The Tables Turned by G. W. A.

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 23, 1864

The Tables Turned.

By G. W. A.

THE present slaveholding rebellion is a terrible affair, but it occasionally develops some incidents of the most gratifying nature. The following is rather amusing proof that Sambo is not only well calculated to "take care of himself," but, if need be, is now and then a good protector of his master. It comes from the Cincinnati Commercial.

G. W. A.

A certain wealthy old planter, who used to govern a precinct in Alabama, in a recent skirmish was taken prisoner, and at a late hour brought into camp, where a guard was placed over him. The aristocratic rebel, supposing everything to be all right—that he was secure enough anyway as a prisoner of war—as a committee of the whole resolved himself into "sleep's dead slumber." Awakening about midnight, to find the moon shining full into his face, he chanced to "inspect his guard," when, horror of horrors, that soldier was a negro! And, worse than all, he recognized in that towering form, slowly and steadily walking a beat, one of his own slaves!

Human nature could not stand that; the prisoner was enraged, furious, and swore he would not. Addressing the guard, through clenched teeth, foaming at the mouth, he yelled out,

"Sambo!"

"Well, massa."

"Send for the colonel to come here immediately. My own slave can never stand guard over me; its a — outrage; no gentleman would submit to it."

Laughing in his sleeve, the dark-faced soldier called out, "Corp'l de guard!"

That dignity appeared, and presently the colonel followed.

After listening to the Southerner's impassioned harangue, which was full of invectives, the colonel turned to the negro with,

"Sam!"

"Yes, Colonel."

"You know this gentleman, do you?"

"Ob course; he's massa B—, and has big plantation in Alabam'."

"Well, Sam, just take care of him to-night!" and the officer walked away.

As the sentinel again paced his beat, the gentleman from Alabama appealed to him in an argument.

"Listen, Sambo!"

"You hush, dar; I've done gone talkin' to you now. Hush, rebel!" was the negro's emphatic command, bringing down his musket to a charge bayonet position, by way of enforcing silence.

The nabob was now a slave—his once valued negro the master; and think you, as he sank back upon a blanket, in horror and shame that night, that he believed human bondage was a divine institution, ordained of God?