.:
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES

 


 
 
 *
 
 " THOU ART MY GUIDE.
 
 OUK WORLD: 
 
 OB, 
 
 "An nonest tale speeds test being plainly told. 
 
 NEW YOKE: 
 MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 
 
 25 PARK ROW, OPPOSITE ASTOR HOUSE. 
 
 AUBURN: 
 107 GENESEE STREET. 
 
 1855, , ,,,
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred 
 and fifty-five, 
 
 BY MILLEK, OKTON & MULLIGAN, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. 
 
 AUBURN : 
 
 MILLER, OKTON 4 MULLIGAN, 
 STEREOTYPERS AHD PMNTEH8.
 
 /OO 3 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN presenting this work to the public, we may be 
 1 permitted to say, that we are fully conscious of the 
 grave charges of misrepresenting society, and mis 
 construing facts, which will be laid at our door, by 
 _:. our friends of the South, and its very peculiar insti 
 tution ; but earnestly do we enjoin all such champions 
 <M of " things as they are," to read and well digest what 
 m we have set before them ; believing that they will 
 o find the TRUTH even " stranger than fiction ;" and, as 
 an incentive to the noble exertions of those, either 
 North or South, who would rid our country of its 
 3 " darkest, foulest blot," we would say, that we have 
 ~ here attempted to give a true picture of Southern so- 
 ij ciety in its various aspects, and that, in our judg- 
 l 'J ment, the institution of Slavery is directly chargea- 
 ij ble with the various moral, social and political evils 
 "* which we have detailed. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 f. C, fi^n 
 
 451349
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTKU. PAGE. 
 
 I. Marston's Plantation, 1 
 
 II. How a Night was spent on Marston's Plantation, 11 
 
 III. Things not so bright as they seem, ... 24 
 
 IV. An Unexpected Confession, . , . .39 
 V. The Marooning Party, ..... 47 
 
 VI. Another Scene in Southern Life, . . .60 
 
 VII. " Buckra-Man very Uncertain," ... 78 
 
 VIII. A Cloud of Misfortune hangs over the Plantation, 85 
 
 IX. Who is Safe against the Power ? ... 98 
 
 X. Another Shade of the Picture, . . . 116 
 
 XI. Mrs. Rosebrook's Project, .... 127 
 
 XII. Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy Changes his Busi 
 ness, ....... 143 
 
 XIII. A Father tria to be a Father, . . . .153 
 
 XIV. In which Extremes are Presented, . . . 161 
 XV. A Scene of Many Lights, 170 
 
 XVI. Another Phase of the Picture, . . .187 
 
 XVIL Pleasant Dealings with Human Property, . . 191 
 
 XVIII. A not uncommon -Scene slightly changed, . 202 
 
 XIX. They are going to be Sold, 206 
 
 XX. Let us follow poor Human Nature to the Man 
 
 Shambles, 222 
 
 XXI. A Father's Trials, 236 
 
 XXII. We Change with Fortune, . . . .254 
 
 XXIII. The Vicissitudes of a Preacher, . . . .268 
 
 XXIV. How we Manufacture Political Faith, . . 280 
 XXV. Mr. M'Fadden sees Shadows of the Future, . . 291 
 
 XXVI. How they stole the Preacher, . . .297 
 
 XXVII. Competition in Human Things, .... 303
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAQB. 
 
 XXVIII. The Pretty Children arc to be Sold, . . 318 
 
 XXIX. Nature Shames Itself, 329 
 
 XXX. The Vision of Death is Past, ... 838 
 
 XXXI. A Friend is "Woman, . . . . .352 
 
 XXXII. Marston in Prison, ... . . 367 
 
 XXXIII. Venders of Human Property are not Responsi 
 
 ble for its Mental Caprices, . . . 376 
 
 XXXIV. A Common Incident shortly told, . . 392 
 XXXV. The Children are Improving, ... .895 
 
 XXXVL Workings of the Slave System, . , 412 
 
 XXXVII. An Item in the Common Calendar, . . . 424 
 
 XXXVIII. In which Regrets are shown of little Worth, . 429 
 
 XXXIX. How we should all be Forgiving, . ... 439 
 
 XL. Containing Various Matters, . . . 447 
 
 XLI. Nicholas, s Simple Story, . . . . .461 
 
 XLII. He would Deliver her from Bondage, . . 469 
 
 XLIII. Other Phases of the Subject 478 
 
 XLIV. How Daddy Bob Departed, ... 485 
 
 XLV. How Slaveholders Fear each other, . . . 499 
 
 XLVI. Southern Administration of Justice, . . 505 
 
 XLVII. Prosperity the Result of Justice, . . . 517 
 
 XL VIII. In which the Fate of Franconia is seen, . 523 
 
 XLIX. In which is a Sad Recognition, . . . 534 
 
 L. In which a Dangerous Principle is Illustrated, 544 
 
 LI. A Continuation of the Last Chapter. . . 552 
 
 LII. In which are Pleasures and Disappointments, . 559 
 
 LIII. A Familiar Scene, in which Pringle Blowers has 
 
 Business, ...... 566 
 
 LIV. In which are Discoveries and Pleasant Scenes, . 574 
 
 LV. In which is a Happy Meeting, some Curious Facts 
 
 Developed, and Clotilda's History Disclosed, 584 
 
 LVI. In which a Plot is Disclosed, and the Man-Seller 
 
 made to Pay the Penalty of his Crimes, . 591
 
 DUE VOBLD. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 MARSTCm'b PLANTATION. 
 
 OH the left bank of the Ashly River, in the State of South 
 Carolina, and a few miles from its principal city, is a plan 
 tation once the property of Hugh Marston. It was near 
 this spot, the brave Huguenots, fleeing religious and 
 political persecution, founded their first American colony 
 invoked Heaven to guard their liberties sought a refuge 
 in a new world ! And it was here the pious Huguenot 
 forgot his appeals to high heaven forgot what had driven 
 him from his fatherland, and unlike the pilgrim fathers who 
 planted their standard on "New England's happy shore," 
 became the first to oppress. It was here, against a fierce 
 tyranny, the gallant Yamassee* loyal to his professed 
 friend, struggled and died for his liberty. It was here 
 the last remnant of his tribe fought the fierce battle 
 of right over might ! It was here, in this domain, 
 destined to be the great and powerful of nations the 
 asylum of an old world's shelter seeking poor, and the 
 proud embodiment of a people's sovereignty, liberty was 
 first betrayed ! It was here men deceived themselves, and 
 freedom proclaimers became freedom destroyers. And, too, 
 it was here Spanish cupidity, murderous in its search for 
 gold, turned a deaf ear to humanity's cries, slaughtered 
 the friendly Indian, and drenched the soil with his innocent 
 blood. And it is here, at this moment, slavery fierce 
 
 * A tribe of faithful and heroic Indiana.
 
 2 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 
 
 monster, threatening the peace of a happy people runs 
 riot in all its savage vicissitudes, denying man his com 
 monest birthright. 
 
 If history did but record the barbarous scenes yet 
 enacted on tho banks of this lovely stream, the contrast 
 with its calm surface sweeping gently onward to mingle its 
 waters with the great deep, would be strange indeed. How 
 mellowed by the calm beauty of a summer evening, the 
 one ! how stained with scenes of misery, torment, and 
 death, the other ! 
 
 Let us beg the reader to follow us back to the time when 
 Marston is found in possession of the plantation, and view 
 it as it is when his friends gather round him to enjoy his 
 bounteous hospitality. 
 
 We have ascended the Ashly on a bright spring morning, 
 and are at a jut covered with dark jungle, where the river, 
 about twenty rods wide, sweeps slowly round ; flower 
 ing brakes, waving their tops to and fro in the breeze, bedeck 
 the river banks, and far in the distance, on the left, opens 
 the broad area of the plantation. As we near it, a beauti 
 fully undulating slope presents itself, bounded on its upper 
 edge by a long line of sombre-looking pines. Again we 
 emerge beneath clustering foliage overhanging the river ; 
 and from out this sovereign of a southern clime the wild 
 azalia and fair magnolia diffuse their fragrance to perfume 
 the air. From the pine ridge the slope recedes till it 
 reaches a line of jungle, or hedge, that separates it from 
 the marshy bottom, extending to the river, against which 
 it is protected by a dyke. Most of the slope is under a 
 high state of cultivation, and on its upper edge is a newly 
 cleared patch of ground, which negroes are preparing for 
 the cotton-seed. 
 
 Smoking piles burn here and there, burned stumps and 
 trees point their black peaks upward in the murky atmos 
 phere, half-clad negroes in coarse osnaburgs are busy among 
 the smoke and fire : the scene presents a smouldering 
 volcano inhabited by semi-devils. Among the sombre 
 denizens are women, their only clothing being osnaburg 
 frocks, made loose at the neck and tied about the waist 
 with a string : with hoes they work upon the " top sur 
 face," gather charred wood into piles, and waddle along 
 as if time were a drug upon life.
 
 MAKSTON'S PLANTATION. 3 
 
 Far away to the right the young corn shoots^its green 
 sprouts in a square plat, where a few negroes are quietly 
 engaged at the first hoeing. Being tasked, they work 
 with system, and expect, if they never receive, a share of 
 the fruits. All love and respect Marston, for he is gene 
 rous and kind to them ; but system in business is at 
 variance with his nature. His overseer, however, is just 
 the reverse : he is a sharp fellow, has an unbending will, is 
 proud of his office, and has long been reckoned among the 
 very best in the county. Full well he knows what sort of 
 negro makes the best driver ; and where nature is ignorant 
 of itself, the accomplishment is valuable. That he watches 
 Marston's welfare, no one doubts ; that he never forgets his 
 own, is equally certain. From near mid-distance of the 
 slope we see him approaching on a bay-coloured horse. 
 The sun's rays are fiercely hot, and, though his features are 
 browned and haggard, he holds a huge umbrella in one hand 
 and the inseparable whip in the other. The former is his 
 protector ; the latter, his sceptre. John Ryan, for such is 
 his name, is a tall, athletic man, whose very look excites 
 terror. Some say he was born in Limerick, on the Emerald 
 Isle, and only left it because his proud spirit would not 
 succumb to the unbending rod England held over his poor 
 bleeding country. 
 
 Running along the centre of the slope is a line of cotton- 
 fields, in which the young plants, sickly in spots, have 
 reached a stage when they require much nursing. Among 
 them are men, women, and children, crouched on the 
 ground like so many sable spectres, picking and pulling at 
 the roots to give them strength. John Ryan has been 
 keeping a sharp eye on them. He will salute you with an 
 air of independence, tell you how he hated oppression and 
 loved freedom, and how, at the present day, he is a great 
 democrat. Sow, whether John left his country for his 
 country's good, is a question ; but certain it is he dearly 
 delights to ply the lash, to whip mankind merely for amuse 
 ment's sake. In a word, John has a good Irish heart 
 within him, and he always lays particular emphasis on the 
 good, when he tells us of its qualities; but let us rather 
 charge to the State that spare use he makes of its gentler 
 parts. 
 
 John Ryan, his face indicating tyranny stereotyped, has
 
 4 MARSTON S PLANTATION. 
 
 just been .placing drivers over each gang of workmen. How 
 careful he was to select a trustworthy negro, whose vanity 
 he has excited, and who views his position as dearly im 
 portant. Our driver not unfrequently is the monster tyrant 
 of his circle ; but whether from inclination to serve the 
 interests of his master, or a knowledge of the fierce system 
 that holds him alike abject, we know not. At times he is 
 more than obedient to his master's will. 
 
 Excuse, reader, this distant view of the plantation at early 
 spring, and follow us back to the Ashly. Here we will 
 still continue along the river-bank, pass borders of thick 
 jungle, flowering vines, and rows of stately pines, their tops 
 moaning in the wind, and soon find we have reached 
 Marston's landing. This is situated at the termination of 
 an elevated plat extending from thence to the mansion, 
 nearly a mile distant. Three negroes lay basking on the 
 bank ; they were sent to wait our coming. Tonio ! Murel ! 
 Pompe ! they ejaculate, calling one another, as we surprise 
 them. They are cheerful and polite, are dressed in striped 
 shirts and trousers, receive us with great suavity of manner, 
 present master's compliments, tell us with an air of welcome 
 that master will be "right glad" to see us, and conclude by 
 making sundry inquiries about our passage and our 
 "Missuses." Pompe, the " most important nigger" of the 
 three, expresses great solicitude lest we get our feet in the 
 mud. Black as Afric's purest, and with a face of great 
 good nature, Pompe, in curious jargon, apologises for the 
 bad state of the landing, tells us he often reminds Mas'r 
 how necessary it is to have it look genteel. Pompe, more 
 than master, is deeply concerned lest the dignity of the 
 plantation suffer. 
 
 Planks and slabs are lain from the water's edge to the 
 high ground on the ridge, upon which we ascend to the 
 crown, a piece of natural soil rising into a beautiful 
 convex of about six rods wide, extending to the garden gate. 
 We wend our way to the mansion, leaving Pompe and his 
 assistants in charge of our luggage, which they will see 
 safely landed. The ridge forms a level walk, sequestered 
 by long lines of huge oaks, their massive branches forming 
 an arch of foliage, with long trailing moss hanging like 
 mourning drapery to enhance its rural beauty. At the 
 extreme of this festooned walk the mansion is seen
 
 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. . 5 
 
 dwindling into an almost imperceptible perspective. There 
 is something grand and impressive in the still arch above 
 us something which revives our sense of the beauty of 
 nature. Through the trunks of the trees, on our right and 
 left, extensive rice fields are seen stretching far into the dis 
 tance. The young blades are shooting above the surface of 
 the water, giving it the appearance of a frozen sheet clothed 
 with green, and protected from the river by a serpentine em 
 bankment. How beautiful the expanse viewed from beneath 
 these hoary-headed oaks ! 
 
 On the surface and along the banks of the river aligators 
 are sporting ; moccasou snakes twist their way along, and 
 scouring kingfishers croak in the balmy air. If a venerable 
 rattlesnake warn us we need not fear being an honourable \ 
 snake partaking of the old southerner's affected chivalry; -/ 
 he will not approach disguised ; no! he will politely give 
 us warning. But we have emerged from the mossy walk 
 and reached a slab fence, dilapidated and broken, which 
 encloses an area of an acre of ground, in the centre of 
 which stands the mansion : the area seems to have been a 
 garden, which, in former days, may have been cultivated 
 with great care. At present it only presents a few beds 
 rank with weeds. We are told the gardener has been dis 
 missed in consideration of his more lucrative services in 
 the corn-field. That the place is not entirely neglected, we 
 have only to add that Marston' s hogs are exercising an 
 independent right to till the soil according to their own 
 system. The mansion is a quadrangular building, about 
 sixty feet long by fifty wide, built of wood, two stories high, 
 having upper and lower verandas. 
 
 We pass the dilapidated gate, and reach it by a narrow 
 passage through the garden, on each side of which is a 
 piece of antique statuary, broken and defaced. Entering 
 the lower veranda, we pace the quadrangle, viewing innume 
 rable cuttings and carvings upon the posts : they are 
 initials and full names, cut to please the vanity of those 
 anxious to leave the Marston family a memento. Again 
 we arrive at the back of the mansion where the quadrangle 
 opens a courtyard filled with broken vines, blackened cedars, 
 and venerable-looking leaks ; they were once much valued 
 by the ancient and very respectable Marston family. A few 
 yards from the left wing of the mansion are the " yard
 
 6 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 
 
 houses" little, comely cabins, about twelve feet by twenty, 
 and proportionately high. One is the kitchen : it has a 
 dingy look, the smoke issuing from its chinks regardless 
 of the chimney ; while from its door, sable denizens, 
 ragged and greasy, and straining their curious faces, issue 
 forth. The polished black cook, with her ample figure, is 
 foaming with excitement, lest the feast she is preparing 
 for master's guests may fail to sustain her celebrity. Con 
 spicuous among these cabins are two presenting a much 
 neater appearance : they are brightly whitewashed, and the 
 little windows are decorated with flowering plants. Within 
 them there is an air of simple neatness and freshness we 
 have seldom seen surpassed ; the meagre furniture seems to 
 have been arranged by some careful hand, and presents an 
 air of cheerfulness in strange contrast with the dingy 
 cabins around. In each there is a neatly arranged bed, 
 spread over with a white cover, and by its side a piece of 
 soft carpet. It is from these we shall draw forth the prin 
 cipal characters of our story. 
 
 Upon a brick foundation, about twenty rods from the 
 right wing of the mansion, stands a wood cottage, occupied 
 by the overseer. Mr. John Ryan not being blessed with 
 a family, when Marston is not honoured with company 
 takes his meals at the mansion. In the distance, to the 
 left, is seen a long line of humble huts, standing upon piles, 
 and occupied by promiscuous negro families : we say pro 
 miscuous, for the marriage-tie is of little value to the 
 master, nor does it give forth specific claim to parentage. 
 The sable -occupants are beings of uncertainty ; their toil is 
 for a life-time a weary waste of hope and disappointment. 
 Yes ! their dreary life is a heritage, the conditions of which 
 no man would share willingly. Victors of husbandry, they 
 share not of the spoils ; nor is the sweat of their brows 
 repaid with justice. 
 
 Near these cabins, mere specks in the distance, are two 
 large sheds, under which are primitive mills, wherein 
 negroes grind corn for their humble meal. Returning 
 from the field at night, hungry and fatigued, he who gets 
 a turn at the mill first is the luckiest fellow. Now that the 
 workpeople are busily engaged on the plantation, the 
 cabins are in charge of two nurses, matronly-looking old 
 bodies, who are vainly endeavouring to keep in order
 
 MARSTONS PLANTATION. 7 
 
 numerous growing specimens of the race too young to 
 destroy a grub at the root of a cotton plant. The task is 
 indeed a difficult one, they being as unruly as an excited 
 Congress. They gambol round the door, make pert faces 
 at old mamma, and seem as happy as snakes in the s'pringsun. 
 Some are in a nude state, others have bits of frocks covering 
 hapless portions of their bodies ; they are imps of mischief 
 personified, yet our heart bounds with sympathy for them. 
 Alive with comicality, they move us, almost unconsciously, 
 to fondle them. And yet we know not why we would 
 fondle the sable "rascals." One knot is larking on the 
 grass, running, toddling, yelling, and hooting; another, 
 ankle-deep in mud, clench together and roll among the 
 ducks, work their clawy fingers through the tufts of each 
 other's crispy hair, and enjoy their childish sports with an 
 air of genial happiness ; while a third sit in a circle beside 
 an oak tree, playing with " Dash," whose tail they pull 
 without stint. "Dash" is the faithful and favourite dog; 
 he rather likes a saucy young " nigger," and, while feeling 
 himself equal to the very best in the clan, will permit the 
 small fry, without resenting the injury, to pull his tail. 
 
 It being "ration day," we must describe the serving, 
 that being an interesting phase of plantation life. Negroes 
 have gathered into motley groups around two weather- 
 beaten store-houses the overseer has retired to his 
 apartment when they wait the signal from the head driver, 
 who figures as master of ceremonies. One sings : 
 
 "Jim Crack corn, an' I don't care, 
 Fo'h mas'r's gone away ! way ! way ! " 
 
 Another is croaking over the time he saved on his task, 
 a third is trying to play a trick with the driver (come 
 the possum over him), and a third unfolds the scheme by 
 which the extra for whiskey and molasses was raised. 
 Presenting a sable pot pourri, they jibber and croak among 
 themselves, laugh and whistle, go through the antics of 
 the " break-down " dance, make the very air echo with the 
 music of their incomprehensible jargon. We are well nigh / 
 deafened by it, and yet it excites our joy. We are amused \ 
 and instructed ; we laugh because they laugh, our feelings \ 
 vibrate with theirs, their quaint humour forces itself into 
 our very soul, and our sympathy glows with their happy
 
 8 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 
 
 anticipations. The philosophy of their jargon is catching 
 to our senses ; we listen that we may know their natures, 
 and learn good from their simplicity. He is a strange 
 mortal who cannot learn something from a fool ! 
 
 The happy moment has arrived : " Ho, boys !" is 
 sounded, the doors open, the negroes stop their antics and 
 their jargon; stores are exposed, and with one dinning 
 mutter all press into a half-circle at the doors, in one of 
 which stands the huge figure of Balam, the head driver. 
 He gives a scanning look at the circle of anxious faces ; 
 he would have us think the importance of the plantation 
 centred in his glowing black face. There he stands 
 a measure in his hand while another driver, with 
 an air of less dignity, cries out, with a stentorian voice, 
 the names of the heads of families, and the number of 
 children belonging thereto. Thus, one by one, the name 
 being announced in muddled accents, they step forward, 
 and receive their corn, or rice, as may be. In pans and pails 
 they receive it, pass it to the younger members of tho 
 family ; with running and scampering, they carry the coarse 
 allotment to their cabin with seeming cheerfulness. 
 Marston, esteemed a good master, always gives bacon, and 
 to receive this the negroes will gather round the store a 
 second time. In this, the all-fascinating bacon is concealed, 
 for which the children evince more concern; their eyes 
 begin to shine brighter, their watchfulness becomes more 
 intent. Presently a negro begins to withdraw the meat, 
 and as he commences action the jargon gets louder, until 
 we are deafened, and would fain move beyond it. Just 
 then, the important driver, with hand extended, commands, 
 " Order !" at the very top of his loud voice. All is again 
 still ; the man returns to his duty. The meat is somewhat 
 oily and rancid, but Balam cuts it as if it were choice and 
 "scarce. Another driver weighs it in a pair of scales he 
 holds in his hands ; while still another, cutting the same as 
 before, throws it upon some chaff at the door, as if it were a 
 bone thrown to a hungry dog. How humbly the recipient 
 picks it up and carries it to his or her cabin ! Not un- 
 frequently the young "imps" will scramble for it, string it 
 upon skewers, and with great nonchalance throw it over 
 their shoulders, and walk off. If it bathe their backs with 
 grease so much more the comfort. Those little necessaries
 
 MARSTON S PLANTATION. 9 
 
 which add so much to the negro's comfort, and of which 
 he is so fond, must be purchased with the result of his extra 
 energy. Even this allowance may serve the boasted hospi 
 tality ; but the impression that there is a pennyworth of 
 generosity for every pound of parsimony, forces itself upon 
 us. On his little spot, by moonlight or starlight, the negro 
 must cultivate for himself, that his family may enjoy a few 
 of those fruits of which .master has many. How miserable is 
 the man without a spark of generosity in his soul ; and how 
 much more miserable the man who will not return good for 
 good's worth ! To the negro, kindness is a mite inspiring 
 the impulses of a simple heart, and bringing forth great 
 good. 
 
 Let us again beg the reader to return with us to those 
 conspicuous cottages near the court-yard, and in which we 
 will find several of our characters. 
 
 We cross the threshold of one, and are accosted by a 
 female who, speaking iri musical accents, invites us to sit 
 down. She has none of Afric's blood in her veins ; no ! 
 her features are beautifully olive, and the intonation of her 
 voice discovers a diiferent origin. Her figure is tall and 
 well-formed ; she has delicately-formed hands and feet, 
 long, tapering fingers, well-rounded limbs, and an oval 
 face, shaded with melancholy. How reserved she seems, and 
 yet how quickly she moves her graceful figure ! Now she 
 places her right hand upon her finely-arched forehead, parts 
 the heavy folds of glossy hair that hang carelessly over her 
 brown shoulders, and with a half-suppressed smile answers 
 our salutation. We are welcome in her humble cabin ; but 
 her dark, languishing eyes, so full of intensity, watch us 
 with irresistible suspicion. They are the symbols of her 
 inward soul; they speak through that melancholy per 
 vading her countenance ! The deep purple of her cheek ia 
 softened by it, while it adds to her face that calm beauty 
 which moves the gentle of our nature. How like a woman 
 born to fill a loftier sphere than that to which a cruel law 
 subjects her, she seems ! 
 
 Neither a field nor a house servant, the uninitiated may be 
 at a loss to know what sphere on the plantation is her's ? 
 She is the mother of Annette, a little girl of remarkable 
 beauty, sitting at her side, playing with her left hand. 
 Annette is fair, has light auburn hair not the first tinge of
 
 10 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 
 
 her mother's olive invades her features. Her little cheerful 
 face is lit up with a smile, and while toying with the rings 
 on her mother's lingers, asks questions that person does not 
 seem inclined to answer. Vivacious and sprightly, she chatters 
 and lisps until we become eager for her history. "It's only a 
 child's history," some would say. But the mother displays 
 BO much fondness for it ; and yet we become more and 
 more excited by the strange manner in which she tries to 
 suppress an outward display of her feelings. At times she 
 pats it gently on the head, runs her hands through its 
 hair, and twists the ends into tiny ringlets. 
 
 In the next cabin we meet the shortish figure of a tawny 
 female, whose Indian features stand boldly out. Her high 
 cheek bones, long glossy black hair, and flashing eyes, 
 are the indexes of her pedigree. " My master says I am a 
 slave : " in broken accents she answers our question. As 
 she sits in her chair near the fire-place of bricks, a male 
 issue of the mixed blood toddles round and round her, 
 tossing her long coarse hair every time he makes a circut. 
 The little boy is much fairer than the brawny daughter who 
 seems his mother. Playful, and even mischievous, he 
 delights in pulling the hair which curls over his head ; and 
 when the woman calls him he answers with a childish 
 heedlessness, and runs for the door. Header! this woman's 
 name is Ellen Juvarna ; she has youth on her side, and 
 though she retains the name of her ancient sire, is proud of 
 | being master's mistress. She tells us how comfortable she 
 / is ; how Nicholas, for each is his name, resembles his father, 
 how he loves him, but how he fails to acknowledge him. 
 A feud, with its consequences, is kept up between the two 
 cabins; and while she makes many insinuations about her 
 rival, tells us she knows her features have few charms. 
 Meanwhile, she assures us that neither good looks nor sweet 
 smiles make good mothers. " Nicholas ! " she exclaims, 
 " come here ; the gentlemen want to know all about papa." 
 And, as she extends her hand, the child answers the 
 summons, runs across the room, fondles his head in his 
 mother's lap, seems ashamed !
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW A NIGHT WAS SPENT ON MARSTON's PLANTATION. 
 
 EABTH is mantled \vitli richest verdure ; far away to the 
 west and south of the mansion the scene stretches out in 
 calm grandeur. The sun sinks beneath glowing clouds that 
 crirr.son the horizon and spread refulgent shadows on 
 the distant hills, as darkness slowly steals its way on the 
 mellow landscape. 
 
 Motley groups of negroes are returned from the field, 
 fires are lighted in and about the cabins, and men mutter 
 their curious jargon while moving to prepare the coarse 
 meal. Their anxious countenances form a picture wild 
 and deeply interesting. 
 
 Entering Marston's mansion, we find its interior neater, \ 
 than its weather-stained and paintless sides portended. } 
 Through the centre runs a broad passage, and on the left' 
 and right are large parlours, comfortably furnished, divided 
 by folding doors of carved walnut. "We are ushered into 
 the one on the right by a yellow servant, who, neatly 
 dressed in black, has prepared his politeness for the 
 occasion. With great suavity, accompanied by a figurative 
 grin, he informs us that master will pay his respects 
 presently. Pieces of singularly antique furniture are 
 arranged round the room, of which, he adds, master is 
 proud indeed. Two plaster figures, standing in dingy 
 niches, he tells us are wonders of the white man's genius. 
 In his own random style he gives us an essay on the arts, 
 adding a word here and there to remind us of inaster's 
 exquisite taste, and anxiously waits our confirmation of 
 what he says. 
 
 A large open fire-place, with fancifully carved frame 
 work and mantel-pieces, in Italian marble of polished 
 blackness, upon which stood massive silver candlesticks, 
 in chased work, denotes the ancient character of the 
 mansion. It has many years been the home of the ever- 
 hospitable Marston family. 
 I
 
 12 HOW A NIGHT WAS SPENT ON 
 
 In another part of the room is a mahogany side-board of 
 antique pattern, upon which stand sundry bottles and 
 glasses, indicative of Marston having entertained company 
 in the morning. While we are contemplating the furniture 
 around us, and somewhat disappointed at the want of taste 
 displayed in its arrangement, the door opens, and Sain, the 
 yellow servant, bows Marston in with a gracious smile. It 
 is in the south where the polite part is played by the negro. 
 Deacon Rosebrook and Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy, a 
 man of the world, follow Marston into the room. Marston 
 is rather tall of figure, robust, and frank of countenance. 
 A florid face, and an extremely large nose bordering on the 
 red, at times give him an aldermanic air. He rubs his fingers 
 through the short, sandy-coloured hair that bristles over a 
 low forehead (Tom, the barber, has just fritted it) smiles, 
 and introduces us to his friends. He is vain vanity belongs 
 to the slave world 'is sorry his eyes are grey, but adds an 
 assurance every now and then that his blood is of the very 
 best stock. Lest a doubt should hang upon our mind, he 
 asserts, with great confidence, that grey eyes indicate pure 
 Norman birth. As for phrenology ! he never believed in a 
 single bump, and cites his own contracted forehead as the 
 very strongest proof against the theory. Indeed, there is 
 nothing remarkable in our host's countenance, if we except 
 its floridness; but a blunt nose protruding over a wide 
 mouth and flat chin gives the contour of his face an expres 
 sion not the most prepossessing. He has been heard to 
 say, "A man who didn't love himself wasn't worth loving:" 
 and, to show his belief in this principle of nature, he adorns 
 his face with thick red whiskers, not the most pleasing to 
 those unaccustomed to the hairy follies of a fashionable 
 southron. 
 
 Times are prosperous ; the plantation puts forth its 
 bounties, and Marston withholds noiliing that can make 
 time pass pleasantly with those who honour him with a 
 visit. He is dressed in an elaborately cut black coat, with 
 sweeping skirts, a white vest, fancy-coloured pantaloons, 
 and bright boots. About his neck is an enormous shirt 
 collar, turned carelessly over, and secured with a plain black 
 ribbon. Elder Praiseworthy is of lean figure, with sharp, 
 craven features. The people of the parish have a doubtful 
 opinion of him. Some say he will preach sermons setting
 
 M!AHSXO5J'3 PLANTATION. 13 
 
 forth the divine right of slavery, or any other institution 
 that has freedom for its foe, provided always there is no 
 lack of pay. As a divine, he is particularly sensitive lest 
 anything should be said disparagingly against the institution 
 he lends his aid to protect. That all institutions founded 
 in patriarchal usage are of God's creation, he holds to be 
 indisputable ; and that working for their overthrow is a 
 great crime, as well as an unpardonable sin, he never had the 
 slightest doubt. He is careful of his clerical dress, which 
 is of smoothest black ; and remembering how essential are 
 gold-framed spectacles, arranges and re-arranges his with 
 - greatest care. He is a great admirer of large books with 
 gilt edges and very expensive bindings. They show to best 
 advantage in the southern parlour library, where books are 
 rarely opened. To say the Elder is not a man of great 
 parts, is to circulate a libel of the first magnitude. Indeed, 
 he liked big books for their solidity ; they reminded him of 
 great thoughts well preserved, and souud principles more 
 iirmly established. At times he had thought they were 
 like modern democratic rights, linked to huge comprehending 
 faculties, such as was his good fortune to use when expound 
 ing state rights and federal obligations. 
 
 Deacon Kosebrook is a comely, fair- faced man, a moderate 
 thinker, a charitable Christian, a very good man, who lets 
 his deeds of kindness speak of him. He is not a politician 
 no ! he is a better quality of man, has filled higher stations. 
 Nor is he of the modernly pious that is, as piety professes 
 itself in our democratic world, where men use it more as a 
 necessary appliance to subdue the mind thim a means to 
 improve civilization. But he was always cautious in giving 
 expression to his sentiments, knowing the delicate sensi 
 bilities of those he had to deal with, and fearing lest he 
 might spring a democratic mine of very illiberal indignation. 
 
 " Come, gentlemen guests, you are as welcome as the 
 showers," says Marston, in a stentorious voice : " Be seated ; 
 you are at home under my roof. Yes, the hospitality of 
 my plantation is at your service." The yellow man removes 
 a table that stood in the centre of the room, places chairs 
 around it, and each takes his seat. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dear Marston, you live with the comfort 
 of a nabob. "Wealth seems to spring up on all sides," 
 returns the Deacon, good-naturedly.
 
 14 HOW A NIGHT WA.8 SPENT ON 
 
 " And so I think," joins the Elder : " the pleasures of the 
 plantation are manifold, swimming along from day to day ; 
 but I fear there is one thing our friend has not yet 
 considered." 
 
 " Pray what is that ? Let us hear it ; let us hear it. 
 Perhaps it is the very piety of nonsense," rejoined Murston, 
 quickly. " Dead men and devils are always haunting us." 
 The Elder draws his spectacles from his pocket, wipes them 
 with his silk handkerchief, adjusts them, on his nose, and 
 replies with some effort, " The Future." 
 
 "Nothing more?" Marston inquires, quaintly: "Never 
 contented ; riches all around us, favourable prospects for 
 the next crop, prices stiff, markets good, advices from 
 abroad exciting. Let the future take care of itself; you 
 are like all preachers, Elder, borrowing darkness when you 
 can't see light." 
 
 " The Elder, so full of allegory !" whispers the Deacon. 
 "He means a moral condition, which we all esteem as a 
 source of riches laid up in store for the future." 
 
 " I discover ; but it never troubles me while I take care 
 of others. I pray for my negro property pray loudly and 
 long. And then, their piety is a charge of great magnitude ; 
 but when I need your assistance in looking after it, be 
 assured you will receive an extra fee." 
 
 "That's personal personal, decidedly personal." 
 
 " Quite the reverse," returns Marston, suddenly smiling, 
 and, placing his elbows on the table, rests his face on his 
 hands. " Religion is well in its place, good on simple 
 minds ; just the thing to keep vassals in their places : that's 
 [ why I pay to have it talked to my property. Elder, I 
 | get the worth of my money in seeing the excitement my 
 fellows get into by hearing you preach that old worn-out 
 sermon. You've preached it to them so long, they have 
 got it by heart. Only impress the rascals that it's God's 
 will they should labour for a life, and they'll stick to it like 
 Trojans: they are just like pigs, sir." 
 
 " You don't comprehend me, my friend Marston : I 
 mean that you should prepare it's a rule applicable to all 
 to meet the terrible that may come upon us at any moment." 
 The Elder is fearful that he is not quite explicit enough. 
 He continues : " Well, there is something to be considered ;" 
 he is not quite certain that we should curtail the pleasurei?
 
 MABSTON'S PLANTATION. 15 
 
 of this life by binding ourselves with the dread of what ia 
 to come. " Seems as if we owed a common duty to 
 ourselves," he ejaculates. 
 
 The conversation became more exciting, Marston 
 facetiously attempting to be humorous at the Elder's 
 expense : " It isn't the pleasure, my dear fellow, it's the 
 contentment. AVe were all born to an end ; and if that end 
 be to labour through lite for others, it must be right. 
 Everything is right that custom has established right." 
 
 " Marston, give us your hand, my friend. 'Twould do to 
 plead so if we had no enemies, but enemies are upon us, 
 watching our movements through partizans' eyes, full of 
 fierceness, and evil to misconstruct." 
 
 " I care not," interrupts Marston. " My slaves are my 
 property I shall do with them as it pleases me ; no 
 insinuations about morality, or I shall mark you on an old 
 score. Do you sound ? Good Elders should be good men ; 
 but they, as well as planters, have their frailties ; it would not 
 do to tell them all, lest high heaven should cry out." 
 Marston points his finger, and laughs heartily. " I wish we 
 had seven lives to live, and they were all as happy as most 
 of our planters could desire to make them." 
 
 The Elder understood the delicate hint, but desiring to 
 avoid placing himself in an awkward position before the 
 Deacon, began to change the conversation, criticising the 
 merits of several old pictures hung upon the walls. They 
 were much valued by Marston, as mementoes of his ancestry : 
 of this the Elder attempted in vain to make a point. 
 During this conversation, so disguised in meaning, the 
 mulatto servant stood at the door waiting Marston's 
 commands. Soon, wine and refreshments were brought in, 
 and spread out in old plantation style. The company had 
 scarcely filled glasses, when a rap sounded at the hall door : 
 a servant hastened to announce a carriage ; and in another 
 minute was ushered into the room the graceful figure of a 
 young lady whose sweet and joyous countenance bespoke 
 the absence of care. She was followed by a genteelly- 
 dressed young man of straight person and placid features. 
 
 " Oh ! Franco nia," said Marston, rising from his seat, 
 grasping her hand affectionately, and bestowing a kiss on 
 her fair cheek, for it was fair indeed. 
 
 Taking her right hand in his left, he added, " My niece,
 
 16 HOW A KIGHT WAS SPENT ON 
 
 gentlemen ; my brother's only daughter, and nearly spoiled 
 with attentions." A pleasant smile stole over her face, as 
 gracefully she acknowledged the compliment. In another 
 minute three or four old negroes, moved by the exuberance 
 of their affection for her, gathered about her. contending 
 with anxious faces for the honour of seeing her comfortable. 
 
 'I love her!" continued Marston ; "and, as well as she 
 could a father, she loves me, making time pass pleasantly 
 with her cheerfulness." She was the child of his affections ; 
 and as he spoke his face glowed with animation. Scarce 
 seventeen summers had bloomed upon his fair niece, who, 
 though well developed in form, was of a delicate constitu 
 tion, and had inherited that sensitiveness so peculiar to the 
 child of the South, especially she who has been cradled in 
 the nursery of ease and refinement. As she spoke, smiled, 
 and raised her jewelled fingers, the grace accompanying the 
 words was expressive of love and tenderness. Turning to 
 the gentleman who accompanied her, " My friend !" she 
 added, simply, with a frolicsome laugh. A dozen anxious 
 black faces were now watching in the hall, ready to scamper 
 round her ere she made her appearance to say, "Howde'h !" 
 to young Missus, and get a glimpse at her stranger friend. 
 After receiving a happv salute from the old servants, she 
 re-enters the room. " Uncle's always drinking wine when 
 I come ; but Uncle forgets me ; he has not so much a3 
 once asked me to join him !" She lays her hand on his arm 
 pla\ fully, smiles cunningly, points reproachfully at the 
 Elder, and takes a seat at her uncle's side. The wine has 
 seized the Elder's mind ; he stares at her through hia 
 spectacles, and holds his glass with his left hand. 
 
 " Come, Dandy," said Marston, addressing himself to 
 the mulatto attendant, " bring a glass ; she shall join us." 
 The glass is brought, Marston fills it, she bows, they drink 
 to her and to the buoyant spirits of the noble southern 
 lady. "I don't admire the habit ; but I do like to please 
 so ; " she whispers, and, excusing herself, skips into the 
 parlour on the right, where she is again beset by the old 
 servants, who rush to her, shake her hand, cling playfully 
 to her dress : some present various new-plucked flowers 
 others are become noisy with their chattering jargon. At 
 length she is so beset with the display of their affection as 
 to be compelled to break away from them, and call for
 
 MABSTON'S PLANTATION. 17 
 
 Clotilda. " I must have Clotilda !" she says : " TeU her 
 to come soon, Dandy : she alone can arrange my dress." 
 Thus saying, she disappeared up a winding stair leading from 
 the hall into the second story. 
 
 We were anxious to know who Clotilda was, and why 
 Franconia should summon her with so much solicitude. 
 Presently a door opened : Franconia appeared at the top of 
 the stairs, her face glowing with vivacity, her hair dishevelled 
 waving in beautiful confusion, giving a fascination to her 
 person. " I do wish she would come, I do !" she mutters, 
 resting her hands upon the banisters, and looking intently 
 into the passage : " she thinks more of fussing over 
 Annette's hair, than she does about taking care of mine. 
 Well, I won't get cross I won't! Poor Clotilda, I do like 
 her ; I can't help it ; it is no more than natural that she 
 should evince so much solicitude for her child : we would 
 do the same." Scarcely had she uttered these words, when 
 the beautiful female we have described in the foregoing 
 chapter ran from her cabin, across the yard, into the 
 mansion. " Where is young Miss Franconia ?" she in 
 quires ; looks hastily around, ascends the stairs, greets 
 Franconia with a fervent shake of the hand, commences 
 adjusting her hair. There is a marked similarity in their 
 countenances : it awakens our reflections. Had Clotilda 
 exhibited that exactness of toilet for which Franconia is 
 become celebrated, she would excel in her attractions. 
 There was the same oval face, the same arched brows ; there 
 was the same Grecian contour of features, the same sharply 
 lined nose ; there was the same delicately cut mouth, dis 
 closing white, pearly teeth ; the same eyes, now glowing 
 with sentiment, and again pensive, indicating thought and 
 tenderness ; there was the same classically moulded bust, a 
 shoulder slightly converging, of beautiful olive, enriched 
 by a dark mole. 
 
 Clotilda would fain have kissed Francouia, but she dare 
 not. " Clotilda, you must take good care of me while I 
 make my visit. Only do my hair nicely, and I will see that 
 Uncle gets a new dress for you when he goes to the city. 
 If Uncle would only get married, how much happier 
 it would be," say a Franconia, looking at Clotilda the 
 while. 
 
 " And me, too, I would be happier !" Clotilda replies,
 
 18 HOW A NIGHT WAS SPENT ON 
 
 resting her arms on the back of "Franconia's lolling chair, as 
 her eyes assumed a melancholy glare. She heaved a sigh. 
 
 " You could not be happier than you are ; you are well 
 cared for ; Uncle will never see you want ; but you must 
 be cheerful when I come, Clotilda, you must I To see 
 you unhappy makes me feel unhappy." 
 
 " Cheerful ! its better said than felt. Can he or she be 
 cheerful who is forced to sin against God and himself? 
 There is little to be cheerful with, where the nature is not 
 its own. Why should I be the despised wretch at your 
 Uncle's feet : did God, the great God, make me a slave to 
 his licentiousness ? 
 
 " Suppress such feelings, Clotilda ; do not let them get 
 the better of you. God ordains all things : it is well to 
 abide by His will, for it is sinful to be discontented, 
 especially where everything is so well provided. Why, 
 Uncle has learned you to read, and even to write." 
 
 " Ah ! that's just what gave me light ; through it I knew 
 that I had a life, and a soul beyond that, as valuable to me 
 as yours is to you." 
 
 " Be careful, Clotilda," she interrupts ; " remember there 
 is a wide difference between us. Do not cross Uncle ; he 
 is kind, but he may get a freak into his head, and sell you." 
 
 Clotilda's cheeks brightened ; she frowned at the word, 
 and, giving her black hair a toss from her shoulder, 
 muttered, " To sell me ! Had you measured the depth of 
 pain in that word, Franconia, your lips had never given it 
 utterance. To sell me ! 'tis that. The difference is wide 
 indeed, but the point is sharpest. Was it my mother who 
 made that point so sharp ? It could not ! a mother would 
 not entail such misery on her offspring. That name, so full 
 of associations dear to me so full of a mother's love and 
 tenderness, could not reflect pain. Nay ; her affections 
 were bestowed upon me, I love to treasure them, I 
 do. To tell me that a mother would entail misery without 
 an end, is to tell me that the spirit of love is without 
 good !" 
 
 " Do not make yourself unhappy, Clotilda. Perhaps you 
 are as well with us as you would be elsewhere. Even at 
 the free north, in happy New England, ladies would not 
 take the notice of you we do : many of your class have died 
 there, poor and wretched, among the most miserable
 
 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 19 
 
 creatures ever born to a sad end. And you are not 
 black " 
 
 " All is not truth that is told for such," Clotilda inter 
 rupts Francouia. " If I were black, my life would have but 
 one stream : now it is terrible with uncertainty. As I am, 
 niy hopes and affections are blasted." 
 
 " Sit down, Clotilda," rejoins Franconia, quickly. 
 
