory the Great, met in the markets of Rome.  If they were to be brought here and their pedigree concealed, they could readily mingle with our population and marry white men, who would never suspect that they were not pure Caucasians.