Forty Miles to Liberty

 •  1 min. read  •  grade level: 4
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A friend of mine went to teach in Natchez before the Civil War. He and a friend of his went out riding one Saturday in the country. They saw an old slave coming, 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, “Forty miles to Liberty.”
“Say, how old are you?”
“I don’t know, sir. I guess I’m about eighty.”
“Can you read?”
“Not very well sir.”
“Can you tell what is on that sign-post?”
“Yes, sir; it says forty miles to Liberty.”
“Well, now,” said my friend, “why don’t you follow that road and get your liberty? It says there, only ‘forty miles to Liberty.’ Now, why don’t you take that road and go there?”
The old man’s countenance changed, and he said: “That is a sham, young man, but if it pointed up there” and he raised his trembling hand toward heaven, “to the liberty wherewith Christ makes us free, that would not be a sham.”
The old slave, despite his lack of education, had even then experienced a liberty in his own soul that these young men, with all their boasted education, at that time knew nothing of.