 Clotilda, having lavished her skill on Franconia's hair, 
 seats herself by her side. Franconia affectionately takes 
 her tapering hand and presses it with her jewelled fingers. 
 " Remember, Clotilda," she continues, " all the negroes on 
 the plantation become unhappy at seeing you fretful. It is 
 well to seem happy, for its influence on others. Uncle 
 will always provide for Annette and you ; and he is kind. 
 If he pays more attention to Ellen at times, take no notice 
 of it. Ellen Juvarna is Indian, moved to peculiarities by 
 the instincts of her race. Uncle is imprudent, I admit ; but 
 society is not with us as it is elsewhere !" 
 
 "I care not so much for myself," speaks the woman, in 
 a desponding voice ; " it is Annette ; and when you spoke 
 of her you touched the chord of all my troubles. I can 
 endure the sin forced upon myself; but, O heavens! how 
 can I butcher my very thoughts with the unhappy life that 
 is before her? My poor mother's words haunt me. I 
 know her feelings now, because I can judge them by my 
 own can see how her broken heart was crushed into the 
 grave ! She kissed my hand, and said, ' Clotilda, my child, 
 you are born to a cruel death. Give me but a heart to meet 
 my friends in judgment !' " 
 
 The child with the flaxen hair, humming a tune, came 
 scampering up the stairs into the room. It recognises 
 Franconia, and, with a sportive laugh, runs to her and 
 fondles in her lap ; then, turning to its mother, seems 
 anxious to divide its affections between them. Its features 
 resembled Franconia's the similarity was unmistakeable ; 
 and although she fondled it, talked with it, and smoothed 
 its little locks, she resisted its attempts to climb on her 
 knee : she was cold. 
 
 " Mother says I look like you, and so does old Aunt 
 Kachel, Miss Franconia they do," whispers the child, 
 shyly, as it twisted its fingers round the rings on Fran-
 
 20 HOW A NIGHT WAS SPENT ON 
 
 conia's hand. Fraueoriia blushed, and cast an inquiring 
 look at Clotilda. 
 
 " Ton must not be naughty," she snys ; " those black 
 imps you play with arouiid Aunt Rachel's cabin teach you 
 wrong. You must be careful with her, Clotilda ; never 
 allow her to say such tilings to white people : she may use 
 such expressions before strangers, which would be ex 
 tremely painful " 
 
 " It seems too plain : if there be no social sin, why fear 
 the degradation P" she quietly interrupts. " Ton cannot 
 keep it from the child. O, how I should like to know my 
 strange history, Francouia, to know if it can be that I was 
 born to such cruel misfortunes, such bitter heart-achings, 
 such gloomy forebodings. If I were, then am I content 
 with my lot." 
 
 Fraucouia listened attentively, saw the anguish that was 
 bursting the bounds- of the unhappy woman's feelings, and 
 interrupted by saying, " Speak of it no more, Clotilda. 
 Take your child ; go to your cabin. I shall stay a few days : 
 to-morrow I will visit you there." As she spoke, she 
 waved her hand, bid Clotilda good night, kissing Annette 
 as she was led down stairs. Now alone, she begins to con 
 template the subject more deeply. It must be wrong, she 
 says to herself: but few are brought to feel it who have the 
 power to remove it. The poor creature seems so unhappy ; 
 and my feelings are pained when they tell me how much 
 she looks like me, and it must be so ; for when she sat by 
 my side, looking in the glass the portrait of similarity 
 touched my feelings deeply. 'Tis not the thing for Uncle 
 to live in this way. Here am I, loved and beloved, with 
 the luxury of wealth, and friends at my pleasure ; 1 am 
 caressed: she is but born a wretch to serve my Uncle's 
 vanity ; and, too, were I to reproach him, he would laugh at 
 what he calls our folly, our sickly sensitiveness ; he would 
 tell me of the pleasures of southern life, southern scenery, 
 southern chivalry, southern refinement ; yes, he would tell 
 me how it were best to credit the whole to southern 
 liberality of custom : so it continues ! There is a prin 
 ciple to be served after all : he says we are not sent into 
 the world to excommune ourselves from its pleasures. 
 This may be good logic, for I own I don't believe with
 
 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 21 
 
 those who want the world screwed up into a religious vice ; 
 but pleasure is divided into so many different qualities, one 
 hardly knows which suits best now-a-days. Philosophers 
 say we should avoid making pleasure of that which can give 
 pain to others ; but philosophers say so many things, and 
 give so much advice that we never think of following. 
 Uncle has a standard of his own. I do, however, wish 
 southern society would be more circumspect, looking upon 
 morality in its proper light. Its all doubtful ! doubtful ! 
 doubtful ! There is Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy ; he 
 preaches, preaches, preaches ! his preaching is to live, not 
 to die by. I do pity those poor negroes, who, notwithstand 
 ing their impenetrable heads, are bored to death every 
 Sunday with that selfsame sermon. Such preaching, such 
 strained effort, such machinery to make men pious, it's as 
 soulless as a well. I don't wonder the world has got to be 
 BO very wicked, when the wickedness of the slavery church 
 has become so sublime. And there's Uncle, too, he's been 
 affected just in that way; hearing pious discourses to uphold 
 that which in his soul he knew to be the heaviest wicked 
 ness the world groaned under, he has come to look upon 
 religion as if it were a commodity too stale for him. He 
 sees the minister of God's Word a mere machine of task, 
 paid to do a certain amount of talking to negroes, endea 
 vouring to impress their simple minds with the belief that * 
 it is God's will they should be slaves. And this is all for | 
 necessity's sake !" In this musing mood she sits rocking j 
 iu her chair, until at length, overcome with the heat, she 
 reclines her head against the cushion, resigning herself to 
 the soothing embrace of sweet sleep. 
 
 The moon's silver rays were playing on the calm surface 
 of the river, the foliage on its banks seemed bathed in quiet 
 repose, the gentle breeze, bearing its balmy odours, wafted 
 through the arbour of oaks, as if to fan her crimson 
 cheeks ; the azalia and magnolia combined their fragrance, 
 impregnating the dew falling over the scene, as if to 
 mantle it with beauty. She slept, a picture of southern 
 beauty ; her auburn tresses in undulating richness playing 
 to and fro upon her swelling bosom, how developed in all 
 its delicacy! her sensitive nature made more lovely by 
 the warmth and generosity of her heart. Still she slept, 
 her youthful mind overflowing with joy and buoyancy :
 
 22 HOW A NIGHT WAS SPENT ON 
 
 about her there was a ravishing simplicity more than 
 earthly : a blush upon her cheek became deeper, it was 
 the blush of love Hashing in a dream, that tells its tale 
 in nervous vibrations, adding enchantment to sleeping 
 voluptuousness ; and yet all was sacred, an envied object 
 no rude hand dare touch ! 
 
 Pranconia had been educated at the north, in a land 
 where God bless the name Puritanism is not quite ex 
 tinct ; and through the force of principles there inculcated 
 had outgrown much of that feeling which, at the south 
 admits to be right what is basely wrong. She hesitated to 
 reproach Marston with the bad effect of his life, but re 
 solved on endeavouring to enlist Clotilda's confidence, and 
 learn how far her degraded condition affected her feelings. 
 She saw her with the same proud spirit that burned in her 
 own bosom ; the same tenderness, the same affection for her 
 child, the same hopes and expectations for the future, and 
 its rewards. The question was, what could be done for 
 Clotilda ? Was it better to reason with her, to, if possible, 
 make her happy in her condition ? Custom had sanctioned 
 many unrighteous inconsistencies : they were southern, 
 nothing more ! She would intercede with her Uncle, she 
 would have him sign free papers for Clotilda and her child ; 
 she saw a relationship which the law could not disguise, 
 though it might crush out the natural affections. With these 
 thoughts passing in her mind, her imagination wandered 
 until she dropped into the sleep we have described. 
 
 There she slept, the blushes suffusing her cheeks, until 
 old Aunt ."Rachel, puffing and blowing like an exhausting 
 engine, entered the room. Aunty is the pink of a plantation 
 mother : she is as black as the blackest, has a face em 
 bodying all the good-nature of the plantation, boasts of 
 her dimensions, which she says are six feet, well as anybody 
 proportioned. Her head is done up in a flashy bandana, 
 the points nicely crosslain, and extending an elaborate 
 distance beyond her ears, nearly covering the immense 
 circular riugs that hang from them. Her gingham dress, 
 starched just so, her whitest white apron, never worn 
 before missus come, sets her off to great advantage. Aunty 
 is a good piece of property tells us how many hundred 
 dollars there is in her feels that she has been promoted 
 because Mas'r told somebody he would not take a dollar
 
 FRANCONIA SLEEPING. 
 
 'If young missus aint nappin' just so nice ! I likes to cotch 'em just so. 1
 
 MARSTON'S PLANTATION. 23 
 
 less for her. She can superintend the domestic affairs of 
 the mansion just as well as anybody. In one hand she 
 bears a cup of orange-grove coffee, in the other a fan, made 
 of palmetto-leaves. 
 
 " Gi'h e you!" she exclaimed. "If young missus aint 
 nappiii' just so nice ! I likes to cotch 'em just so ;" and 
 setting her tray upon a stand, she views Franconia intently, 
 and in the exuberance of her feelings seats herself in front 
 of her chair, fanning her with the palmetto. The inqui 
 sitive and affectionate nature of the good old slave was 
 here presented in its purity. Nothing can be stronger, 
 nothing show the existence of happy associations more 
 forcibly. The old servant's attachment is proverbial, his 
 enthusiasm knows no bounds, Mas'r's comfort absorbs all 
 his thoughts. Here, Aunt Rachel's feelings rose beyond 
 her power of restraint : she gazed on her young missus 
 with admiration, laughed, fanned her more and more ; then 
 grasping her little jewelled hand, pressed it to her spacious 
 mouth and kissed it. " Young Missus ! Franconia, I does 
 lub ye so !" she whispers. 
 
 "Why, Aunt Eachel!" ejaculated Franconia, starting 
 suddenly : " I am glad you wakened me, for I dreamed of 
 trouble: it made me weak nervous. Where is Clotilda?" 
 And she stared vacantly round the room, as if unconscious 
 of her position. " Guess 'e aint 'bout nowhere. Te see, 
 Miss, how she don't take no care on ye, takes dis child to 
 stir up de old cook, when ye comes to see us." And 
 stepping to the stand she brings the salver; and in her 
 excitement to serve Missus, forgets that the coffee is cold. 
 " Da'h he is ; just as nice as 'em get in de city. E-achel 
 made 'em !" 
 
 " I want Clotilda, Eachel ; you must bring her to me. I 
 was dreaming of her and Annette ; and ehe can tell 
 dreams- 
 
 The old slave interrupts her. " If Miss Franconia hab 
 had dream, 'e bad, sartiu. Old Mas'r spoil dat gal, Clotilda, 
 make her tink she lady, anyhow. She mos' white, fo'h 
 true ; but aint no better den oder nigger on de plantation," 
 she returns. Franconia sips her coffee, takes a waf from 
 the plate as the old servant holds it before her, and orders 
 Dandy to summon Clotilda.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 THE following morning broke forth bright and serene. 
 Marston and his guests, after passing a pleasant night, were 
 early at breakfast. When over, they joined him for a stroll 
 over the plantation, to hear him descant upon the prospects 
 of the coming crop. Nothing could be more certain, to his 
 mind, than a bountiful harvest. The rice, cotton, and corn 
 grounds had been well prepared, the weather was most 
 favourable, he had plenty of help, a good overseer, and 
 faithful drivers. " We have plenty, we live easy, you see, 
 and our people are contented," he says, directing his con 
 versation to the young Englishman, who was suspected of 
 being Franconia's friend. " Vie do things different from 
 what you do in your country. Your countrymen will not 
 learn to grow cotton : they manufacture it, and hence we are 
 connected in firm bonds. Cotton connects many things, 
 even men's minds and souls. You would like to be a 
 planter, I know you would : who would not, seeing how 
 we live ? Here is the Elder, as happy a fellow as you'll 
 find in forty. He can be as jolly as an Englishman over 
 a good dinner: he can think with anybody, preach with 
 anybody !" Touching the Elder on the shoulder, he smiles, 
 and with an insinuating leer, smooths his beard. " I am at 
 your service," replies the Elder, folding his arms. 
 
 " I pay him to preach for my nigger property, I pay 
 him to teach them to be good. He preaches just as I wants 
 him to. My boys think him a little man, but a great divine. 
 You would like to hear the Elder on Sunday ; he's funny 
 then, and has a very funny sermon, which you may get T>y 
 heart without much exertion.". The young man seems 
 indifferent to the conversation. He had not been taught to 
 realise how easy it was to bring religion into contempt. 
 
 " Make no grave charges against me, Marston; you carry 
 your practical jokes a little too far, Sir. I am a quiet man,
 
 THINGS AEE NOT SO BEIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 25 
 
 but the feelings of quiet men may be disturbed." The 
 Elder speaks moodily, as if considering whether it were best 
 to resent Marston's trifling sarcasm. Deacon Rosebrook 
 now interceded by saying, with unruffled countenance, that 
 the Elder had but one thing funny about him, his dignity 
 on Sundays : that he was, at times, half inclined to believe 
 it the dignity of cogniac, instead of pious sentiment. 
 
 " I preach my sermon, who can do more ?" the Elder 
 rejoins, with seeming concern for his honour. "I thought 
 we came to view the plantation ?" 
 
 " Yes, true ; but our little repartee cannot stop our sight. 
 You preach your sermon, Elder, that is, you preach what 
 there is left of it. It is one of the best-used sermons ever 
 manufactured. It would serve as a model for the most 
 stale Oxonian. Do you think you could write another 
 like it ? It has lasted seven years, and served the means 
 of propitiating the gospel on seven manors. Can they 
 beat that in your country ?" says Mars ton, again turning 
 to the young Englishman!, and laughing at the Elder, who 
 was deliberately taking off his glasses to wipe the perspira 
 tion from his forehead. 
 
 " Our ministers have a different way of patching up old 
 sermons ; but I'm not quite sure about their mode ot 
 getting them," the young man replies, takes Deacon Eose 
 brook' s arm, and walks ahead. 
 
 " The Elder must conform to the doctrines of the South ; 
 but they say he bets at the race-course, which is not an 
 uncommon thing for our divines," rejoins the Deacon, 
 facetiously. 
 
 The Elder, becoming seriously inclined, thinks gentlemen 
 had better avoid personalities. Personalities are not tolerated 
 in the South, where gentlemen are removed far above 
 common people, and protect themselves by the code duello. 
 He will expose Marston. 
 
 Marston's good capon sides are proof against jokes. He 
 may crack on, that individual says. 
 
 " My friend," interposed the Elder, " you desired me to 
 preach to your niggers in one style and for one purpose, 
 according to the rule of labour and submission. Just such 
 an one as your niggers would think the right stripe, I 
 preached, and it made your niggers wonder and gape. I'll 
 pledge you my religious faith I can preach a different "
 
 26 THINGS ARK NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 "Oh! oli! oh! Elder," interrupted Marston, "pledge 
 something valuable." 
 
 " To me, my faith is the most sacred thing in the world. 
 I will as I was going to say preach to your moulding 
 and necessities. Pay for it, and, on my word, it shall be 
 in the cause of the South ! With the landmarks from my 
 planter customers, I will follow to their liking," continues 
 Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy, not a smile on his .hard 
 face. 
 
 Deacon Rosebrook thinks it is well said. Pay is the 
 great desideratum in everything. The Elder, though not 
 an uncommon southern clergyman, is the most versatile 
 preacher to be met with in a day's walk. Having a 
 wonderful opinion of nigger knowledge, he preaches to it 
 in accordance, receiving good pay and having no objection 
 to the wine. 
 
 "Well, Gentlemen," Marston remarks, coolly, " I think 
 the Elder has borne our jokes well ; we will now go and 
 moisten our lips. The elder likes my old Madeira always 
 passes the highest compliments upon it." Having sallied 
 about the plantation, we return to the mansion, where 
 Dandy, Enoch, and Sam three well-dressed mulattoes 
 their hair frizzed and their white aprons looking so bright, 
 meet us at the veranda, and bow us back into the parlour, 
 as we bear our willing testimony of the prospects of the 
 crop. With scraping of feet, grins, and bows, they wel 
 come us back, smother us with compliments, and seem 
 overwilling to lavish their kindness. Prom the parlour 
 they bow us into a long room, in the right wing, its walls 
 being plain boarded, and well ventilated with open seams. 
 A table is spread with substantial edibles, such as ham, 
 bacon, mutton, and fish. These represent the southern 
 planter's fare, to which he seldom adds those pastry deli 
 cacies with which the New Englander is prone to decorate 
 his table. The party become seated as Franconia graces 
 the festive board with her presence, which, being an incen 
 tive of gallantry, preserves the nicest decorum, smooths 
 the conversation. The wine-cup flows freely ; the Elder 
 dips deeply as he declares it- choice. Temperance being 
 unpopular in the south, it is little regarded at Marston's 
 mansion. As for Marston himself, he is merely preparing 
 the way to play facetious jokes on the Elder, whose arm lie
 
 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 27 
 
 touches every few minutes, reminding him how backward 
 he is in replenishing his glass. 
 
 Not at all backward in such matters, the Elder fills up, 
 asks the pleasure of drinking his very good health, and 
 empties the liquid into the safest place nearest at hand. 
 Repeated courses have their effect ; Marston is pleased, the 
 Elder is mellow. With muddled sensibilities his eyes glare 
 wildly about the table, and at every fresh invitation to drink 
 he begs pardon for having neglected his duty, fingers the 
 ends of his cravat, and deposits another glass, certainly the 
 very last. Franconia, perceiving her uncle's motive, bega 
 to be excused, and is escorted out of the room. Mr. 
 Praiseworthy, attempting to get a last glass of wine to his 
 lips without spilling, is quite surprised that the lady should 
 leave. He commences descanting on his own fierce enmity 
 to infidelity and Catholicism. He would that everybody 
 rose up and trampled them into the dust ; both are ruinous 
 to negro property. 
 
 Marston coolly suggests that the Elder is decidedly un- 
 catholicised. 
 
 " Elder," interrupted Deacon Rosebrook, touching him 
 on the shoulder, " you are modestly undone that is, very 
 respectably sold to your wine." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined Marston ; " I would give an extra ten 
 dollars to hear him preach a sermon to my niggers at this 
 moment." 
 
 " Villainous inconsistency ! " exclaimed the Elder, in an 
 indistinct voice, his eyes half closed, and the spectacles 
 gradually falling from his nose. " You are scandalising 
 my excellent character, which can't be replaced with gold." 
 Making another attempt to raise a glass of wine to his lips, 
 as he concluded, he unconsciously let the contents flow into 
 his bosom, instead of his mouth. 
 
 " Well, my opinion is, Elder, that if you get my nigger 
 property into heaven with your preaching, there'll be a 
 chance for the likes of me," said Marston, watching the 
 Elder intently. It was now evident the party were all 
 becoming pretty deeply tinctured. Eosebrook thought a 
 minister of the gospel, to get in "such a condition, and then 
 refer to religious matters, must have a soul empty to the 
 very core. There could be no better proof of now easily 
 true religion could be brought into contempt. The Elder 
 3
 
 28 THINGS ABE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 foreclosed with the spirit, considered himself unsafe in the 
 chair, and was about to relieve it, when Dandy caught him in 
 his arms like a lifeless mass, and carried him to a settee, 
 upon which he spread him, like a substance to be bleached 
 in the sun. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! the Elder is completely unreverenced, he 
 is the most versatile individual that ever wore black cloth. 
 1 reverence him for his qualities," says Marston: then, turn 
 ing to Maxwell, he continued, " you must excuse this little 
 joviality ; it occurs but seldom, and the southern people take 
 it for what it is worth, excusing, or forgetting its effects." 
 
 "Don't speak of it it's not unlike our English do at 
 times nor do our ministers form exceptions ; but they 
 do such things under a monster protection, without reckon 
 ing the effect,'' the Englishman replied, looking round as if 
 he missed the presence of Franconia. 
 
 The Elder, soon in a profound sleep, was beset by swarms 
 of mosquitoes preying upon his haggard face, as if it were 
 good food. " He's a pretty picture," says Marston, looking 
 upon the sleeping Elder with a frown, and then working 
 his fingers through bis crispy red hair. " A hard subject 
 for the student's knife he'll make, won't he?" To add 
 to the comical appearance of the reverend gentleman, 
 Marston, rising from his seat, approached him, drew the 
 spectacles from his pocket, and placed them on the tip of his 
 nose, adding piquancy to his already indescribable physiog 
 nomy. 
 
 " Don't you think this is carrying the joke a point too 
 far?" asked Deacon JRosebrook, who had been some time 
 silently watching the prostrate condition of Elder Pemberton 
 Praiseworthy. 
 
 Marston shrugs his shoulders, whispers a word or two in 
 the ear of his friend Maxwell, twirls his glass upon the 
 table. He is somewhat cautious how he gives an opinion 
 on such matters, having previously read one or two law 
 books ; but believes it does'nt portray all things just right. 
 He has studied ideal good at least he tells us so if he 
 never practises it ; finally, he is constrained to admit that 
 this 'ere's all very well once in a while, but becomes tire 
 some especially when kept up as strong as the Elder does 
 it. He is free to confess that southern mankind is 
 curiously constituted, too often giving license to revelries,
 
 THINGS ABE 3TOT SO BEIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 29 
 
 but condemning those who fall by them. He feels quite 
 right about the Elder's preaching being just the chime for 
 his nigger property ; but, were he a professing Christian, it 
 would'nt suit him by fifty per cent. There is something 
 between the mind of a " nigger" and the mind of a white 
 man, something he can't exactly analyse, though he is 
 certain it is wonderfully different ; and though such preach 
 ing can do niggers no harm, he would just as soon think of 
 listening to Infidelity. Painful as it was to acknowledge 
 the fact, he only appeared at the " Meet'n House" on 
 Sundays for the looks of the thing, and in the hope that it 
 might have some influence with his nigger property. 
 Several times he had been heard to say it was mere machine- 
 preaching made according to pattern, delivered according 
 to price, by persons whose heads and hearts had no sym 
 pathy with the downcast. 
 
 " There's my prime fellow Harry ; a right good fellow, 
 worth nine hundred, nothing short, and he is a Christian 
 in conscience. He has got a kind of a notion into his head 
 about being a divine, tie thinks, in the consequence of 
 his black noddle, that he can preach just as well as any 
 body ; and, believe me, he can't read a letter in the book, 
 at least, 1 don't see how he can. True, he has heard the 
 Elder's sermon so often that he has committed every word 
 of it to memory, can say it off like a plantation song, and 
 no mistake." Thus Marston discoursed. And yet he 
 declared that nobody could fool him with the idea of 
 " niggers" having souls : they were only mortal, he would 
 produce abundant proof, if required. 
 
 Deacon Eosebrook listened attentively to this part of 
 Marston' s discourse. " The task of proving your theory 
 would be rendered difficult if you were to transcend upon the 
 scale of blood," he replied, getting up and spreading his hand 
 kerchief over the Elder's face, to keep off the mosquitoes. 
 
 " When our most learned divines and philosophers are 
 the stringent supporters of the principle, what should make 
 the task difficult? Nevertheless, I admit, if my fellow 
 Harry could do the preaching for our plantation, no objec 
 tions would be interposed by me ; on the contrary, I could 
 make a good speculation by it. Harry would be worth two 
 common niggers then. Nigger property, christianised, is 
 the most valuable of property. You may distinguish a
 
 80 THINGS ABE NOT SO HEIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 christianised nigger in a moment ; and piety takes the 
 stubborn out of their composition better than all the cow 
 hides you can employ ; and, too, it's a saving of time, 
 considering that it subdues so much quicker," says Marston, 
 stretching back in his chair, as he orders Dandy to bring 
 Harry into his presence. He will tell them what he knows 
 about preaching, the Elder's sermon, and the Bible ! 
 
 Maxwell smiles at such singularly out of place remarks on 
 religion. They are not uncommon in the south, notwith 
 standing. 
 
 A few minutes elapsed, when Dandy opened the door, 
 and entered the room, followed by a creature a piece of 
 property! in which the right of a soul had been disputed, not 
 alone by Marston, but by southern ministers and southern 
 philosophers. The thing was very good-looking, very 
 black ; it had straight features, differing from the common 
 African, and stood very erect. . We have said he differed 
 from the common African we mean, as he is recognised 
 through our prejudices. His forehead was bold and well- 
 developed his hair short, thick and crispy, eyes keen and 
 piercing, cheeks regularly declining into a well-shaped 
 mouth and chin. Dejected and forlorn, the wretch of chance 
 stood before them, the fares of a burning soul glaring forth 
 from his quick, wandering eyes. "There!" exclaimed 
 Marston. " See that," pointing at his extremes ; " he has 
 foot enough for a brick-maker, and a head equal to a deacon 
 no insinuation, my friend," bowing to Deacon Rosebrook. 
 They say it takes a big head to get into Congress ; but I'm 
 afraid, Harry, I'd never get there." 
 
 The door again opened, and another clever-looking old 
 negro, anxious to say " how de do " to mas'r and his visitors, 
 made his appearance, bowing, and keeping time with his 
 foot. " Oh, here's my old daddy old Daddy Bob, one of 
 the best old niggers on the plantation ; Harry and Bob are 
 my deacons. There, stand there, Harry ; tell these 
 gentlemen, they are right glad to see you, what you 
 know about Elder Praiseworthy's sermon, and what you 
 can do in the way of preaching," says Marston, laughing 
 good-naturedly. 
 
 "liather a rough piece of property to make a preacher 
 of," muttered Maxwell. 
 
 The poor fellow's feet were encrusted as hard as an
 
 THINGS ABE NOT SO BEIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 31 
 
 alligator's back ; and there he stood, a picture upon which 
 the sympathies of Christendom were enlisted a human object 
 without the rights of man, in a free republic. He held a 
 red cap in his left hand, a pair of coarse osnaburg trousers 
 reached a few inches below his knees, and, together 
 with a ragged shirt of the same material, constituted his 
 covering. 
 
 " You might have dressed yourself before you appeared 
 before gentlemen from abroad at least, put on your new 
 jacket," said Marston. 
 
 " Why, mas'r, t'ant de clothes. God neber make 
 Christian wid 'e his clothes on ; den, mas'r, I gin' my new 
 jacket to Daddy Bob. But neber mind him, mas'r you 
 wants I to tell you what I tinks ob de Lor. I tink great 
 site ob the Bible, mas'r, but me don' tink much ob Elder's 
 sermon, mas'r." 
 
 " How is that, Harry ?" interrupted the deacon. 
 
 " Why, Mas'r Deacon, ye sees how when ye preaches de 
 good tings ob de Lor', ye mus'nt 'dulge in 'e wicked tings 
 on 'arth. A'h done want say Mas'r Elder do dem tings 
 but 'e seem to me t' warn't right wen 'e join de wickedness 
 ob de world, and preach so ebery Sunday. He may know 
 de varse, and de chapter, but 'e done preach what de Lor' 
 say, nohow." 
 
 " Then you don't believe in a one-sided sermon, Harry ?" 
 returned the deacon, while Marston and Maxwell sat 
 enjoying the negro's simple opinion of the Elder's 
 sermon." 
 
 " No, mas'r. What the Bible teach me is to lob de Lor' 
 be good myself, and set example fo'h oders. I aii't what 
 big white Christian say must be good, wen 'e neber 
 practice him, but I good in me heart when me tink 
 what de Lor' say be good. Why, mas'r, Elder preach dat 
 sarmon so many Sundays, dat a' forgot him three times, 
 since me know 'im ebery word," said Harry ; and his face 
 began to fill with animation and fervency. 
 
 " Well, now, Harry, I think you are a little too severe on 
 the Elder's sermon ; but if you know so much about it, 
 give these gentlemen a small portion of it, just to amuse 
 them while the Elder is taking a .nap," said Marston. 
 
 " Ay, maa'r, he nap dat way too often for pious man what 
 say he lobe de Lor'," replied Harry; and drawing himself
 
 32 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 into a tragic attitude, making sundry gesticulations, and 
 putting his hand to his forehead, commenced with the open 
 ing portion of the Elder's sermon. " And it was said 
 Servants obey your masters, for that is right in the sight of 
 the Lord," and with a style of native eloquence, and rich 
 cantation, he continued for about ten minutes, giving 
 every word, seriatim, of the Elder's sermon ; and would 
 have kept it up, in word and action, to the end, had he not 
 been stopped by Marston. All seemed astonished at his 
 power of memory. Maxwell begged that he might be 
 allowed to proceed. 
 
 " lie's a valuable fellow, that eh ? " said Marston. 
 He'll be worth three-sixteenths of a rise on cotton to all 
 the planters in the neighbourhood, by-and-by. He's lamed 
 to read, somehow, on the sly isn't it so, Harry ? come, 
 talk up ! " 
 
 " Yes, mas'r, I larn dat when you sleepin' ; de Lor' tell 
 me his spirit warn't in dat sarmon what de Elder preach, 
 dat me must sarch de good book, and make me own 
 tinking valuable. Mas'r tirik ignorant nigger lob him 
 best, but t'aut so, mas'r. Good book make heart good, and 
 make nigger love de Lor', and love mas'r too." 
 
 " I'll bet the rascal's got a Bible, or a Prayer-book, hid up 
 somewhere. He and old Daddy Bob are \vorse on religion 
 than two old coons on a fowl-yard," said Marston. Here old 
 Aunt Rachel entered the room to fuss around a little, and 
 have a pleasant meeting with mas'r's guests. Harry smiled 
 at Marston's remark, and turned his eyes upward, as much 
 as to say, " a day will come when God's Word will not thus 
 be turned into ridicule!" 
 
 " And he's made such a good old Christian of this dark 
 sinner, Aunt Rachel, that I wouldn't take two thousand 
 dollars for her. I expect she'll be turning preacher next, 
 and going north to join the abolitionists." 
 
 " Mas'r," said Rachel, " 't wouldn't do to mind what you 
 pay. Neber mind, you get old one ob dese days ; den you 
 don't make so much fun ob old Rachel." 
 
 " Shut up your corn-trap," Marston says, smiling; and 
 turning to his guests, continues " You hear that, gentle 
 men ; she talks just as she pleases, directs my household aa 
 if she were governor." Again, Aunt Rachel, summoning 
 her dignity, retorta,
 
 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 33 
 
 " Ifot so, Mas'r Deacon, (turning to Deacon B/osebrook,) 
 't won't square t' believe all old Boss tell, dat it won't ! 
 Mas'r take care ob de two cabins in de yard yonder, while 
 I tends de big house." .Rachel was more than a match 
 for Marston; she could beat him in quick retort. The 
 party, recognising Aunt Rachel's insinuation, joined in a 
 hearty laugh. The conversation was a little too pointed for 
 Marston, who, changing the subject, turned to Harry, 
 saying, " now, my old boy, we'll have a little more of your 
 wisdom on religious matters." Harry had been standing 
 the while like a forlorn image, with a red cap in his hand. 
 
 " I can preach, mas'r ; I can do dat, fo'h true," he replied 
 quickly. " But mas'r, nigger got to preach against his colour ; 
 Buckra tink nigger preachin' ain't good, cus he black." 
 
 " Never mind that, Harry," interrupts Marston : " We'll 
 forget the nigger, and listen just as if it were all white. 
 Give us the very best specimen of it. Daddy Bob, my old 
 patriarch, must help you ; and after you get through, he 
 must lift out by telling us all about the time when General 
 "Washington landed in the city ; and how the people spread 
 carpets, at the landing, for him to walk upon." The 
 entertainment was, in Mars ton's estimation, quite a 
 recherche concern: that his guests should be the better 
 pleased, the venerable old Daddy Bob, his head white with 
 goodly years of toil, and full of genuine negro humour, 
 steps forward to perform his part. He makes his best 
 bows, his best scrapes, his best laughs; and says, "Bob 
 ready to do anything to please mas'r." He pulls the sleeves 
 of his jacket, looks vacantly at Harry, is proud to be in 
 the presence of mas'r's guests. He tells them he is a better 
 nigger " den" Harry, points to his extremes, which are 
 decorated with a pair of new russet broghans. 
 
 " Daddy's worth his weight in gold," continues Marston, 
 " and can do as much work as any nigger on the plantation, 
 if he is old." 
 
 " No, no, mas'r ; I ain't so good what I was. Bob can't 
 tote so much wid de hoe now. I work first-rate once, 
 mas'r, but 'a done gone now!" 
 
 " Now, Bob, I want you to tell me the truth, niggers 
 will lie, but you are an exception, Bob ; and can tell the 
 truth when there's no bacon in the way." 
 
 "Gihl Mas'r, I do dat sartin," replied Bob, laughing 
 D
 
 34 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 heartily, and pulling up the little piece of shirt that peeped 
 out above the collar of his jacket. 
 
 "How did Harry and you come by so much knowledge of 
 the Bible ? you got one somewhere, hav'n't you ? " enquired 
 Marston, laconically. 
 
 This was rather a " poser" on Bob ; and, after stammer 
 ing and mumbling for some time looking at Harry slyly, 
 then at Marston, and again dropping his eyes on the floor, 
 he ejaculated, 
 
 " Well, mas'r, 'spose I might as well own 'im. Harry and 
 me got one, for sartin !" 
 
 * " Ah. you black rascals, I knew you had one somewhere. 
 Where did you get it ? That's some of Miss Franconia's 
 doings." 
 
 " Can't tell you, mas'r, whar I got him ; but he don't 
 stop my hoein' corn, for' true." 
 
 Franconia had observed Harry's tractableness, and heard 
 him wish for a Bible, that he might learn to read from it, 
 and she had secretly supplied him with one. Two years 
 Harry and Daddy Bob had spent hours of the night in 
 communion over it ; the latter had learned to read from it, 
 the former had imbibed ita great truths. The artless girl 
 had given it to them in confidence, knowing its consolatory 
 influences and that they, with a peculiar firmness in such 
 cases, would never betray her trust. Bob would not have 
 refused his master any other request ; but he would never 
 disclose the secret of Miss Franconia giving it. 
 
 " Well, my old faithful," said Marston, " we want you to 
 put the sprit into Harry ; we want to hear a sample of his 
 preaching. Now, Harry, you can begin ; give it big elo 
 quence, none of the new fashion preaching, give us the old 
 plantation break-down style." 
 
 The negro's countenance assumed a look indicative of 
 more than his lips dare speak. Looking upward pensively, 
 he replied, " Can't do dat, mas'r ; he ain't what do God 
 justice ; but there is something in de text, where shall I 
 take 'em from ? " 
 
 " Ministers should choose their own ; I always do," inter 
 rupted Deacon Rosebrook. 
 
 Daddy Bob, touching Harry on the arm, looks up inno 
 cently, interposes his knowledge of Scripture. " D'ar, 
 Harry, I tells you what text to gin 'em. Gin 'em dat one
 
 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 35 
 
 from de fourt' chapter of Ephes : dat one whar de Lor' say : 
 ' Great mas'r led captivity captive, and gin gifts unto 
 men.' And whar he say, ' Till we come unto a 'unity of the 
 faith of the knowledge of the son of Gk>d unto a perfect man, 
 unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ ; 
 that we be no more children tossed to and fro, and carried 
 about with every wind of doctrine, by the slight of 
 men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lay in wait to 
 deceive.' " 
 
 " And you tink dat '11 do, eh, Daddy ?" Harry replies, 
 looking at the old man, as if to say, were he anything but 
 a slave he would follow the advice. 
 
 " Den, dars t' oder one, away 'long yonder, where 'e say in 
 Isaiah, fifty-eight chapter 'Wherefore have we fasted, say 
 they, and thou seest not ? Wherefore have we afflicted 
 our soul, and thou takest no knowledge ? Behold ye fast 
 for strife and debate, and to smite with the fist of wicked 
 ness." The old man seemed perfectly at home on matters 
 of Scripture ; he had studied it in stolen moments. 
 
 The young Englishman seemed surprised at such a show 
 of talent. He saw the humble position of the old man, hia 
 want of early instruction, and his anxiety to be enlightened. 
 " How singular ! " he ejaculated, " to hear property preach, 
 and know so much of the Bible, too ! People in my country 
 would open their eyes with surprise." The young man had 
 been educated in an atmosphere where religion was prized 
 where it was held as a sacred element for the good of man. 
 His feelings were tenderly susceptible ; the scene before him 
 awakened his better nature, struck deep into his mind. He 
 viewed it as a cruel mockery of Christianity, a torture of 
 innocent nature, for which man had no shame. He saw 
 the struggling spirit of the old negro contending against 
 wrong, his yearnings for the teachings of Christianity, his 
 solicitude for Marston's good. And he saw how man had 
 cut down the unoffending image of himself how Christian 
 ministers had become the tyrant's hand- fellow in the work 
 of oppression. It incited him to resolution ; a project 
 sprung up in his mind, which, from that day forward, as if 
 it had been a new discovery in the rights of man, he deter 
 mined to carry out in future, for the freedom of hia 
 fellows. 
 
 Harry, in accordance with Bob's advice, chose the latter
 
 36 THINGS ARE NOT SO BRIUHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 text. For some minutes he expounded the power of divine 
 inspiration, in his simple but impressive manner, being 
 several times' interrupted by the Deacon, who assumed the 
 right of correcting his philosophy. At length, Marston. 
 interrupted, reminding him that he had lost the " plantation 
 gauge." " You must preach according to the Elder's rule," 
 said he. 
 
 With a submissive stare, Harry replied : " Mas'r, a man. 
 what lives fo'h dis world only is a slave to himself; but God 
 says, he dat lives fo'h de world to come, is the light of life 
 coming forth to enjoy the pleasures of eternity ; " and again 
 he burst into a rhapsody of eloquence, to the astonishment 
 and admiration of Maxwell, and even touching the feelings 
 of Marston, who was seldom moved by such displays. 
 Seeing the man in the thing of merchandise, he inclined to 
 look upon him as a being worthy of immortality ; and yet it 
 seemed next to impossible that he should bring his natural 
 feelings to realise the simple nobleness that stood before 
 him, the man beyond the increase of dollars and cents in 
 his person ! The coloured winter's hand leaned against the 
 mantel-piece, watching the changes in Marston' s counte 
 nance, as Daddy stood at Harry's side, in patriarchal 
 muteness. A tear stealing down Maxwell's cheek told of 
 the sensation produced ; while Marston, setting his elbow on 
 the table, supported his head in his hands, and listened. 
 The Deacon, good man that.he was, iilled his glass, as if to 
 say, " I don't stand nigger preaching." As for the Elder, 
 his pishes and painful gurglings, while he slept, were a 
 source of much annoyance. Awaking suddenly raising 
 himself to a half-bent position he rubs his little eyes, 
 adjusts his spectacles on his nose, stares at Harry with 
 surprise, and then, with quizzical demeanour, leaves us to 
 infer what sort of a protest he is about to enter. He, 
 however, thinks it better to say nothing. 
 
 " Stop, Harry," says Marston, interrupting him in a 
 point of his discourse : then turning to his guests, he 
 inquired, with a look of ridicule, " Gentlemen, what have 
 you got to say against such preaching ? Elder, you old 
 snoring Christian, you have lost all the best of it. Why 
 didn't you wake up before ?" 
 
 " Verri-ly, truly ! ah, indeed : you have been giving us a 
 monkey-show with your nigger, I suppose. I thought I'd
 
 THIN&S ABE NOT SO BBIGHT AS THEY SEEM.. 37 
 
 lost nothing ; you should remember, Marston, there's a 
 future," said the Elder, winking and blinking sardonically. 
 
 " Yes, old boosey," Marston replies, with an air of 
 indifference, " and you should remember there's a present, 
 which you may lose your way in. That venerable sermon 
 won't keep you straight " 
 
 The Elder is extremely sensitive on this particular point 
 anything but speak disparagingly of that sermon. It has 
 been his stock in trade for numerous years. He begs they 
 will listen to him for a minute, excuse this little trifling 
 variation, charge it to the susceptibility of his constitution. 
 He is willing to admit there is capital in his example which 
 may be used for bad purposes, and says, " Somehow, when I 
 take a little, it don't seem to go right." Again he gives a 
 vacant look at his friends, gets up, resting his hands on the 
 table, endeavours to keep a perpendicular, but declares 
 himself so debilitated by his sleep that he must wait a little 
 longer. Sinking back upon the settee, he exclaims, " You 
 had better send that nigger to his cabin." This was carry 
 ing the amusement a little beyond Marston's own " gauge," 
 and it being declared time to adjourn, preparations were 
 made to take care of the Elder, who was soon placed hori 
 zontally in a waggon and driven away for his home. " The 
 Elder is gone beyond himself, beyond everything," said 
 Marston, as they carried him out of the door. " You can 
 go, Harry, I like your preaching ; bring it down to the right 
 System for my property, and I'll make a dollar or two out of 
 it yet," he whispers, shaking his head, as Harry, bowing 
 submissively, leaves the door. 
 
 Just as they were making preparations to retire, a car 
 riage drove to the gate, and in the next minute a dashing 
 young fellow came rushing into the house, apparently in 
 great anxiety. He was followed by a well-dressed man, 
 whose countenance and sharp features, full of sternness, 
 indicated much mechanical study. He hesitated as the 
 young man advanced, took Marston by the hand, nervously, 
 led him aside, whispered something in his ear. Taking a 
 few steps towards a window, the intruder, for such he 
 seemed, stood almost motionless, with his eyes firmly and 
 watchfully fixed upon them, a paper in his right hand. " It 
 is too often, Lorenzo ; these things may prove fatal," said
 
 38 THINGS AfiE NOT SO BRIGHT AS THEY SEEM. 
 
 Marston, giving an inquiring glance at the man, still standing 
 at the window. 
 
 " I pledge you my honour, uncle, it shall be the last time," 
 said the young stranger. " Uncle, I have not forgotten 
 your advice." Marston, much excited, exhibited changes 
 of countenance peculiar to a man labouring under the effect 
 of sudden disappointment. Apologising to his guests, he 
 dismissed them with the exception of Maxwell ordered 
 pen and ink, drew a chair to the table, and without asking 
 the stranger to be seated, signed his name to a paper. 
 While this was being done, the man who had waited in 
 silence stepped to the door and admitted two gentlemanly- 
 looking men, who approached Marston and authenticated 
 the instrument. It was evident there was something of 
 deep importance associated with Marston' s signature. No 
 sooner had his pen fulfilled the mission, than Lorenzo's face, 
 which had just before exhibited the most w r atchful anxiety, 
 lighted up with joy, as if it had dismantled its care for some 
 new scene of worldly prosperity.
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 
 
 HA.VING executed the document, Marston ordered one of 
 the servants to show Maxwell his room. The persons who 
 had acted the part of justices, authenticating the instru 
 ment, withdrew without further conversation ; while the 
 person who had followed Lorenzo, for such was the young 
 man's name, remained as if requiring some further negotia 
 tion with Marstou. He approached the table sullenly, and 
 with one hand resting upon it, and the other adjusted in 
 his vest, deliberately waited the moment to interrupt the 
 conversation. This man, reader, is Marco Graspum, an 
 immense dealer in human flesh, great in that dealing in 
 the flesh and blood of mankind which brings with it all the 
 wickedness of the demon. It is almost impossible to 
 conceive the suddenness with which that species of trade 
 changes man into a craving creature, restless for the dross 
 of the world. There he was, the heartless dealer in human 
 flesh, dressed in the garb of a gentleman, and by many 
 would have been taken as such. Care and anxiety sat upon 
 his countenance ; he watched the chances of the flesh 
 market, stood ready to ensnare the careless youth, to take 
 advantage of the frailer portions of a Southerner's noble 
 nature. " A word or two with you, Mr. Marston," said he. 
 " Sit down, Graspum, sit down," Marston rejoined, 
 ordering Dandy to give him a chair ; which being done he 
 scats himself in front of Marston, and commences dilating 
 upon his leniency. " You may take me for an importune 
 feller, in coming this time o'night, but the fact is I've been 
 you know my feelings for helpin' everybody good- 
 naturedly drawn into a very bad scrape with this careless 
 young nephew of yourn : he's a dashing devil, and you don't 
 know it, he is. But I've stood it so long that I was 
 compelled to make myself sure. This nephew of yourn," 
 said he, turning to Lorenzo, " thinks my money is made for
 
 40 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 
 
 his gambling propensities, and if he has used your name 
 improperly, you should have known of it before.'" At this 
 Lorenzo's fine open countenance assumed a glow of indig 
 nation, and turning to his uncle, with a nervous tremor, he 
 said, " Uncle, he has led me into this trouble. You know 
 not the snares of city life ; and were I to tell you him this 
 monster* yea, I say monster, for he has drawn me into a 
 snare like one who was seeking to devour my life that 
 document, uncle, which he now holds in his hand saves me 
 from a shame and disgrace which I never could have with 
 stood before the world." 
 
 " Ah ! you are just like all gamblers : never consider 
 yourself in the light of bringing yourself into trouble. 
 Take my advice, young man ; there is a step in a gambler's 
 life to which it is dangerous to descend, and if you have 
 brought your father and uncle into trouble, blame neither 
 me nor my money," returned Graspum. 
 
 " You do not say that there is forgery connected with 
 this affair, do you r" inyuired Marston, grasping Lorenzo 
 by the arm. 
 
 " I wish it were otherwise, uncle," replied Lorenzo, 
 leaning forward upon the table and covering his face with 
 his hands. " It was my folly, and the flattery of this man, 
 which have driven me to it," he continued. 
 
 " Oh ! cursed inconsistency : and you have now fallen 
 back upon the last resource, to save a name that, once gone, 
 cannot reinstate itself. Tell me, Marco Graspum ; are you 
 not implicated in this affair ? Your name stands full of 
 dark implications ; are you not following up one of those 
 avenues through which you make so many victims ? What 
 is the amount ?" returned Marston. 
 
 " You will know that to-morrow. He has given paper in 
 your name to an uncertain extent. You should have known 
 this before. Your nephew has been leading a reckless 
 gambler's life spending whatsoever money came into his 
 possession, and at length giving bills purporting to be 
 drawn by you and his father. You must now honour them, 
 or dishonour him. You see, I am straightforward in 
 business : all my transactions are conducted with prompt 
 ness ; but I must have what is due to me. I have a purpose 
 in all my transactions, and I pursue them to the end. You 
 know the purport of this document, Marston ; save
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 41 
 
 yourself trouble, and do not allow me to call too often." 
 Thus saying, he took his hat and left the room. 
 
 " Uncle," said Lorenzo, as soon as Graspum had left, " I 
 have been led into difficulty. First led away by fashionable 
 associations, into the allurements with which our city ia 
 filled, from small vices I have been hurried onward, step 
 by step, deeper and deeper, until now I have arrived at the 
 dark abyss. Those who have watched me through each sin, 
 been my supposed friends, and hurried me onwards to this 
 sad climax, have proved my worst enemies. I have but 
 just learned the great virtue of human nature, mistrust 
 him who would make pleasure of vice. I have ruined my 
 father, and have involved you by the very act which you 
 have committed for my relief to-night. In my vain struggle 
 to relieve myself from the odium which must attach to my 
 transactions, I have only added to your sorrows. I cannot 
 ask you to forgive me, nor can I disclose all my errors they 
 are manifold." 
 
 rt This is an unexpected blow one which I was not 
 prepared to meet. I am ready to save your honour, but 
 there is something beyond this which the voice of rumour 
 will soon spread. Tou know our society, and the strange 
 manner in which it countenances certain things, jet ishuta 
 out those who fall by tfaem. But what ia to i be "gone P 
 Although we may discharge the obligation with Graspura, 
 it does not follow that he retains the stigma in his own 
 breast. Tell me, Lorenzo, what is the amount ?" inquired 
 Marston, anxiously. 
 
 " My father has already discharged a secret debt of 
 fourteen thousand dollars for me, and there cannot be less 
 than thirty thousand remaining. Uncle, do not let it worry 
 you ; I will leave the country, bear the stigma with me, and 
 you can repudiate the obligation," said he, pleading nervously, 
 as he grasped his uncle's hand firmer and firmer. 
 
 Among the many vices of the south, spreading their 
 corrupting influence through the social body, that of 
 gambling stands first. Confined to no one grade of society, 
 it may be found working ruin among rich and poor, old and 
 young. Labour being disreputable, one class of men affect 
 to consider themselves born gentlemen, while the planter ia 
 ever ready to indulge his sons with some profession they 
 seldom practise, and which too often results in idleness and
 
 42 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 
 
 its attendants. This, coupled to a w^nt of proper society 
 with which the young may mix for social elevation, finds 
 gratification in drinking saloons, fashionable billiard rooms, 
 and at the card table. In the first, gentlemen of all pro 
 fessions meet and revel away the night in suppers and wine. 
 They must keep up appearances, or fall doubtful visitors of 
 these fashionable stepping-stones to ruin. Like a furnace 
 to devour its victims, the drinking saloon first opens its 
 gorgeous doors, and when the burning liquid has inflamed 
 the mental and physical man, soon hurries him onward into 
 those fascinating habitations where vice and voluptuousness 
 mingle their degrading powers. Once in these whirlpools 
 of sin, the young man finds himself borne away by every 
 species of vicious allurement his feelings become unre 
 strained, until at length that last -spark of filial advice which 
 had hovered round his consciousness dies out. "When this 
 is gone, vice becomes the great charmer, and with its 
 thousand snares and resplendent workers never fails to hold 
 out a hope with each temptation ; but while the victim how 
 and then asks hope to be his guardian, he seldom thinks 
 how surely he is sinking faster and faster to an irretrievable 
 depth. 
 
 Through this combination of snares all having their life- 
 springs in slavery Lorenzo brought ruin upon his father, 
 and involved his uncle. With an excellent education, a fine 
 person, frank and gentle demeanour, he made his way into 
 the city, and soon attracted the attention of those who 
 aftect to grace polished society. Had society laid its re 
 straints upon character and personal worth, it would have 
 been well for Lorenzo ; but the neglect to found this moral 
 conservator only serves to increase the avenues to vice, and 
 to bring men from high places into the lowest moral scale. 
 This is the lamentable fault of southern society ; and 
 through the want of that moral bulwark, so protective of 
 society in the New England States personal worth estates 
 are squandered, families brought to poverty, young men 
 degraded, and persons once happy driven from those homes 
 they can only look back upon with pain and regret. The 
 associations of birth, education, and polished society so 
 much valued by the southerner all become as nothing 
 when poverty sets its seal upon the victim. 
 
 And yet, among some classes in the south there exists a
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 43 
 
 religious sentiment apparently grateful ; but what credit for 
 sincerity shall we accord to it when the result proves that 
 no part of the organisation itself works for the elevation of a 
 degraded class ? How much this is to be regretted we leave 
 to the reader's discrimination. The want of a greater effort 
 to make religious influence predominant has been, and yet 
 is, a source of great evil. But let us continue our narra 
 tive, and beg the reader's indulgence for having thus trans 
 gressed. 
 
 Flattered and caressed among gay assemblages, Lorenzo 
 soon found himself drawn beyond their social pleasantries 
 into deeper and more alluring excitements. His frequent 
 visits at the saloon and gambling-tables did not detract, for 
 a time, from the social position society had conferred upon 
 him. 
 
 His parents, instead of restraining, fostered these associa 
 tions, prided themselves on his reception, providing means 
 of maintaining him in this style of living. Vanity and 
 passion led him captive in their gratifications ; they were 
 inseparable from the whirlpool of confused society that 
 triumphs at the south, that leads the proud heart writh 
 ing in the agony of its follies. He cast himself upon 
 this, like a frail thing upon a rapid stream, and forgetting 
 the voyage was short found his pleasures soon ended in 
 the troubled waters of misery and disgrace. 
 
 There is no fundamental morality in the south, nor is 
 education invested with the material qualities of social good; 
 in this it differs from the north, against which it is fast 
 building up a political and social organisation totally at 
 variance. Instead of maintaining those great principles 
 upon which the true foundation of the republic stands, the 
 south allows itself to run into a hyper-aristocratic vagueness, 
 coupled with an arbitrary determination to perpetuate its 
 follies for the guidance of the whole Union. And the effect 
 of this becomes still more dangerous, when it is attempted 
 to carry it out under the name of democracy, American 
 democracy! In this manner it serves the despotic ends of 
 European despots : they point to the freest government in 
 the world for examples of their own absolutism, shield their 
 autocracy beneath its democracy, and with it annihilate the 
 rights of the commoner. 
 
 Heedlessly wending his way, the man of rank and station 
 4
 
 44 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 
 
 at one side, the courtesan with Inv bland smiles at the other, 
 Lorenzo had not seen the black poniard that was to cut the 
 cord of his downfall, it had remained gilded. He drank 
 copious draughts at the house of licentiousness, became in 
 fatuated with the soft music that leads the way of the 
 unwary, until at length, he, unconsciously at it were, found 
 himself in the midst of a clan who are forming a plot to put 
 the black seal upon his dishonour. Monto Grraspum, his 
 money playing through the hands of his minions in the 
 gambling rooms, had professed to be his friend. He had 
 watched his pliable nature, had studied the resources of his 
 parents, knew their kindness, felt sure of his, prey while 
 abetting the downfall. Causing him to perpetrate the crime, 
 from time to time, he would incite him with prospects of 
 retrieve, guide his hand to consummate the crime again, and 
 watch the moment when he might reap the harvest of his 
 own infamy. Thus, when he had brought the young man 
 to that last pitiless issue, where the proud heart quickens 
 with a sense of its wrongs when the mind recurs painfully 
 to the past, imploring that forgiveness which seems beyond 
 the power of mankind to grant, he left him a poor outcast, 
 whose errors would be first condemned by his professed 
 friends. That which seemed worthy of praise was for 
 gotten, his errors were magnified ; and the seducer made 
 himself secure by crushing his victim, compromising the 
 respectability of his parents, making the disgrace a for 
 feiture for life. 
 
 Unexpected as the shock was to Marston, he bore it with 
 seeming coolness, as if dreading the appearance of the 
 man who had taken advantage of the moment to bring him 
 under obligations, more than he did the amount to be dis 
 charged. Arising from the table, he took Lorenzo by the 
 hand, saying : " Veil your trouble, Lorenzo ! Let the past 
 be forgotten, bury the stigma in your own bosom ; let it be 
 an example to your feelings and your actions. G-o not upon 
 the world to wrestle with its ingratitude ; if you do, misfor 
 tune will befall you you will stumble through it the re 
 mainder of your life. With me, I fear the very presence of 
 the man who has found means of engrafting his avarice 
 upon our misfortunes ; he deals with those in his grasp like 
 one who would cut the flesh and blood of mankind into 
 fragments of gain. Be firm, Lorenzo ; be firm ! Eemember,
 
 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 46 
 
 it is not the province of youth to despair ; be manly manli 
 ness even in crime lends its virtue to the falling." At 
 which he bid him good night, and retired to rest. 
 
 The young man, more pained at his uncle's kindness, 
 kindness stronger in its effects than reproof, still lingered, 
 as if to watch some change of expression on his uncle's 
 countenance, as he left the door. .His face changed into 
 pallid gloominess, and again, as if by magic influence, filled 
 with the impress of passion ; it was despair holding conflict 
 with a bending spirit. He felt himself a criminal, marked 
 by the whispers of society ; he might not hear the charges 
 against him, nor be within the sound of scandal's tongue, but 
 he would see it outlined in faces that once smiled at his 
 seeming prosperity. He would feel it in the cold hand that 
 had welcomed him, that had warmly embraced him ; his 
 name would no longer be respected. The circle of refined 
 society that had kindly received him, had made him one of 
 its attractions, would now shun him as if he were contagion. 
 Beyond this he saw the fate that hovered over his father's and 
 his uncle's estates ; all the filial affection they had bestowed 
 upon him, blasted ; the caresses of his beloved and beautiful 
 sister; the shame the exposure would bring upon her; tbeknave 
 who held him in his grasp, while dragging the last remnants of 
 their property away to appease dishonest demands, haunted 
 him to despair. And, yet, to sink under them to leave all 
 behind him and be an outcast, homeless and friendless upon 
 the world, where he could only look back upon the familiar 
 scenes of his boyhood with regret, would be to carry a 
 greater amount of anguish to his destiny. The destroyer 
 was upon him ; his grasp was firm and painful. He might 
 live a life of rectitude ; but his principles and affec 
 tions would be unfixed. It would be like an infectious 
 robe encircling him, a disease which he never could eradi 
 cate, so that he might feel he was not an empty vessel 
 among honourable men. When men depicted their villains, 
 moving in the grateful spheres of life, he would be one of 
 their models ; and though the thoughtlessness of youth had 
 made him the type haunting himself by day and night, 
 the world never made a distinction. Bight and wrong 
 were things that to him only murmured in distrust ; they 
 would be blemishes exaggerated from simple error; but 
 the judgment of society would never overlook them. He
 
 46 AN UNEXPECTED CONFESSION. 
 
 must now choose between a resolution to bear the conse 
 quences at home, or turn his back upon all that had been 
 near and dear to him, be a wanderer struggling with the 
 eventful trials of life in a distant land ! Turning pale, as 
 if frantic with the thought of what was before him, the 
 struggle to choose between the two extremes, and the only 
 seeming alternative, he grasped the candle that flickered 
 before him, gave a glance round the room, as if taking 
 a last look at each familiar object that met his eyes, and 
 retired.
 
 THE MAROONING PARTY. 
 
 'It is a pretty shaded retreat a spot breathing of romance."
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE MAEOONING PAETY. 
 
 A MAEOONIKG pic-nic had been proposed and arranged by 
 the young beaux and belies of the neighbouring plantations. 
 The day proposed for the festive event was that following 
 the disclosure of Lorenzo's difficulties. Every negro on 
 the plantation was agog long before daylight : the morning 
 ushered forth bright and balmy, with bustle and confusion 
 reigning throughout the plantation, the rendezvous being 
 Marston's mansion, from, which the gay party would be 
 conveyed in a barge, overspread with an awning, to a 
 romantic spot, overshaded with luxuriant pines, some ten 
 miles up the stream. Here gay fetes, mirth and joy, the 
 mingling of happy spirits, were to make the time pass plea 
 santly. The night passed without producing any decision in 
 Lorenzo's mind ; and when he made his appearance on the 
 veranda an unusual thoughtfulness pervaded his countenance; 
 all his attempts to be joyous failed to conceal his trouble. 
 Marston, too, was moody and reserved even to coldness ; 
 that frank, happy, and careless expression of a genial nature, 
 which had so long marked him in social gatherings, was 
 departed. When Maxwell, the young Englishman, with 
 quiet demeanour, attempted to draw him into conversation 
 about the prospects of the day, his answers were measured, 
 cold, beyond his power of comprehending, yet inciting. 
 
 To appreciate those pleasant scenes those scenes so 
 apparently happy, at times adding a charm to plantation 
 life those innocent merry-makings in spring time one 
 must live among them, be born to the recreations of the 
 soil. Not a negro on the plantation, old or young, who / 
 does not think himself part and parcel of the scene that > 
 he is indispensably necessary to make Mas'r's enjoyment 
 complete ! In this instance, the lawn, decked in resplen 
 dent verdure, the foliage tinged by the mellow rays of the 
 rising sun, presented a pastoral loveliness that can only be 
 appreciated by those who have contemplated that soft
 
 4tS THE MABOONINO PABTT. 
 
 beauty which pervades a southern landscape at morning 
 and evening. The arbour of old oaks, their branches 
 twined into a panoply of thick foliage, stretching from the 
 mansion to the landing, seemed like a sleeping battlement, 
 its dark clusters soaring above redolent brakes and spread 
 ing water-leaks. Beneath their fretted branches hung the 
 bedewed moss like a veil of sparkling crystals, moving gently 
 to and fro as if touched by some unseen power. The rice 
 fields, stretching far in the distance, present the appear 
 ance of a mirror decked with shadows of fleecy clouds, 
 transparent and sublime. Around the cabins of the plan 
 tation people the human property the dark sons and 
 daughters of promiscuous families are in " heyday glee :" 
 they laughed, chattered, contended, and sported over the 
 presence of the party ; the overseer had given them an 
 hour or two to see the party " gwine so ;" and they were 
 overjoyed. Even the dogs, as if incited by an instinctive 
 sense of some gay scene in which they were to take part, 
 joined their barking with the jargon of the negroes, while 
 the mules claimed a right to do likewise. In the cabins 
 near the mansion another scene of fixing, fussing, toddling, 
 chattering, running here and there with sun-slouches, white 
 aprons, fans, shades, baskets, and tin pans, presented itself ; 
 any sort of vessel that would hold provender for the day was 
 being brought forth. Clotilda, her face more cheerful, is 
 dressed in a nice drab merino, a plain white stomacher, a 
 little collar neatly turned over : with her plain bodice, her 
 white ruffles round her wrists, she presents the embodiment 
 of neatness. She is pretty, very pretty ; and yet her beauty 
 has made her the worst slave a slave in the sight of 
 Heaven and earth ! Her large, meaning eyes, glow beneath 
 her arched brows, while her auburn hair, laid in smooth 
 folds over her ears and braided into a heavy circle at the 
 back of her head, gives her the fascinating beauty of a 
 JSTorman peasant. Annette plays around her, is dressed in 
 her very best, for Marston is proud of the child's beauty, 
 and nothing is withheld that can gratify the ambition of the 
 mother, so characteristic, to dress with fantastic colours : 
 the child gambols at her feet, views its many-coloured dress, 
 keeps asking various unanswerable questions about Daddy 
 Bob, Harry, and the pic-nic. Again it scrambles pettishly, 
 sings snatches of some merry plantation song, pulls its
 
 THE MAROONING PARTY. 49 
 
 braided hat about the floor, climbs upon the table to see 
 what is in the basket. 
 
 Passing to the cabin of Ellen Juvarna, we see her in the 
 same confusion which seems to have beset the plantation : 
 her dark, piercing eyes, display more of that melancholy 
 which marks Clotilda's ; nor does thoughtfulness pervade 
 her countenance, and yet there is the restlessness of an 
 Indian about her, she is Indian by blood and birth ; her 
 look calls up all the sad associations of her forefathers ; her 
 black glossy hair, in heavy folds, hangs carelessly about her 
 olive shoulders, contrasting strangely with the other. 
 
 " And you, Nicholas ! remember what your father will 
 say : but you must not call him such," she says, taking by 
 the hand a child we have described, who is impatient to 
 join the gay group. 
 
 " That ain't no harm, mother ! Father always is fondling 
 about me when nobody's lookin'," the child answers, with a 
 pertness indicating a knowledge of his parentage rather in 
 advance of his years. 
 
 We pass to the kitchen, a little, dingy cabin, presenting 
 the most indescribable portion of the scene, the smoke 
 issuing from every crevice. Here old Peggy, the cook, 
 an enveloped representative of smoke and grease, as if 
 emerging from the regions of Vulcan, moves her fat sides 
 with the independence of a sovereign. In this miniature 
 smoke-pit she sweats and frets, runs to the door every few 
 minutes, adjusts the points of her flashy bandana, and takes 
 a wistful look at the movements without. Sal, Suke, Eose, 
 and Beck, young members of Peggy's family, are working at 
 the top of their energy among stew-pans, griddles, pots and 
 pails, baskets, bottles and jugs. Wafs, fritters, donjohns 
 and hominy flap-jacks, fine doused hams, savoury meats, 
 ices, and fruit-cakes, are being prepared and packed up for 
 the occasion. Negro faces of every shade seem full of 
 interest and freshness, newly brightened for the pleasures 
 of the day. Now and then broke upon our ear that plain 
 tive melody with the words, " Down on the Old Planta 
 tion ;" and again, " Jim crack corn, an' I don't care, for 
 Mas'r's gone away." Then came Aunt Rachel, always per 
 sisting in har right to be master of ceremonies, dressed in 
 her Sunday bombazine, puffed and flounced, her gingham 
 apron so clean, her head " did up" with the flashiest
 
 50 THE MAROONING PARTY. 
 
 bandana in her wardrobe ; its just the colour for her taste 
 real yellow, red, and blue, tied with that knot which is the 
 height of plantation toilet : there is as little restraint in her 
 familiarity with the gentry of the mansion as there is in 
 her control over the denizens of the kitchen. Even Dandy 
 and Enoch, dressed in their best black coats, white panta 
 loons, ruffled shirts, with collars endangering their ears, 
 hair crisped with an extra nicety, stand aside at her bidding. 
 The height of her ambition is to direct the affairs of the 
 mansion : sometimes she extends it to the overseer. The 
 trait is amiably exercised : she is the best nigger on the 
 plantation, and Marston allows her to indulge her feelings, 
 while his guests laugh at her native pomposity, so gene 
 rously carried out in all her commands. She is preparing 
 an elegant breakfast, which "her friends" must partake of 
 before starting. Everything must be in her nicest : she 
 runs from the ante-room to the hall, and from thence to the 
 yard, gathering plates and dishes ; she hurries Old Peggy 
 the cook, and again scolds the waiters. 
 
 Daddp Bob and Harry have come into the yard to ask 
 Marston's permission to join the party as boatmen. They 
 are in Aunt Rachel's way, and she rushes past them, push 
 ing them aside, and calling Mas'r to come and attend to 
 their wants. Marston comes forward, greets them with a 
 familiar shake of the hand, granting their request without 
 further ceremony. Breakfast is ready ; but, anxious for 
 the amusement of the day, their appetites are despoiled. 
 Franconia, more lovely than ever, presenting that ease, 
 elegance, and reserve of the southern lady, makes her 
 appearance in the hall, is escorted to the table leaning on 
 the arm of Maxwell. Delicacy, sensitiveness, womanly 
 character full of genial goodness, are traits with which the 
 true southern lady is blessed: would she were blessed 
 with another, an energy to work for the good of the en 
 slaved ! Could she add that to the poetry of her nature, 
 how much greater would be her charm how much more 
 fascinating that quiet current of thought with which she 
 seems blessed ! There is a gentleness in her impulses a 
 pensiveness in her smile a softness in her emotions a 
 grace in her movements an ardent soul in her love ! 
 She is gay and lightsome in her youth ; she values her 
 beauty, is capricious with her admirers, and yet becomes
 
 THE MAJBOONINO PABT5T. 51 
 
 the most affectionate mother ; she can level her frowns, play 
 with the feelings, make her mercurial sympathy touching, 
 knows the power of her smiles : but once her feelings are 
 enlisted, she is sincere and ardent in her responses. If she 
 cannot boast of the bright carnatic cheek, she can swell the 
 painter's ideal with her fine features, her classic face, the 
 glow of her impassioned eyes. But she seldom carries this 
 fresh picture into the ordinary years of womanhood : the 
 bloom enlivening her face is but transient ; she loses the 
 freshness of girlhood, and in riper years, fades like a sensi 
 tive flower, withering, unhappy with herself, unadmired by 
 others. 
 
 Franconia. sat at the table, a peusiveness pervading her 
 countenance that bespoke melancholy : as she glanced 
 inquiringly round, her eyes rested upon Lorenzo fixedly, 
 as if she detected something in his manner at variance 
 with his natural deportment. She addressed him ; but 
 his cold reply only excited her more : she resolved upon 
 knowing the cause ere they embarked. Breakfast was 
 scarcely over before the guests of the party from the 
 neighbouring plantations began to assemble in the veranda, 
 leaving their servants in charge of the viands grouped to 
 gether upon the grass, under a clump of oaks a few rods 
 from the mansion. Soon the merry-makers, about forty in 
 number, old and young, their servants following, repaired 
 to the landing, where a long barge, surrounded by brakes 
 and water-lilies, presented another picture. 
 
 " Him all straight, Mas'r him all straight, jus so !" said 
 Daddy Bob, as he strode off ahead, singing " Dis is de 
 way to de jim crack corn." 
 
 Servants of all ages and colour, mammies and daddies, 
 young 'uns and prime fellows, "wenches" that had just 
 become hand-maids, brought up the train, dancing, singing, 
 hopping, laughing, and sporting: some discuss the looks of 
 their young mistresses, others are criticising their dress. 
 Arrived at the landing, Daddy Bob and Harry, full of cares, 
 are hurrying several prime fellows, giving orders to subor 
 dinate boatmen about getting the substantial on board, 
 the baskets of champagne, the demijohns, the sparkling 
 nectar. The young beaux and belles, mingling with their 
 dark sons and daughters of servitude, present a motley
 
 52 THE MAROON1NU PAKTY. 
 
 group indeed a scene from which the different issues of 
 southern life may be faithfully drawn. 
 
 A band of five musicians, engaged to enliven the sports 
 of the day with their music, announce, "All on board!" and 
 give the signal for starting by striking up " Life on the 
 Ocean Wav." Away they speed, drawn by horses on the 
 bank, amidst the waving of handkerchiefs, the soft notes of 
 the music reverberating over the pine-clad hills. Smoothly 
 and gently, onward they speed upon the still bosom of the 
 Ashly ; the deep, dark stream, its banks bedecked with 
 blossoms and richest verdure, is indeed enough to excite 
 the romantic of one's nature. Wild, yet serene with rural 
 beauty, if ever sensations of love steal upon us, it is while 
 mingling in the simple convivialities so expressive of 
 southern life. On, on, the barge moved, as lovers gathered 
 together, the music dancing upon the waters. Another 
 party sing the waterman's merry song, still another trail for 
 lilies, and a third gather into the prow to test champagne 
 and ice, or regale with choice Havannas. Marston, and a 
 few of the older members, seated at midships, discuss the 
 all-absorbing question of State-rights ; while the negroes are 
 as merry as larks in May, their deep jargon sounding high 
 above the clarion notes of the music. Now it subsides 
 into stillness, broken only by the splashing of an alligator, 
 whose sports call forth a rapturous shout. 
 
 After some three hours' sailing the barge nears a jut of 
 rising ground on the left bank. Close by it is a grove of 
 noble old pines, in the centre of which stands a dilapidated 
 brick building, deserted for some cause not set forth on the 
 door : it is a pretty, shaded retreat a spot breathing of 
 romance. To the right are broad lagoons stretching far 
 into the distance ; their dark waters, beneath thick cypress, 
 presenting the appearance of an inundated grove. The 
 cypress-trees hang their tufted tops over the water's 
 surface, opening an area benea'th studded with their 
 trunks, b'ke rude columns supporting a panoply of foliage. 
 
 The barge stops, the party land ; the shrill music, still 
 dancing through the thick forest, re-echoes in soft chimes as 
 it steals back upon the scene. Another minute, and we 
 hear the voices of Daddy Bob and Harry, Dandy and Enoch : 
 they are exchanging merry laughs, shouting in great good-
 
 THE MAKOON1NU PARTT. 53 
 
 nature, directing the smaller fry, who are fagging a\vay 
 at the larder, sucking the ice, and pocketing the lemons. 
 "Dat ain't just straight, noho\v : got de tings ashore, an' ye 
 get 'e share whin de white folk done ! Don' make 'e 
 nigger ob yourse'f, now, old Boss, d*ing the ting up so 
 nice," Daddy says, frowning on his minions. A vanguard 
 have proceeded in advance to take possession of the deserted 
 house ; while Aunt Rachel, with her cortege of feminines, is 
 fussing over " young missus." Here, a group are adjusting 
 their sun-shades ; there, another are preparing their fans and 
 nets. Then they follow the train, Clotilda and Ellen 
 leading their young representatives by the hand, bringing 
 up the rear among a cluster of smaller fry. Taking peace 
 able possession of the house, they commence to clear the 
 rooms, the back ones being reserved for the sumptuous 
 collation which Eachel and her juniors are preparing. The 
 musicians are mustered, the young belles and beaux, and 
 not a few old bachelors, gather into the front room, 
 commence the fetes with country dances, and conclude with 
 the polka and schottische. 
 
 Eachel' s department presents a bustling picture ; she is 
 master of ceremonies, making her sombre minions move at 
 her bidding, adjusting the various dishes upon the table. 
 None, not even the most favoured guests, dare intrude 
 themselves into her apartments until she announces the 
 completion of her tables, her readiness to receive friends. 
 And yet, amidst all this interest of character, this happy 
 pleasantry, this seeming contentment, there is one group 
 pauses ere it arrives at the house, dare not enter. The 
 distinction seems undefinable to us ; but they, poor 
 wretches, feel it deeply. Shame rankles deep, to their very 
 heart's core. They doubt their position, hesitate at the 
 door, and, after several nervous attempts to enter, fall back, 
 gather round a pine-tree, where they enjoy the day, 
 separated from the rest. There is a simplicity- a forloru- 
 ness, about this little group, which attracts our attention, 
 excites our sympathies, unbends our curiosity : we would 
 relieve the burden it labours under. They are Ellen .Tuvarna, 
 Clotilda, and their children. Socially, they are disowned; 
 they are not allowed to join the festivities with those in 
 the dance, and their feelings revolt at being compelled to 
 associate with the negroes. They are as white as many of the
 
 54 THE MAROONING PARTY. 
 
 whitest, have the same outlines of interest upon their faces ; 
 but their lives are sealed with the black seal of slavery. 
 Sensible of the injustice that has stripped them of their 
 rights, they value their whiteness ; the blood of birth 
 tinges their face, and through it they find themselves mere 
 dregs of human kind, objects of sensualism in its vilest 
 associations. 
 
 Maxwell has taken a deep interest in Clotilda ; and the 
 solicitude she manifests for her child has drawn him still 
 further in her favour ; he is determined to solve the mystery 
 that shrouds her history. Drawing near to them, he seats 
 himself upon the ground at their side, inquires why they did 
 not come into the house. " There's no place there for us, 
 none for me," Clotilda modestly replies, holding down her 
 head, placing her arm around Annette's waist. 
 
 " Tou would enjoy it much better, and there is no restraint 
 upon anyone." 
 
 " We know not why the day was not for us to enjoy as 
 well as others ; but it is ordained so. Where life is a dreary 
 pain, pleasure is no recompense for disgrace enforced upon 
 us. They tell us we are not what God made us to be ; 
 but it is the worst torture to be told so. There is nothing 
 in it it is the curse only that remains to enforce wrong. 
 Those who have gifts to enjoy life, and those who move to 
 make others happy, can enjoy their separate pleasures ; our 
 lives are between the two, hence there is little pleasure for 
 us," she answered, her eyes moistening with tears. 
 
 " If you will but come with me " 
 
 " Oh, I will go anywhere," she rejoined, quickly ; " any 
 where from this ; that I may know who I am may bear 
 my child with rue may lead a virtuous life, instead of 
 suffering the pangs of shame through a life of unholy 
 trouble." 
 
 " She never knows when she's well off. If Marston was 
 to hear her talk in that way, I wouldn't stand in her shoes," 
 interrupted Ellen, with a significant air. 
 
 Touched by this anxious reply, Maxwell determined to 
 know more of her feelings to solve the anxiety that was 
 hanging upon her mind, and, if possible, to carry her beyond 
 the power tha,t held her and her child in such an uncertain 
 position. 
 
 " I meant into the house," said he, observing that Ellen
 
 THE MAEOONING PAETT. 55 
 
 was not inclined to favour Clotilda's feelings ; and just at 
 that moment the shrill sounds of a bugle summoned the 
 party to the collation. Here another scene was enacted, 
 which is beyond the power of pen to describe. The tables, 
 decorated with wild flowers, were spread with meats of 
 all descriptions, fowl, game, pastry, and fruit, wines, and 
 cool drinks. Paces wearing the blandest smiles, grave 
 matrons, and cheerful planters, all dressed in rustic style 
 and neatness gathered around to partake of the feast, 
 while servants were running hither and thither to serve 
 mas'r and missus with the choicest bits. Toasts, compli 
 ments, and piquant squibs, follow the wine-cup. Then 
 came that picture of southern life which would be more 
 worthy of praise if it were carried out in the purity of 
 motive : as soon as the party had finished, the older 
 members, in their turn, set about preparing a repast for the 
 servants. This seemed to elate the negroes, who sat down 
 to their meal with great pomp, and were not restrained in 
 the free use of the choicest beverage. While this was going 
 on, Marston ordered Kachel to prepare fruit and pastry for 
 Ellen and Clotilda. "See to them; and they must have 
 wine too," whispered Marston. 
 
 " I know's dat, old Boss," returned Rachel, with a know 
 ing wink. 
 
 After the collation, the party divided into different sections. 
 Some enjoyed the dance, others strolled through the pine- 
 grove, whispering tales of love. Anglers repaired to the 
 deep pond in quest of trout, but more likely to find water- 
 sijakes and snapping turtles. Far in the distance, on the 
 r^ht, moving like fairy gondolas through the cypress- 
 covered lagoon, little barks skim the dark surface. They 
 move like spectres, carrying their fair freight, fanned by 
 the gentle breeze pregnant with the magnolia's sweet 
 perfume. The fair ones in those tiny barks are fishing; 
 they move from tree to tree trailing their lines to tempt the 
 finny tribe here, and there breaking the surface with their 
 gambols. 
 
 Lorenzo, as we have before informed the reader, exhibited 
 signs of melancholy during the day. So evident were they 
 that Franconia's sympathies became enlisted in his behalf, 
 and even carried so far, that Maxwell mistook her manner 
 for indifference toward himself. And, as if to confirm his
 
 56 THE MAROONING PARTY. 
 
 apprehensions, no sooner had the collation ended than she 
 took Lorenzo's arm and retired to the remains of an old 
 mill, a few rods above the landing. It was a quiet, seques 
 tered spot -just such an one as would inspire the emotions of 
 a sensitive heart, recall the associations of childhood, and 
 give life to our pent-up enthusiasm. There they seated 
 them selves^ the one waiting for the other to speak. 
 
 " Tell me, Lorenzo," said Franconia, laying her hand on 
 his arm, and watching with nervous anxiety each change 
 of his countenance, " why are you not joyous ? you are 
 gloomy to-day. I speak as a sister you are nervous, 
 faltering with trouble " 
 
 "Trouble!" he interrupted, raising his eyes, and accom 
 panying an affected indifference with a sigh. It is some 
 thing he hesitates to disclose. He has erred ! his heart 
 speaks, it is high-handed crime ! He looks upon her 
 affectionately, a forced smile spreads itself over his face. 
 How forcibly it tells its tale. " Speak out," she continues, 
 tremulously : " I am a sister ; a sister cannot betray a 
 brother's secrets." She removes her hand and lays it gently 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 Looking imploringly in her face fora few minutes, he 
 replies as if it were an effort of great magnitude. " Some 
 thing you must not know nor must the world ! Many 
 things are buried in the secrets of time that would 
 make great commotion if the world knew them. It were 
 well they passed unknown, for the world is like a great 
 stream with a surface of busy life moving on its way above 
 a troubled current, lashing and foaming beneath, but ojily 
 breaking here and there as if to mark the smothered confflP;. 
 And yet with me it is nothing, a moment of disappointment 
 creeping into my contemplations, transplanting them with 
 melancholy " 
 
 " Something more !" interrupted Franconia, "something 
 more ; it is a step beyond melancholy, more than disappoint 
 ment. Uncle feels it sensibly it pains him, it wears upon 
 him. I have seen it foremost in his thoughts." Her 
 anxiety increases, her soft meaning eyes look upon him 
 imploringly, she fondles him with a sister's tenderness, the 
 tears trickling down her cheeks as she beholds him downcast 
 and in sorrow. HH reluctance to disclose the secret becomes 
 more painful to her.
 
 THE MAROONING PARTY. 57 
 
 " You may know it soon enough," lie replies. " I have 
 erred, aud my errors have brought me to a sad brink. My 
 friends those who have indulged my follies have 
 quickened the canker that will destroy themselves. Indul 
 gence too often hastens the cup of sorrow, and when it poisons 
 most, we are least conscious. It is an alluring charmer, 
 betraying in the gayest livery " 
 
 " Lorenzo," she interrupts, wiping the tears from her eyes. 
 " Tell me all ; remember woman's influence she can relieve 
 others when she cannot relieve herself. Make me your 
 confidant relieve your feelings." 
 
 " This night, Franconia, I shall bid a painful good-bye to 
 those familiar scenes which have surrounded my life, to 
 you, my sister, to those faithful old friends of the plantation, 
 Daddy Bob and Harry. They have fondled me, protected 
 me, played with me in my childhood, led me to my boyish 
 sports when all was bright and pleasant, when the plantation 
 had its merry scenes for slave and master. I must go 
 upon the world, mingle with strange life, make experience 
 my guardian. I have committed a crime one which for ever 
 disgraces the honourable " 
 
 Crime, crime, crime ! weighed itself in her mind. " And 
 what of that ?" she rejoined, suddenly ; "a sister can forgive 
 a brother any crime ; and even a lover, if she love truly, can 
 forget them in her affections. Do not go upon the world ; 
 be a man above crime, above the bar of scandal. Have 
 confidence in yourself; do not let the injustice overcome 
 you. Once on the world a wanderer, remember the untold 
 tale of misery, speeding its victims to that death of conscience 
 burning unseen." 
 
 " Nay, Franconia, you mean well ; but you have not 
 learned the world. Take this as my advice, remember it 
 when I am gone, and in years to come you will acknowledge 
 its truth Fortune at the south rests on an unsound foun 
 dation ! We are lofty in feelings, but poor in principle, 
 poor in government, poor in that which has built our great 
 republic. Uncertainty hangs over us at every step ; but, 
 whatever befall you, stand firm through adversity. Never 
 chide others for the evils that may befall you ; bear your 
 burdens without casting reflections on others, it is nobler! 
 Befriend those who have no power to befriend themselves ; 
 and when the world forgets you, do not forget yourself.
 
 58 THE MAROONING PARTY. 
 
 There is no step of return for those who falter in poverty. 
 To-night I shall leave for the city ; in a few days you will 
 know all." Thus saying, he conducted Franconia back 
 to rejoin the party, already making preparations to return. 
 
 He gave her an insight of his troubles, in such a manner 
 as to create deep agitation ; and, although satisfied that an 
 event of more than ordinary magnitude was at hand, she 
 could not associate it with the commission of crime. The 
 day, spent with all the conviviality of southern life, ended 
 amidst the clang of merry voices, and soft music : a gay group 
 assembled at the bank, ready to return under the cheering 
 influence of music and moonlight. 
 
 The bugle sounded, the soft notes of " Home, sweet 
 Home!" followed: the party, forming into double file, gay 
 and grotesque, marched through the grove to the barge. 
 Servants, old and young, were in high glee ; some joining in 
 chorus with the music ; some preparing the barge, others 
 strewing branches and flowers in the pathway, to the 
 delight of young "mas'r" and "missus," all singing. 
 Aunt Rachel, high above her minions in authority, is poised 
 on the bank, giving directions at the very top of her voice. 
 Daddy Bob, Harry, and Dandy the latter named after 
 "mas'r's" fleetest horse are freighting their young 
 " missusses " in their arms to the boat, shielding their feet 
 from the damp. 
 
 "Now, mas'r, Old Boss," Bob says, directing himself to 
 Marston, after completing his charge with the young 
 ladies, " Jus' lef 'um tote, old mas'r safe da' ? So 'e don' 
 mus e' foot." And forthwith he shoulders Marston, lands him 
 like a bale of cotton on one of the seats, much to the amuse 
 ment of those on board, sending forth shouts of applause. 
 The party are on board ; all is quiet for a minute ; again the 
 music strikes up, the barge is gliding over the still bosom 
 of the fairy-like stream. 
 
 The sun has just sunk into a fiery cloud that hangs 
 its crimson curtains high in the heavens, shedding reful 
 gent beauty over the dark jungle lining the river's banks. 
 And then, twilight, as if stealing its way across the hills, 
 follows, softening the scene. Soon it has gone, the land 
 scape sleeps, tranquilly arched by the serene vault of a 
 southern sky. Everything seems peaceful, reposing, and 
 serene ; the air breathes warm and balmy, distributing its
 
 THE MAROONING PARTY. 59 
 
 invigorating influence. The music has ceased, nothing but 
 the ripple of the water is heard ; then the stars, like pearls 
 suspended over the dark surface, begin to glimmer and 
 shine. Above all is the moon, like a silver goddess, rising 
 stealthily and shedding her pale light upon the calm glow. 
 
 Onward, onward, onward, over the still stream, winding 
 its way to the great deep, they move ; and again the music 
 echoes and re-echoes through the forest, over the lawn ; 
 dying away in chimes that faintly play around us. 
 The sudden changes in the heavens, monitor of things 
 divine, call up in Lorenzo's feelings the reverses of 
 fortune that will soon take place on the plantation. He 
 had never before recognised the lesson conveyed by heavenly 
 bodies ; and such was the effect at that moment that it 
 proved a guardian to him in his future career. 
 
 It was near midnight when the barge reached the planta 
 tion. Fires were lighted on the bank, negroes were here and 
 there stretched upon the ground, sleeping with such super 
 lative comfort that it landed ere they awoke. One by one 
 the parties returned for their homes ; and, after shaking 
 hands with Marston, taking an affectionate adieu of Fran- 
 conia (telling her he would call on the morrow), lisping a 
 kind word to the old negroes, Lorenzo ordered a horse, and 
 ] ft for the city. He took leave of the plantation, of it. j 
 dearest associations, like one who had the conflict of battle before 
 him, and the light of friendship behind. 
 5
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 
 
 IN the city, a few miles from the plantation, a scene which too 
 often affords those degrading pictures that disgrace a free and 
 happy country, was being enacted. A low brick building, stand 
 ing in an area protected by a high fence, surmounted with 
 spikes and other dangerous projectiles, formed the place. The 
 upper and lower windows of this building were strongly se 
 cured with iron gratings, and emitted the morbid air from cells 
 scarcely large enough to contain human beings of ordinary 
 size. In the rear, a sort of triangular area opened, along which 
 was a line of low buildings, display ing single and double cells. 
 Some had iron rings in the -floor; some had rings in the walls; 
 and, again, others had rings over head. Some of these con 
 fines of misery for here men's souls were goaded by the ava 
 rice of our natures were solitary ; and at night, when the tur 
 moil of the day had ceased, human wailings and the clank of 
 chains might be heard breaking through the walls of this 
 charnel-house. These narrow confines were filled with living 
 brings beings with souls, souls sold according to the 
 privileges of a free and happy country, a country that fills 
 us with admiration of its greatness. It is here, O man, 
 the tyrant sways his hand most ! it is here the flesh and 
 blood of the same Maker, in chains of death, yearns for 
 freedom. 
 
 We walk through the corridor, between narrow arches 
 containing the abodes of misery, while our ears drink the sad 
 melancholy that sounds in agitated throbs, made painful by 
 the gloom and darkness. Touching an iron latch, the door 
 of a cell opens, cold and damp, as if death sat upon its walls ; 
 but it discloses no part of the inmate's person, and excites 
 our sympathies still more. "We know the unfortunate is 
 there, we hear the murmuring, like a death-bell in our 
 ears ; it is mingled with a dismal chaos of sound, piercing 
 deep into our feelings. It tells us in terror how gold blasts
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 61 
 
 the very soul of man what a dark monster of cruelty he 
 can become, how he can forget the grave, and think only 
 of his living self, how he can strip reason of its right, making 
 himself an animal with man for his food. See the monster 
 seeking only for the things that can serve him on earth see 
 him stripping man of his best birth-right, see him the raving 
 fiend, unconscious of his hell-born practices, dissevering the 
 hope that by a fibre hangs over the ruins of those beings 
 who will stand in judgment against him. His soul, like 
 their faces, will be black, when theirs has been whitened for 
 judgment in the world to come ! 
 
 Ascending a few steps, leading into a centre building 
 where the slave merchant is polished into respecta 
 bility we enter a small room at the right hand. Several 
 men, some having the appearance of respectable merchants, 
 some dressed in a coarse, red-mixed homespun, others 
 smoking cigars very leisurely, are seated at a table, upon 
 which are several bottles and tumblers. They drank 
 every few minutes, touched glasses, uttered the vilest 
 imprecations. Conspicuous among them is Marco Graspum: 
 it is enough that we have before introduced him to the 
 reader at Marston's mansion. His dark peering eyes 
 glisten as he sits holding a glass of liquor in one hand, and 
 runs his fingers through his bristly hair with the other. 
 " The depths of trade are beyond some men," he says, 
 striking his hand on the table ; then, catching up a paper, 
 tears it into pieces. " Only follow my directions, and there 
 gan be no missing your man," he continued, addressing 
 one who sat opposite to him ; and who up to that time had 
 been puffing his cigar with great unconcern. His whole 
 energies seemed roused to action at the word. After keep 
 ing his eyes fixed upon Graspum for more than a minute, he 
 replied, at the same time replenishing his cigar with a 
 fresh one 
 
 ' Yee'h sees, Marco, you'r just got to take that ar' say 
 back, or stand an all-fired chaffing. You don't scar' this 'un, 
 on a point a' business. If I hain't larned to put in the big 
 pins, no fellow has. When ye wants to ' sap ' a tall 'un, 
 like Marston, ye stands shy until ye thinks he's right for 
 pulling, and then ye'll make a muffin on him, quicker. But, 
 ye likes to have yer own way in gettin' round things, so that 
 a fellow can't stiak a pinte to make a hundred or two unless
 
 62 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 
 
 he weaves his way clean through the law unless he under 
 stands Mr. Justice, and puts a double blinder on his eye. 
 There's nothing like getting on the right side of a fellow 
 what knows how to get on the wrong side of the law : and 
 seeing how I've studied Mr. Justice a little bit better than 
 he's studied his books, I knows just what can be done with 
 him when a feller's got chink in his pocket. You can't 
 buy 'em, sir, they're so modest ; but you can coax 'em at a 
 mighty cheaper rate you can do that !" " And ye can make 
 him feel as if law and his business warn' t two and two," 
 rejoined Anthony Homescos, a lean, wiry man, whose small 
 indescribable face, very much sun-scorched, is covered with 
 bright sandy hair, matted and uncombed. His forehead is 
 low, the hair grows nearly to his eyebrows, profuse and red ; 
 his eyes wander and glisten with desperation ; he is a 
 merciless character. Men fear him, dread him ; he sets the 
 law at defiance, laughs when he is told he is the cunningest 
 rogue in the county. He owns to the fearful ; says it has 
 served him through many a hard squeeze ; but now that he 
 finds law so necessary to carry out villainy, he's taken to 
 studying it himself. His dress is of yellow cotton, of which 
 he has a short roundabout and loose pantaloons. His shirt 
 bosom is open, the collar secured at the neck with a short 
 black ribbon ; he is much bedaubed with tobacco-juice, 
 which he has deposited over his clothes for the want of a 
 more convenient place. A gray, slouch hat usually adorns 
 his head, which, in consequence of the thinking it does, 
 needs a deal of scratching. Reminding us how careful he- 
 is of his feet, he shows them ensconced in a pair of Indian 
 moccasins ornamented with bead- work ; and, as if we had 
 not become fully conscious of his power, he draws aside 
 his roundabout, and there, beneath the waist of his panta 
 loons, is a girdle, to which a large hunting-knife is attached, 
 some five inches of the handle protruding above the belt. 
 " Now, fellers, I tell ye what's what, ye'r point-up at 
 bragin' ; but ye don't come square up to the line when 
 there's anything to put through what wants pluck. 'Tain't 
 what a knowin' 'un like I can do ; it's just what he can 
 larn to be with a little training in thinga requiring spunk. 
 I'm a going to have a square horse, or no horse ; if I don't, 
 by the great Davy, I'll back out and do business on my own 
 account. Anthony Romescos always makes hia mark and
 
 AJSOTHEB SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 63 
 
 then masters it. If ye don't give Anthony a fair showin', 
 he'll set up business on his own account, and pocket 
 the corains in. Now ! thar's Dan Bengal and his 
 dogs ; they can do a thing or two in the way of trade now 
 and then ; but it requires the cunnin as well as the plucky 
 part of a feller. It makes a great go when they're com 
 bined, though, they ala's makes sure game and slap-up 
 profit." 
 
 " Hold a stave, Anthony," interrupted a grim-visaged 
 individual who had just filled his glass with whiskey, which 
 he declared was only to counteract the effect of what he 
 had already taken. He begs they will not think him half 
 so stupid as he seems, says he is always well behaved in 
 genteel society, and is fully convinced from the appearance 
 of things that they are all gentlemen. He wears a semi- 
 baudittical garb, which, with his csaven features, presents 
 his character in all its repulsiveness. " You needn't reckon 
 on that courage o' yourn, old fellow ; this citizen can go 
 two pins above it. If you wants a showin', just name the 
 mark. I've seed ye times enough, how ye would not 
 stand ramrod when a nigger looked lightning at ye. Twice 
 I seed a nigger make ye show flum ; and ye darn't make the 
 cussed critter toe the line trim up, nohow," he mumbles out, 
 dropping his tumbler on the table, spilling his liquor. 
 They are Grraspum's ''men;" they move as he directs 
 carry out his plans of trade in human flesh. Through these 
 promulgators of his plans, his plots, his desperate games, 
 he has become a mighty man of trade. They are all his 
 good fellows they are worth their weight in gold ; but 
 he can purchase their souls for any purpose, at any price ! 
 " Ah, yes, I see the best I can do don't satisi'y. My 
 good fellows, you are plum up on business, do the square 
 thing ; but you're becomin' a little too familiar. Doing the 
 nigger business is one thing, and choosing company's 
 another. Eemember, gentlemen, I hold a position in 
 society, I do," says Graspum, all the dignity of his dear self 
 glowing in his countenance. 
 
 " I see ! There's no spoilin' a gentleman what's got to 
 be one by his merits in trade. Thar's whar ye takes the 
 shine out of us. Y'er gentleman gives ye a right smart 
 chance to walk into them ai-' big bugs what's careless, don't 
 think yer comin' it over 'em with a sort o' dignity what
 
 64 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHEBN -LIFE. 
 
 don't 'tract no s'picion." rejoined Komescos, taking up his 
 hat, and placing it carelessly on his head, as if to assure 
 Grraspum that he is no better than the rest. 
 
 " Comprehend me, comprehend me, gentlemen ! There 
 can, and must be, dignity in nigger trading ; it can be made 
 as honourable as any other branch of business. For there 
 is an intricacy about our business requiring more dignity 
 and ability than general folks know. You fellers couldn't 
 carry out the schemes, run the law down, keep your finger 
 on people's opinion, and them sort o' things, if I didn't take 
 a position in society what 'ud ensure puttin' ye straight 
 through. South's the place where position's worth some- 
 thin' ; and then, when we acts independent, and don't look 
 as if M r e cared two toss-ups, ah ! " 
 
 " I wonder you don't set up a dignity shop, and go to 
 selling the article ; might have it manufactured to sell 
 down south." 
 
 " Ah, Romescos," continued Graspum, " you may play the 
 fool ; but you must play it wisely to make it profitable. 
 Here, position puts law at defiance ! here it puts croakers 
 over humanity to rest here, when it has money, it makes 
 lawyers talk round the points, get fat among themselves, 
 fills the old judge's head with anything ; so that he laughs 
 and thinks he don't know nothin'. Listen to what I'm 
 goin' to say, because you'll all make somethin' out on't. 
 I've just got the dignity to do all ; and with the coin to back 
 her up, can safe every chance. When you fellers get into a 
 snarl running off a white 'un, or a free nigger, I has to bring 
 out the big talk to make it seem how you didn't understand 
 the thing. 'Tain't the putting the big on, but it's the 
 keepin' on it on. You'd laugh to see how I does it ; 
 it's the way I keeps you out of limbo, though." 
 
 We have said these men were Graspum's "men;" they 
 are more they are a band of outlaws, who boast of living 
 in a free country, where its institutions may be turned into 
 despotism. They . carry on a system of trade in human 
 bodies ; they stain the fairest spots of earth with their 
 crimes. They set law at defiance they scoff at the 
 depths of hell that yawn for them, the blackness of their 
 villainy is known only in heaven. Earth cares little for it ; 
 and those familiar with the devices of dealers in human 
 bodies shrink from the shame of making them known to
 
 ANOTHEll SCZNE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 65 
 
 the world. There was a discontent in the party, a clashing 
 of interests, occasioned by the meagre manner in which 
 Graspum. had divided the spoils of their degradation. He 
 had set his dignity and position in society at a mucn 
 higher valne than they were willing to recognise, especially 
 when it was to share the spoils in proportion. Dan Bengal, 
 so called from his ferocity of character, was a celebrated 
 dog-trainer and negro-hunter, " was great in doing the 
 savager portion of negro business." This, Romescos con 
 tended, did not require so much cunning as his branch of 
 the business which was to find "loose places," where 
 doubtful whites see out remnants of the Indian race, and 
 free negroes could be found easy objects of prey ; to lay 
 plots, do the "sharp," carry out plans for running all free 
 rubbish down south, where they would sell for something. 
 
 "True! it's all true as sunshine," says Romescos ; ''we ( 
 understand Mr. Graspum inside and out. But ye ain't 
 paid a dime to get me out of any scrape. I was larned to 
 nigger business afore I got into the 'tarnal thing ; and 
 when I just gits me eye on a nigger what nobody don't 
 own, I comes the sly over him puts him through a course 
 of nigger diplomacy. The way he goes down to the 
 Mississippi is a caution to nigger property !" 
 
 He has enlisted their attention, all eyes are set upon him, 
 every voice calls out to know his process. He begs they 
 will drink round ; they fill their glasses, and demand that 
 he will continue the interest of his story. 
 
 " My plans are worth a fortune to those who follow the 
 business," he says, giving his glass a twirl as he sets it upon 
 the table, and commences 
 
 " Born 'cute, you see ; trade comes natural. Afore a free 
 'un don't know it, I has him bonded and tucked off for eight 
 or nine hundred dollars, slap-up, cash and all. And then, 
 ye sees, it's worth somethin' in knowin' who to sell such 
 criturs too so that the brute don't git a chance to talk 
 about it without getting his back troubled. And then, it 
 requires as much knowin' as a senator's got just to fix 
 things as smooth so nobody won't know it ; and just like 
 ye can jingle the coin in yer pocket, for the nigger, what 
 everybody's wonderin' where he can be gone to. 1 tell yv. 
 what, it takes some stameny to keep the price of a prune 
 feller in your pocket, and wonder, along with the rest
 
 60 AKOTUEB SCENE IX SOUTHEHN 1,IFE. 
 
 where the rascal can be. If you'd just see Bob Demand 
 doe it up, you'd think his face was made for a methodist 
 deacon in camp meeting-time. The way lie comes it when 
 he wants to prove a free nigger's a runaway, would beat 
 all the disciples of Blackstone between here and old Ken- 
 tack. And then, Bob's any sort of a gentleman, what you 
 don't get in town every day, and wouldn't make a bad 
 senator, if he'd bin in Congress when the compromise was 
 settled upon, 'cos he can reason right into just nothin' at 
 all. Ye see it ain't the feelings that makes a feller a gentle 
 man in our business, it's knowing the human natur O 
 things ; how to be a statesman, when ye meets the like , 
 how to be a gentleman, and talk polite things, and sich 
 like ; how to be a jolly fellow, an' put the tall sayings 
 into the things of life; and when ye gets among the lawyers, 
 to know all about the pintes of the law, and how to cut off 
 the corners, so they'll think ye' re bin a parish judge. And 
 then, when ye comes before the squire, just to talk dignity 
 to him tell him where the law is what he don't seem to 
 comprehend. You've got to make aright good feller of the 
 squire by sticking a fee under his vest-pocket when he 
 don't obsarve it. And then, ye know, when ye make the 
 squire a right good feller, you must keep him to the point ; 
 and when there's any swarin' to be done, he's just as easily 
 satisfied as the law. It's all business, you see ; and thar's 
 just the same kind a thing in it ; because profit rules principle, 
 and puts a right smart chance o' business into their hands 
 without troubling their consciences. But then, Bob ain't 
 got the cunnin' in him like I nor he can't " rope-in on the 
 sly," knock down and drag out, and just tell a whole 
 possee to come on, as I do. And that's what ye don't seem 
 to come at, Graspum," said Romescos, again filling his glass, 
 and drawing a long black pipe from his pocket prepares it 
 for a smoke. 
 
 " Now, the trouble is, you all think you can carry out 
 these matters on your own hook ; but it's no go, and you'll 
 find it so. It's a scheme that must have larger means at the 
 head of it; and each man's rights must be stipulated, ami 
 paid according to his own enterprise. But this discon 
 tent is monstrous and injurious, and if continued will prove 
 unprofitable. You sec, tellers, you've no responsibility, and 
 my position is your protection, and if you don't get rich, you
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 67 
 
 must not charge the blame to me ; and then just see how 
 you live now to what you did when ranging the piny woods 
 and catching a stray nigger here and there, what didn't 
 hardly pay dog money. There's a good deal in the sport of the 
 thing, too ; and ye know it amounts to a good deal to do the 
 gentleman and associate with big folks, who puts the business 
 into one's hands, by finding out who's got lean purses and 
 prime niggers," rejoined Graspum, very coolly. 
 
 " Ah, yes ; that's the way ye comes it over -these haristo- 
 crats, by doin' the modest. Now, Graspum, 'tain't no 
 trouble to leak a sap like ' that Lorenzo, and make his 
 friends stand the blunt after we've roped him into your 
 fixings," replied Romescos. 
 
 " So, no ; riot a bit of it," resounded several voices. 
 " "We do all the dragwork with the niggers, and Graspum 
 gets the tin." 
 
 " But he pays for the drink. Come, none of this bicker 
 ing ; we must agree upon business, and do the thing up 
 brown under the old system," interrupted another. 
 
 " Hold ! close that bread trap o' yourn," Romescos 
 snout a at the top of his voice. " You're only a green croaker 
 from the piny woods, where gophers crawl independent ; you 
 ain't seen life on the borders of Texas. Fellers, I can whip 
 any man in the crowd, can make the best stump speech, 
 can bring up the best logic ; and can prove that the best 
 frightenin' man is the best man in the nigger business. 
 Now, if you wants a brief sketch of this child's history, ye 
 can have it." Here Romescos entered into an interesting 
 account of himself. He was the descendant of a good 
 family, living in the city of Charleston ; his parents, when a 
 youth, had encouraged his propensities for bravery. With 
 out protecting them with that medium of education which 
 assimilates courage with gentlemanly conduct, carrying out 
 the nobler impulses of our nature, they allowed him to 
 roam in that sphere which produces its ruffians. At the age 
 of fifteen he entered a counting-room, when his quick 
 mercurial temperament soon rendered him expert at its 
 minor functions. Three years had hardly elapsed when, in 
 a moment of passion, he drew his dirk, (a weapon he always 
 carried) and, in making a plunge at his antagonist, inflicted a 
 wound in the breast of a near friend. The wound was deep, 
 and proved fatal. For this he was arraigned before a jury,
 
 68 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 
 
 tried for his life. He proved the accident by an existing 
 friendship he was honourably acquitted. His employer, 
 after reproaching him for his proceedings, again admitted 
 him into his employment. Such, however, was his inclina 
 tion to display the desperado, that before the expiration of 
 another year he killed a negro, shot two balls at one of his 
 fellows, one of which was well nigh proving fatal, and left 
 the state. His recklessness, his previous acts of malig 
 nity, his want of position, all left him little hope of 
 escaping the confines of a prison. Fleeing to parts unknown, 
 his absence relieved the neighbourhood of a responsibility. 
 For a time, he roamed among farmers and drovers in the 
 mountains of Tennessee ; again he did menial labour, often 
 forced to the direst necessity to live. One day, when nearly 
 famished, he met a slave-driver, conducting his cq/te towards 
 the Mississippi, to whom he proffered his services. The 
 coarse driver r adily accepted them ; they proceeded on 
 together, and it was not long before they found themselves 
 fitting companions. The one was desperate the other 
 traded in desperation. An ardent nature, full of courage 
 and adventure, was a valuable acquisition to the dealer, who 
 found that he had enlisted a youngster capable of relieving 
 him of inflicting that cruelty so necessary to his profession. 
 With a passion for inflicting torture, this youth could now 
 gratify it upon those unfortunate beings of merchandise 
 who were being driven to the shambles : he could gloat in the 
 exercise, of those natural propensities which made the inflic 
 tion of pain a pleasant recreation. In the trade of human 
 flesh all these cruel traits became valuable; they enabled 
 him to demand a good price for his services. Initiated in 
 all the mysteries of tMe trade, he was soon entrusted with 
 gangs of very considerable extent ; then he made purchases, 
 laid plans to entrap free negroes, performed the various 
 intricacies of procuring affidavits with which to make slave 
 property out of free flesh. Nature was nature, and what was 
 hard in him soon became harder ; he could crib " doubtful 
 white stuff" that was a nuisance among folks, and sell 
 it for something he could put in his pocket. In this 
 way E-omescos accumulated several hundred dollars; but 
 avarice increased, and with it his ferocity. It belonged to 
 the trade, a trade of wanton depravity. He became the 
 terror of those who assumed to look upon a negro's suffer-
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 69 
 
 ings with sympathy, scoffing at the finer feelings of mankind. 
 Twice had his rapacity been let loose twice had it nearly 
 brought him to the gallows, or to the tribunal of Judge Lynch. 
 And now, when completely inured in the traffic of human 
 flesh, that traffic which transposes man into a demon, his 
 progress is checked for a while by a false step. 
 
 It was this ; and this only to the deep disgrace of 
 the freest and happiest country on earth. A poor orphan 
 girl, like many of her class in our hospitable slave 
 world, had been a mere cast-off upon the community. She 
 knew nothing of the world, was ignorant, could neither read 
 nor write, something quite common in the south, but 
 seldom known in New England. Thus she became the 
 associate of depraved negroes, and again, served Romescos 
 as a victim. Not content with this, after becoming tired 
 of her, he secured her in the slave-pen of one of his fellow 
 traders. Here he kept her for several weeks, closely 
 confined, feeding her with grits. Eventually "running" her 
 to Vicksburg, he found an accomplice to sign a bill of 
 cale, by which he sold her to a notorious planter, who 
 carried her into the interior. The wretched girl had 
 qualities which the planter saw might, with a little care, be 
 made extremely valuable in the New Orleans market, one 
 was natural beauty. She was not suitable property for the 
 agricultural department of either a cotton or sugar planta- i 
 tion, nor was she " the stripe" to increase prime stock ; j 
 hence she must be prepared for the general market. When 
 qualified according to what the planter knew would suit the 
 fancy market, she was conveyed to New Orleans, a piece of 
 property bright as the very brightest, very handsome, not 
 very intelligent, just suited to the \fcints of bidders. 
 
 Here, at the shambles in the crescent city, she remained 
 guarded, and for several weeks was not allowed to go 
 beyond the door-sill ; after which a sale was effected of her 
 with the keeper of a brothel, for the good price of thirteen 
 hundred dollars. In this sink of iniquity she remained 
 nearly two years. Fearing the ulterior consequences, she 
 dared not assert her rights to freedom, she dared not say 
 she was born free in a free country. Her disappearance 
 from the village in which she had been reared caused some 
 excitement ; but it soon reduced itself to a very trifling 
 affair. Indeed, white trash like this was considered little
 
 70 ANOTHER SCEN.E IJS SOUTHERN 
 
 else than rubbish, not worth bringing up respectably. And 
 while suspicion pointed to Romescos, as the person who 
 could account for her mysterious disappearance, such was 
 the fear of his revenge that no one dared be the accuser. 
 Quietly matters rested, poor virtue was mean merchandise, 
 had its value, could be bought and sold could be turned 
 to various uses, except enlisting the sympathies of those 
 who study it as a market commodity. A few days 
 passed and all was hushed ; no one enquired about the 
 poor orphan, Martha Johnson. In the hands of her creole 
 owner, who held her as a price for licentious purposes, she 
 associated with gentlemen of polite manners of wealth and 
 position. Even this, though profane, had advantages, which 
 she employed for the best of purposes ; she learned to read 
 and to write, to assimilate her feelings with those of a 
 higher class. Society had ' degraded her, she had not 
 degraded herself. One night, as the promiscuous company 
 gathered into the drawing-room, she recognised a young 
 man from her native village ; the familiar face inspired her 
 with joy, her heart leaped with gladness ; he had befriended 
 her poor mother she knew he had kind feelings, and 
 would be her 1'riend once her story was told. The moments 
 passed painfully ; she watched him restlessly through the 
 dance, sat at his side. Still he did not recognise her, 
 toilet had changed her for another being ; but she had 
 courted self-respect rather than yielded to degradation. 
 Again she made signs to attract his attention ; she passed 
 and repassed him, and failed. Have I thus changed, she 
 thought to herself. 
 
 At length she succeeded in attracting his attention ; 
 she drew him aside,* then to her chamber. In it she 
 disclosed her touching narrative, unfolded her sorrows, 
 appealed to him with tears in her eyes to procure her freedom 
 and restore her to her rights. Her story enlisted the better 
 feelings of a man, while her self-respect, the earnestness 
 with which she pleaded her deliverance, and the heartless- 
 ness of the act, strongly rebuked the levity of those who 
 had made her an orphan outcast in her own village. She 
 was then in the theatre of vice, surrounded by its allure 
 ments, consigned to its degradation, a prey to libertinism 
 yet respecting herself. The object of his visit among the 
 denizens was changed to a higher mission, a duty which
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 71 
 
 he owed to his moral life, to his own manliness. He 
 promised his mediation to better her eventful and myste 
 rious life, to be a friend to her ; and nobly did he keep his 
 promise. On the following day he took measures for her 
 rescue, and though several attempts were made to wrest 
 her from him, and the mendacity of slave-dealers summoned 
 to effect it, he had the satisfaction of seeing her restored to 
 her native village, to freedom, to respectability.* 
 
 Proceedings were after some delay commenced against 
 Romescos, but, we trust it was not through collusion with 
 officials he escaped the merited punishment that would 
 have been inflicted upon him by a New England tribunal. 
 Again he left the state, and during his absence it is sup 
 posed he was engaged in nefarious practices with the 
 notorious Murrel, who carried rapine and death into the 
 unoffending villages of the far west. However, be this as 
 it may, little was known of him for several years, except in 
 some desperate encounter. The next step in his career of 
 desperation known, was joining a band of guerillas led by 
 one of the most intrepid captains that infested the borders 
 of Mexico, during the internal warfare by which her Texan 
 provinces struggled for independence. Freebooters, they 
 espoused the Texan cause because it offered food for their 
 rapacity, and through it they became formidable and des 
 perate foes to the enemy. They were the terror of the 
 ranchoes, the inhabitants fled at their approach ; their pil 
 lage, rapine, and slaughtering, would stain the annals of 
 barbarous Africa. They are buried, let us hope for the 
 name of a great nation, that they may remain beneath the 
 pale of oblivion. 
 
 In their incursions, as mounted riflemen, they besieged 
 villages, slaughtered the inhabitants, plundered churches, 
 and burned dwellings ; they carried off captive females, 
 drove herds of cattle to distant markets. Through the 
 auspices of this band, as is now well known, many young 
 females were carried off and sold into slavery, where they 
 and their offspring yet remain. While pursuing this 
 
 * We withhold the details of this too true transaction, lest we should 
 be classed among those who are endeavouring to creal e undue excite 
 ment. The orphan girl we here refer to was married to a respectable 
 mechanic, who afterwards removed to Cincinnati, and with his wife 
 jcoame much rt^i'Wted citizens.
 
 72 ANOTHEB SCENE IN SOUTHEKN LIFE. 
 
 nefarious course of life, Eoinescos accumulated more than 
 twenty thousand dollars ; and yet, though ferocity in 
 creased with the daring of his profession, there was 
 one impulse of his nature, deeply buried, directing his 
 ambition. Amid the dangers of war, the tumult of con 
 flict, the passion for daring this impulse kept alive the 
 associations of home, it was love ! In early life he 
 had formed an attachment for a beautiful young lady 
 of his native town ; it had ripened with his years ; the 
 thoughts of her, and the hope of regaining her love if 
 he gained wealth, so worked upon his mind that be re 
 solved to abandon the life of a guerilla, and return home. 
 After an absence of fourteen years he found the object of 
 his early love, that woman who had refused to requite his 
 affection, a widow, having buried her husband, a gentleman 
 of position, some months previous. 
 
 liomescos had money, the man was not considered; he is 
 not considered where slavery spreads its vices to corrupt 
 social life. He had been careful to keep his business a pro 
 found secret, and pressing his affections, soon found the 
 object of his ambition keenly sensitive to his advances. 
 Rumour recounted his character with mystery and suspi 
 cion ; friends remonstrated, but in vain ; they were united 
 despite all opposition, all appeals. For a time he seemed a 
 better man, the business he had followed harassed his 
 mind, seeming to haunt him, and poison his progress. He 
 purchased a plantation on the banks of the Santee ; for once 
 resolved to pursue an honest course, to be a respectable 
 citizen, and enjoy the quiet of home. 
 
 A year passed : he might have enjoyed the felicity of 
 domestic life, the affections of a beautiful bride ; but the 
 change was too sudden for his restless spirit. He was not 
 made to enjoy the quiet of life, the task stood before him 
 like a mountain without a pass, he could not wean himself 
 from the vices of a marauder. He had abused the free 
 offerings of a free country, had set law at defiance ; he had 
 dealt in human flesh, and the task of resistance was more 
 than the moral element in his nature could effect. Viola 
 tions of human laws were mere speculations to him ; they 
 had beguiled him, body and soul. He had no apology for 
 violating personal feeling ; what cared he for that small 
 consideration, when the bodies of men, women, and children
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOI7THEUN LIFE. 73 
 
 could be sacrificed for that gold which would give him 
 position among the men of the south. If he carried oft' 
 poor whites, and sold them into slavery, he saw 110 enormity 
 in the performance ; the law invested him with power 
 he made absolute. Society was chargeable with all his 
 wrongs, with all his crimes, all his enormities. He had 
 repeatedly told it so, pointing for proof to that literal 
 observance of the rule by which man is made mere merchan 
 dise. kSociety had continued in its pedantic folly, disregard 
 ing legal rights, imposing no restraints on the holder of 
 human property, violating its spirit and pride by neglecting 
 to enforce the great principles of justice whereby we are 
 bound to protect the lives of those unjustly considered 
 inferior beings. Thus ends a sketch of what Komescos 
 gave of his own career. 
 
 We now find him associated with the desperadoes of 
 slave-dealing, in the scene we have presented. After 
 Romescos had related what he called the romance of his 
 life, intended, no doubt, to impress the party with his 
 power and intrepidity, and enable him to set a higher value 
 upon his services, he lighted a pipe, threw his hat upon 
 the floor, commenced pacing up and down the room, as if 
 labouring under deep excitement. And while each one 
 seemed watching him intently, a loud knocking was heard 
 at the door, then the baying of blood-hounds, the yelps 
 of curs, mingling with the murmurs of those poor wretches 
 confined in the cells beneath. Then followed the clanking 
 of chains, cries, and wailings, startling and fearful. 
 
 Dan Bengal sprang to the door, as if conscious of its 
 import. A voice demanded admittance ; and as the door 
 opened Bengal exclaimed, " Halloo ! here's Nath Nimrod : 
 what's the tune of the adventure ? " 
 
 A short, stout man entered, dressed in a coarse home- 
 Htpun hunting dress, a profuse black beard and moustache 
 nearly covering his face. " I is'nt so bad a feller a'ter all 
 is I r" he says, rushing forward into the centre of the 
 room, followed by four huge hounds. They were noble 
 animals, had more instinctive gentleness than their masters, 
 displayed a knowledge of the importance of the prize they 
 had just gained. 
 
 " Hurrah for Nath ! hurrah ! hurrah ! hurrah, for Nath ! 
 Tou got him, Nath did'nt yo ?" resounded from several
 
 74 ANOfHElt SCENE IS SOUTHERN LIFE. 
 
 tongues, and was followed by a variety of expressions highly 
 complimentary to his efficiency. 
 
 Bomescos, however, remained silent, pacing the floor 
 unconcerned, except in his own anxiety as if nothing had 
 occurred to disturb him. Advancing to the table, the new 
 visitor, his face glowing with exultation, held forth, by the 
 crispy hair, the blanched and bloody head of an unfortunate 
 negro who had paid the penalty of the State's allowance for 
 outlaws.- "There: beat that, who can? Four hundred 
 dollars made since breakfast ;" he cries out at the top of 
 his voice. They cast a measured look at the ghastly object, 
 as if it were a precious ornament, much valued for the price 
 it would bring, according to law. The demon expresses 
 his joy, descants on his expertness and skill, holds up his 
 prize again, turns it round, smiles upon it as his offering, 
 then throws it into the fire place, carelessly, like a piece of 
 fuel. The dogs spring upon it, as if the trophy was for 
 their feast ; but he repulses them ; dogs are not so bad after 
 all the canine is often the better of the two the morsel is 
 too precious for canine dogs, human clogs must devour it. 
 " There is nothing like a free country, nothing ; and good 
 business, when it's well protected by law," says Nimrod, 
 seating himself at the table, filling a glass, bowing to his 
 companions, drinking to the health of his friends. He 
 imagines himself the best fellow of the lot. Taking 
 Graspum by the hand, he says, " there is a clear hundred 
 for you, old patron ! " pulls an Executive proclamation from 
 his pocltet, and points to where it sets forth the amount of 
 reward for the outlaw dead or alive. " I know'd whar the 
 brute had his hole in the swamp," he continues: "and 
 I summed up the resolution to bring him out. And then the 
 galo' Grinral Brinkle's, if I could pin her, would be a clear 
 fifty more, provided I could catch her without damage, and 
 twenty-five if the dogs havocked her shins. There was no 
 trouble in getting the fifty, seeing how my dogs were 
 trained to the point and call. Taste or no taste, they come 
 square off at the word. To see the critters trace a nigger, 
 you'd think they had human in them ; they understands it 
 so ! But, I tell you what, it's one thing to hunt a gal 
 nigger, and another to run down an outlaw what has had 
 two or three years in the swamp. The catching him's not 
 much, but when ye have to slide the head off, all the pious
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 75 
 
 in yer natur comes right up to make yer feelings feel 
 kind a' softish. However, the law protects ye, and the 
 game being only a nigger, different rules and things govern 
 one's feelings." 
 
 Bengal interrupts by laconically insinuating raising his 
 moody face, and winking at Graspum that it was all moon 
 shine to talk about trouble in that kind of business ; " It's 
 the very highest of exhilarating sport!" he concludes 
 emphatically. 
 
 "Dan!" returns the other, with a fierce star%, as he 
 seizes the bottle and is about to enjoy a glass of whisky 
 uninvited ; " let your liquor stop your mouth. I set the 
 whole pack upon the trail at daylight, and in less than two 
 hours they came upon him, bolted him, and put him to the 
 river. The leader nabbed him about half way across, but 
 the chap, instead of giving in, turned and fought like a hero. 
 Twice I thought he would whip the whole pack, but the 
 way they made the rags fly warn' t nobody's business. Well, 
 I just come up with him as he plunged into the stream, 
 lifts old sure mark, as gives him about a dozen plugs ; and 
 then the old feller begged just so, you'd thought he was a 
 Christian pleadin' forgiveness at the last moment. But, 
 when I seizes him and gives him three or four levellers with 
 the butt of the rifle, ye never saw a sarpent plunge, and 
 struggle, and warp so. Says I, ' It's no use, old feller, 
 yer might as well give her up ;' and the way his eyes popped, 
 just as if he expected I war'nt goin to finish him. I tell 
 ye, boys, it required some spunk about then, for the critter 
 got his claws upon me with a death grip, and the dogs 
 ripped him like an old corn stalk, and would'nt keep off. And 
 then there was no fracturin his skull ; and seeing how he 
 was overpowering me, I just seizes him by the throat and 
 pops his head off quicker than a Chinese executioner.* 
 
 " Now, thar' war'nt so much in takin' the gal, cos jist 
 when she see'd the dogs comin', the critter took to tree and 
 gin right up : but when I went to muzlin' on her, so she 
 could'nt scream, then she gets saucy ; and I promised to 
 gin her bricks, which, fellers, I reckon yer must take a 
 hand in so the brute won't wake the neighbours ; and I'll 
 do'e it afore I sleeps," said Nimrod, getting up from the 
 
 * The author has given the language of the slave-hunter who related 
 tile case personally. 
 
 o
 
 76 ANOTHEB, SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE; 
 
 table and playfully touching Bomescos upon the arm. " I 
 see ye ain't brightened to-day Graspum's share don't 
 seem to suit yer, old feller ; ah ! ah ! ! " he continued. 
 
 " Just put another ten per cent, upon the out-lining, and 
 running free 'uns, and I'll stand flint," said Bomsscos, 
 seeming to be acted upon by a sudden change of feelings, as 
 he turned to Graspuin, with a look of anxiety. 
 
 " Very well," returned Graspum. " Ter see, there's 
 that iMkrston aftair to be brought to a point ; and his affairs 
 are ju* in such a fix that he don't know what's what, nor 
 who's who. Ther'll have to be some tall swearing done 
 in that case afore it's brought to the hammer. That cunning 
 of yours, Bomescos, will just come into play iu this case. 
 It'll be just the thing to do the crooked and get round the 
 legal points." Thus Graspum, with the dignity and assur 
 ance of a gentleman, gave his opinion, drank with his com 
 panions, and withdrew for the night. 
 
 Bomescos, Bengal, and Nimrod, soon after descended 
 into the vaults below, followed by a negro bearing a lantern. 
 Here they unbolted one of the cells, dragged forth a 
 dejected-looking mulatto woman, her rags scarcely covering 
 her nakedness. The poor wretch, a child born to degrada 
 tion and torture, whose cries were heard in heaven, heaved 
 a deep sigh, then gave vent to a flood of tears. They told 
 how deep was her anguish, how she struggled against in 
 justice, how sorrow was burning her very soul. The out 
 pourings of her feelings might have aroused the sympathies 
 of savage hearts ; but the slave monsters were unmoved. 
 Humbleness, despair, and even death, sat upon her very 
 countenance ; hope had fled her, left her a wreck for whom 
 man had no pity. And though her prayers ascended to 
 heaven, the God of mercy seemed to have abandoned her 
 to her tormentors. She came forward trembling and re 
 luctantly, her countenance changed ; she gave a frowning 
 look at her tormentors, wild and gloomy, shrank back into 
 the cell, the folds of straight, black hair hanging about her 
 shoulders. 
 
 " Come out here ! " Nimrod commands in an angry tone ; 
 then, seizing her by the arm, dragged her forth, and jerked her 
 prostrate on the ground. Here, like as many fiends in 
 human form, the rest fell upon her, held her flat to the floor 
 by the hands and feet, her face downwards, while Nimrod,
 
 ANOTHER SCENE IN SOUTHERN LIFE. 77 
 
 with a raw hide, inflicted thirty lashes on her bare back. 
 Her cries and groans, as she lay writhing, the flesh hanging 
 in quivering shreds, and lifting with the lash, her appeals 
 for mercy, her prayers to heaven, her fainting moans as the 
 agony of her torture stung into her very soul, would have 
 touched a heart of stone. But, though her skin had not 
 defiled her in the eyes of the righteous, there was none to 
 take pity on her, nor to break the galling chains ; no ! the 
 punishment was inflicted with the measured coolness of 
 men engaged in an every-day vocation. It was simply the 
 right which a democratic law gave men to become lawless, 
 fierce in the conspiracy of wrong, and where the legal ex 
 citement of trafficking in the flesh and blood of one another 
 sinks them unconsciously into demons.
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 " BTTCKEA-MAN TEET UNCERTAIN." 
 
 THE caption, a commou saying among negroes at the 
 south, had its origin in a consciousness, on the part of the 
 negro, of the many liabilities to which his master's affairs 
 are subject, and his own dependence on the ulterior con 
 sequences. It carries with it a deep significance, opens a 
 field for reflection, comprehends the negro's knowledge 01 
 his own uncertain state, his being a piece of property the 
 good or evil of which is effected by his master's caprices, the 
 binding force of the law that makes him merchandise. 
 Nevertheless, while the negro feels them in all their force, 
 the master values them only in an abstract light. Ask the 
 negro whose master is kind to him, if he would prefer his 
 freedom and go north ? At first he will hesitate, dilate upon 
 his master's goodness, his affection for him, the kindly feeling 
 evinced for him by the family they often look upon him 
 with a patriarchal tenderness and, finally, he will conclude 
 by telling you he wishes master and missus would live for 
 ever. He tells you, in the very simplicity of his nature, 
 that "Eve' ting so unsartin! and mas'r don't know if he 
 die when he gwine to." That when he is dying he does not 
 realise it ; and though his intention be good, death may blot 
 out his desires, and he, the dependent, being only a chattel, 
 must sink into the uncertain stream of slave-life. Marston's 
 plantation might have been taken as an illustration of the 
 truth of this saying. Long had it been considered one of 
 eminent profit ; his field slaves were well cared for ; his 
 favourite house servants had every reasonable indulgence 
 granted them. And, too, Marston's mansion was the 
 pleasant retreat of many a neighbour, whose visits were 
 welcomed by the kindly attention he had taught his do 
 mestics to bestow. Marston's fault lay in his belonging to 
 that class of planters who repose too much confidence in 
 others. 
 
 The morning following Lorenzo's departure ushered
 
 BUCKET-MAN VEEY UNCERTAIN. 79 
 
 forth bright and balmy. A quiet aspect reigned in and 
 about the plantation, servants moved sluggishly about, 
 the incidents of the preceding night oppressed Marston's 
 mind ; his feelings broke beyond his power of restraint. 
 Like contagion, the effect seized each member of his house 
 hold, forcibly it spoke in word and action ! Marston had 
 bestowed much care upon Lorenzo and Franconia; he had 
 indulged and idolised the latter, and given the former some 
 good advice. But advice without example seldom produces 
 lasting good ; in truth, precept had the very worst effect 
 upon Lorenzo, it had proved his ruin ! His singular and 
 mysterious departure might for a time be excused, even 
 accounted for in some plausible manner, but suspicion was 
 a stealing monster that would play upon the deeply tinc 
 tured surface, and soar above in disgrace. That the Rovero 
 family were among the first of the State would not be re 
 ceived as a palliation ; they had suffered reverses of fortune, 
 and, with the addition of Lorenzo's profligacy, which had 
 been secretly drawing upon their resources, were themselves 
 well nigh in discredit. And now that this sudden and 
 unexpected reverse had befallen Marston, he could do 
 nothing for their relief. Involved, perplexed, and distrusted 
 with ever- slaying suspicion staring him in the face he 
 was a victim pursued by one who never failed to lay low 
 his object. That man moved with unerring method, could 
 look around him upon the destitution made by his avarice, 
 without evincing a shadow of sympathy. Yes ! he was in 
 the grasp of a living Shylock, whose soul, worn out in the 
 love of gold, had forgotten that there existed a distinction 
 between right and wrong. 
 
 Surrounded by all these dark forebodings, Marston 
 begins to reflect on his past life. He sees that mercy which 
 overlooks the sins of man when repentance is pure ; but his 
 life is full of moral blemishes ; he has sinned against the 
 innocent, against the God of forgiveness. The inert of his 
 nature is unfolding itself, he has lived according to the 
 tolerated vices of society he has done no more than the 
 law gave him a right to do ! And yet, that very society, 
 overlooking its own wrongs, would now strip him of its 
 associations. He lives in a State where it is difficult to tell 
 what society will approve or reprobate ; where a rich man 
 may do with impunity what would consign a poor man to
 
 80 BtTCKRA-MAN VERY UNCERTAIN. 
 
 the gallows.* The creatures whom he had made mere 
 objects to serve his sensuality were before him ; he traced 
 the gloomy history of their unfortunate sires ; he knew that 
 Ellen and Clotilda were born free. The cordon that had 
 bound his feelings to the system of slavery relaxed. For 
 the first time, he saw that which he could not recognise in 
 his better nature himself the medium of keeping human 
 beings in slavery who were the rightful heirs of freedom. 
 The blackness of the crime its cruelty, its injustice 
 haunted him ; they were at that very moment held by 
 Graspum's caprice. He might doom the poor wretches to 
 irretrievable slavery, to torture and death ! Then his mind 
 wandered to Annette and Nicholas ; he saw them of his 
 own flesh and blood ; his natural affections bounded forth ; 
 how could he disown them ? The creations of love and 
 right were upon him, misfortune had unbound his sensa 
 tions ; his own offspring stood before him clothed in trouble 
 thick and dangerous. His follies have entailed a life-rent 
 of misery upon others ; the fathomless depth of the future 
 opens its yawning jaws to swallow up those upon whom the 
 fondness of a father should have been bestowed for their 
 moral and physical good. 
 
 As he sits contemplating this painful picture, Auut 
 Hachel enters the room to inquire if Lorenzo breakfasts 
 with them. " "Why ! old mas'r, what ail ye dis moruin' ? 
 Ye don't seems nohow. Not a stripe like what ye was 
 yesterday ; somethin' gi 'h de wrong way, and mas'r done 
 know what i' is," she mutters to herself, looking seriously 
 at Marston. 
 
 " Nothing ! old bustler ; nothing that concerns you. Do 
 not mention Lorenzo's name again ; he has gone on a 
 journey. Send my old faithful Daddy Bob to me." Kaehel 
 hastened to fulfil the command; soon brought the old servant 
 to the door. His countenance lighted up with smiles as he 
 stood at the doorway, bowing and scraping, working his red 
 
 * If we examine the many rencontres that take place in the south, 
 especially those proving fatal, we will find that the perpetrator, if he be 
 a rich man, invariably receives an " honourable acquittal." Again, when 
 the man of position shoots down his victim in the streets of a city, he 
 is esteemed brave ; but a singular reversion takes place if the rencontir 
 bo between poor men. It is then a diabolical act, a murder, wbicl" 
 nothing short of the gallows can serve for punishment.
 
 BUOKRA-MAN VERY UNCERTAIN. 81 
 
 cap in his hand. There stood the old man, a picture of 
 attachment. 
 
 " Come in, Bob, come in !" Marston says, motioning his 
 hand, " I wish the world was as faithful as you are. You 
 are worthy the indulgence I have bestowed upon you ; let 
 me hope there is something better in prospect for you. 
 My life reproves me ; and when I turn and review its 
 crooked path when I behold each inconsistency chiding 
 me I lament what I cannot recall." Taking the old man 
 by the hand, the tears glistening in his eyes, he looks upon 
 him as a father would his child. 
 
 " In a short time, Bob, you shall be free to go where you 
 please, on the plantation or off it. But remember, Bob, 
 yon are old you have grown grey in faithfulness, the 
 good southerner is the true friend of the negro ! I mean he 
 is the true friend of the negro, because he has associated 
 with him from childhood, assimilated with his feelings, 
 made his nature a study. He welcomes him without reserve, 
 approaches him without that sensitiveness and prejudice 
 which the northerner too often manifests towards him. You 
 shall be free, Bob ! you shall be free ! free to go where you 
 please; but you must remain among southerners, southerners 
 are your friends." 
 
 "Yes, mas'r, 'im all just so good, if t'warn't dat I so old. 
 Free nigger, when 'e old, don't gwane to get along much. 
 Old Bob tink on dat mighty much, he do dat ! Lef Bob 
 free win 'e young, den 'e get tru' de world like Buckra, 
 only lef 'im de chance what Buckra hab. Freedom ain't 
 wof' much ven old Bob worn out, mas'r ; and Buckra what 
 sell nigger, what make 'e trade on him, run 'im off sartin. 
 He sell old nigger what got five dollar wof a work in 'e 
 old bones. Mas'r set 'urn free, bad Buckra catch 'um, old 
 Bob get used up afo' he know nofin," quaintly replied the 
 old man, seeming to have an instinctive knowledge of the 
 " nigger trade," but with so much attachment for his master 
 that he could not be induced to accept his freedom. 
 
 " It's not the leaving me, Bob ; you may be taken from 
 me. You are worth but little, 'tis true, and yet you may 
 be sold from me to a bad master. If the slave-dealers run 
 you off, you can let me know, and I will prosecute them," 
 returned Marston. 
 
 " Ah ! mas'r ; dat's just whar de blunt is in de unsar- 
 
 a
 
 82 BUCKRA-HAN VERY UNCERTAIN. 
 
 tainty ! How I gwane to let mas'r know, when mas'r no 
 larn Bigger to read," he quickly responded. There is 
 something in his simple remark that Marston has never 
 before condescended to contemplate, something the simple 
 nature of the negro has just disclosed ; it lies deeply rooted 
 at the foundation of all the wrongs of slavery. Education 
 would be valuable to the negro, especially in his old age ; it 
 would soften his impulses rather than impair his attach 
 ment, unless the master be a tyrant fearing the results of 
 his own oppression. Marston, a good master, had deprived 
 the old man of the means of protecting himself against the 
 avarice of those who would snatch him from freedom, and 
 while his flesh and blood contained dollars and cents, sell 
 him into slavery. Freedom, under the best circumstances, 
 could do him little good in his old age ; and yet, a know 
 ledge of the wrong rankled deep in Marston' s feelings : he 
 could relieve it only by giving Daddy Bob and Harry their 
 freedom if they would accept it. 
 
 Relinquishing Daddy's hand, he commanded him to go 
 and bring him Annette and Nicholas. " Bring them," he 
 says, "without the knowledge of their mothers." Bob 
 withdrew, hastened to the cabins in the yard to fulfil the 
 mission. Poor things, thought Marston ; they are mine, how 
 can I disown them ? Ah, there's the point to conquer I 
 cannot ! It is like the mad torrents of hell, stretched out 
 before me to consume my very soul, to bid me defiance. Mis 
 fortune is truly a great purifier, a great regenerator of our 
 moral being ; but how can I make the wrong right ? how 
 can I live to hope for something beyond the caprice of this 
 alluring world ? My frailties have stamped their future 
 with shame. 
 
 Thus he mused as the children came scampering into the 
 room. Annette, her flaxen curls dangling about her neck, 
 looking as tidy and bright as the skill of Clotilda could 
 make her, runs to Marston, throws herself on his knee, 
 fondles about his bosom, kisses his hand again and again. 
 She loves him, she knows no other father. Nicholas, more 
 shy, moves slowly behind a chair, his fingers in his mouth 
 the while. Looking through its rounds wistfully, he shakes 
 his head enviously, moves the chair backwards and for 
 wards, and is too bashful to approach Annette's position. 
 
 Marston has taken Annette in his arms, he caresses her;
 
 BUCKRA-MAN VERY UNCERTAIN. 83 
 
 she twirls her tiny fingers through his whiskers, as if to 
 play with him in the toying recognition of a father. He is 
 deeply immersed in thought, smooths her hair, walks to the 
 glass with her in his arms, holds her before it as if to detect 
 his own features in the countenance of the child. Resuming 
 his seat, he sets her on one knee, calls Nicholas to him, 
 takes him on the other, and fondles them with an air of 
 kindness it had never before been their good fortune to 
 receive at his hands. He looked upon them again, and 
 again caressed them, parted their hair with his fingers. 
 And as Annette would open her eyes* and gaze in his, with 
 an air of sweetest acknowledgment, his thoughts seemed 
 contending with something fearful. He was in trouble ; he 
 saw the enemy brooding over the future ; he heaved a sigh, 
 a convulsive motion followed, a tear stealing down his cheek 
 told the tale of his reflections. 
 
 "Now, Daddy;" he speaks, directing himself to old 
 Bob, who stands at the door surprised at Marston's singular 
 movements, " you are my confidant, what do you think the 
 world I mean the people about the district, about the city 
 would say if they knew these were mine ? You know, 
 Bob, you must tell me straight out, do they look like me ? 
 have they features like mine?" he inquires with rapid 
 utterance. 
 
 " Mas'r, Bob don' like to say all he feels," meekly mut 
 tered the old man. 
 
 " There is the spot on which we lay the most unholy 
 blot ; and yet, it recoils upon us when we least think. Un 
 fortunate wretches bear them unto us ; yet we dare not 
 make them our own ; we blast their lives for selfish ends, 
 yield them to others, shield ourselves by a misnomer called 
 right ! We sell the most interesting beings for a price, 
 beings that should be nearest and dearest to our 
 hearts," 
 
 The old slave's eyes glistened with excitement ; he looked 
 on astonished, as if some extraordinary scene had surprised 
 him. As his agitation subsided, he continued, " Mas'r, I 
 bin watch 'im dis long time. Beckon how nobody wouldn't 
 take 'em fo'h nobody else's fo'h true ! Dar ain't no 
 spozin' boufe 'em, 'e so right smart twarn't no use to guise 
 'em : da'h just like old Boss. Mas'r, nigger watch dem
 
 84 BUCKRA-MAN VERY UNCERTAIN. 
 
 tings mighty close ; more close den Buckra, cos' Buckra 
 tink 'e all right when nigger tink 'e all wrong." 
 
 Marston is not quite content with this : he must needs 
 put another question to the old man. " Tou are sure there 
 can be no mistaking them for mine? " he rejoins, fixing his 
 eyes upon the children with an almost death-like stare, as 
 Daddy leads them out of the room. The door closes after 
 them, he paces the room for a time, seats himself in his 
 chair again, and is soon absorbed in contemplation. " I 
 must do something for them I must snatch them from the 
 jaws of danger. They are full of interest they are mine ; 
 there is not a drop of negro blood in their veins, and yet 
 the world asks who are their mothers, what is their history ? 
 Ah ! yes ; in that history lies the canker that has eaten out 
 the living springs of many lives. It is that which cuts 
 deepest. Had I known myself, done what I might have 
 done before it was too late, kindness would have its rewards ; 
 but I am fettered, and the more I move the worse for them. 
 Custom has laid the foundation of wrong, the law protects 
 it, and a free government tolerates a law that shields 
 iniquities blackening earth." In this train of thought his 
 mind wandered. He would send the children into a free 
 state, there to be educated ; that they may live in the en 
 joyment of those rights with which nature had blest them. 
 The obstacles of the law again stared him in the .face ; the 
 wrong by which they were first enslaved, now forgotten, hud 
 brought its climax. 
 
 Suddenly arousing from his reverie, he started to his feet, 
 and walking across the floor, exclaimed in an audible voice, 
 " I will surmount all difficulties, I will recognise them as 
 my children; I will send them where they may become 
 ornaments of society, instead of living in shame and licen 
 tiousness. This is my resolve, and I will carry it out, or 
 die I"
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A. CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 
 
 THE document Marston signed for Lorenzo to release him 
 from the difficulties into which he had been drawn by 
 G-raspum guaranteed the holder against all loss. This, in 
 the absence of Lorenzo, and under such strange circum 
 stances, implied an amount which might be increased 
 according to the will of the man into whose hands he had so 
 unfortunately fallen. 
 
 Nearly twelve months had now elapsed since the dis 
 closure of the crime. Maxwell, our young Englishman, had 
 spent the time among the neighbouring plantations ; and 
 failing to enlist more than friendly considerations from 
 Franconia, resolved to return to Bermuda and join his 
 family. He had, however, taken a deep interest in Clotilda 
 and Annette, had gone to their apartment unobserved, and 
 in secret interviews listened to Clotilda's tale of trouble. 
 Its recital enlisted his sympathies ; and being of an ardent 
 and impressible temper, he determined to carry out a design 
 for her relief. He realised her silent suffering, saw how 
 her degraded condition wrangled with her noble feelings, 
 how the true character of a woman loathed at being the 
 slave of one who claimed her as his property. And this, too, 
 without the hope of redeeming herself, except by some 
 desperate effort. And, too, he saw but little difference 
 between the blood of Franconia and the blood of Clotilda ; 
 the same outline of person was there, her delicate counte- 
 nunce, finely moulded bust, smoothly converging shoulders. 
 There was the same Grecian cast of face, the same soft, 
 reflective eyes, filling a smile with sweetness, and again 
 with deep-felt sorrow. The same sensitive nature, ready to 
 yield forth love and tenderness, or to press onward the 
 more impassioned affections, was visible in both. And yet, 
 what art had done for Pranconia nature had replenished for 
 Clotilda. But, the servile hand was upon her, she crouched
 
 86 A CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE 
 
 beneath its grasp ; it branded her life, and that of her child, 
 with ignominy and death. 
 
 During these interviews he would watch her emotions as 
 she looked upon her child; when she would clasp it to 
 her bosom, weeping, until from the slightest emotion her 
 feelings would become frantic with anguish. 
 
 " And you, my child, a mother's hope when all other 
 pleasures are gone! Are you some day to be torn from 
 me, and, like myself, sent to writhe under the coarse hand 
 of a slave-dealer, to be stung with shame enforced while 
 asking God's forgiveness? Sometimes I think it cannot be 
 so ; I think it must all be a dream. But it is so, and we 
 might as well submit, say as little of the hardship as pos 
 sible, and think it's all as they tell us according to Grod'a 
 will," she would say, pressing the child closer and closer to 
 her bosom, the agitation of her feelings rising into convul 
 sions as the tears coursed down her cheeks. Then she 
 would roll her soft eyes upwards, her countenance filling 
 with despair. The preservation of her child was pictured 
 in the depth of her imploring look. For a time her 
 emotions would recede into quiet, she would smile placidly 
 upon Annette, forget the realities that had just swept her 
 mind into such a train of trouble. 
 
 One night, as Maxwell entered her apartment, he found 
 her kneeling at her bed-side, supplicating in prayer. The 
 word, " Oh, Grod ; not me, but my child guide her through 
 the perils that are before her, and receive her into heaven 
 at last," fell upon his ear. He paused, gazed upon her as 
 if some angel spirit had touched the teuderest chord of his 
 feelings listened unmoved. A lovely woman, an affec 
 tionate mother, the offspring of a noble race, herself 
 forced by relentless injustice to become an instrument of 
 licentiousness stood before him in all that can make 
 woman an ornament to her sex. What to Ellen Juvarna 
 seemed the happiness of her lot, was pain and remorse to 
 Clotilda ; and when she arose there was a nervousness, a 
 shrinking in her manner, betokening apprehension. " It is 
 not now ; it is hereafter. And yet there is no glimmer of 
 hope !" she whispers, as she seata herself in a chair, pulls 
 the little curtain around the bed, and prepares to retire. 
 
 The scene so worked upon Maxwell's feelings that he 
 could withstand the effect no longer ; he approached her,
 
 HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 87 
 
 held out his hand, greeted her with a smile : " Clotilda, I 
 am your friend," he whispers, " come, sit down and tell me 
 what troubles you !" 
 
 " If what I say be told in confidence ?" she replied, as if 
 questioning his advance. 
 
 " You may trust me with any secret ; I am ready to 
 serve you, if it be with my life !" 
 
 Clasping her arms round her child, again she wept in 
 silence. The moment was propitious the summer sun had 
 just set beneath dark foliage in the west, its refulgent 
 curtains now fading into mellow tints ; night was closing 
 rapidly over the scene, the serene moon shone softly through 
 the arbour into the little window at her bedside. Again 
 she took him by the hand, invited him to sit down at her 
 side, and, looking imploringly in his face, continued, " If 
 you are a friend, you can be a friend in confidence, in pur 
 pose. I am a slave ! yes, a slave ; there is much in the 
 word, more than most men are disposed to analyse. It 
 may seem simple to you, but follow it to its degraded 
 depths follow it to where it sows the seedd of sorrow, and 
 there you will find it spreading poison and death, uprooting 
 all that is good in nature. Worse than that, my child is a 
 slave too. It is that which makes the wrong more cruel, 
 that mantles the polished vice, that holds us in that fearful 
 grasp by which we dare not seek our rights. 
 
 " My mother, ah ! yes, my mother Clotilda shakes her 
 head in sorrow. How strange that, by her misfortune, all, 
 all, is misfortune for ever ! from one generation to another, 
 sinking each life down, down, down, into misery and woe. 
 How oft she clasped my hand and whispered in my ear : 
 ' If we could but have our rights.' And she, my mother, 
 as by that sacred name I called her was fair ; fairer 
 than those who held her for a hideous purpose, made her 
 existence loathsome to herself, who knew the right but forced 
 the wrong. She once had rights, but was stripped of them j 
 and once in slavery who can ask that right be- done ?" 
 
 " What rights have you beyond these?" he interrupted, 
 suddenly. " There is mystery in what you have said, in 
 what I have seen ; something I want to solve. The same 
 ardent devotion, tenderness, aifection, the same touching 
 chasteness, that characterises Franconia, assimilates in you. 
 You are a slave, a menial she is courted and caressed by
 
 88 A CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE 
 
 persons of rank and station. Heavens ! here is the curse 
 confounding the flesh and blood of those in high places, 
 making slaves of their own kinsmen, crushing out the spirit 
 of life, rearing up those broken flowers whose heads droop 
 with shame. And you want your freedom ?" 
 
 " For my child first, she replied, quickly : " I rest my 
 hopes of her in the future." 
 
 Maxwell hesitated for a moment, as if contemplating 
 some plan for her escape, ran his fingers through his hair 
 again and again, then rested his forehead in his hand, as 
 the perspiration stood in heavy drops upon it. 'TVIy child !" 
 There was something inexpressibly touching in the words 
 of a mother ready to sacrifice her own happiness for the 
 freedom of her child. And yet an awful responsibility hung 
 over him ; should he attempt to gain their freedom, and fail 
 in carrying out the project, notwithstanding he was in a 
 free country, the act might cost him his life. But there 
 was the mother, her pride beaming forth in every action, a 
 wounded spirit stung with the knowledge of being a slave, 
 the remorse of her suffering soul the vicissitudes of that 
 sin thus forced upon her. The temptation became irresis 
 tible. 
 
 " You are English ! " northerners and Englishmen know 
 what liberty is.* Northerners could do great things for us, 
 if they would but know us as we are, study our feelings, 
 cast aside selfish motives,and sustain our rights !" Clotilda 
 now commenced giving Maxwell a history of her mother, 
 which, however, we must reserve for another chapter. 
 "And my mother gave me this !" she said, drawing from 
 her pocket a paper written over in Greek characters, but so 
 defaced as to be almost unintelligible. " Some day you 
 will find a friend who will secure your freedom through 
 that," she would say. " But freedom that which is such 
 a boon to us is so much feared by others that you must 
 mark that friend cautiously, know him well, and be sure he 
 will not betray the liberty you attempt to gain." And she 
 handed him the defaced paper, telling him to put it in his 
 pocket. 
 
 * Negroes at the South have a very high opinion of Northern clever 
 ness in devising means of procuring their liberty. The Author here 
 uses the language employed by a slave girl who frequently implored aid 
 to devise some plan by which she would be enabled to make her escape.
 
 HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 89 
 
 " And where is your mother ?" 
 
 " There would be a store of balm in that, if I did but 
 know. Her beauty doomed her to a creature life, which, 
 when she had worn out, she was sold, as I may be, God 
 knows how soon. Though far away from me, she is my 
 mother still, in all that recollection can make her; her 
 countenance seems like a wreath decorating our past asso 
 ciations. Shrink not when I tell it, for few shrink at such 
 things now, I saw her chained ; I didn't think much of it 
 then, for I was too young. And she took me in her arms 
 and kissed me, the tears rolled down her cheeks ; and she 
 said ' Clotilda, Clotilda, farewell ! There is a world beyond 
 this, a Grod who knows our hearts, who records our 
 sorrows ; ' and her image impressed me with feelings I 
 cannot banish. To look back upon it seems like a rough 
 pilgrimage ; and then when I think of seeing her again my 
 mind gets lost in hopeless expectations" 
 
 " You saw her chained ?" interrupted Maxwell. 
 
 " Tes, even chained with strong irons. It need not sur 
 prise you. Slavery is a crime ; and they chain the inno 
 cent lest the wrong should break forth upon themselves." 
 And she raised her hands to her face, shook her head, 
 and laid Annette in the little bed at the foot of her 
 own. 
 
 "What is it that in chaining a woman, whether she be 
 black as ebony or white as snow, degrades all the traits 
 of the southerner's character, which he would have the 
 world think noble ? It is fear ! The monster which the 
 southerner sees by day, tolerates in his silence, protects as 
 part and parcel of a legal trade, only clothes him with the 
 disgrace that menials who make themselves mere fiends are 
 guilty of,' Maxwell thought to himself. 
 
 " I will set you free, if it cost my life !" he exclaimed. 
 
 " Hush, hush !" rejoined Clotilda : " remember those 
 wretches on the plantation. They, through their ignorance, 
 have learned to wield the tyranny of petty power ; they look 
 upon us with suspicious eyes. They know we are negroes 
 (white negroes, who are despicable in their eyes), and feel 
 ing that we are more favoured, their envy is excited. They, 
 with the hope of gaining favour, are first to disclose a secret. 
 Save my child first, and then save me" 
 
 " I will save you first ; rest assured, I will save you ; "
 
 90 A CLOUD 03? MISFOBTTJNE 
 
 he responded, shaking her hand, bidding her good night. 
 On returning to the mansion he found Marston seated at the 
 table in the drawing-room, in a meditative mood. " Good 
 night, my friend ! " he accosted him. 
 
 " Ah, good night !" was the sudden response. 
 
 " You seem cast down ?*' 
 
 " No ! all's not as it seems with a man in trouble. How 
 misfortune quickens our sense of right ! O ! how it unfolds 
 political and moral wrongs ! how it purges the understand 
 ing, and turns the good of our natures to thoughts of 
 justice. But when the power to correct is beyond our 
 reach we feel the wrong most painfully," Marston coldly 
 replied. 
 
 " It never is too late to do good ; my word for it, friend 
 Marston, good is always worth its services. I am young 
 and may serve you yet ; rise above trouble, never let trifles 
 trouble a man like you. The world seems wagging pleasantly 
 for you ; everybody on the plantation is happy ; Lorenzo has 
 gone into the world to distinguish himself ; grief should 
 never lay its scalpel in your feelings. Remember the motto 
 peace, pleasantry, and plenty ; they are things which should 
 always dispel the foreshadowing of unhappiness," says 
 Maxwell, jocularly, taking a chair at Marston's request, and 
 seating himself by the table. 
 
 Marston declares such consolation to be refreshing, but 
 too easily conceived to effect his purpose. The ripest fruits 
 of vice often produce the best moral reflections : he feels 
 convinced of this truth ; but here the consequences are 
 entailed upon others. The degradation is sunk too deep 
 for recovery by him, his reflections are only a burden to 
 him. The principle that moves him to atone is crushed by 
 the very perplexity of the law that compels him to do 
 wrong. "There's what goads me," he says: "it is the 
 system, the forced condition making one man merchan 
 dise, and giving another power to continue him as such." 
 He arises from the table, his face flushed with excitement, 
 and in silence paces the room to and fro for several 
 minutes. Every now and then he watches at the window, 
 looks out towards the river, and again at the pine-woods 
 forming a belt in the background, as if he expected some 
 one from that direction. The serene scene without, calm 
 and beautiful, contrasting with the perplexity that sur-
 
 HANGS OVEli THK PLANTATION. 91 
 
 rounded him within, brought the reality of the change which 
 must soon take place in his affairs more vividly to his mind. 
 
 " Tour feelings have been stimulated and modified by 
 education ; they are keenly sensitive to right, to justice 
 between man and man. Those are the beautiful results of 
 early instruction. New England education ! It founds a 
 principle for doing good ; it needs no contingencies to rouse 
 it to action. You can view slavery with the unprejudiced 
 eye of a philosopher. Listen to what I am about to say : 
 but a few months have passed since I thought myself a man 
 of affluence, and now nothing but the inroads of penury are 
 upon me. The cholera (that scourge of a southern planta 
 tion) is again sweeping the district : I cannot expect to 
 escape it, and I am in the hands of a greater scourge than 
 the cholera, a slow death-broker. He will take from you 
 that which the cholera would not deign to touch : he has no 
 more conscience than a cotton-preas," says Marston, reclining 
 back in his chair, and calling the negro waiter. 
 
 The word conscience fell upon Maxwell's ear with strange 
 effect. He had esteemed Marston according to his habits 
 -not a good test when society is so remiss of its duties : he 
 could not reconcile the touch of conscience in such a 
 person, nor could he realise the impulse through which 
 some sudden event was working a moral regeneration in 
 his mind. There was something he struggled to keep from 
 notice. The season had been unpropitious, bad crops had 
 resulted ; the cholera made its appearance, swept off many 
 of the best negroes, spread consternation, nearly suspended 
 discipline and labour. One by one his negroes fell victims 
 to its ravages, until it became imperatively necessary to 
 remove the remainder to the pine-woods. 
 
 Families migj^ be seen here and there making their little 
 preparations to leave for the hills : the direful scourge to 
 them was an evil spirit, sent as a visitation upon their bad 
 deeds. This they sincerely believe, coupling it with all the 
 superstition their ignorance gives rise to. A few miles 
 from the mansion, among the pines, rude camps are spread 
 out, fires burn to absorb the malaria, to war against 
 mosquitoes, to cook the evening meal ; while, up lonely 
 paths, ragged and forlorn-looking negroes are quietly 
 wending their way to take possession. The stranger might 
 view this forest bivouac as a picture of humble life pleasantly
 
 92 A CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE 
 
 domiciled ; but it is one of those unfortunate scenes, fruit 
 ful of evil, which beset the planter when he is least able 
 to contend against them. Such events develope the sin of 
 an unrighteous institution, bring its supporters to the 
 portals of poverty, consign harmless hundreds to the slave- 
 marts. 
 
 In this instance, however, we must give Marston credit 
 for all that was good in his intentions, and separate him 
 from the system. Repentance, however produced, is valuable 
 for its example, and if too late for present utility, seldom 
 fails to have an ultimate influence. Thus it was with 
 Marston ; and now that all these inevitable disasters were 
 upon him, he resolved to be a father to Annette and Nicholas, 
 those unfortunates whom law and custom had hitherto 
 compelled him to disown. 
 
 Drawing his chair close to Maxwell, he lighted a cigar, 
 and resumed the disclosure his feelings had apparently in 
 terrupted a few minutes before. " Now, my good friend, 
 all these things are upon me ; there is no escaping the issue. 
 My people will soon be separated from me ; my old, faithful 
 servants, Bob and Harry, will regret me, and if they fall 
 into the hands of a knave, will die thinking of the old plan 
 tation. As for Harry, I have made him a preacher, his 
 knowledge is wonderfully up on Scripture ; he has demon 
 strated to me that niggers are more than mortal, or 
 transitory things. My conscience was touched while 
 listening to one of his sermons ; and then, to think how 
 I had leased him to preach upon a neighbouring plantation, 
 jast as a man would an ox to do a day's work! Planters 
 paid me so much per sermon, as if the gospel were merchan 
 dise, and he a mere thing falsifying all my arguments 
 against his knowledge of the Word of Grod^Well, it makes 
 me feel as if I were half buried in my own degradation and 
 blindness. And then, again, they are our property, and 
 are bestowed upon us by a legal 
 
 " If that be wrong," interrupted Maxwell, " you have no 
 excuse for continuing it." 
 
 " True ! That's just what I was coming at. The evil in 
 its broadest expanse is there. We look calmly on the 
 external objects of the system without solving its internal 
 grievances, we build a right upon the ruins of ancient 
 wrongs, and we swathe our thoughts with inconsistency that
 
 HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 93 
 
 we may make the curse of a system invulnerable. It is not 
 that we cannot do good under a bad system, but that we 
 cannot ameliorate it, lest we weaken the foundation. And yet 
 all this seems as nothing when I recall a sin of greater mag 
 nitude a sin that is upon me a hideous blot, goading my 
 very soul, rising up against me like a mountain, over which 
 I can see no pass. Again the impelling force of conscience 
 incites me to make a desperate effort ; but conscience rebukes 
 me for not preparing the way in time. I could translate 
 my feelings further, but, in doing so, the remedy seems still 
 further from me " 
 
 " Is it ever too late to try a remedy to make an effort to 
 surmount great impediments to render justice to those 
 who have suffered from such acts ?" inquired Maxwell, 
 interrupting Marston as he proceeded. 
 
 " If I could do it without sacrificing my honour, without 
 exposing myself to the vengeance of the law. "We are 
 great sticklers for constitutional law, while we care little 
 for constitutional justice. There is Clotilda ; you see her, 
 but you don't know her history : if it were told it would 
 resound through the broad expanse of our land. Yes, it 
 would disclose a wrong, perpetrated under the smiles of 
 liberty, against which the vengeance of high Ileaven would 
 be invoked. I know the secret, and yet I dare not disclose 
 it ; the curse handed down from her forefathers has been 
 perpetuated by me. She seems happy, and yet she is un 
 happy ; the secret recesses of her soul are poisoned. And 
 what more natural ? for, by some unlucky incident, she 
 has got an inkling of the foul means by which she was made 
 a slave. To him who knows the right, the wrong is most 
 painful ; but I bought her of him whose trade it was to sell 
 such flesh and blood ! And yet that does not relieve me 
 from the curse : there's the stain ; it hangs upon me, it 
 involves my indications, it gloats over my downfall " 
 
 "You bought her!" again interrupts Maxwell. 
 
 " True," rejoins the other, quickly, " 'tis a trade well 
 protected by our democracy. Once bought, we cannot 
 relieve ourselves by giving them rights in conflict with 
 the claims of creditors. Our will may be good, but the 
 will without the means falls hopeless. My heart breaks 
 under the knowledge that those children are mine. It is a 
 sad revelation to make, sad in the eyes of heaven arid earth.
 
 94 A CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE 
 
 My participation in wrong has proved sorrow to them : how 
 can I look to the pains and struggles they must endure in 
 life, when stung with the knowledge that I am the cause 
 of it ? I shall wither under the torture of my own con 
 science. And there is even an interest about them that 
 makes my feelings bound joyfully when I recur them. Can 
 it be aught but the fruit of natural affection ? I think 
 not ; and yet I am compelled to disown them, and even to 
 smother with falsehood the rancour that might find a place 
 in Pranconia's bosom. Clotilda loves Annette with a 
 mother's fondness ; but with all her fondness for her child 
 she dare not love me, nor I the child." 
 
 Maxwell suggests that his not having bought the child 
 would certainly give him the right to control his own flesh 
 and blood : but he knows little of slave law, and less of its 
 customs. He, however, was anxious to draw from Marston 
 full particulars of the secret that would disclose Clotilda's 
 history, over which the partial exposition had thrown the 
 charm of mystery. Several times he was on the eve of 
 proffering his services to relieve the burden working upon 
 Marston's mind ; but his sympathies were enlisted toward 
 the two unfortunate women, for whom he was ready to 
 render good service, to relieve them and their children. 
 Again, he remembered how singularly sensitive Southerners 
 were on matters concerning the peculiar institution, espe 
 cially when approached by persons from abroad. Perhaps 
 it was a plot laid by Marston to ascertain his feelings on the 
 subject, or, under that peculiar jealousy of Southerners who 
 live in this manner, he might have discovered his interview 
 with Clotilda, and, in forming a plan to thwart his project, 
 adopted this singular course for disarming apprehensions. 
 
 At this stage of the proceedings a whispering noi*e was 
 heard, as if coming from another part of the room. They 
 stopped at the moment, looked round with surprise, but not 
 seeing anything, resumed the conversation. 
 
 " Of whom did you purchase ?" inquired Maxwell, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " One Silenus ; a trader who trades in this quality of 
 property only, and has become rich by the traffic. He is 
 associated with Anthony liomescos, once a desperado on 
 the Texan frontier. These two coveys would sell their 
 messmates without a scruple, and think it no harm so long
 
 HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 95 
 
 as they turned a dime. They kuow every justice of the 
 peace from Texas to Fort M'Henry. liomescos is turned 
 the desperado again, shoots, kills, and otherwise commits 
 fell deeds upon his neighbour's negroes ; he even threatens 
 them with death when they approach him for reparation. 
 He snaps his fingers at law, lawyers, and judges : slave law 
 is moonshine to those who have no rights in common 
 
 law " 
 
 " And he escapes ? Then you institute laws, and substitute 
 custom to make them null. It is a poor apology for a name 
 sake. But do you assert that in the freest and happiest 
 country a country that boasts the observance of its 
 statute laws a man is privileged to shoot, maim, and 
 torture a fellow-being, and that public opinion fails to bring 
 him to justice ?" ejaculated Maxwell. 
 
 " Yes," returns Marston, seriously ; " it is no less shame 
 ful than true. Three of my negroes has he killed very 
 good-naturedly, and yet I have no proof to convict him. 
 Even were I to seek redress, it would be against that 
 prejudice which makes the rights of the enslaved un 
 popular." 
 
 The trouble exists in making the man merchandise, 
 reducing him to an abject being, without the protection of 
 common law. Presently the tears began to flow down 
 Marston's cheeks, as he unbuttoned his shirt-collar with an 
 air of restlessness, approached a desk that stood in one 
 corner of the room, and drew from it a somewhat defaced 
 bill of sale. There was something connected with that 
 bit of paper, which, apart from anything else, seemed to 
 harass him most. " But a minute before you entered I 
 looked upon that paper," he spoke, throwing it upon the 
 table, " and thought how much trouble it had brought me, 
 how through it I had left a curse upon innocent life. I paid 
 fifteen hundred dollars for the souls and bodies of those 
 two women, creatures of sense, delicacy, and tenderness. 
 But I am not a bad man, after all. No, there are worse men 
 than me in the world." 
 
 " Gather, gathe'r, ye incubus of misfortunja, bearing to 
 me the light of heaven, with which to see my sins. May it 
 come to turn my heart in the right way, to seek its 
 retribution on the wrong !" Thus concluding, Marston 
 covers his face in his hands, and for several minutes weeps
 
 96 A CLOUD OF MISFORTUNE 
 
 like a child. Again rising from his seat, he throws the paper 
 on a table near an open window, and himself upon a conch 
 near by. 
 
 Maxwell attempts to quiet him by drawing his attention 
 from the subject. There is little use, however, it is a 
 terrible conflict, the conflict of conscience awakening to a 
 sense of its errors ; the fate of regrets when it is too late 
 to make amends. 
 
 While this was going on, a brawny hand reached into the 
 window, and quickly withdrew the paper from the table. 
 Neither observed it. 
 
 And at the moment, Marston ejaculated, " I will ! I will ! 
 let it cost what it may. I will do justice to Clotilda and 
 her child, to Ellen and her child ; I will free them, send 
 them into a free country to be educated." In his excitement 
 he forgot the bill of sale. 
 
 "Like enough you will!" responds a gruff voice; and a 
 loud rap at the hall-door followed. Dandy was summoned, 
 opened the door, bowed Bomescos into the room. He 
 pretends to be under the influence of liquor, which he 
 hopes will excuse his extraordinary familiarity at such a late 
 hour. Touching the hilt of his knife, he swaggers into the 
 presence of Marston, looks at him fixedly, impertinently 
 demands something to drink. He cares not what it be, 
 waits for no ceremony, tips the decanter, gulps his glass, 
 and deliberately takes a seat. 
 
 The reader will perhaps detect the object of his presence ; 
 but, beyond that, there is something deep and desperate in 
 the appearance of the man, rendering his familiarity exceed 
 ingly disagreeable. That he should present himself at 
 such an untimely hour was strange, beyond Marston' s 
 comprehension. It was, indeed, most inopportune ; but 
 knowing him, he feared him. He could not treat him with 
 indifference, there was hia connection with Graspum, hi> 
 power over the poor servile whites ; he must be courteous 
 so, summoning his suavity, he orders Dandy to wait 
 upon him. 
 
 Komescos amuses himself with sundry rude expression* 
 about the etiquette of gentlemen, their rights and asso 
 ciations, the glorious freedom of a glorious land. Not 
 heeding Dandy's attention, he fills another glass copiously, 
 twirls it upon the table, eyes Marston, and then Maxwell,
 
 HANGS OVER THE PLANTATION. 97 
 
 playfully drinks his beverage with the air of one quite 
 at home. 
 
 " Marston, old feller," he says, winking at Maxwell, 
 "things don't jibe so straight as they use't do they? 
 I wants a stave o* conversation on matters o' business with 
 ye to-morrow. It's a smart little property arrangement ; 
 but I ain't in the right fix just now ; I can't make the 
 marks straight so we can understand two imd two. Te 
 take, don't ye ? Somethin' touching a genteel business 
 with your fast young nephew, Lorenzo. Caution to the 
 wise." Romescos, making several vain attempts, rises, 
 laughing with a half-independent air, puts his slouch hat on 
 his head,, staggers to the door, makes passes at Dandy, 
 who waits his egress, and bidding them good night, 
 disappears.
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWfiR ? 
 
 THE cholera raging on Marston's plantation, bad excited 
 Graspum's feara. His pecuniary interests were above 
 every other consideration be knew BO higher object than 
 the accumulation of wealth ; and to ascertain tb^e precise 
 nature and extent of the malady he had sent Bomescos to 
 reconnoitre. 
 
 Returning to the long-room at Grraspum's slave-pen, we 
 must introduce the reader to scenes which take place on 
 the night following that upon which Bomescos secured the 
 bill of sale at Marston's mansion. 
 
 Around the table we have before described sit 
 Graspum and some dozen of his clan. Conspicuous among 
 them is Dan Bengal, and jN^ath Nimrod, whom we described as 
 running into the room unceremoniously, holding by the hair 
 the head of a negro, and exulting over it as a prize of much 
 value. They are relating their adventures, speculating over 
 the prospects .of trade, comparing notes on the result of 
 making free trash human property worth something! 
 They all manifest the happiest of feelings, have a language 
 of their own, converse freely ; at times sprinkle their con 
 versation with pointed oaths. They are conversant with 
 the business affairs of every planter in the State, know his 
 liabilities, the condition of his negroes, his hard cases, his 
 bad cases, his runaways, and his prime property. Their 
 dilations on the development of wenches, shades of colour, 
 qualities of stock suited to the various markets from Bich- 
 mond to New Orleans disclose a singular foresight into the 
 article of poor human nature. 
 
 " There's nothing like pushing our kind of business, 
 specially whin ye gits it where ye can push profitably," 
 speaks Bengal, his fiery red eyes glaring over the table as 
 he droops his head sluggishly, and, sipping his whiskey, 
 lets it drip over his beard upon his bosom ; " if 't warn't for
 
 "Ye see, now, Graspum," he quaintly 
 remarks, as he takes up the candle to light 
 his cigar, "whatever ye do is right, so 
 long as the law gives a feller a right to 
 do it. 'Tisn't a bit o' use to think how a 
 man can be too nice in his feelings, when 
 a hundred or two's to be made on nigge 
 property what's delicate, 'taint ! A fel 
 ler feels sore, once in a while, a' cos his 
 conscience is a little touchy, now and 
 then ; but it won't do to give way to 
 it conscience don't bring cash ! " 
 
 *&. 
 
 A DROVE OF VERY MARKETABLE PEOPLE
 
 "WHO IS SAFE AGAINST TilK JL'OWEH ? 99 
 
 Anthony's cunnin' we'd have a pesky deal of crooked law to 
 stumble through afore we'd get them rich uns upset." 
 
 My reader must know that southern law and justice for 
 the poor succumb to popular feeling in all slave atmos 
 pheres ; and happy is the fellow who can work his way 
 through slavedom without being dependent upon the one or 
 brought under the influence of the other. 
 
 Graspum, in reply to Bengal, feels that gentlemen in the 
 "nigger business" should respect themselves. He. well 
 knows there exists not the best feeling in the world between 
 them and the more exclusive aristocracy, whose feelings 
 must inevitably be modified to suit the democratic spirit of 
 the age. He himself enjoys that most refined society, 
 which he asserts to be strong proof of the manner in which 
 democracy is working its way to distinction. Our business, 
 he says, hath so many avenues that it has become positively 
 necessary that some of them should be guarded by men of 
 honour, dignity, and irreproachable conduct. Now, he 
 has sent Anthouy Romescos to do some watching on the 
 sly, at Marston's plantation ; but there is nothing dis 
 honourable in that, inasmuch as the victim is safe in his 
 claws. Contented with these considerations, Grraspum 
 puffs his cigar very composedly. From slave nature, slave- 
 seeking adventures, and the intricacies of the human-property- 
 market, they turn to the discussion of state rights, of free 
 dom in its broadest and most practical sense. And, upon 
 the principle of the greatest despot being foremost to 
 discuss what really constitutes freedom, which, however, he 
 always argues in an abstract sense, Nimrod was loudest 
 and most lavish in his praises of a protective government 
 a government that would grant great good justice to the 
 white man only. It matters little to JNimrod which is the 
 greater nigger ; he believes in the straight principles of right 
 in the white man. It is not so much how justice is carried 
 out when menial beings form a glorious merchandise ; but 
 it is the true essence of liberty, giving men power to keep 
 society all. straight, to practice liberty very liberally. 
 " Ye see, now, Grraspum," he quaintly remarks, as he takes 
 up the candle to light his cigar, " whatever ye do is right, 
 so long as the law gives a feller a right to do it. 'Tisn't 
 a bit o' use to think how a man can be too nice in his feel 
 ings when a hundred or two's to be made on nigger property
 
 100 WHO IS SAKE AOAIKST THE POWER? 
 
 what's delicate, faint ! A feller feels sore once in a while, a' 
 cos his conscience is a little touchy now and then; but it won't 
 do to give way to it conscience don't bring cash. When ye 
 launches out in the nigger-trading business ye must feel 
 vengeance agin the brutes, and think how it's only trade ; 
 how it's perfectly legal and how it's encouraged by the 
 Governor's proclamations. Human natur's human natur' ; 
 and when ye can turn a penny at it, sink all the in'ard 
 inclinations. Just let the shiners slide in, it don't matter 
 a tenpence where ye got 'em. Trade's everything ! you 
 might as well talk about patriotism among crowned heads, 
 about the chivalry of commerce : cash makes consequence, 
 and them's what makes gentlemen, south." 
 
 They welcome the spirits, although it has already made 
 them soulless. The negro listens to a dialogue of singular 
 import to himself; his eyes glistened with interest, as one 
 by one they sported over the ignorance enforced upon the 
 weak. One by one they threw their slouch hats upon the 
 floor, drew closer in conclave, forming a grotesque picture 
 of fiendish faces. " Now, gentlemen," Grraspum deigns to 
 say, after a moment's pause, motioning to the decanter, 
 " pass it along round when ye gets a turn about." He fills 
 his glass and drinks, as if drink were a necessary accom 
 paniment of the project before them. " This case of 
 Marston's is a regular plumper; there's a spec to be made 
 in that stock of stuff ; and them bright bits of his own 
 they look like him '11 make right smart fancy. Ther' 
 developing just in the right sort of way to be valuable for 
 market." 
 
 " There's movin' o' the shrewdest kind to be done there, 
 Graspum ! Where's the dockerment what '11 make 'um 
 property, eh ?" interrupted Nimrod, twisting the hair with 
 which his face is covered into fantastic points. 
 
 " Oh, my good fellows, public opinion's the dockerment ; 
 with the bright side of public opinion ! Public opinion 
 whispers about Clotilda: it says she looks so much like 
 that niece of Marston's, that you couldn't tell them apart. 
 And they are like two pins, gentlemen ; but then one's 
 property and t'other's anything but property. One will 
 bring something substantial in the market : I wouldn't say 
 much about the other. But there's pride in the whole 
 family, and where it's got into the niggers it's worth a few
 
 WHO IS SAFE A&AINST THE POWEB ? 101 
 
 extra dollars. The Marstons and Roveros don't think much 
 of we dealers when they don't want our money ; but when 
 they do we are cousins of the right stripe. However, these 
 ere little aristocratic notions don't mount to much ; they 
 are bin generous blood-mixers, and now they may wince 
 over it - " 
 
 Graspum is interrupted again. Bengal has been analysing 
 his logic, and rises to dispute the logic of his arguments. 
 He is ready to stake his political faith, and all his common 
 sense of which he never fails to boast that mixing the 
 blood of the two races destroys the purity of the nigger, 
 spiles the gauge of the market, detracts from real planta 
 tion property, and will just upset the growin' of young 
 niggers. He is sure he knows just as much about the thing 
 as anybody else, has never missed his guess, although folks 
 say he aint no way clever at selection ; and, rubbing his eyes 
 after adjusting the long black hair that hangs down over 
 his shoulders, hie folds his arms with an independent air, and 
 waits the rejoinder. 
 
 The dingy room breathes thick of deleterious fumes ; a 
 gloom hangs over their meditations, deep and treacherous: it 
 excites fear, not of the men, but of the horrors of their trade. 
 A dim light hangs suspended from the ceiling : even the 
 sickly shade contrasts strangely with their black purpose. 
 
 " Variety of shade, my dear Bengal, is none of our 
 business. If you make a division you destroy the property 
 and the principle. "We don't represent the South : if we 
 did, my stars ! how the abolitionists would start up, eh ! 
 Now, there's a right smart chance of big aristocrat folks 
 in the district, and they think something of their niggers, 
 and some are fools enough to think niggers have souls just 
 as white as we. That's where the thing don't strike our 
 moraU alike. It's all right to let such folks represent us 
 that it is ! It tells down north." 
 
 " I goes in for that ! It puts a polished face on the 
 brown side of things. That's the way I puts it on when I 
 gets among the big 'uns on 'Change. I talks to one, shakes 
 hands with another, touches my hat to the president of the 
 bank ; and then them what don't know thinks how I do a 
 little in the taking a corner of notes line !" " In the same sly 
 way that directors of banks do," interrupts a voice, sullenly 
 and slow. It was long Joe Morphet, the constable's sponge,
 
 102 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWEB ? 
 
 who did a little in the line of nigger trailing, and now and 
 then acted as a contingent of Graspum. Joe had, silently 
 and with great attention, listened to their consultations, 
 expecting to get a hook on at some point where his services 
 would play at a profit ; but it all seemed beyond big com 
 prehension amounted to nothing. 
 
 " There's something in Joe, gentlemen ! But our 
 genteelest folks don't alway do the genteelest things, arter 
 all. Eight right! Joe's right !" Graspum has suddenly 
 comprehended Joe's logic, and brightens up with the posses 
 sion of a new idea, that at first was inclined to get crosswise 
 in his mind, which he has drilled in the minor details of 
 human nature rather than the political dignity of the state. 
 Joe's ideas are ranging over the necessity of keeping up a 
 good outside for the state ; Graspum thinks only of keeping 
 up the dignity of himself. " "Well, give in, fellers ; Joe's 
 right clever. He's got head enough to get into Congress, 
 and if polished up wouldn't make the worst feller that ever 
 was sent : he wouldn't, to my certain knowledge. Joe's 
 clever ! What great men do with impunity little men have 
 no scruples in following ; what the state tolerates, knaves 
 may play upon to their own advantage. To keep up the 
 dignity of a slave state, slave dealers must keep up dignity 
 among themselves : the one cannot live without the other. 
 They must affect, and the state must put on, the dignity ; 
 and northerners what aint gentlemen must be taught to 
 know that they aint gentlemen." This is the conclusion 
 to which Graspum has arrived on the maturest reflection of 
 a few minutes : it conforms with the opinion and dignity of 
 slaveocracy must be right, else the glorious Union, with 
 the free-thinking north unfortunately attached, could never 
 be preserved. It's the nut of a glorious compact which 
 the south only must crack, and will crack. Graspum apolo 
 gised for the thing having escaped his memory so long. He 
 remembered that southerners left no stone unturned that 
 could serve the policy of concentrating slave power; and 
 he remembered that it was equally necessary to keep an eye 
 to the feeling abroad. There were in America none but 
 southern nobles, no affable gentlemen who could do the 
 grace of polite circles except themselves, none who, through 
 their bland manners, could do more to repel the awful 
 descriptions given of southern society, nor who could not
 
 WHO 18 SAFE AGAINST THE POWER ? 101} 
 
 make strangers believe slaves were happy mortals, happily 
 created to live in all the happiness of slave life. " There's 
 nothing like putting our learned folks ahead they're 
 polished down for the purpose, you see and letting them 
 represent us when abroad ; they puts a different sort of shine 
 on things what our institution makes profitable. They 
 don't always set good examples at home, but we can't con 
 trol their tastes on small matters of that kind : and then, 
 what a valuable offset it is, just to have the power of doing 
 the free and easy gentleman, to be the brilliant companion, 
 to put on the smooth when you go among nobility what 
 don't understand the thing !" Graspum adds, with a cunning 
 wink. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! such talk don't jingle. You can't separate 
 our aristocracy from mistress-keeping. It's a matter of 
 romance -with them, a matter of romance, gentlemen, that's 
 all. The south couldn't live without romance, she couldn't!" 
 adds Nimrod, stretching back in his chair. 
 
 " And where did you get that broad idea from, Jakey ? 
 I kind o' likes that sort of philosophy," adds another. 
 
 " Philosophy ! I reckon how there is deep and strong 
 philosophy in that ar ; but ye can't calc'late much on't when 
 ye haint talents to bring it out. That point where the soul 
 comes in is a puzzler on Yankees ; but it takes our editors 
 and parsons to put the arguments where the Yankees can't 
 demolish them. Eead the Eichmond , my grand 
 mother of the day, if ye want to see the philosophy of 
 niggers, and their souls. That editor is a philosopher ; the 
 world's got to learn his philosophy. Just take that preacher 
 from New Jersey, what preaches in All Saints ; if he don't 
 prove niggers aint no souls I'm a Dutchman, and dead at 
 that ! He gives 'em broadside logic, gentlemen ; and if he 
 hadn't been raised north he wouldn't bin so up on niggers 
 when he cum south," was the quick rejoinder of our 
 knowing expounder, who, looking Graspum in the face, 
 demanded to know if he was not correct. Graspum thinks 
 it better to waste no more time in words, but to get at the 
 particular piece of business for which they have been called 
 together. He is a man of money, a man of trade, ever 
 willing to admit the philosophy of the man-market, but 
 don't see the difference of honour between the aristocrat 
 who sells his bits in the market, and the honourable dealer
 
 104 WHO 18 SAFB AGAINST TI1E POWER P 
 
 who gets but a commission for selling them. And there's 
 something about the parson who, forgetting the sanctity 
 of his calling, sanctifies everything pertaining to slavery. 
 Conscience, he admits, is a wonderful thing fixed somewhere 
 about the heart, and, in spite of all he can do, will trouble 
 it once in a while. Marston poor Marston ! he declares 
 to be foolishly troubled with it, and it makes him commit 
 grievous errors. And then, there's no understandin' it, 
 because Marston has a funny way of keeping it under such 
 a knotty-looking exterior. Graspum declares lie iiad nothing 
 to do with the breaking out of the cholera, is very sorry for 
 it, only wants his own, just like any other honest man. 
 He kind o' likes Marston, admits he is a sort of good 
 fellow in his way ; mighty careless though, wouldn't cheat 
 anybody if lie knew it, and never gave half a minute's 
 thinking about how uncertain the world was. But the 
 cholera a dire disease among niggers has broke out in all 
 the fury of its ravages ; and it makes him think of his sick 
 niggers and paying his debts. " You see, gentlemen we 
 are all gentlemen here," Graspum continues, " a man must 
 pay the penalty of his folly once in a while. It's the fate 
 of great men as well as smaller ones ; all are liable to it. 
 That isn't the thing, though ; it don't do to be chicken- 
 hearted afore niggers, nor when yer dealing in niggers, nor 
 in any kind o' business what ye want to make coin at. 
 Marston '11 stick on that point, he will ; see if he don't. 
 His feelins' are troubling him : he knows I've got the 
 assignment ; and if he don't put them ar' white 'uns of his 
 in the schedule, I'll snap him up for fraud, I will " 
 
 The conversation is here interrupted by a loud rap at the 
 door, which is opened by the negro, who stands with his 
 finger on the latch. Romescos, in his slovenly garb, pre 
 sents himself with an air of self-assurance that marks the 
 result of his enterprise. He is a prominent feature in all 
 Graspum's great operations ; he is desperate in serving his 
 interests. Drawing a handkerchief from his pocket it is 
 printed with the stars and stripes of freedom he calls it a 
 New England rag, disdainfully denounces that area of un 
 believers in slaveocracy, wipes his blistered face with it, 
 advances to the tableevery eye intently watching him and 
 pauses for breath. 
 
 " What success, Anthony ? Tell us quickly," Graspum
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER? 105 
 
 demands, extending his hand nervously. "Anthony never 
 fails ! It's a fool who fails in our business," was the reply, 
 delivered with great unconcern, and responded to with 
 unanimous applause. A warrior returned from victory was 
 Anthony, a victory of villainy recorded in heaven, where 
 the rewards will, at some day, be measured out with a just 
 but awful retribution. 
 
 The bosom of his shirt lays broadly open : one by one 
 they shake his hand, as he hastily unties the chequered cloth 
 about his neck, pours out his drink of whiskey, seats him 
 self in a chair, and deliberately places his feet upon the 
 table. " Ther's nothin' like making a triangle of oneself 
 when ye wants to feel so ye can blow comfortable," he says. 
 " I done nothin' shorter than put all straight at Marston's 
 last night. It was science, ye see, gents ; and I done it up 
 strictly according to science. A teller what aint cunnin', 
 and don't know the nice work o' the law, can't do nothiu' 
 in the way o' science. It's just as you said^addressing his 
 remarks to Graspum, Marston's slackin' out his conscience 
 because he sees how things are goin' down hill with him. 
 If that old hoss cholera don't clar off the nigger property, 
 I'm no prophet. It'll carry 'em into glory ; and glory, I 
 reckon, isn't what you calls good pay, eh, Graspum ? I 
 overheard his intentions : he sees the black page before him ; 
 it troubles the chicken part of his heart. Peels mighty 
 meek and gentle all at once; and, it's no lie, he begins to' 
 see sin in what he has done ; and to make repentance good 
 he's goin' to shove off that nabob stock of his, so the 
 creditors can't lay paws upon it. Te got to spring; Marston 
 '11 get ahead of ye if he don't, old feller. This child '11 
 show him how he can't cum some o' them things while 
 Squire Hobble and I'm on hand." Thus quaintly he speaks, 
 pulling the bill of sale from a side-pocket, throwing it upon 
 the table with an air of satisfaction amounting to exultation. 
 " Take that ar ; put it where ye can put yer finger on't 
 when the 'mergency comes." And he smiles to see how 
 gratefully and anxiously Graspum receives it, reviews it, 
 re-reviews it, how it excites the joy of his nature. He 
 has no soul beyond the love of gold, and the system of his 
 bloody trade. It was that fatal instrument, great in the 
 atmosphere of ungrateful law, bending some of nature's 
 noblest beneath its seal of crimes. " It's from Silenua to
 
 106 WHO 18 SAFE AGAINST THE POWER? 
 
 Marston ; rather old, but just the thing ! Ah, you're a 
 valuable fellow, Anthony." Mr. Q-raspuin manifests his 
 approbation by certain smiles, grimaces, and shakes of the 
 hand, while word by word he reads it, as if eagerly relishing 
 its worth. " It's a little thing for a great purpose ; it'll 
 tell a tale in its time;" and he puts the precious scrip 
 safely in his pocket, and rubbing his hands together, declares 
 " that deserves a bumper !" They fill up at Graspum's 
 request, drink with social cheers, followed by a song from 
 Nimrod. who pitches his tune to the words, " Come, laud- 
 lord, fill the flowing bowl." 
 
 Nimrod finishes his song : Komescos takes the floor to 
 tell a story about the old judge what hung the nigger a'cos 
 he didn't want to spend his patience listening to the testi 
 mony, and adjourned the court to go and take a drink at 
 Sal Stiles's grocery. His description of the court, its high 
 jurisdiction, the dignity of the squire what sits as judge, 
 now he drinks the three jurymen freeholders what are 
 going to try a nigger, how they goes out and takes three 
 drinks when the case gets about half way through, how the 
 nigger winks and blinks when he sees the jury drunk, and 
 hears the judge say there's only two things he likes to 
 hang, niggers and schoolmasters. But as it's no harm to 
 kill schoolmasters speaking in a southern sense so 
 E/omescos thinks the squire who got the jury inebriated 
 afore he sent the "nigger" to be hung doesn't mean the 
 least harm when he evinces an abhorrence to the whole clan 
 of schoolmaster trash. He turns to the old story of doing 
 everything by system ; ends by describing his method of 
 drinking a whole jury. He has surprised Marston, got him 
 on the hip, where he can feather him or sciver him, and 
 where things must, be done sly. Public opinion, he whispers, 
 may set folks moving, and then they'll all be down upon 
 him like hawks after chickens. In his mind, the feller what 
 pulls first comes off first best if the law hounds are not 
 uo soon let loose! If they are, there will be a long drag, 
 a small cage for the flock, and very few birds with feathers 
 on. B/omescos cares for nobody but the judge : he tells us 
 how the judge and he are right good cronies, and how it s 
 telling a good many dollars at the end of the year to keep 
 on the best of terms with him, always taking him to drink 
 when they meet. The judge is a wonderfully clever fellow, ia
 
 WHO IS SA1MS AGAINST THE POWER? t07 
 
 Eomescos' opinion ; ranks among first-class drinkers ; can 
 do most anything, from hanging a nigger to clearing the 
 fellow that killed the schoolmaster, and said he'd clear a 
 dozen in two two's, if they'd kill off ever so many of the rubbish. 
 It is well to make his favour a point of interest. The com 
 pany are become tired of this sort of cantation ; they have 
 heard enough of high functionaries, know quite enough of 
 judges : such things are in their line of business. Eomescos 
 must needs turn the conversation. " Well, taking it how 
 I can entertain ye to most anything, I'll give ye a story on 
 the secrets of how I used to run off" Ingin remnants of 
 the old tribes. 'Taint but a few years ago, ye know, when 
 ther was a lot of Ingin and white, mixed stuif some called 
 it beautiful down in Beaufort district. It was temptin' 
 though, I reckon, and made a feller feel just as if he was 
 runnin' it off to sell, every time it come in his way. Ye 
 see, most on't was gal property, and that kind, oilers keeps 
 the whole district in a hubbub ; everybody's offended, and 
 there's so much delicacy about the ladies what come in con 
 tact with it. Yes, gentlemen ! the ladies I means the 
 aristocracy's ladies -hate these copper-coloured Ingins as 
 they would female devils. It didn't do to offend the delicacy 
 of our ladies, ye see ; so something must be done, but it 
 was all for charity's sake. Squire Hornblower and me fixes 
 a plan a'tween us : it was just the plan to do good for the 
 town we must always be kind, ye know, and try to do 
 good and save the dear good ladies a great deal of un 
 necessary pain. 
 
 " Now, the squire had law larnin', and I had cunnin' ; 
 and both put together made the thing work to a point. 
 The scheme worked so nicely that we put twelve out of 
 fifteen of 'em right into pocket-money in less than three 
 years " 
 
 " Hold a second, Eomescos ; how did you play the game 
 so adroitly, when they were all members of families living in 
 the town ? You're a remarkable fellow," Grraspum inter 
 poses, stretching his arms, and twisting his sturdy figure 
 over the side of his chair. 
 
 " That's what I was coming at. Ye see, whenever ye 
 
 makes white trash what ain't slaved a nuisance, you makes 
 
 it mightily unpopular ; and when folks is unpopular the 
 
 nuisance is easily removed, especially when ye can get pay 
 
 8
 
 108 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER ? 
 
 for removing it. The law will be as tame as a mouse 
 nobody '11 say nothin' ? Ingin and white rubbish is just 
 alike* one's worth as little as t'other. Both's only fit to 
 sell, sir! worthless for any other purpose. Ye see, 
 gentlemen, I'm something of a philosopher, and has strong 
 faith in the doctrine of our popular governor, who believes 
 it better to sell all poor whites into slavery. 'Tain't a free 
 country where ye don't have the right to sell folks what 
 don't provide for number one. I likes to hear our big folks 
 talk so-- Anthony's face brightens ''cause it gives a feller 
 a chance for a free speculation in them lank, lean rascals ; 
 and, too, it would stop their rifle-shooting and corn- 
 Btealing " 
 
 " You never try your hand at such hits do you, 
 Nathe?" Bengal interrupts, his fore-finger poised on his nose. 
 
 "Now, Dan," Anthony quaintly replies, "none o' yer 
 pointed insinuations. 'Twouldn't be much harm if the 
 varmin would only keep its mouth shut along the road. 
 But when the critturs ar' got schoolmaster gumption it's 
 mighty apt to get a feller into a tarnation snarl. School 
 master gumption makes d d bad niggers ; and there's 
 
 why I say it's best to hang schoolmasters. It's dangerous, 
 'cos it larns the critturs to writin' a scrawl now and then ; 
 and, unless ye knows just how much talent he's got, and 
 can whitewash him yaller, it's plaguy ticklish. When the 
 brutes have larnin 1 , and can write a little, they won't stay 
 sold when ye sell 'em that is, I mean, white riff- raff stuff; 
 they ain't a bit like niggers and Ingins. And there's just 
 as much difference a'tween the human natur of a white 
 nigger and a poverty-bloated white as there is a'twixt 
 philosophy and water-melons." 
 
 "You're drawing a long bow, Anthony," interrupts 
 Graspum, with a suggestion that it were better to come to 
 the point ; and concludes by saying : " We don't care 
 seveupeuce about the worthless whites all over the State. 
 They can't read nor write except a few on 'em and every 
 body knows it wouldn't do to give them learning that 
 wouldn't do ! We want the way you cleared that nuisance 
 out of Beaufort district so quick that's what we want to 
 hear." 
 
 " Well, ye'h sees, it took some keen play, some sly play, 
 Bome dignity, and some talent ; but the best thing of the
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER ? 109 
 
 whole was the squire's honour. lie :md me, ye see, joined 
 partners that is, he gets places for 'em away out o' 
 town you understand places where I keeps a couple of 
 the very best nags that ever stepped turf. And then he 
 puts on the soft sauder, an' is so friendly to the critturs 
 gets 'em to come out with him to where he will make 'urn 
 nice house servants, and such things. He is good at 
 planin', as all justices is, and would time it to arrive at 
 midnight. I, havin' got a start, has all ready to meet him ; 
 so when he gives me the papers, I makes a bolt at full 
 speed, and has 'um nowhere afore they knows it. And 
 then, when they sees who it is, it don't do to make a fuss 
 about it don't ! And then, they're so handsome, it ain't 
 no trouble finding a market for 'em down Memphis way. 
 It only takes forty-eight hours the way things is done up 
 by steam from the time I clears the line until Timothy 
 Portman signs the bond that's five per cent, for him 
 and JSTed Sturm does the swearin', and they're sold for a 
 slap-up price sent to where there's no muttering about 
 it. That's one way we does it ; and then, there's another. 
 But, all in all, there's a right smart lot of other ways that 
 will work their way into a talented mind. And when a 
 feller gets the hang on it, and knows lawyer gumption, he 
 can do it up smooth. You must strap 'em down, chain 
 'em, look vengeance at 'em ; and now and then, when 
 the varmin will squeal, spite of all the thrashin' ye can give 
 'em, box 'em up like rats, and put yer horses like Jehu 
 until ye cl'ar the State. The more ye scars 'em the better 
 make 'em as whist as mice, and ye can run 'em through 
 the rail-road, and sell 'um just as easy. 
 
 " There was another way I used to do the thing it was 
 a sort of an honourable way ; but it used to take the talents 
 of a senator to do it up square, so the dignity didn't suffer. 
 Then the gals got shy of squire, 'cos them he got places for 
 never cum back ; and I know'd how 'twas best to leave two 
 or three for a nest-egg. It was the way to do, in case 
 some green should raise a fuss. But connected with these 
 Ingin gals was one of the likleest yaller fellers that ever 
 shined on a stand. Thar' was about twelve hundred 
 dollars in him, I saw it just as straight, and felt it just as 
 safe in my pocket; and then it made a feller's eyes glisten 
 afore it was got out of him. I tell you what, boys, it's
 
 110 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST TliE POWll ? 
 
 rather hard when ye comes to think on't." Anthony 
 pauses for a moment, sharpens his eloquence with another 
 drop of whiskey, and resumes his discourse. " The feller shined 
 all outside, but he hadn't head talents though he was as 
 cunuin'as a fox and every timethe squire tried an experiment 
 to get him out o' town, the nigger would dodge like a wounded 
 raccoon. 'Twarn't a bit of use for the squire so he just 
 gin it up. Then I trys a hand, ye see, comes the soft soap 
 over him, in a Sam Slick kind of a way. I'se a private 
 gentleman, and gets the fellers round to call me a sort of 
 an aristocrat. Doing this 'ere makes me a nabob in the 
 town another time I'm from New York, and has monstrous 
 letters of introduction to the squire. Then I goes among 
 the niggers and comes it over their stupid ; tells 'em how 
 I'm an abolitionist in a kind of secret way gets their con 
 fidence. And then I larns a right smart deal of sayings 
 from the Bible a nigger's curious on Christianity, ye see 
 and it makes him think ye belong to that school, sartin! 
 All the deviltry in his black natur' '11 cum out then ; and 
 he'll do just what ye tells him. So, ye see, I just draws 
 the pious over him, and then like all niggers I gets 
 him to jine in what he calculates to be a nice little bit of 
 roguery running off." 
 
 Graspum becomes interested in the fine qualities of the pro 
 spective property, and must needs ask if he is bright and trim. 
 " Bright ! I reckon he warn't nothin' else in a money 
 sense brighter nor most niggers, but mighty Inginy. 
 Had the fierce of one and the cunnin' of t'other. Tom 
 Pridgeou and me has an understandin' about the thing ; 
 and Tom's such a ripper for tradin' in nigger property 
 he is about the only devil niggers can imagine ; and 
 they delight to play tricks on Tom. Well, the nigger and 
 nie's good friends, right to the point ; a good trick is to 
 be played off on Tom, who buys the nigger in confidence ; 
 the nigger is to run off when he gets to Savannah, and Tom 
 is to be indicted for running off ' free niggers.' I'se a 
 great Christian, and joins heart and hand with the darkey ; 
 we takes our walks together, reads together, prays together. 
 And then 'tain't long afore I becomes just the best white 
 man in his estimation. Knowing when Tom makes up his 
 gang, I proposes a walk in the grove to the nigger. ' Thank 
 ye, sir,' says he, in an Ingin kind of way, and out we goes,
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWEB ? Ill 
 
 sits down, talks pious, sings hymns, and waits to see the 
 rascally nigger-trader come along. Presently Tom makes 
 his appearance, with a right smart lot of extra prime pro 
 perty. The nigger and me marches down the road just 
 like master and servant, and stops just when we meets Tom. 
 You'd laughed to see Tom and me do the stranger. ' "Well, 
 mister,' says I, ' how's trade in your line ? there's mighty 
 good prices for cotton just now; an' I 'spose 't keeps the 
 market stiff up in your lino ! ' 
 
 ' Well, no,' says Tom : ' a feller can turn a good penny 
 in the way o' fancy articles, just now ; but 'tain't the time 
 for prime plantation-stock. Planters are all buying, and 
 breeders down Virginia way won't give a feller a chance to 
 make a shaving. It drives a feller hard up, ye see, and 
 forces more business in running the free 'uns.' 
 
 ' Why, stranger ! what on 'arth do you mean by that 'ar ; 
 wouldn't ye get straightened if you'd git catched at that 
 business ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, nothing, nothing ! I forgot what I was saying,' 
 says Tom, just as if he was scared at what he had 
 let slip. 
 
 ' I say, trader, ye got the brightest assortment of pro 
 perty thar' I seen for many a day : you don't call them gals 
 slaves, do you ? Down where 1 cum from, our folks 
 wouldn't know 'em from white folks.' I tell you, boys, 
 he had some bits that would o* made yer heart cum 
 straight up. 
 
 ' But I say, mister, I kind 'a like yer horse property 
 somehow he's full blood,' says I. 
 
 ' Yes,' says Tom ; ' he's one o' the best critturs to drive 
 niggers with that ye ever did see ; and he's beat the best horse 
 on the Columbia course, twice.' 
 
 ' Well, now ; seein' how I likes the animal, about how 
 much do ye'h set him at ?' says 1. 
 
 ' Well ! can't part with the nag nohow ; seems as 
 if he knowed a nigger, and understands the business 
 right up.' 
 
 * But, you see, I'se got a bit of nigger property here 
 what ye'h don't pick up every day for the Memphis trade,' 
 says I, looking at the feller, who played his part right up to 
 the hilt.
 
 112 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER 1 
 
 ' "Well, I don't mind strikin' a trade,' says Tom : ' but 
 you see my nag's worth a little risin' a thousand dollars.' 
 
 ' I don't doubt that, stranger,' says I : ' but ye'h sees this 
 'ar piece of property o' mine is worth more 'an twelve 
 hundred. You don't come across such a looking chap every 
 day. There's a spec, in him, in any market down south,' 
 says I ; and I puts my hands on the nigger and makes him 
 show out, just as if Tom and me was striking for a trade. 
 So Tom examines him, as if he was green in nigger 
 business, and he and me strangers just come from t'other 
 side of moon shadows. 
 
 ' Well, now,' says Tom, ' it's mighty likely property, and 
 seeing it's you, jist name a trade.' 
 
 ' Put down the nag and two hundred dollars, and I'll 
 sign the bill of sale, for a swap.' And Tom plants down 
 the dimes, and takes the nigger. When Tom gets him 
 to Savannah, he plunks him into jail, and keeps him 
 locked up in a cell until he is ready to start south. I 
 promises the nigger half of the spiles ; but I slips an X* 
 into his hand, and promises him the rest when he gets 
 back when he does ! And ye see how Tom just tryced him 
 up to the cross and put thirty-nine to his bare skin when 
 he talked about being free, in Savannah ; and gagged him 
 when he got his Ingin up. Warn't that doing the thing up 
 slick, fellers ? " exclaimed Homescos, chuckling over the 
 sport. 
 
 " It warn't nothing else. That's what I calls catching a 
 nigger in his own trap," said one. " That's sarviu' him 
 right ; I go for sellin' all niggers and Ingins," said another. 
 " Free niggers have no souls, and are impediments to 
 personal rights in a free country," said a third. 
 
 " Ye'h see, there's such an infernal lot of loose corners 
 about our business, that it takes a feller what has got a big 
 head to do all the things smooth, in a legal way ; and it's 
 so profitable all round that it kind o' tempts a feller, once in 
 a while, to do things he don't feel just right in ; but then a 
 glass of old monongahela brings ye'h all straight in yer 
 feelins again, a'ter a few minutes," said Ilomescos. 
 
 " It's an amusing business ; a man's got to have nerve and 
 
 * Ten dollars.
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER ? 113 
 
 maxim, if he wants to make a fortune at it. But now, 
 gentlemen, we'll take another round," said Graspum, 
 stopping short. " Anthony, tell us how you work it when 
 you want to run a free nigger down Maryland way." 
 
 " There ain't no trouble about that," replied Romcscos, 
 quickly. " You see," he continued, squinting his eye, and 
 holding his glass between his face and the light. " Shut 
 out all hope first, and then prime legal gentlemen along the 
 road, and yer sartin to make safe business. I has chaps 
 what keeps their eye on all the free bits, and makes good 
 fellers with 'em ; niggers think they'r the right stripe 
 friends ; and then they gives 'em jobs once in a while, and 
 tobacco, and whiskey. So when I gets all fixed for a run, 
 some on 'm gets the nigger into a sly spot, and then we 
 pounces upon him like a hawk on a chicken gags him, and 
 screws him up in the chains, head and feet, boxes him up, 
 too, and drives him like lightning until I meets Tilman at 
 the cross-roads ; and then 1 just has a document * all ready, ' 
 which I gives to Till., and he puts his nags in a pair what 
 can take the road from anything about and the way he 
 drives, just to make the nigger forget where he's going, 
 and think he's riding in a balloon on his way to glory. 
 Just afore Til. gets to the boat, ye see, he takes the head- 
 chains off so the delicate-hearted passengers won't let 
 their feelins get kind-a out o' sorts. Once in a while the 
 nigger makes a blubber about being free, to the captain, 
 and if he's fool enough t' take any notice on't then there's 
 a fuss ; but that's just the easiest thing to get over, if ye 
 only know the squire, and how to manage him. You must 
 know the pirites of the law, and ye must do the clean thing 
 in the ' tin ' way with the squire ; and then ye can cut 'em 
 right off by makin' t'other pintes make 'em mean nothing. 
 Once in a while t'll do to make the nigger a criminal, and 
 "then there's no trouble in't, 'cos ye canollersgit the swearin' 
 done cheap. Old Captain Smith used to get himself into 
 a scrape a heap o' times by listenin' to free nigger stories, 
 till he gets sick and would kick every nigger what came to 
 him about being free. He takes the law in his hands with 
 a nigger o' mine once, and hands him over to a city police 
 man, as soon as we lands. He didn't understand the thing, 
 
 * A forged bill of sale. 
 
 1
 
 114 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER 1 
 
 ye see, and I jist puts an X * into the pole's hand, what he 
 takes the hint at. 'Now, ye'll take good care on the 
 feller," says I, giving him a wink. And he just keeps 
 broad off from the old hard-faced mayor, and runs up to the 
 squire's, who commits him on his own commit timus. Then 
 I gets Bob Blanker to stand ' all right ' with the squire, 
 who's got all the say in the matter, when it's done so. 
 I cuts like lightenin' on to far down Mississippi, and there 
 gets Sam Slang, just one o' the keenest fellers in that line, 
 about. Sam's a hotel-keeper all at once, and I gets him 
 up afore the Mississippi squire ; and as Sam don't think 
 much about the swearin' and the squire ain't particular, so 
 he makes a Jive : we proves straight off how the crittur's 
 Sam's runaway, gets the dockerment and sends to Bob 
 Blanker, who puts a blinder on the squire's eye, and gets 
 an order to the old jailor, who must give him up, when he 
 sees the squire's order. You see, it's larnin' the secret, 
 that's the thing, and the difference between common law 
 and nigger law ; and the way to work the matter so the 
 squire will have it all in his own fingers, and don't let the 
 old judge get a pick. Squire makes it square, hands the 
 nigger over to Bob, Bob puts fifty cuts on his hide, makes 
 him as clever as a kitten, and ships him off down south 
 afore he has time to wink. Then, ye sees, I goes back as 
 independent as a senator from Arkansas, and sues Captain 
 Smith for damages in detainin' the property, and I makes 
 him pay a right round sum, what larns him never to try 
 that agin." 
 
 Thus Eomescos concludes the details of his nefarious 
 trade, amid cheers and bravos. The party are in ecstasies, 
 evincing a singular merriment at the issue. There is 
 nothing like liberty liberty to do what you please, to turn 
 freedom into barbarity ! They gloat over the privileges of a 
 free country ; and, as Eomescos recounts each proceeding, 
 tracing it into the lowest depths of human villainy, they 
 sing songs to right, justice, freedom they praise the 
 bounties of a great country. How different is the picture 
 below ! Beneath this plotting conclave, devising schemes 
 to defraud human nature of its rights, to bring poverty and 
 disgrace upon happy families all in accordance with the 
 
 * Ter dollars.
 
 WHO IS SAFE AGAINST THE POWER. 115 
 
 law are chained in narrow cells poor mortals, hoping for 
 an end to their dreary existence, pining under the weight of 
 pinions dashing their very souls into endless despair. A 
 tale of freedom is being told above, but their chains of 
 death clank in solemn music as the midnight revelry sports 
 with the very agony of their sorrows. Oh ! who has made their 
 .lives a wanton jest ? can it be the will of heaven, or is 
 it the birthright of a downtrodden race ? They look for 
 tc -morrow, hope reverberates one happy thought, it may 
 bring some tidings of joy; but again they sink, as that end 
 less gloom rises before them. Hope fades from their 
 feelings, from the bleeding heart for which compassion is 
 dead. The tyrant's heart is of stone ; what cares he for 
 their supplications, their cries, their pleadings to heaven ; 
 such things have no dollars for him ! 
 
 Arranging the preliminaries necessary for proceeding 
 with Marston's affairs, they agreed to the plans, received 
 orders from Grraspum in reference to their proceedings on 
 the following day, and retired to their homes, singing praises 
 to great good laws, and the freedom of a free country.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 
 
 WHILE the proceedings we have detailed in the foregoing 
 chapter were progressing at G-raspum's slave-pen, a different 
 phase of the system was being discussed by several persons 
 who had assembled at the house of Deacon Rosebrook. 
 Rumour had been busy spreading its many-sided tales 
 about Marston his difficulties, his connection with 
 Graspum, his sudden downfall. All agreed that Marston 
 was a noble-minded fellow, generous to a fault generous 
 in his worst errors; and, like rr.any other southerners, who 
 meant well, though personally kind to his slaves, never set 
 a good, example in his own person. Religion was indis 
 pensably necessary to preserve submission ; and, with a view 
 to that end, he had made the Church a means of producing it. 
 
 Now, if the southerner resorted to the Church in the 
 purity of Christian motives, he would merit that praise 
 which many are so willing to bestow. Or, if Christianity 
 were embraced by the southerner with heartfelt purity and 
 faith, it would undoubtedly have a beneficial influence, 
 elevate the character of the slave, promote kindly feelings 
 between him and his master, and ultimately prove profitable 
 to both. But where Christianity, used by irreligious 
 persons, whose very acts destroy the vitality of the means, 
 is made the medium of enforcing superstition, and of debasing 
 the mind of the person it degrades into submission, its 
 application becomes nothing less than criminal. It is 
 criminal because it brings true religion into contempt, per 
 verts Christianity makes it a mockery, and gives to the de 
 graded whites of the South a plea for discarding its precepts. 
 Religion were it not used as a mechanical agency would 
 elevate the degraded white population of the South ; they 
 would, through its influence, become valuable citizens. 
 
 These remarks have been forced upon us by observation. 
 Frequently have we lamented its application, and grieved 
 that its holy mission were made to serve the vilest pur-
 
 ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 117 
 
 poses in a land of liberty, of Christian love. Religion a 
 means of degrading the masses a subservient agent ! It is 
 so, nevertheless ; and men use it whose only desire it is to 
 makeit serve a property interest the interest of making men, 
 women, and children, more valuable in the market. Gfod 
 ordained it for a higher purpose, man applies it for his 
 benefit in the man-market. Hence, where the means for 
 exercising the mind upon the right is forbidden where 
 ignorance becomes the necessary part of the maintenance of 
 a system, and religion is applied to that end, it becomes 
 farcical ; and while it must combine all the imperfections 
 of the performer, necessarily tends to confine the ignorance 
 of those it seeks to degrade, within the narrowest boundary. 
 There are different ways of destroying the rights of different 
 classes ; and as many different ways, after they are destroyed, 
 of wiping out the knowledge of their ever having had 
 rights. But, we regret to say, that most resorted to by* the 
 South, in the lace of civilisation, is the Holy Scriptures, 
 which are made the medium of blotting out all knowledge 
 of the rights a people once possessed. The wrong- doer 
 thus fears the result of natural laws ; if they be allowed to 
 produce results through the cultivation of a slave's mind, 
 such may prove fatal to his immediate interests. And to 
 maintain a system which is based on force, the southern 
 minister of the gospel is doubly culpable in the sight of 
 heaven ; for while he stimulates ignorance by degrading the 
 man, he mystifies the Word of Grod, that he may remain 
 for ever and ever degraded. 
 
 What a deplorable process of stealing nay, gently taking 
 away the knowledge which an all-wise Providence has given 
 to man as his inheritance ; how it reduces his natural 
 immunities to sensual misery ! And, too, it forbids all legiti 
 mate influences that could possibly give the menial a link 
 to elevation, to the formation of a society of his own. We 
 would fain shrink from such a system of debasing mankind 
 even more, from the hideous crimes of those who would 
 make Scripture the means to such an end. And yet, the 
 Church defender of slavery the Christian little one his 
 neck-cloth as white as the crimes he defends are black- 
 must distinguish his arguments ; and that the world may 
 not suspect his devotion, hia honesty, his serious intention, 
 he points us to the many blessings of the plantation-service.
 
 118 ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 
 
 Heavenly divinity ! Let us Lave faitli in the little ones 
 sent to teach it ; they tell us slavery enforces Christianity ! 
 The management of ignorance under the direction of 
 ministers of the gospel is certainly becoming well-defined ; 
 while statesmen more energetically legalise it. The one 
 devises, the other carries out a law to make man ignorant 
 of everything but labour. But while the statesman moulds 
 the theory, the preacher manufactures Scripture texts, that 
 the menial may believe God has ordained him the pliable 
 victim. 
 
 Under the apparent necessity of the slave world, 
 Marston had regularly paid Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy 
 for preaching to his property on Sundays ; and to the 
 requisite end the good Elder felt himself in duty bound to 
 inculcate humility in all things that would promote obe 
 dience to a master's will. Of course, one sermon was 
 quitg sufficient; and this the credulous property Tiad 
 listened to for more than three years. The effect was 
 entirely satisfactory, the result being that the honest 
 property were really impressed with a belief, that to evince 
 Christian fortitude under suffering and punishment was the 
 best means of cleansing themselves of the sins they were 
 born to. This formality was misnamed Christianity it 
 was ! And through the force of this one sermon the Elder 
 became indolent ; and indolence led him to its natural yoke 
 fellow intemperance. His indulgent moods, such as we 
 have described him enjoying in a previous chapter, became 
 too frequent, leading to serious annoyances. They had been 
 especially serious for Marston, whom, they placed in an 
 awkward situation before his property, and he resolved to 
 tolerate them no longer. Probably this resolution was 
 hastened by the sudden discovery of Harry's singular know 
 ledge of Scripture ; be that as it may, the only difficulty 
 in the way was to know if Harry could be so trained, that 
 he would preach the " right stripe " doctrine. This, how 
 ever, was soon settled, and Marston not only suspended 
 his engagement with the Elder, but entered into a contract 
 with the neighbouring planters, by the terms of which 
 Harry will fill their pulpit, and preach extemport the 
 Elder has brought written sermons into contempt with 
 Harry at a stipulated price per Sunday. In this new 
 avocation this leap from the plantation to the pulpit,
 
 ROSEBROOK VILLA. 
 
 Two years have passed how changed!''
 
 ANOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 119 
 
 Harry, as a piece of property, became extremely valuable; 
 while, through the charm of his new black coat, he rose a 
 great man in the estimation of the common property. Here 
 was a valuable incentive of submission, a lesson for all bad 
 niggers, a chance for them to improve under the peculiar 
 institution. It proved to niggerdom what a good nigger 
 could be if he only fear G-od and obey his master in all 
 things. 
 
 Here was proof that a nigger could be something more 
 than a nigger, in spite of southern philosophy. The Elder 
 good, pious man that he was found himself out of pocket 
 and out of preaching. Thrown upon the resources of his 
 ingenuity, he had, in order to save the dictates of his 
 conscience, while taking advantage of the many opportuni 
 ties of making money afforded by the peculiar institution, 
 entered upon another branch of business, having for its 
 object the advancement of humanity. He resolved to go 
 forth purchasing the sick and the dying ; to reclaim sinking 
 humanity and make it marketable. 
 
 But, before describing the vicissitudes through which 
 Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy passes in his new mission of 
 humanity, we must introduce the reader to the precincts of 
 a neat little villa, situated at the outskirts of the city of 
 
 C . It is a small cottage surrounded with verandas 
 
 and trellis-work, over which are creeping numerous wood 
 bines and multafloras, spreading their fragrant blossoms, 
 giving it an air of sequestered beauty. An arbour of grape 
 vines extends from a little portico at the front to a wicker 
 fence that separates the embankment of a well-arranged 
 garden, in which are pots of rare plants, beds and walks 
 decorated with flowers, presenting great care and taste. 
 A few paces in the rear of the cottage are several " negro 
 cabins" nicely white- washed without, and an air of cheerful 
 ness and comfort reigning within. The hcmse-servants are 
 trimly dressed ; they look and act as if their thoughts and 
 affections were with "mas'r and missus." Their white 
 aprons and clean bright frocks some bombazine, and some 
 gingham give them an appearance of exactness, which, 
 whether it be voluntary or force of discipline, bears evidence 
 of attention in the slave, and encouragement on the part of 
 the master. This is the Villa of Deacon JJosebrook; they 
 call him deacon, by courtesy; in the same sense that Q-eorgia
 
 120 ANOTHEB 8HA.DB OF THE PICTUKE. 
 
 majors and South Carolina generals are honoured with those 
 far-famed titles which so distinguish them when abroad. 
 Perhaps we should be doing the deacon no more than 
 justice if we were to admit that he had preached in very 
 respectable spheres ; but, feeling that he was wanting in the 
 purity of divine love that he could not do justice to his 
 conscience while setting forth teachings he did not follow, 
 he laid the profession aside for the more genial associations 
 of plantation life. Indeed, he was what many called a very 
 easy backslider ; and at times was recognised by the some 
 what singular soubriquet of Deacon Pious-proof. But he 
 was kind to his slaves, and had projected a system singu 
 larly at variance with that of his neighbours a system of 
 mildness, amelioration, freedom. 
 
 His plantation, a small one, some few miles from the 
 Villa, presented the same neatness and comfort, the 
 same cheerfulness among the negroes, and the same kindly 
 feeling between master and slave, which characterised the 
 Villa. 
 
 We enter a neatly-furnished parlour, where the deacon 
 and a friend are seated on a sofa ; various pictures are 
 suspended from the wall, everything betokens New Eng 
 land neatness. The old-fashioned dog-irons and fender 
 are polished to exquisitebrightness, a Brussels carpet spreads 
 the floor, a bright surbase encircles the room ; upon the 
 flossy hearth-rug lies crouched the little canine pet, which 
 Aunt Dolly has washed to snowy whiteness. Aunt Dolly 
 enters the room with a low curtsy, gently raises the 
 poodle, then lays him down as carefully as if he were an 
 heir to the estate. Master is happy, " missus" is happy, 
 and Aunt Dolly is happy ; and the large bookcase, filled 
 with well-selected volumes, adds to the air of contentment 
 everywhere apparent. In a niche stands a large pier-table, 
 upon which are sundry volumes with gilt edges, nets 
 of crosa-work, porcelain ornaments, and card-cases inlaid 
 with mosaic. Antique tables with massive carved feet, in 
 imitation of lions' paws, chairs of curious patterns, reclines 
 and ottomans of softest material, and covered with satin 
 damask, are arranged round the room in harmony and 
 good taste. 
 
 " Now, Mr. Scranton," the deacon says to his friend, who 
 is a tall, prim, sedate-looking man, apparently about forty,
 
 AJTOTHEK SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 121 
 
 " I pity Marstcm ; I pity him because he is a noble-hearted 
 fellow. But, after all, this whispering about the city may 
 be only mother Rumour distributing her false tales. Let 
 us hope it is all rumour and scandal. Come, tell me what 
 do you think of our negroes ?" 
 
 " Nigger character has not changed a bit in my mind, 
 since I came south. Inferior race of mortals, sir! without 
 principles, and fit only for service and submission. A 
 southern man knows their composition, but it takes a 
 northern to study the philosophy it does," replies Mr. 
 Scranton, running his left hand over his forehead, and then 
 his right over the crown of his head, as if to cover a 
 bald spot with the scanty remnant of hair that projected 
 from the sides. 
 
 The deacon smiles at the quaint reply. He knows Mr. 
 Scranton's nortnern tenacity, and begs to differ with him. 
 " You are ultra, a little ultra, in all things, Mr. Scranton. 
 I fear it is that, carried out in morals as well as politics, 
 that is fast reducing our system to degradation and tyranny. 
 You northern gentlemen have a sort of pedantic solicitude 
 for our rights, but you underrate our feelings upon the 
 slavery question. I'm one among the few southerners who 
 hold what are considered strange views : we are subjected 
 to ridicule for our views ; but it is only by those who see 
 nothing but servitude iu the negro, nothing but dollars and 
 cents in the institution of slavery. 
 
 Mr. Scranton is struck with astonishment, interrupts 
 the argument by insisting upon the great superiority of the 
 gentlemen whites, and the Bible philosophy which he can 
 bring to sustain his argument. 
 
 ' : Stop one moment, my philosophic friend," the deacon 
 interposes, earnestly. " Upon that you northerners who 
 come out here to sustain the cause of slavery for the south, 
 all make fools of yourselves. This continual reasoning 
 upon Bible philosophy has lost its life, funeral dirges have 
 been played over it, the instruments are worn out. And 
 yet, the subject of the philosophy lives, he belies it with 
 his physical vigour and moral action. We doubt the sin 
 cerity of northerners ; we have reasons for so doing ; they 
 know little of the negro, and care less. Instead of assist 
 ing southerners who are inclined to do justice to the 
 wretch to be his friend to improve his condition to
 
 122 ANOTHEB SHADE OF THE PICTUBE. 
 
 protect him against a tyrant's wrong, you bring ua into 
 contempt by your proclaiming virtue over the vice we 
 acknowledge belongs to the institution. We know its 
 defects we fear them ; but, in the name of heaven, do not 
 defend them at the cost of virtue, truth, honesty. Do not 
 debase us by proclaiming its glories over our heads ; do 
 not take advantage of us by attempting to make wrong 
 right." The deacon's feelings have become earnest ; his face 
 glows with animation. 
 
 Mr. Scrantou seems discomfited. " That's just like all 
 you southerners : you never appreciate anything we do 
 for you. What is the good of our love, if you always 
 doubt it?" 
 
 " Such love !" says the deacon, with a sarcastic curl on his 
 lip. " It's cotton-bag love, as full of self as a pressed bale " 
 " But, deacon ; you're getting up on the question." 
 " Up as high as northern sincerity is low. Nothing 
 personal," is the cool rejoinder. 
 
 Mr. Scrauton inquires very seriouslywishing it particu 
 larly to be understood that he is not a fighting-man -if 
 Deacon Rosebrook considers all northerners white-washed, 
 ready to deceive through the dim shadows of self. The 
 deacon's frank and manly opinion of northern editors and 
 preachers disturbs Scranton's serious philosophy. " Cotton- 
 bag love!" there's something in it, and contempt at the 
 bottom, he declares within himself. And he gives a serious 
 look, as much as to say " go on." 
 
 " I do ! He who maketh right, what those most interested 
 in know to be wrong, cherishes a bad motive. When a 
 philosopher teaches doctrines that become doubtful in their 
 ultraness, the weakness carries the insincerity, the effort 
 becomes stagnant. Never sell yourself to any class of evils 
 for popularity's sake. If you attempt it you mistake the 
 f;nd, and sell yourself to the obscurity of a political trickster, 
 flatttered by a few, believed by none." 
 
 " Deacon ! a little more moderate. Give us credit for 
 the good we do. Don't get excited, don't. These are 
 ticklish times, and we northerners are quick,to observe " 
 
 " Tes, when it will turn a penny on a nigger or a bale of 
 cotton." 
 
 "Allow me; one minute if you please!" returned 
 Scranton, with a nasal twang peculiar to his class, as he
 
 ANOTHER SHADE OF TUK 1MCTUUK. 123 
 
 began to work himself up into a declamatory attitude. " You 
 southerners don't understand what a force them northern 
 abolitionists are bringing against you ; and you know how 
 slow you are to do things, and to let your property all go 
 to waste while you might make a good speculation on it. 
 There's just the difference of things : we study political 
 economy so as to apply it to trade and such like ; you let 
 things go to waste, just thinking over it. And, you see, 
 it's our nature to be restless and searching out the best 
 avenues for developing trade. Why, deacon, your political 
 philosophy would die out if the New Englander didn't 
 edit your papers and keep your nigger principles straight." 
 
 " Nigger principles straight ! Ah, indeed ! Only another 
 evidence of that cotton-bag love that has caused the banns 
 of matrimony to be published between tyrants who disgrace 
 us and northern speculators. The book-publisher poor 
 servile tool fears to publish Mrs. Johnson's book, lest it 
 should contain something to offend Mrs. Colonel Sporting- 
 ton, at the south. Mr. Stevens, the grocer, dare not put 
 his vote into the ballot-box for somebody, because he fears 
 one of his customers at the south will hear of it. Parson 
 Munson dare not speak what he thinks in a New England 
 village, because Mrs. Bruce and Deacon Donaldson have 
 yearly interests in slaves at the south ; and old Mattock, 
 the boot-maker, thinks it aint right for niggers to be in 
 church with white folks, and declares, if they do go, they 
 should sit away back in one corner, up stairs. He thinks 
 about the combination that brings wealth, old age, and 
 the grave, into one vortex, feels little misgiving upon 
 humanity, but loves the union, and wants nothing said 
 about niggers. "We understand what it all means, Mr. 
 Seranton ; and we can credit it for what it's worth, without 
 making any account for its sincerity and independence. 
 I am one among the few who go for educating the negroes, 
 and in that education to cultivate affections between slave 
 and master, to make encouragement perform the part of 
 discipline, and inspire energy through proper rewards." 
 
 " What ! educate a nigger ! These are pretty prin 
 ciples for a southerner to maintain! Why, sir, if such 
 doctrines were advocated in the body politic they would be 
 incendiary to southern institiHions. Just educate the 
 niggers, and T wouldn't be an editor in the south two days. 
 9
 
 124 AMOTHER SHADE OF THE PICTURE. 
 
 You'd see me tramping, bag and baggage, lor the north, 
 much as I dislike it ! It would never do to educate such a 
 miserable set of wretches as they are. You may depend 
 what I say is true, sir. Their condition is perfectly hope 
 less at the north, and the more you try to teach them, tho 
 greater nuisance they become." 
 
 " Now, my good northern friend, not so fast, if you 
 please ; I can see the evil of all this, and so can you, if you 
 will but study the negro's character a little deeper. The 
 menial man who has passed through generations of oppres 
 sion, and whose life and soul are blotted from the right of 
 manhood, is sensitive of the power that crushes him. He 
 lias been robbed of the means of elevating himself by those 
 who now accuse him of the crime of degradation : and, 
 wherever the chance is afforded him of elevation, as that 
 increases so does a tenacious knowledge of his rights ; yet, 
 he feels the prejudice that cuts and slights him in his pro 
 gress, that charges him with the impudence of a negro, 
 that calls his attempts to be a man mere pompous foolery." 
 " And it is so ! To see a nigger setting himself up among 
 white folks it's perfectly ridiculous!" 
 
 "Mark me, Mr. Scranton: there's where you northerners 
 mistake yourselves. The negro seldom desires to mix with 
 whites, and I hold it better they should keep together ; but 
 that two races cannot live together without the one en 
 slaving the other is a fallacy popular only with those who 
 will not see the future, and obstinately refuse to review the 
 past. You must lessen your delicate sensibilities; and 
 when you make them less painful to the man of colour at 
 the north, believe me, the south will respond to the feeling. 
 Experience has changed my feelings, experience has been 
 my teacher. I have based my new system upon experience ; 
 and its working justifies me in all I have said. Let us set 
 about extracting the poison from our institutions, instead 
 of losing ourselves in contemplating an abstract theory for 
 its government." 
 
 " Remember, deacon, men are not all born to see alike. 
 There are rights and privileges belonging to the southerner : 
 he holds the trade in men right, and he would see the 
 Union sundered to atoms before he would permit the inter 
 vention of the federal gojrernment on that subject," Mr. 
 Scranton seriously remarks, placing his two thumbs in the
 
 ANOTHER SHADE OF T1IE PICIUBE. 125 
 
 arnipitd of his vest, and assuming an air of confidence, as 
 if to say, " I shall outsouthern the southerner yet, I shall." 
 " That's just the point upon which all the villainy of our 
 institution rests : the simple word man ! man a progressive 
 being ; man a chattel, a thing upon which the sordid 
 appetite of every wretch may feed. Why cannot Africa 
 give up men? She has been the victim of Christendom 
 her flesh and blood have served its traffic, have enriched its 
 coffers, and even built its churches ; but like a ferocious 
 wolf that preys upon the fold in spite of watchers, she yet 
 steals Afric's bleeding victims, and frowns upon them because 
 they are not white, nor live as white men live." 
 
 "Mercy on me!" says Mr. Scranton, with a sigh, "you 
 can't ameliorate the system as it stands : that's out of the 
 question. Begin to loosen the props, and the whole fabric 
 will tumble down. And then, niggers won't be encouraged 
 to work at a price for their labour ; and how are you going 
 to get along in this climate, and with such an enormous 
 population of vagabonds?" 
 
 " Eemember, Mr. Scranton," ejaculated the deacon, 
 "there's where you mistake the man in the negro; and 
 through these arguments, set forth in your journal, we 
 suifer. You must have contracted them by association with 
 bad slave-owners. Mark ye ! the negro has been sunk to 
 the depths where we yet curse him ; and is it right that we 
 should keep him cursed ? to say nothing of the semi-bar 
 barous position in which it finds our poor whites. He feels 
 that his curse is for life- time ; his hopes vibrate with its 
 knowledge, and through it he falls from that holy inspira 
 tion that could make him a man, enjoying manhood's rights. 
 Would not our energy yield itself a sacrifice to the same 
 sacrificer ? Had we been loaded with chains of tyranny, 
 what would have been our condition ? Would not that 
 passion which has led the Saxon on to conquest, and spread 
 his energy through the. western world, have yielded when he 
 saw the last shadow of hope die out, and realised that his 
 degradation was for life-time ? Would not the yearnings of 
 such a consummation have recoiled to blast every action of 
 the being who found himself a chattel ? And yet this very 
 chattel, thus yoked in death, toils on in doubts and fears, 
 in humbleness and submission, with unrequited fortitude
 
 126 ANOTHER SHADE OF TUB PICTURE. 
 
 and affection. And still all is doubted that he does, even 
 crushed in the prejudice against his colour !" 
 
 " Well, deacon, you perfectly startle me, to hear a 
 southerner talk that way at the south. If you keep on, 
 you'll soon have an abolition society without sending north 
 for it." 
 
 " That's just what I want. I want our southerners 
 to look upon the matter properly, and to take such steps 
 as will set us right in the eyes of the world. Humanity is 
 progressing witli rapid strides slavery cannot exist before 
 it ! It must fall ; and we should prepare to meet it, and not 
 be so ungrateful, at least, that we cannot reflect upon its 
 worth, and give merit to whom merit is due." Thus were 
 presented the north and south ; the former loses her 
 interests in humanity by seeking to serve the political ends 
 of the latter.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MRS. ROSEBROOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 AT this juncture of the conversation, a sprightly, well- 
 dressed servant opens the parlour-door, announces missus ! 
 The deacon's good lady enters. She is a perfect pattern of 
 neatness, a finely-developed woman of more than ordinary 
 height, with blonde features, and a countenance as full of 
 cheerfulness as a bright May morning. She bows gracefully; 
 her soft eyes kindle with intelligence as she approaches 
 Mr. Scranton, who rises with the coldness of an iceberg. 
 "Be seated, Mr. Scranton," she says, with a voice so full 
 of gentleness, " be seated." Her form is well-rounded, her 
 features exquisite. Mr. Scranton views her seriously, as if 
 he found something of great interest in that marble forehead, 
 those fine features moulding a countenance full of soul, love, 
 and sweetness. Her dress is of plain black brocade, made 
 high at the neck, where it is secured with a small diamond 
 pin, the front opening and disclosing a lace stomacher set 
 with undressed pearls. Bufflets and diamond bracelets, of 
 chaste workmanship, clasp her wrists ; while her light auburn 
 hair, neatly laid in plain folds, and gathered into a plait on 
 the back of her head, where it is delicately secured with 
 gold and silver cord, forms a soft contrast. There is 
 chasteness and simplicity combined to represent character, 
 sense, and refinement. She is the mother of the plantation : 
 old negroes call her mother, young ones clamour with joy 
 when she visits their abodes : her very soul is in their 
 wants ; they look to her for guidance. Their happiness is 
 her pleasure, and by sharing the good fortune that 
 has followed them she has fostered the energy of their 
 negroes, formed them into families, encouraged their 
 morality, impressed them with the necessity of preserving 
 family relations. . Against the stern mandates of the law, 
 she has taught them to read the Bible, reading and explain 
 ing it to them herself. Indeed, she has risen above the
 
 128 MES. EO8EBKOOK.'S PItOJECT. 
 
 law : she has taught the more tractable cues to write ; she 
 has supplied the younger with little story-books, attractive 
 and containing good moral lessons, She rejoices over her 
 system : it is honest, kind, generous, it will serve the 
 future, and is not unprofitable at present. It is different 
 from that pursued by those who would, through the instru 
 mentality of bad laws, enforce ignorance. Nay, to her there 
 is something abhorrent in using the "Word of G-od as an 
 excuse for the existence of slavery. Her system is practi 
 cable, enlightening first, and then enforcing that which gives 
 encouragement to the inert faculties of our nature. Punish 
 ments were scarcely known upon her plantation ; the lash 
 never used. Old and young were made to feel themselves 
 part and parcel of a family compact, to know they had an 
 interest in the crop, to gather hopes for the future, to 
 make home on the old plantation pleasant. There was 
 something refreshing in the pride and protection evinced in 
 the solicitation of this gentle creature for her negroes. 
 In early life she had listened to their fables, had mixed with 
 them as children, had enjoyed their hours of play, had 
 studied their sympathies, and entered with delight into the 
 very soul of their jargon merriment. She felt their wants, 
 and knew their grievances ; she had come forward to be 
 their protector, their mother ! " AVhy, Mr. Scranton," she 
 exclaims, laughingly, in reply to that gentleman's remarks, 
 as she interrupted the conversation between him and the 
 deacon, " we would sooner suffer than sell one of our boys 
 or girls even if the worst came to the worst. I know the 
 value of family ties ; I know how to manage negroes. I 
 would just as soon think of selling our Matilda, I would ! 
 If some of you good northern folks could only see how 
 comfortable my negroes are ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes !" interrupts the deacon, " she takes it all out 
 of my hands ; I'm going to give her the reins altogether 
 one of these days. She has got a nice way of touching a 
 negro's feelings so that anything can be done with him : 
 it tells largely at times." Mr. Scrantou's face becomes 
 more serious ; he doesn't seem to understand this new 
 "nigger philosophy." " Poor creatures !" the deacon con 
 tinues, " how wonderful is the power of encouragement ; 
 how much may be done if proper means are applied " 
 
 ' The Ir u-le is in the means," Mr. Scranton interposes,
 
 MBS. ROSEBUOOK'S PROJECT. 129 
 
 scratching his head, as if ideas were scarce, and valuable for 
 the distance they had to be transported. 
 
 Our good lady smiles. " I cannot help smiling, Mr. 
 Scranton." She speaks softly. " There are two things I 
 want done done quickly : I want southern philosophers to 
 consider, and I want southern ladies to act to put on 
 energy to take less care of themselves and more of the 
 poor negro!" She lays her hand gently upon Mr. Scranton's 
 arm, her soft blue eyes staring him in the face. " When 
 they do this," she continues, " all will be well. "We can 
 soon show the north how much can be done without their 
 assistance. I don't believe in women's rights meetings, 
 not I ; but I hold there should be some combination of 
 southern ladies, to take the moral elevation of the slave 
 into consideration, to set about the work in good earnest, 
 to see what can be done. It's a monster work ; but monster 
 evils can be removed if females will give their hands and 
 hearts to the task. This separating families to serve the 
 interests of traders in human beings must be stopped : 
 females know the pains it inflicts on suffering wretches ; 
 they are best suited to stop that heinous offence in the 
 sight of God and man. They must rise to the work ; they 
 must devise means to stay the waste of fortune now pro 
 gressing through dissipation ; and, above all other things, 
 they must rise up and drive these frightful slave-dealers 
 from their doors." 
 
 Mr. Scranton admits there is something in all this, but 
 suggests that it were better to let the future take care of 
 itself ; there's no knowing what the future may do ; and to 
 let those who come in it enjoy our labours " aint just the 
 policy." He contends willing to admit how much the 
 ladies could do if they would it would not be consistent 
 with the times to put forth such experiments, especially 
 when there is so much opposition. " It wouldn't do !" he 
 whispers. 
 
 The deacon here interrupts Mr. Scranton, by stepping to 
 the door and ordering one of the servants to prepare 
 refreshments. 
 
 " ' It must do ! It won't do !' keeps us where we are, 
 and where we are always complaining that we never have 
 done. You know I speak frankly, Mr. Scranton women 
 may say what they please; and let me tell you, that when 
 
 K
 
 130 MBS. ROSEBBOOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 you do your duty it will do. Hard times never were harder 
 than \vliou everybody thought them hard. "We must infuse 
 principle into our poor people ; we must make them earnest 
 in agricultural pursuits ; we must elevate the character of 
 labour ; we must encourage the mechanic, and give tone to 
 his pursuits ; and, more than all, we must arrest the spread 
 of conventional nonsense, and develope our natural resources 
 by establishing a system of paid labour, and removing the 
 odium which attaches itself to those who pursue such 
 avocations as the slave may be engaged in. My word for 
 it, Mr. Scranton, there's where the trouble lies. Nature 
 has been lavish in her good gifts to the south ; but we must 
 lend Nature a helping hand, we must be the women of 
 the south for the south's good ; and we must break down 
 those social barriers clogging our progress. Nature wants 
 good government to go along with her, to be her handfellow 
 in regeneration ; but good government must give Nature 
 her rights. This done, slavery will cease to spread its 
 loathsome diseases through the body politic, virtue will be 
 protected and receive its rewards, and the buds of prosperity 
 will be nourished with energy and ripen into greatness." 
 
 Mr. Scranton suggests that the nigger question was 
 forced upon him, and thinks it better to change the con 
 versation. Mr.. Scranton was once in Congress, thinks a 
 deal of his Congressional experience, and declares, with great 
 seriousness, that the nigger question will come to something 
 one of these days. " Ah ! bless me, madam," he says, adjusting 
 his arms, " you talk very like a statesman. South 
 erners better leave all this regenerating of slaves to you. But 
 let me say, whatever you may see in perspective, it's mighty 
 dangerous when you move such principles to practice. Mark 
 me ! you'll have to pull down the iron walls of the south, - 
 make planters of different minds, drive self out of mankind, 
 and overthrow the northern speculator's cotton-bag love. 
 You've got a great work before you, my dear madam, a 
 work that'll want an extended lease of your life-time. 
 Kemember how hard it is to convince man of the wrong of 
 anything that's profitable. A paid system, even emancipa 
 tion, would have been a small affair in 1824 or 1827. Old 
 niggers and prime fellows were then of little value ; now it 
 is different. Ton may see the obstacle to your project in 
 the Nashville Convention or Georgia platform "
 
 MES. BOSEBEOOK'S PKOJECT. 181 
 
 " Nashville Convention, indeed!" exclaims Mrs. Ilosebrook, 
 her face infused with animation, and a curl of disdain on 
 her lip. "Such things! Mere happy illustrations of the 
 folly of our political affairs. The one was an exotic do- 
 nothing got up hy Mister Wanting-to-say-something, who 
 soon gets ashamed of his mission ; the other was a mixture 
 of political log-rolling, got up by those who wanted to tell 
 the Union not to mind the Nashville Convention. What 
 a pity they did not tell the Union to be patient with us ! 
 We must have no more Nashville Conventions ; we must 
 change Georgia platforms for individual enterprise, 
 southern conventions for moral regeneration. Give us these 
 changes, and we shall show you what can be done without 
 the aid of the north." Several servants in tidy dresses, 
 their white aprons looking so clean, come bustling into the 
 room and invite missus and her guest into an airy ante 
 room, where a table ia bountifully spread with cake, fruit, 
 fine old Madeira, and lemonade. Mr. Scranton bows and 
 asks "the pleasure;" Mrs. Bosebrook acknowledgingly 
 takes his arm, while the negroes bow and scrape as they 
 enter the room. Mr. Scranton stands a few moments 
 gazing at the set-out. " I hope Mr. Scranton will make 
 himself quite at home," the good lady interposes. Every 
 thing was .so exquisitely arranged, so set off with fresh- 
 plucked flowers, as if some magic hand had just touched 
 the whole. 
 
 "Now!" continued Mrs. Kosebrook, motioning her head 
 as she points to the table : " you'll admit my negroes can 
 do something ? Poor helpless wretches, we say continually : 
 perhaps they are worse when bad owners can make the 
 world look upon them through northern prejudice. They 
 are just like children ; nobody gives them credit for being 
 anything else ; and yet they can do much for our good. It 
 would trouble some persons to arrange a table so neatly ; 
 my boys did it all, you see!" And she exults over the 
 efficiency of her negroes, who stand at her side acknow 
 ledging the compliment with broad grins. The deacon helps 
 Mr. Scranton, who commences stowing away the sweet 
 meats with great gusto. " It is truly surprising what 
 charming nigger property. you have got. They don't seem 
 a bit like niggers." he concludes deliberately taking amouth- 
 ful. Mrs. Kosebrook, pleased at the honest remark, 
 reminds him that the deacon carries out her views most
 
 132 ims. KOSEBEOOK'S PKOJECT. 
 
 charmingly, that she studies negro character, and knows 
 that by stimulating it with little things she promotes good. 
 She studies character while the deacon studies politics. At 
 the same time, she rather ironically reminds Mr. Scranton 
 that the deacon is not guilty of reading any long-winded 
 articles on " state rights and secession." "Not he!" she 
 says, laughingly ; " you don't catch him with such cast-iron 
 material in his head. They call him pious-proof now and 
 then, but he's progress all over." 
 
 Mr. Scranton, attentive to his appetite, draws a serious 
 face, gives a side glance, begs a negro to supply his plate 
 anew, and reckons he may soon make a new discovery in 
 southern political economy. But he fears Mrs. Rosebrook's 
 plan will make a mongrel, the specific nature of which it 
 would be difficult to define in philosophy. Perhaps it will 
 not be acceptable to the north as a thinking people, nor will 
 it please the generosity of southern ladies. 
 
 " There is where the trouble lies !" exclaimed the deacon, 
 who had until then yielded up the discussion to his good lady. 
 " They look upon our system with distrust, as if it were 
 something they could not understand." 
 
 " I move we don't say another word about it, but take 
 our part quietly," says Mrs. Rosebrook, insinuating that 
 Mr. Scranton had better be left to take his refreshment 
 comfortably ; that he is a little misanthropic ; that he must 
 be cheered up. " Come, my boys" directing her conver 
 sation to the negroes " see that Mr. Scranton is cared for. 
 And you must summon Daddy ; tell him to get the carriage 
 ready, to put on his best blue coat, that we are going to 
 take Mr. Scranton over the plantation, to show him how 
 things can prosper when we ladies take a hand in the 
 management." The negro leaves to execute the order: 
 Mr. Scranton remains mute, now and then sipping his wine. 
 He imagines himself in a small paradise, but "hadn't the 
 least idea how it was made such a place by niggers." Why, 
 they are just the smartest things in the shape of property 
 that could be started up. Regular dandy niggers, dressed 
 up to " shine so," they set him thinking there was some 
 thing in his politics not just straight. And then, there was 
 BO much intelligence, so much politeness about the critters ! 
 Why, if it had not been for the doctrines he had so long 
 held, he \vn;il-.i haw felt bashful at his want of ease and suavity,
 
 MBS. KOSEBEOOKS PHOJECT. i 
 
 things seldom taught in the New England village where 
 our pro-slavery advocate was born and educated. 
 
 Presently servants are seen outside, running here and 
 there, their eyes glistening with anxiety, as if preparing 
 for a May-day festival. Old Dolly, the cook, shining with 
 the importance of her profession, stands her greasy portions 
 in the kitchen door, scolds away at old Dad, whose face 
 smiles with good-nature as he fusses over the carriage, 
 wipes it, rubs it, and brushes it, every now and then stop 
 ping to see if it will reflect his full black face. Little 
 woolly-headed urchins are toddling round old Maum Dolly, 
 pulling the folds of her frock, teasing for cakes and 
 fritters. One, more expert in mischief, has perched him 
 self in an aperture over the door, substituting himself for 
 the old black hat with which it is usually filled. Here, his 
 face like a full moon in a cloud, he twists his moving fingers 
 into the ingeniously- tied knot of Dolly's bandana, which 
 he cunningly draws from her head. Ben and Loblolly, two 
 minor sprats of the race, are seated in the centre of the 
 yard, contending for the leaves of a picture-book, which, 
 to appease their characteristic inquisitiveness, they have 
 dissected. Daddy has the horses ready and the carriage 
 waiting; and Uncle Bradshaw, the coachman, and Caesar, 
 the likely fellow, wait at the door with as much satisfac 
 tion expressed in their faces as if it were all for them. 
 Missus is not to be outdone in expertness : a few minutes 
 ago she was " snaring" Mr. Scran ton with his own phi 
 losophy ; now she is ready to take her^eat. 
 
 " Missus ! I wants t' go down yander wid ye, I doe," says 
 Daddy, approaching her with hand extended, and working 
 his black face up into a broad grin as he detects Mr. 
 Scranton's awkwardness in getting into the carriage. 
 
 " Certainly, Daddy, certainly : you shall go. Daddy 
 knows how to get alongside of Aunt Rachel when he gets 
 down on the plantation. He knows where to get a good 
 cup of coffee and a waff." And she pats the old negro on 
 the head as he clambers up on the box. " No,- him aint 
 dat. Daddy want t' go wid missus ya'h, ya ! dat him, 
 tis. Missus want somebody down da'h what spry, so'e 
 take care on 'em round de old plantation. Takes my missus 
 to know what nigger is," says Daddy, taking off his cap, 
 and bowing missus into the carriage.
 
 134 MRS. ROSEBEOOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 "Not one word for mas'r, eh, Daddy?" rejoins the 
 deacon, lookup playfully at Daddy. " Why, Boss, you 
 aint nofin whin missus about," returns Daddy, tauntingly, 
 as he buttons his grey coat, and tells Bradshaw to " go 
 ahead !" Away they go, galloping over the plain, through 
 the swamp, for the plantation, that model experiment 
 doubted by so many. Major Sprag, the politician, and 
 Judge Snow, the statesman, had declared publicly it never 
 would do any good. With them it was not practical, it 
 gave negroes too much liberty; and they declared the 
 system must be kept within the narrowest sphere of law, or 
 it would be destroyed for ever. 
 
 Onward the carriage bounded, and long before it reached 
 the plantation gate was espied by the negroes, who came 
 sallying forth from their white cabins, crying out at the 
 top of their voices " Missus comin' ! Missus comin ! 
 Da'h missus dat she ! I know'd missus wa' comin' t' day !" 
 and the music of their voices re-echoed through the arbour 
 of oaks that lined the road. Their tongues seemed to have 
 taken new impulse for the occasion. The dogs, at full run, 
 came barking to the gate ; old daddies and mammas, with 
 faces " all over smiles," followed in the train. And they 
 were dressed so tidily, looked so cheerful, and gave such 
 expressions of their exuberant feelings, that Mr. Scranton 
 seemed quite at a loss how to account for it. He had never 
 "before witnessed such a mingling of fondness for owners, 
 the welcome sounds of " Grod bless good missus !" They 
 were at variance wi{;h the misanthropic ideas he had im 
 bibed at the north. And then there was a regular retinue 
 of the " small- fry property" bringing up the rear, with 
 curious faces, and making the jargon more confounding 
 with the music of their voices. They toddled, screamed, 
 and shouted, clustered around the gate, and before Daddy 
 had time to dismount, had it wide open, and were contend 
 ing for the palm of shaking missus by the hand "fust." 
 
 The carriage drives to the plantation house, followed by 
 the train of moving darkness, flocking around it like as many 
 de\ otees before an object of superstitious worship. Mas'r 
 is only a secondary consideration, Missus is the angel of 
 their thoughts ; her kindness and perseverance in their 
 behalf has softened their feelings stimulated their energy. 
 How touching is the fondness and tenderness of these de-
 
 MHS. ROSEBBOOK'S PROJECT. I3o 
 
 graded mortals ! They love their benefactor. And, too, there 
 is a lesson in it worthy the statesman's consideration, it 
 shows a knowledge of right, and a deep sense of gratitude for 
 kindness bestowed. Mrs. Eosebrook alights from the car 
 riage, receives their warm congratulations, and, turning to 
 Mr. Scranton, touches him on the arm, and remarks : 
 " Now, here they are. Poor old bodies," taking them by 
 the hand in rotation just like as many children. " "What 
 do you think of them, Mr. Scranton ? do you not find 
 a softening sympathy creeping upon you ? I forgot, 
 though, your political responsibility ! Ah ! that is the point 
 with statesmen. You feel a touch of conscience once in a 
 while, but cannot speak for fear of the consequences." 
 And she laughs heartily at Mr. Scranton, who draws his face 
 into a very serious length. " Pest the niggers !" he says, 
 as they gather at his feet, asking all sorts of importune 
 questions. 
 
 " My good lady is a regular reformer, you see, Mr. 
 Scranton," rejoins the deacon, as he follows that gentleman 
 into the hall. 
 
 Mr. Scranton remarks, in reply, that such does not be 
 come caste, and two pompous-looking servants set upon him 
 brushing the dirt from his clothes with great earnestness. 
 The negroes understand Mr. Scranton at a glance ; he is an 
 amiable stoic ! 
 
 Mrs. Eosebrook disappears for a few minutes, and returns 
 minus her bonnet and mantle. She delights to have the old 
 and the young around her, to study their characters, to 
 hear their stories, their grievances, and to relieve their 
 wants. " These little black imps," she says, patting them 
 on the head as they toddle around her, " They're just as full 
 of interest as their shiny black skins are full of mischief;" 
 and one after another, with hand extended, they seek a re 
 cognition ; and she takes them in her arms, fondling them 
 with the affection of a nurse. 
 
 " Here's Toby, too ; the little cunning rascal ! He is as 
 sleek as a mole, a young coon," she ejaculates, stooping down 
 and playfully working her fingers over Toby's crispy hair, aa 
 he sits upon the grass in front of the house, feasting on a 
 huge sweet potato, with which he has so bedaubed his face 
 that it looks like a mask with the terrific portrayed in the 
 rolling of two immense white eyes. "And here is Nichol
 
 136 MHS. ROSECROOK'S PUOJECT. 
 
 Garvie !" and she turns to another, pats him on the head, 
 and shakes his hand. " "We mean to make a great man of 
 him, you see, -he has head enough to make a Congress man ; 
 who knows but that he'll get there when he grows up P" 
 
 "Congress, happily, is beyond niggers," replies Mr. 
 Scranton, approving the lady : " Congress is pure yet !" 
 Turning round, she recommends Mr. Scranton to put his 
 northern prejudices in his pocket, where they will be safe 
 when required for the purposes of the south. " A nigger 's 
 a nigger all over the world," rejoins Mr. Scrauton, signifi 
 cantly shrugging his shoulders and casting a doubtful 
 glance at the young type. 
 
 "True! true !" she returns, giving Mr. Scranton a look 
 of pity. " God give us sight to see ! We praise our fore 
 fathers honest praise ! but we forget what they did. They 
 brought them here, poor wretches ; decoyed them, deceived 
 them, and now we wish them back at the very time it would 
 be impossible to live without them, liow happy is the mind 
 that believes a ' nigger' must be a nigger for ever and ever ; 
 and that we must do all in our power to keep him from 
 being anything else !" And her soft blue eyes glowed with 
 sympathy ; it was the soul of a noble woman intent on doing 
 good. She had stepped from the darkness of a political 
 error into the airy height of light and love. 
 
 Daddy and Bradshavv had taken care of the horses ; the 
 deacon greeted his negroes as one by one they came to 
 welcome him ; and for each he had a kind word, a joke, a 
 shake of the hand, or an enquiry about some missing member 
 of a family. The scene presented an interesting picture 
 the interest, policy, and good faith between master and 
 slave. No sooner were the horses cared for, than Daddy 
 and Bradshaw started for the "cabins," to say welcome to 
 the old folks, "a heap a' how de" to the gab, and tell de 
 boys, down yander, in de tater patch, dat Missus come. 
 They must have their touching congratulations, inter 
 change the news of the city for the gossip of the planta 
 tion, and drink the cup of tea Mamma makes for the occa 
 sion. Soon the plantation is all agog ; and the homely, but 
 neat cabins, swarm with negroes of all ages, bustling here 
 and there, and making preparations for the evening supper, 
 which Aunt Peggy, the cook, has been instructed to prepare 
 in her verv best stvle.
 
 MRS. KOSEBKOOK'S PROJECT. 137 
 
 The deacon joins his good lady, and, with Mr. Scrariton, 
 they prepare to walk over and view the plantation. They 
 are followed by a retinue of old and young property, giving 
 vent to their thoughts in expressions of gratitude to Missus 
 and Mas'r. A broad expanse of rural beauty stretches 
 towards the west, soft and enchanting. The sun is sinking 
 into the curtains of a refulgent cloud ; its crimson light casts 
 a mellow shade over the broad landscape ; the evening 
 breeze is wafting coolly over the foliage, a welcome relief to 
 the scorching heat of mid-day; the balmy atmosphere 
 breathes sweetness over the whole. To the north stands 
 a clump of fine old oaks, high above the distant " bottom," 
 reflecting in all their richness the warm tints of the setting 
 sun. The leaves rustle as they pass along ; long lines of 
 cotton plants, with their healthy blossoms, brighten in the 
 evening shade ; the corn bends under its fruit ; the potato 
 field looks fresh and luxuriant, and negroes are gathering 
 from the slip-beds supplies of market gardening. There is 
 but one appearance among the workers cheerfulness ! 
 They welcome Mas'r as he passes along ; and again busily 
 employ themselves, hoeing, weeding, and working at the 
 roots of vines in search of destructive insects. 
 
 " My overseers are all black, every one ! I would'nt have 
 a white one ; they are mostly tyrants," says the deacon, 
 looking at his fields, exultingly. " And my overseers plan 
 out the very best mode of planting. They get through 
 a heap of work, with a little kindness and a little manage 
 ment. Those two things do a deal, Sir ! Five years ago, I 
 projected this new system of managing negroes or, rather 
 my lady planned it, she is a great manager, you see, and 
 I adopted it. You see how it has worked, Mr. Scranton." 
 The deacon takes Mr. Scranton by the arm, pointing over 
 the broad expanse of cultivated land, bending under the 
 harvest. I make all my negroes marry when they have 
 arrived at a specific age ; I assure them I never will sell 
 one unless he or she commits a heinous crime ; and I never 
 have. There is a great deal in keeping faith with a negro ; 
 he is of mankind, and moved by natural laws mentally and 
 physically, and feels deeply the want of what we rarely re 
 gard of much consequence confidence in his master's word. 
 Wife encourages their moral energy ; I encourage their 
 physical by filling their bellies with aa nmch corn and bacon
 
 138 MRS. ROSKBROOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 as they can eat ; and then I give them five cents per day 
 (the heads of families) to get those little necessaries which 
 are so essential to their comfort and encouragement. I call 
 it our paid-labour system ; and I give them tasks, too, and 
 when they have finished them I allow a small stipend for 
 extra work. It's a small mite for a great end ; and it's 
 such an encouragement with them that I get about thirty 
 per cent, more work done. And then 1 allow them to read 
 just as much as they please what do I care about law ? 
 I don't want to live where learning to read is dangerous to 
 the State, I don't. Their learning to read never can de 
 stroy their affections for me and wife ; and kindness to 
 them will make them less dangerous in case of insurrection. 
 It's not the education we've got to fear; our fears increase 
 with the knowledge of our oppression. They know these 
 things they feel them ; and if by educating them one can 
 cultivate their confidence, had we not better do it with a 
 view to contingencies ? Now, as the result of our system, 
 we have promised to give all our negroes their freedom at 
 the expiration of ten years, and send such as wish to go, to 
 Liberia ; but, I hold that they can do as much for us at 
 home, work for us if properly encouraged, and be good free 
 citizens, obedient to the laws of the State, serving the 
 general good of a great country." 
 
 "Yes!" the good lady interposes: "I want to see those 
 things carried out ; they will yet work for the regeneration 
 of their own race. Heaven will some day reward the hand 
 that drags the cursed mantle from off poor Africa ; and Africa 
 herself will breathe a prayer to Heaven in grateful acknow 
 ledgment of the act that frees her from the stain of 
 being the world's bonded warehouse for human flesh and 
 blood." 
 
 The deacon interrupts, suggests " that it were better to 
 move practically; and that small streams may yet direct 
 how a mountain may be removed. Our Union is a great 
 monument of what a Republic may be, a happy combination 
 of life, freshness, and greatness, upon which the Old World 
 looks with distrust. The people have founded its happiness 
 its greatness ! God alone knows its destiny ; crowned heads 
 would not weep over its downfall ! It were better each 
 citizen felt his heart beating to the words It is my country ; 
 cursed be the hand raised to sever its members !" The lady
 
 MBS. EOSEBEOOK'S PEOJECT. 139 
 
 tells Mr. Scranton that their produce has increased every 
 year ; that last year they planted one hundred and twenty 
 acres with cotton, ninety with corn, forty with sweet 
 potatoes, as many more with slips and roots; and three 
 acres of water-melons for the boys, which they may eat or 
 sell. She assures him that by encouraging the pay system 
 they get a double profit, besides preparing the way fop 
 something that must come. 
 
 " Come !" Mr. Scranton interrupts : " let the south be 
 true to herself, and there's no fear of that. But I confess, 
 deacon, there is something good as well as curious about 
 your way of treating niggers." And Mr. Scrauton shakes 
 his head, as if the practicability yet remained the great 
 obstacle in his mind. ' Your niggers ain't every body's," 
 he concludes. 
 
 " Try it, try it !" Mrs. Eosebrook rejoins : " Gro home and 
 propound something that will relieve us from fear some 
 thing that will prepare us for any crisis that may occur!" 
 
 It was six o'clock, the plantation bell struck, and the cry 
 sounded "All hands quit work, and repair to supper!" 
 Scarcely had the echoes resounded over the woods when the 
 labourers were seen scampering for their cabins, in great glee. 
 They jumped, danced, jostled one another, and sang the 
 cheering melodies, " Sally put da' hoe cake down !" and 
 " Down in Old Tennessee." 
 
 Beaching their cabins they gathered into a conclave 
 around Daddy and Bradshaw, making the very air resound 
 with their merry jargon. Such a happy meeting such 
 social congratulations, pouring forth of the heart's affec 
 tions, warm and true, it had never been before Mr. 
 Scranton's fortune to witness. Indeed, when he listened to 
 the ready flashes of dialogue accompanying their animation, 
 and saw' the strange contortions of their fresh, shining faces, 
 he began to " reckon" there was something about niggers 
 that might, by a process not yet discovered, be turned into 
 something. 
 
 Old " Mammies" strive for the honour of having Daddy 
 and Bradshaw sup at their cabins, taunting each other on 
 the spareness of their meal. Fires are soon lit, the stew- 
 pans brought into requisition, and the smoke, curling up 
 ward among a myriad of mosquitoes, is dispersing them 
 like a band of unwelcome intruders ; while the corn-mills 
 10
 
 140 MRS. ROSEBROOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 rattle and rumble, making the din and clatter more con 
 founding. Daddy and Bradshaw being " aristocratic darkies 
 from the city" caste being tenaciously kept up among 
 negroes were, of course, recipients of the choicest delicacies 
 the plantation afforded, not excepting fresh eggs poached, 
 and possum. Bradshaw is particularly fond of ghost stories ; 
 and as old Maum Nancy deals largely in this article, as well 
 as being the best believer in spectres on the plantation, he 
 concludes to sup with her, in her hospitable cabin, when she 
 will relate all that she has seen since she last saw him. 
 Maum Nancy is as black as a crow, has a rich store of 
 tales on hand ; she will please the old man, more particu 
 larly when she tells him about the very bad ghost seen 
 about the mansion for more than " three weeks of nights." 
 He has got two sarpents' heads ; Maum Nancv declares the 
 statement true, for uncle Enoch " seen him," he is a grey 
 ghost and might a' knocked him over with his wattle, 
 only he darn't lest he should reek his vengeance at some 
 unexpected moment. And then he was the very worst kind 
 of a ghost, for he stole all the chickens, not even leaving the 
 feathers. They said he had a tail like the thing Mas'r 
 Sluck whipped his "niggers" with. Bradshaw sups of 
 Maum Nancy's best, listening to her stories with great 
 concern. The story of the ghost with two heads startles 
 him ; his black picture, frame fills with excitement ; he has 
 never before heard that ghosts were guilty of predatory 
 crimes. So enchained and excited is he with her story, that 
 the party at the house having finished supper, have made 
 preparations to leave for the city. A finger touches him on 
 the shoulder ; he startles, recognises Daddy, who is in search 
 of him, and suddenly becomes conscious that his absence has 
 caused great anxiety. Daddy has found him quietly eating 
 Maum Nancy's cakes, while intently listening to the story 
 about the ghost "what" steals all her chickens. He is 
 quite unconcerned about Mas'r, Missus anything but the 
 ghost ! He catches his cap, gives Nancy's hand a AA-arm 
 shake, says Q-od bless 'em, hastens for the mansion, finds 
 the carriage waiting at the door, for Mas'r and Missus, who 
 take their seats as he arrives. Bradshaw mounts the box 
 again, and away it rolls down the oak avenue. The happy 
 party leave for home ; the plantation people are turned out 
 en masse to say good bye to Missus, and " hope Mas'r get
 
 MES. ROSEBROOK'S PROJECT. 141 
 
 safe home." Their greetings aound forth as the carriage 
 disappears in the distance ; fainter and fainter the good wish 
 falls upon their ears. They are well on the road ; Mr. 
 Scranton, who sits at the side of the good lady, on the back 
 seat, has not deigned to say a word : the evening grows 
 dark, and his mind seems correspondingly gloomy. " I tell 
 you, I feel so pleased, so overjoyed, and so happy when I visit 
 the plantation, to see those poor creatures so happy and so 
 full of fondness ! It's worth all the riches to know that one 
 is loved by the poor. Did you ever see such happiness, 
 Mr. Scranton ?" Mrs. Bosebrook enquires, coolly. 
 
 " It requires a great deal of thinking, a great deal of 
 caution, a great deal of political foresight, before answering 
 such questions. You'll pardon me, my dear madam, I know 
 you will ; I always speak square on questions, you know. 
 It's hard to reconcile oneself to niggers being free." 
 
 " Ah ! yes it's very amiable to think ; but how much 
 more praiseworthy to act ! If we southern ladies set our 
 selves about it we can do a great deal ; we can save the poor 
 creatures being sold, like cows and calves, in this free country. 
 We must save ourselves from the moral degradation that is 
 upon us. What a pity Marston's friends did not make 
 an effort to change his course ! If they had he would not 
 now be in the hands of that Graspum. We are surrounded 
 by a world of temptation ; and yet our planters yield to 
 them ; they think everything a certainty, forgetting 
 that the moment they fall into Graspum's hands they are 
 gone." 
 
 Mr. Scranton acknowledges he likes the look of things on 
 the plantation, but suggests that it will be considered an 
 innovation, an innovation too dangerous to be considered. 
 Innovations are dangerous with him, unpopular, cannot 
 amount to much practical good. He gives these insinua 
 tions merely as happy expressions of his own profound 
 opinion. The carriage approaches the villa, which, seen 
 from the distance, seems sleeping in the calm of night. Mr. 
 Scranton is like those among us who are always fearing, but 
 never make an effort to remove the cause ; they, too, are 
 doggedly attached to political inconsistency, and, though 
 at times led to see the evil, never can be made to acknow 
 ledge the wrong. They reach the garden gate; Mr. 
 Scrauton begs to be exctised from entering the Villa, takes
 
 142 MRS. ROSEBROOK'S PROJECT. 
 
 a formal leave of his friend, and wends his way home, 
 thinking. " There's something in it !" he says to himself, as 
 he passes the old bridge that separates the city from the 
 suburb. " It's not so much for the present ns it is for the 
 hereafter. Nobody thinks of repairing this old bridge, and 
 yet it has been decaying under our eyes for years. Some day 
 it will suddenly fall, a dozen people will be precipitated into 
 the water below, some killed ; the city will then resound 
 with lamentations ; every bodyknows it must take place one 
 of these days, everybody is to blame, but no special criminal 
 can be found. There's something in the comparison !" he 
 says, looking over the old railing into the water. And then 
 his thoughts wandered to the plantation. There the germs 
 of an enlightened policy were growing up ; the purity of a 
 noble woman's heart was spreading blessings among a down 
 cast race, cultivating their minds, raising them up to do 
 good for themselves, to reward the efforts of the benefactor. 
 Her motto was : Let us through simple means seek the 
 elevation of a class of beings whose degradation has dis 
 tracted the political wisdom of our happy country, from its 
 conquest to the present day. " There's something in it," 
 again mutters Mr. Scranton, as he enters his room, lights 
 his taper, and with his elbow resting on the table, his head 
 supported in his hand, sits musing over the subject.
 
 THE PLANTATION CHURCH. 
 
 'Peace reisrns at Rosebrook's plantation. How vivid of happiness was the scene 
 presented in that plantation church."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ELDER PEMBERTON PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 LET us beg the reader's indulgence for a few moments, 
 while we say that Mr. Scrauton belonged to that lar ^e class 
 of servile flatterers who too often come from the New England 
 States men, who, having no direct interest in slaves, make 
 no scruple of sacrificing their independence that they may 
 appear true to the south and slavery. Such men not unfre- 
 quently do the political vampirism of the south without 
 receiving its thanks, but look for the respect of political 
 factions for being loudest supporters of inconsistency. They 
 never receive the thanks of the southerner ; frequently and 
 deservedly do they sink into contempt ! 
 
 A few days after the visit to the plantation we have 
 described in the foregoing chapter, Elder Pemberton 
 Praiseworthy, divested of his pastoral occupation, and seri 
 ously anxious to keep up his friendly associations with those 
 who had taken a part in furthering the cause of humanity, 
 calls on his old acquaintance, Mrs. Kosebrook. He has 
 always found a welcome under her hospitable roof, a good 
 meal, over which he could discourse the benefits he bestowed, 
 through his spiritual mission, upon a fallen race ; never 
 leaving without kindly asking permission to offer up a 
 prayer, in which he invoked the mercy pf the Supreme Ruler 
 over all things. In this instance he seems somewhat down 
 cast, forlorn ; he has changed his business ; his brown, lean 
 face, small peering eyes, and low forehead, with bristly black 
 hair standing erect, give his features a careworn air. He 
 apologises for the unceremonious call, and says he always 
 forgets etiquette in his fervour to do good ; to serve his 
 fellow-creatures, to be a Christian among the living, and 
 serve the dying arid the dead if such have wants is his 
 motto. And that his motives may not be misconstrued he has 
 come to report the peculiar phases of the business he found 
 it actually necessary to turn his hand to. That he will gain 
 a complete mastery over the devil he has not the fraction of
 
 144 ELDER PHAISEWOBTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 a doubt ; and as he has always deeming him less harmless 
 than many citizens of the south -had strong prejudices 
 against that gentleman, he now has strong expectations 
 of carrying his point against him. Elder Praiseworthy once 
 heard a great statesman who said singular things as well in 
 as out of Congress say that he did'nt believe the devil was 
 a bad fellow after all ; and that with a little more schooling 
 he might make a very useful gentleman to prevent duelling 
 in a word, that there was no knowing how we'd get along 
 at the south without such an all-important personage. He 
 has had several spells of deep thinking on this point, which, 
 though he cannot exactly agree with it, he holds firmly to 
 the belief that, so far as it affects duelling, the devil should 
 be one of the principals, and he, being specially ordained, 
 the great antagonist to demolish him with his chosen weapon 
 humanity. 
 
 " They tell me you have gone back into the world," says 
 Mrs. Rosebrook, as the waiter hands Elder Pemberton Praise 
 worthy a chair. " It's only the duty of love, of Christian 
 goodness, he humbly replies, ftnd takes his seat as Mrs. 
 Rosebrook says "pray be seated!" 
 
 " I'm somewhat fatigued ; but it's the fatigue of loving to 
 do good, he says, rubbing his hands very piously, and giving 
 a look of great ministerial seriousness at the good lady. We 
 will omit several minor portions of the Elder's cautious 
 introduction of his humane occupation, commencing where he 
 sets forth the kind reasons for such a virtuous policy. 
 " You honestly think you are serving the Lord, do you ?" 
 enquires the lady, as she takes her seat. 
 
 The Elder evinces- surprise at such a question. Hath he 
 moved among Christians so many years, ministering to 
 spiritual wants, and yet the purity of his motives be ques 
 tioned ? " Good madam ! we must have faith to believe. 
 All that is meant well should be accepted in the greatness of 
 the intention. You will observe, I am neither a lawyer nor 
 a politician ; I would' nt be for the world ! "We must always 
 be doing something for the good of others ; and we must not 
 forget, whilst we are doing it, to serve the Allwise one ; and 
 while we are effecting the good of one we are serving the 
 designs of the other." Thus emphatically spoke the Elder, 
 fingering a book that lay on the table. " I buy sick people, 
 I save the dying, and I instruct them in the" wavs of the
 
 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 145 
 
 Lord as soon as they are cured, aucl " And here the 
 Elder suddenly stops. 
 
 " Add, Mr. Praiseworthy, that when you have cured them, 
 and instructed them in the way of the Lord, you sell them !" 
 interrupts the lady, watching the sudden changes that pass 
 over his craven features. 
 
 " I always get them good masters ; I never fail in that, 
 do I stand upon the profit it's the humanity I takes 
 into the balance." He conceives good under the motley 
 garb of his new mission. 
 
 " Humanity strange humanity, with self coiled beneath. 
 Why, Mr. Praiseworthy !" the lady starts from her seat, and 
 speaks with emphasis, " do you tell me that you have become 
 a resurrection man, standing at the platform of death, inter 
 posing with it for a speculation ?" 
 
 "It's no uncommon business, Madam ; hundreds follow 
 it ; some have got rich at it." 
 
 " Got rich at it !" Mrs. Eosebrook interrupts, as a saga 
 cious looking cat bounds on the table, much to the dis 
 comfiture of the Elder, who jumps up in a great fright, 
 " "What irresistible natures we have ; may heavea save us 
 from the cravings of avarice!" 
 
 The Elder very methodically puts the interrupting cat 
 upon the floor, and resumes his seat. " Why, bless us, 
 good madam, we must have something to keep our con 
 sciences clear ; there's nothing like living a straightforward 
 life." 
 
 "What a horrible inconsistency! Buying the sick and 
 the dying. May the dead not come in for a portion of 
 your singular generosity ? If you can speculate in the dying 
 why exclude the dead ? the principle would serve the same 
 faith in Christianity. The heart that can purchase the 
 dying must be full of sad coldness, dragging the woes and 
 pains of mortality down to a tortuous death. Save us from 
 the feelings 'of speculation, call them Christian, if you 
 will, that makes man look upon a dying mortal, valuing bat 
 the dollars and cents that are passing away with his life," 
 she interrupts, giving vent to her pent-up feelings. 
 
 Mr. Praiseworthy suggests that the good lady does not 
 comprehend the virtue lying beneath his motives ; that it 
 takes a philosophical mind to analyse the good that can be 
 done to human nature, especially poor black human nature.
 
 146 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 And he asserts, with great sincerity, that saving the lives of 
 those about to die miserable deaths is a wonderful thing for 
 the cause of humanity. Buying them saves their hopeless 
 lives ; and if that isn't praiseworthy nothing can be, and 
 when the act is good the motive should not be questioned. 
 
 " Do you save their lives for a Christian purpose, or is it 
 lucre you seek, Mr. Praiseworthy?" she enquires, giving the 
 Elder a significant look, and waiting for a reply. 
 
 The Elder rises sedately, and walks across the room, con 
 sidering his reply. " The question's so kind of round 
 about," he mutters, as she continues : 
 
 " Sick when you purchase, your Christianity consists in 
 the art of healing; but you sell them, and consequently 
 save their lives for a profit. There is no cholera in our 
 plantation, thank God ! you cannot speculate on our sick. 
 You outshine the London street Jews ; they deal in old 
 clothes, you deal in human oddities, tottering infirmity, sick 
 negroes." Mrs. Rosebrook suggests that such a business 
 in a great and happy country should be consigned to its 
 grave-digger and executioner, or made to pay a killing 
 income tax. 
 
 The humane Elder views his clothes ; they have become 
 somewhat threadbare since he entered upon his new pro- 
 fession. He, as maybe supposed, feels the force of the 
 lady's remarks, and yet cannot bring his mind to believe 
 himself actuated by anything but a love to do good. Kind 
 ness, he contends, was always the most inherent thing in hia 
 nature: it' is an insult to insinuate anything degrading 
 connected with his calling. And, too, there is another con 
 solation which soars above all, it is legal, and there is a 
 respectability connected with all legal callings. 
 
 "To be upright is my motto, madam," the Elder says, 
 drawing his hand modestly over his mouth, and again 
 adjusting the tie of his white neck-cloth. "I'm trying to 
 save them, and a penny with them. You see the Lord 
 forgive him ! my dear madam, Maraton didn't do the clean 
 thing with me ; and, the worst of all was, he made a preacher 
 of that nigger of his. The principle is a very bad one for 
 nigger property to contend for ; and when their masters 
 permit it, our profession is upset ; for, whenever a nigger 
 becomes a preacher, he's sure to be a profitable investment 
 for his owner. There is where it injures us ; and we have
 
 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 147 
 
 no redress, because the nigger preacher is his master's 
 property, aud his master can make him preach, or do what 
 he pleases with him," says Mr. Praiseworthy, becoming 
 extremely serious. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, self pinches the principles ; I see where it 
 is, Elder," says the lady. But you were indiscreet, given 
 to taking at times ; aud the boy Harry, proving himself 
 quite as good at preaching, destroyed your practice. I 
 wish every negro knew as much of the Bible as that boy 
 Harry. There would be no fear of insurrections ; it would 
 be the greatest blessing that ever befell the South. It 
 would make some of your Christians blush, perhaps 
 ashamed." 
 
 " Ashamed ! ashamed ! a thing little used the way times 
 are," he mutters, fretting his fingers through his bristly 
 hair, until it stands erect like quills on a porcupine's back. 
 This done, he measuredly adjusts his glasses on the tip of 
 his nose, giving his tawny visage an appearance at once 
 strange and indicative of all the peculiarities of his peculiar 
 character. " It wasn't that," he says, " Marston did'nt 
 get dissatisfied with my spiritual conditions ; it was the 
 saving made by the negro's preaching. But, to my new 
 business, which so touches your sensitive feelings. If you 
 will honour me, my dear madam, with a visit at my hospital, 
 I am certain your impressions will change, and you will do 
 justice to my motives." 
 
 " Indeed !" interrupts the lady, quickly, " nothing would 
 give me more gratification, I esteem any person engaged 
 in a laudable pursuit ; but if philanthropy be expressed 
 through the frailties of speculation, especially where it is 
 carried out in the buying and selling of afflicted men and 
 women, I am willing to admit the age of progress to have 
 got ah^ad of me. However, Elder, 1 suppose you go upon 
 the principle of what is not lost to sin being gained to the 
 Lord : and if your sick property die pious, the knowledge 
 of it is a sufficient recompense for the loss." Thus saying, 
 she readily accepted the Elder's kind invitation, and, 
 ordering a basket of prepared nourishment, which, together 
 with the carriage, was soon ready, she accompanied him to 
 his infirmary. They drove through narrow lanes and streets, 
 lined with small dilapidated cottages, and reached a wooden 
 tenement near the suburb of the city of C . It
 
 148 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 was surrounded by a lattice fence, the approach being 
 through a gate, on which was inscribed, " Mr. Praise- 
 worthy's Infirmary ; " and immediately below this, in small 
 letters, was the significant notice, " Planters having the 
 cholera and other prevailing diseases upon their plantations 
 will please take notice that I am prepared to pay the 
 highest price for the infirm and other negroes attacked with 
 the disease. Offers will be made for the most doubtful 
 cases !" 
 
 " Elder Praiseworthy ! " ejaculates the lady, starting back, 
 and stopping to read the strange sign. " ' Offers will be 
 made for the most doubtful cases!'" she mutters, turning 
 towards him with a look of melancholy. " "What thoughts, 
 feelings, sentiments ! That means, that unto death you 
 have a pecuniary interest in their bodies ; and, for a price, 
 you will interpose between their owners and death. The 
 mind so grotesque as to conceive such a purpose should be 
 restrained, lest it trifle with life unconsciously." 
 
 "You see," interrupts Mr. Praiseworthy, looking more 
 serious than ever, " It's the life saved to the nigger ; he's 
 grateful for it ; and if they ain't pious just then, it gives 
 them time to consider, to prepare themselves. My little 
 per centage is small it's a mean commission ; and if it 
 were not for the satisfaction of knowing how much good I 
 do, it wouldn't begin to pay a professional gentleman." 
 As the Elder concludes his remarks, melancholy sounds are 
 breaking forth in frightful discord. From strange mur- 
 murings it rises into loud wailings and implorings. " Take 
 me, good Lord, to a world of peace !" sounds in her ears, as 
 they approach through a garden and enter a door that 
 opens into a long room, a store-house of human infirmity, 
 where moans, cries, and groans are made a medium of 
 traffic. The room, about thirty feet long and twenty wide, 
 is rough-boarded, contains three tiers of narrow berths, one 
 above the other, encircling its walls. Here and there on 
 the floor are cots, which Mr. Praiseworthy informs us are for 
 those whose cases he would not give much for. Black nurses 
 are busily attending the sick property ; some are carrying 
 bowls of gruel, others rubbing limbs and quieting the cries 
 of the frantic, and again supplying water to quench thirst. 
 On a round table that stands in the centre of the room is a 
 large medicine-chest, disclosing papers, pills, powders,
 
 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HTS BUSINESS. 149 
 
 phials, and plasters, strewn about in great disorder. A 
 bedlam of ghastly faces presents itself, dark, haggard, and 
 frantic with the pains of the malady preying upon the 
 victims. One poor wretch springs from his couch, crying, 
 " Oh, death ! death! come soon!" and his features glare 
 with terror. Again he utters a wild shriek, and bounds 
 round the room, looking madly at one and another, as if 
 chased by some furious animal. The figure of a female, 
 whose elongated body seems ready to sink under its disease, 
 sits on a little box in the corner, humming a dolorous air, 
 and looking with glassy eyes pensively around the room at 
 those stretched in their berths. For a few seconds she is 
 quiet ; then, contorting her face into a deep scowl, she 
 gives vent to the most violent bursts of passion, holds her 
 long black hair above her head, assumes a tragic attitude, 
 threatens to distort it from the scalp. " That one's lost her 
 mind she's fitty; but I think the devil has something to 
 do with her fits. And, though you wouldn't think it, she's 
 just as harmless as can be," Mr. Praiseworthy. coolly remarks, 
 looking at Mrs. Bosebrook, hoping she will say something 
 encouraging in reply. The lady only replies by asking him 
 if he purchased her from her owner? 
 
 Mr. Praiseworthy responds in the affirmative, adding 
 that she doesn't seem to like it much. He, however, has 
 strong hopes of curing her mind, getting it " in fix " again, 
 and making a good penny on her. " She's a'most white, 
 and, unfortunately, took a liking to a young man down 
 town. Marston owned her then, and, being a friend of 
 hers, wouldn't allow it, and it took away her senses ; he 
 thought her malady incurable, and sold her to me for a 
 little or nothing," he continues, with great complacency. 
 
 This poor broken flower of misfortune holds down her 
 head as the lady approaches, gives a look of melancholy 
 expressive of shame and remorse. " She's sensitive for a 
 nigger, and the only one that has said anything about being 
 put among men," Mr. Praiseworthy remarks, advancing a 
 few steps, and then going from berth to berth, descanting 
 on the prospects of his sick, explaining their various 
 diseases, their improvements, and his doubts of the dying. 
 The lady watches all his movements, as if more intently 
 interested in Mr. Praiseworthy's strange character. " And 
 here's one," he says, " I fear I shall lose ; and if I do, there's
 
 150 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHAKGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 fifty dollars gone, slap ! " and he points to an emaciated 
 yellow man, whose body is literally a crust of sores, and 
 whose painful implorings for water and nourishment are 
 deep and touching. 
 
 " Poor wretch !" Mr. Praiseworthy exclaims, " I wish 
 I'd never bought him it's pained my feelings so ; but I 
 did it to save his life when he was most dead with the 
 rheumatics, and was drawn up as crooked as branch cord- 
 wood. And then, after I had got the cinques out of him 
 after nearly getting him straight for a ' prime fellow' 
 (good care did the thing), he took the water on the chest, 
 and is grown out like that." He points coolly to the 
 sufferer's breast, which is fearfully distended with disease; 
 saying that, " as if that wasn't enough, he took the lepors, 
 and it's a squeak if they don't end him." He pities the 
 " crittur," but has done all he can for him, which he would 
 have done if he hadn't expected a copper for selling him 
 when cured. "So you see, madam," he reiterates, "it 
 isn't all profit. I paid a good price for the poor skeleton, 
 have had all my trouble, and shall have no gain except the 
 recompense of feeling. There was a time when I might 
 have shared one hundred and fifty dollars by him, but I felt 
 humane towards him ; didn't want him to slide until he 
 was a No. 1." Thus the Elder sets forth his own goodness of 
 heart. 
 
 "Pray, what do you pay a head for them, Mr. Praiseworthy?" 
 enquires the lady, smoothing her hand over the feverish head 
 of the poor victim, as the carnatic of her cheek changed to 
 pallid languor. Pursuing her object with calmness, she 
 determined not to display her emotions until fully satisfied 
 how far the Elder would go. 
 
 " That, madam, depends on cases ; cripples are not worth 
 much. But, now and then, we get a legless fellow what's 
 sound in body, can get round sprightly, and such like ; and, 
 seeing how we can make him answer a sight of purposes, 
 he'll bring something," he sedately replies, with muscles 
 unmoved. " Cases what doctors give up as ' done gone,' 
 we gets for ten and twenty dollars ; cases not hanging 
 under other diseases, we give from thirty to fifty and so 
 on ! Remember, however, you must deduct thirty per cent, 
 for death. At times, where you would make two or three 
 hundred dollars by curing one, and saving his life, you lose
 
 ELDEE PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BPSIXESS. 151 
 
 three, sometimes half-a-dozen head." The Elder consoles 
 his feelings with the fact that it is not all profit, looks 
 highly gratified, puts a large cut of tobacco in his mouth, 
 thanks Q-od that the common school-bill didn't pass in the 
 legislature, and that his business is more humane than 
 people generally admit. 
 
 " How many have you in all ?" 
 
 " The number of head, I suppose ? "Well, there's about 
 thirty sick, and ten well ones what I sent to market last 
 week. Did-n-'t make -a good market, though," he 
 drawls out. 
 
 " You are alone in the business ?" 
 
 " Well, no ; I've a partner Jones ; there's a good many 
 phases in the business, you see, and one can't get along. 
 Jones was a nigger-broker, and Jones and me went into 
 partnership to do the thing smooth up, on joint account. 
 I does the curing, and he does the selling, and we both 
 turns a dollar or two " 
 
 " Oh, horrors S" interrupts the lady, looking at Mr. 
 Praiseworthy sarcastically. " Murder will out, men's senti 
 ments will betray them, selfishness will get above them all; 
 ornament them as you will, their ornaments will drop, 
 naked self will uncover herself and be the deceiver." 
 
 "Not at all!" the Elder exclaims, in his confidence. 
 " The Lord's will is in everything ; without it we could 
 not battle with the devil ; we relieve suffering humanity, 
 and the end justifies the means." 
 
 "You should have left out the means: it is only the end 
 you aim at." 
 
 " That's like accusing Deacon Seabury of impious motives, 
 because he shaves notes at an illegal interest. It's worse 
 because what the law makes legal the church should not 
 make sinful." This is Praiseworthy's philosophy, which he 
 proclaims while forgetting the existence of a law of con 
 science having higher claims than the technicalities of 
 statutes. "We must look to that to modify our selfishness, 
 to strengthen our love for human laws when founded in 
 justice. 
 
 " And who is this poor girl?" enquires Mrs. Eosebrook, 
 stepping softly forward, and taking her by the hand. 
 
 " Marston's once ; some Indian in her, they say. She's 
 right fair looks when she's herself. Marston's in trouble
 
 "152 ELDER PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS. 
 
 now, and the cholera has made sad havoc of his niggers," 
 Mr. Praiseworthy replies, placing a chair, and motioning his 
 hand for the lady to be seated. The lady seats herself 
 beside the girl, takes her hand. 
 
 " Yes, missus ; God bless good missus. Te don't know 
 me now," mutters the poor girl, raising her wild glassy 
 eyes, as she parts the long black hair from her forehead : 
 " you don't know me ; I'm changed so !" 
 
 " My child, who has made you this wretch ?" says the 
 good lady, pressing her tawny hand. 
 
 " My child !" she exclaims, with emphasis : " My child 
 Nicholas, my child ! Missus, save Nicholas ; he is my 
 child. Oh ! do save him !" and, afc if terrified, she grasps 
 tighter the lady's hand, while her emotions swell into a 
 frantic outburst of grief. " Nicholas, my child !" she shrieks, 
 
 " She will corne to, soon : it's only one of her strange 
 fits of aberration. Sometimes I fling cold water over her ; 
 and, if it's very cold, she soon comes to," Mr. Praiseworthy 
 remarks, as he stands unmoved, probably contemplating 
 the goodness of a forgiving God. What magic simplicity 
 lies concealed in his nature ; and yet it is his trade, sanc 
 tioned by the law of a generous state. Let us bless the 
 land that has given us power to discover the depths to 
 which human nature can reduce itself, and what man can 
 make himself when human flesh and blood become iiicro 
 things of traffic. 
 
 " That gal's name is Ellen. I wish I knew all that has 
 turned up at Marston's," remarks the Elder. 
 
 "Ellen!" ejaculates the lady, looking at her more 
 intently, placing her left hand under her chin. " Not 
 Ellen Juvarna?" 
 
 " Tes, good missus the lady has distributed her nourish 
 ment among the sick that's my name," she says, raising 
 her eyes with a look of melancholy that tells the tale of her 
 troubles. Again her feelings subside into quiet ; she seems 
 in meditation. " I knowed you once, good missus, but you 
 don't know me now, I'm changed so !" she whispers, the 
 good lady holding her hand, as a tear courses down her 
 cheek " I'm changed BO !" sh'e whispers, shaking her head.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 A FATHER TRIES TO BE A FATUEB. 
 
 WE have conducted the reader through scenes perhaps 
 unnecessary to our narration, nevertheless associated with 
 and appertaining to the object of our work. And, in this 
 sense, the reader cannot fail to draw from them lessons 
 developing the corrupting influences of a body politic that 
 gives one man power to sell another. They go to prove 
 how soon a man may forget himself, how soon he may 
 become a demon in the practice of abominations, how soon 
 he can reconcile himself to things that outrage the most 
 sacred ties of our social being. And, too, consoling him 
 self with the usages of society, making it right, gives 
 himself up to the most barbarous practices. 
 
 AVhen. we left Marston in a former chapter, he had become 
 sensible of the wrong he so long assisted to inflict upon 
 innocent and defenceless persons ; and, stung with remorse 
 made painful by the weight of misfortune, had avowed 
 his object of saving his children. Yet, strange as it may 
 seem, so inured were his feelings to those arbitrary 
 customs which slave-owners are educated to view as privi 
 leges guaranteed in the rights of a peculiar institution 
 -the rights of property in the being slave that, although 
 conscious of his duty toward the children, no sooner had 
 the mother of 'Nicholas been attacked with cholera, than he 
 sold her to the Elde# Pemberton Praiseworthy, in whose 
 infirmary we have just left her. The Elder, since his dis 
 charge from parochial life, from ministering the gospel, has 
 transferred his mission to that of being the partner in a 
 firm, the ostensible business of which is purchasing the 
 sick, the living, and the dying. 
 
 Do not blush, reader; you know not how elastic dealing 
 in human kind makes man's feelings. Gold is the beacon- 
 light of avarice ; for it man will climb over a catacomb of 
 the dead. In this instance the very man Marston who,
 
 154 A FATHER TRIES TO BE A FATHER. 
 
 touched by misfortune, began to cherish a father's natural 
 feelings, could see nothing but property in the mother, 
 though he knew that mother to be born free. Perhaps it was 
 not without some compunction of feelings perhaps it was 
 done to soften the separation at that moment so necessary 
 to the preservation of the children. But we must leave 
 this phase of tbo picture, and turn to another. 
 
 Graspum had diligently watched Marston's affairs, and 
 through the cunning and perseverance of Romescos, care 
 fully noted every movement on the plantation. Each death 
 from cholera was reported, the change in Marston's feelings 
 observed and provided against, every stage of the crop 
 carefully watched. Graspum, however, had secured him 
 self in the real estate, and gave little heed to the epidemic 
 that was carrying off the negro property. Finally, to pass 
 over several stages in the decline of Marston's affairs, the 
 ravages of the disease continued until but forty-three 
 negroes, old and young, were left on the old homestead. 
 The culminating point had arrived. He was in the grasp of 
 Graspum, and nothing could save him from utter ruin. 
 It had lately been proved that the Eovero family, instead 
 of being rich, were extremely poor, their plantation having 
 long been under a mortgage, the holder of which was 
 threatening foreclosure. 
 
 "With Marston, an amount of promiscuous debts had 
 accumulated so far beyond his expectation that he was 
 without means of discharging them. His affairs became 
 more and more confused, while the amount of his liabilities 
 remained a perfects obscurity to the community. Humour 
 began to disseminate his troubles, suspicion summoned her 
 charges, and town-talk left little unadded ; while those of 
 his creditors who had been least suspicious of his wealth 
 and honour became the most importunate applicants for 
 their claims. At length, driven by* the pressure of the 
 times, he calls Clotilda to him, and tells her that he ia 
 resolved to send Annette and Nicholas into the city, where 
 they will remain in the care of a coloured woman, until an 
 opportunity offers of sending them to the north. He is fond 
 of Clotilda, tells her of the excitement concerning hia 
 business affairs, and impresses her with the necessity of 
 preserving calmness ; it is requisite to the evasion of any 
 ulterior consequence that may be brought upon him. Every-
 
 A FATHEB TBIES XO BE A FATHER. 155 
 
 thing hangs upon a thread a political thread, a lawful 
 thread a thread that holds the fate of thirty, forty, or fifty 
 human beings that separates them from that verge of 
 uncertainty upon which a straw may turn the weal or woe 
 of their lives. "When I get them comfortably cared for, 
 Clotilda, I will send for you. Nicholas's mother has gone, 
 but you shall be a mother to them both," lie says, looking 
 upon her seriously, as if contemplating the trouble before 
 him in the attempt to rescue his children. 
 
 "You will not send Annette away without me?" she 
 inquires, quickly, falling on her knees at his side, and re 
 iterating, " Don't send Annette away without me, don't, 
 mas'r !" 
 
 " The separation will only be for a few days. Annette 
 shall be educated I care not for the laws of our free land 
 against it and together you shall go where your parentage 
 will not shame you, where you may ornament society," he 
 replies, as Clotilda's face lights up with satisfaction. With 
 such an assurance she does not comprehend the tenour of 
 his troubles' her freedom seems at hand : it excites her to 
 joy. Marston retires and she takes his seat, writes a note 
 to Maxwell, who is then in the city, relating what has 
 transpired, and concluding with a request that he will call 
 and see her. 
 
 A few days passed, and the two children were sent into the 
 city and placed in the charge of a free woman, with instruc 
 tions to keep them secreted for several weeks. This move 
 ment being discovered by Bomescos, was the first signal 
 for an onset of creditors. Graspum, always first to secure 
 himself, in this instance compelled Marston to succumb to 
 his demands by threatening to disclose the crime Lorenzo 
 had committed. Forcing him to fulfil the obligation in the 
 bond, he took formal possession of the plantation. This 
 increased the suspicion of fraud; there was a mystery some 
 where, nobody could solve it. Marston, even his former 
 friends declared, was a swindler. He could not be honestly- 
 indebted in so large an amount to Grraspum ; nor could he 
 be so connected with such persons without something being 
 wrong 1 somewhere. Friends began to insinuate that they 
 had been, misled j and not a few among those who had 
 enjoyed his hospitality were first inclined to scandalise hui 
 integrity. Graspum had foreseen all this, and, with 
 
 11
 
 166 A FATHEE TEIES TO BE A FATHEB. 
 
 Bomescos, who had purloined the bill of sale, was prepared 
 to do any amount of swearing. Marston is a victim of 
 circumstances; his proud spirit prompts him to preserve 
 from disgrace the name of his family, and thus he the more 
 easily yielded to the demands of the betrayer. Hence, 
 Graspum, secure in his ill-gotten booty, leaves his victim to 
 struggle with those who come after him. 
 
 A few weeks pass over, and the equity of Graspum's 
 claim is questioned : his character for honour being doubted, 
 gives rise to much comment. The whole thing is denounced 
 proclaimed a concerted movement to defraud the rightful 
 creditors. And yet, knowing the supremacy of money 
 over law in a slave state, Graspum's power, the revenge his 
 followers inflict, and their desperate character, not one 
 dare come forward to test the validity of the debt. They 
 know and fear the fierce penalty : they are forced to fall 
 back, to seize his person, his property, his personal effects. 
 
 In this dilemma, Marston repairs to the city, attempts to 
 make an arrangement with his creditors, singularly fails ; he 
 can effect nothing. Wherever he goes his salutation meets 
 a cold, measured response ; whisper marks him a swindler. 
 The knife stabs deep into the already festered wound. 
 Misfortune bears heavily upon a sensitive mind ; but accu 
 sation of wrong, when struggling under trials, stabs deepest 
 into the heart, and bears its victim suffering to the very 
 depths of despair. 
 
 To add to this combination of misfortunes, on his return 
 to the plantation he found it deserted, a sheriff's keeper 
 guarding his personal effects, his few remaining negroes 
 seized upon and marched into the city for the satisfaction of 
 his debts. Clotilda has been seized upon, manacled, driven 
 to the city, committed to prison. Another creditor has 
 found out the hiding-place of the children ; directs the 
 sheriff, who seizes upon them, like property of their kind, 
 and drags them to prison. Oh, that prison walls were 
 made for torturing the innocent ! 
 
 Marston is left poor upon the world ; Ellen Juvarna is 
 in the hands of a resurrectionist ; Nicholas a bright boy he 
 has grown is within the dark confines of a prison cell, 
 along with Clotilda and Annette. Melancholy broods over 
 the plantation now. The act of justice, the right which 
 Marston saw through wrong, and which he had intended to
 
 A fATHEH TRIES TO BE A FATHEB. 157 
 
 carry out, is now beyond his power. Stripped of those 
 comforts he had enjoyed, his offspring carried off as trophies 
 of avarice, perhaps for sale to some ruffian, who would set 
 a price upon their beauty, he sits down, sick at heart, and 
 weeps a child's tears. The mansion, so long the scene of 
 pleasure and hospitality, is like a deserted barrack ; still, 
 gloomy, cold, in the absence of familiar faces. No servant 
 comes to call him master, Dandy and Enoch are gone ; 
 and those familiar words, so significant of affection between 
 master and slave, " Glad to see ye home, mas'r," no longer 
 sounded in his ears. Even his overseer has become alarmed, 
 and like the rest levied for arrears of wages. 
 
 There is nothing for Marston but to give up all, to leave 
 the home of his childhood, his manhood, his happier days. 
 He is suddenly reminded that there is virtue in fortitude ; 
 and, as he gazes round the room, the relics of happier days 
 redouble his conviction of the evil he has brought upon 
 himself by straying from the paths of rectitude. Indeed, 
 so sudden was his fall from distinction, that the scene around 
 him seemed like a dream, from which he had just awoke to 
 question its precipitancy. "A sheriff is here now, and 
 I am a mere being of sufferance," he says, casting a moody 
 glance around the room, as if contemplating the dark 
 prospect before him. A few moments' pause, and he rises, 
 Avalks to the window, looks out upon the serene scene spread 
 out before the mansion. There is the river, on which he has 
 spent so many pleasant hours, calmly winding its way 
 through deep green foliage mellowed by the moonlight. 
 Its beauties only remind him of the past. He walks away, 
 struggles to forget, to look above his trials. He goes to the 
 old side-board that has so long given forth its cheer ; that, 
 too, is locked! "Locked to me!" he says, attempting to 
 open its doors. A sheriff's lock hangs upon them. Accus 
 tomed to every indulgence, each check indicated a doubt of 
 his honour, wounding his feelings. The smaller the restraint 
 the deeper did it pierce his heart. "While in this despond 
 ing mood, vainly endeavouring to gain resolution to carry 
 him through, a gentle rap is heard at the door. "Who can 
 it be at this hour ? he questions to himself. N"o servant is 
 near him ; servants have all been led into captivity for the 
 satisfaction of debts. He approaches the door and opens 
 it himself, looking cautiously into the corridor. There,
 
 158 A FATHER TRIES TO BE A FATHER. 
 
 crouched in a niche, alternately presenting fear and joy, 
 fear lest he be seen by the enemy, and joy to see his 
 master, is a dark figure with the familiar face of Daddy 
 Bob, Bob of the old plantation. The old, faithful servant 
 puts out his wrinkled hand nervously, saying, " Oh, good 
 mas'r !" He has looked up to Marston with the same love 
 that an affectionate child does to a kind parent ; he has 
 enjoyed mas'r's warm welcome, nurtured his confidence, 
 had his say in directing the affairs of the plantation, and 
 watched the frailties that threatened it. 
 
 "Why, Daddy Bob! Can it be you?" Marston says, 
 modulating his voice, as a change comes over his feelings. 
 
 " Dis is me, mas'r ; it is me," again says the old man. He 
 is wet with the night dew, but his heart is warm and affec 
 tionate. Marston seizes his hand as if to return the old 
 man's gratitude, and leads him into the room, smiling. 
 " Sit down, Bob, sit down !" he says, handing him a chair. 
 The old servant stands at the chair hesitatingly, doubting 
 his position. " Fear nothing, Bob ; sit down. You are 
 my best friend," Marston continues. Bob takes a seat, 
 lays his cap quietly upon the floor, smiles to see old mas'r, 
 but don't feel just right because there's something wrong: 
 he draws the laps of his jacket together, covers the remnant 
 of a shirt. " Mas'r, what be da' gwine to do wid de old 
 plantation ? Tings, Bob reckon, b'nt gwine straight," he 
 speaks, looking at Marston shyly. The old slave knew his 
 master's heart, and had waited for him to unfold its, beat 
 ings ; but the kind heart of the master yielded to the burden 
 that was upon it, and never more so than, when moved by 
 the strong attachment evinced by the old man. There was 
 mutual sympathy pourtrayed in the tenderest emotions. 
 The one was full of grief, and, if touched by the word of 
 a friend, would overflow ; the other was susceptible of 
 kindness, knew something had befallen his master, and was 
 ready to present the best proofs of his attachment. 
 
 "And how did you get here, ray old faithful?" inquires 
 Marston, drawing nearer to him. 
 
 " "Well, mas'r, ye see, t'ant just so wid nigger what don' 
 know how tings is ! But, Bob up t' dese tings. I sees 
 Buckra, what look as if he hab no rights on dis plantation, 
 grab'n up all de folks. And Lor,' mas'r, old Bob could'nt 
 leave mas'r no how. An, den, when da' begins to chain de
 
 A FATHEB, TELES TO BE A FATHER. 159 
 
 folks up da' chain up old Kachel, mas'r ! Old Bob feel so 
 de {.lantation war'nt no-whare; and him time t'be gwine. 
 Da'h an't gwiue t' cotch old Bob, and carry 'm way from 
 mas'r, so 1 jist cuin possum ober dem stows away yander, 
 dowu close in de old corn crib, " 
 
 "And you eluded the sheriff to take care of me, did you, 
 Daddy?" interrupts Marston, and again takes the old man's 
 hand. 
 
 " Oh, mas'r, Bob ain't white, but 'is feelins get so fo' h 
 mas'r, he can't speak 'em," the old slave replies, pearls 
 glistening in his eyes. " My feelings feel so, I can't speak 
 'em !" And with a brother's fondness he shakes his master's 
 hand. 
 
 We must beg the reader's indulgence here for the purpose 
 of making a few remarks upon the negro's power of obser 
 vation. From the many strange disquisitions that have been 
 put forward on the mental qualities of the man of colour 
 more particularly the African few can be selected which 
 have not had for their object his disqualification. His power 
 of observation has been much undervalued ; but it has been 
 chiefly by those who judge him by a superficial scale, or 
 from a selfish motive. In the position of mere property, he 
 is, of necessity, compelled to yield all claims to mental 
 elevation. And yet, forced to degradation, there are few 
 negroes on the plantation, or in the spheres of labour, who 
 do not note the rise and fall of their master's fortunes, study 
 the nature and prospects of the crop, make enquiries about 
 the market, concoct the best economy in managing lands, 
 and consult among themselves as to what would promote the 
 interests of the whole. So far is this carried out, that in 
 many districts a rivalry for the largest amount of crop on a 
 given space is carried on among the slaves, who not unfre- 
 quently " chafe" each other upon the superior wealth and 
 talent of their masters. It is a well-known fact, that 
 John C. Calhoun's slaves, in addition to being extremely 
 fond of him, were proud and boastful of his talent. 
 
 Daddy Bob is an exemplification. The faithful old slave 
 had become sensible of something wrong on the plantation : 
 he saw the sheriff seizing upon the families, secreted himself 
 in the corn crib, and fled to the woods when they were out 
 of sight. Here, sheltered by the myrtle, he remained until 
 midnight, intently watching the mansion for signs of old
 
 160 A FATHEB TBIE3 TO BE A FATHER. 
 
 mas'r." Suddenly a light glimmers from the window ; the 
 old slave's feelings bound with joy ; he feels it an invitation 
 for him to return, and, leaving his hiding-place, approaches 
 the house stealthily, and descries his master at the window. 
 Confidence returns, his joy is complete, his hopes have not 
 misled him. Hungry and wet, he has found his way back to 
 master, whose face at the window gladdens his heart, 
 carries him beyond the bounds of caution. Hence the 
 cordial greeting between the old slave and his indulgent 
 master. We hear the oft-expressed words "Master! I 
 love ye, I do !" Marston gets a candle, lights the old man 
 to a bed in the attic, bids him good night, and retires.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE EXTREMES ABE PRESENTED. 
 
 WHILE the gloomy prospect we have just presented hovered 
 over Marston's plantation, proceedings of no minor im 
 portance, and having reference to this particular case, are 
 going on in and about the city. Maxwell, moved by 
 Clotilda's implorings, had promised to gain her freedom for 
 her ; but he knew the penalty, feared the result of a failure, 
 and had hesitated to make the attempt. The consequences 
 were upon him, he saw the want of prompt action, and 
 regretted that the time for carrying his resolution into effect 
 had passed. The result harassed him ; he saw this daughter 
 of misfortune, on her bended knees, breathing a prayer to 
 Omnipotence for the deliverance of her child ; he remem 
 bered her appeal to him, imploring him to deliver her from 
 the grasp of slavery, from that licentiousness which the 
 female slave is compelled to bear. He saw her confiding in 
 him as a deliverer, the sight haunted him unto madness ! 
 Her child ! her child ! Yes, that offspring in which her 
 hopes were centered ! For it she pleaded and pleaded ; for 
 it she offered to sacrifice her own happiness ; for it' she 
 invoked the all-protecting hand. That child, doomed to a 
 life of chattel misery ; to serve the lusts of modern barbarism 
 in a country where freedom and civilization sound praises 
 from ocean to ocean ; to be obscured in the darkness and 
 cruelty of an institution in which justice is scoffed, where 
 distress has no listeners, and the trap-keepers of men's souls 
 scorn to make honest recompense while human flesh and 
 blood are weighed in the scale of dollars and cents ! He 
 trembles before the sad picture ; remonstrances and en 
 treaties from him will be in vain; nor can he seize them 
 and carry them off. His life might be forfeited in the 
 attempt, even were they without prison walls. JS^o ! il is 
 almost hopeless. In the narrow confines of a securely grated 
 cell, where thoughts and anxieties waste the soul in disap 
 pointment, and where hopes only come and go to spread 
 
 M
 
 !-"::2 EXTREMES ARE PRESENTED. 
 
 time with grief, he could only see her and her child as 
 suffered. The spectacle had no charm ; and those who car 
 ried them iiito captivity for the satisfaction of paltry debts 
 could not be made to divest themselves of the self in nature. 
 Cries and sobs were nothing, such were poor stock for 
 " niggers" to have ; pains and anxieties were at a discount, 
 chivalry proclaimed its rule, and nothing was thought well 
 of that lessened the market value of body and soul. 
 Among great, generous, hospitable, and chivalrous men, 
 such things could only be weighed in the common scale of 
 trade. 
 
 Again, Maxwell remembered that Marston had unfolded 
 his troubles to him, and being a mere stranger the confidence 
 warranted mutual reciprocity. If it were merely an act 
 dictated by the impulse of his feelings at that moment, the 
 secret was now laid broadly open. He was father of the 
 children, and, sensible of their critical situation, the sting 
 was goading him to their rescue. The question was would 
 he interpose and declare them as such ? Ah, he forgot 
 it was not the lather's assertion, it was the law. The crime 
 of being property was inherited from the mother. Acknow 
 ledging them his children would neither satisfy law nor the 
 creditors. What honourable we except the moderuly 
 chivalrous man would see his children jostled by the 
 ruffian trader ? What man, with feelings less sensitive than 
 iron, would see his child sold to the man-vender for purposes 
 so impious that heaven and earth frowned upon them ? 
 And yet the scene was no uncommon one ; slavery affords 
 the medium, and men, laying their hearts aside, make it 
 serve their pockets. Those whom it would insult to call less 
 than gentlemen have covered their scruples with the law, 
 while consigning their own offspring to the hand of an 
 auctioneer. Man property is subvervient material, woman 
 is even more ; for where her virtue forms its tissues, and can 
 be sold, the issue is indeed deplorable. Again, where vice 
 is made a pleasure, and the offspring of it become a burden 
 on our hands, slavery affords the most convenient medium of 
 getting rid of the incumb ranee. They sell it, perhaps pro 
 fitably, and console themselves with the happy recollection 
 of what a great thing it is to live in a free country, where 
 one may get rid of such things profitably. It may save our 
 shame in the eyes of man, but Grod sees all, records the 
 wrong !
 
 EXTREMES ARE PRESENTED. 163 
 
 Thus Maxwell contemplated the prospects before him. 
 At length he resolved to visit Marston upon his plantation, 
 impress him with the necessity of asserting their freedom, in 
 order to save them from being sold with the effects of the 
 estate. 
 
 He visits Marston' s mansion, finds the picture sadly 
 changed ; his generous friend, who has entertained him so 
 hospitably, sits in a little ante-chamber, pensively, as jf 
 something of importance has absorbed his attention. No 
 well-dressed servants welcome him with their smiles and 
 grimaces ; no Franconia greets him with her vivacity, her 
 pleasing conversation, her frankness and fondness for the 
 old servants. No table is decked out with the viands of the 
 season Marston's viands have turned into troubles, lone 
 liness reigns throughout. It is night, and nothing but the 
 dull sound of the keeper's tread breaks the silence. His 
 (Maxwell's) mission is a delicate one. It may be con 
 strued as intrusive, he thinks. But its importance out 
 weighs the doubt, and, though he approaches with caution, 
 is received with that embrace of friendship which a gentle 
 man can claim as his own when he feels the justice of the 
 mission of him who approaches, even though its tenor be 
 painful. Maxwell hesitated for afew moments,looked silently 
 upon the scene. Trouble had already left its prints of sad 
 ness upon Marston's countenance ; the past, full of happy 
 associations, floated in his mind ; the future ah ! that 
 was . Happily, at that moment, he had been contem 
 plating the means by which he could 'save Clotilda and the 
 children. He rises, approaches Maxwell, hands him a 
 chair, listens to his proposal. " If I can assist you, we will 
 save them," concludes Maxwell. 
 
 " That," he replies, doubtingly, " my good friend, has en 
 gaged my thoughts by night and day has made me most 
 uneasy. Misfortune likes sympathy ; your words are as 
 soothing as praiseworthy. I will defend my children if 
 every creditor call me swindler. I will destroy the infernal 
 bill of sale, I will crush the hell-born paper that gives life 
 to deeds so blocdy, I will free them from the shame !" Thus, 
 his teelings excited to the uttermost, he rises from his seat, 
 approaches a cupboard, draws forth the small trunk we have 
 before described, unlocks it. " That fatal document is here, 
 I put it here, I will destroy it now ; I will save them through
 
 164 EXTREMES ABE PRESENTED. 
 
 its destruction. There shall be no evidence of Clotilda's 
 mother being a slave, oh no !" he mutters rapidly, running 
 his fingers over packages, papers, and documents. Again he 
 glances vacantly over the whole file, examining paper after 
 paper, carefully. He looks in vain. It is not there ; there is 
 no document so fatal. Sharper men have taken better care 
 of it. " It is not here !" he whispers, his countenance 
 becoming pallid and death-like. "Not here!" and they 
 will swear to suit their purposes. Oaths are only worth 
 what they bring in the market, among slave dealers. But, 
 who can have taken it ?" he continues, looking wildly at 
 Maxwel). Consternation is pictured on his countenance ; 
 he feels there is intrigue at work, and that the want of that 
 paper will prove fatal to his resolution. A man in trouble 
 always confides in others, sometimes those whom he would 
 scarce have trusted before. He throws the paper aside, 
 takes a seat at Maxwell's side, grasps him by the hand, 
 saying, " My friend ! save them ! save them ! save them ! 
 Use what stratagem you please ; make it the experiment of 
 your life. Consummate it, and a penitent's prayer will bless 
 
 you ! I see the impending catastrophe " 
 
 " We may do without it ; be quiet. Let your feelings 
 calm. I have consulted Franconia on the same subject. 
 Woman can do much if she will ; and she has promised me 
 she will. My knowledge of her womanly nature tells me 
 she will be true to Clotilda !" Maxwell speaks assuringly, 
 and his words seem as'balm to a wounded spirit. 
 
 The bill of sale was among the things intended for a more 
 profitable use. Marston has satisfied Grraspum's claim ; but 
 he knew that slavery deadened the sensibilities of men. Yet, 
 could it have so deadened Grraspum's feeling that he would 
 have been found in a plot against him ? No ! he could not 
 believe it. He would not look for foul play from that 
 quarter. It might have been mislaid if lost, all the better. 
 A second thought, and he begins to quiet himself with the 
 belief that it had become extinct ; that, there not being 
 evidence to prove them properly, his word would be sufficient 
 to procure their release. Somewhat relieved of the force of 
 parental anxiety we can call it by no other name the 
 troubled planter, with his troubles inherited, promises 
 Maxwell, who has postponed his departure that he may aid 
 in saving Clotilda and her child, that he will proceed direct
 
 EXTBEHES ABE PBESENTED. 165 
 
 to the sheriff's office, give notice of their freedom to that 
 functionary, and forbid the sale. Upon this resolution they 
 part for the night, and on the following morning, Marston, 
 sick at heart, leaves- for the city, hoping to make, arrange 
 ments with his attorney, who will serve notice of freedom 
 with all the expense and legality of form. 
 
 The reader will excuse us for passing over many things of 
 minor importance which take place during the progress of 
 arrangements between Marston and the attorney, Mr. Dyson 
 commonly called Thomas Dyson, Esq., wonderfully clever 
 
 in the practice of slave law and proceeding to where we 
 
 find the notice formally served. The document forbids the 
 sale of certain persons, physically and mentally described, 
 according to the nicest rules of law and tenour of trade ; and 
 is, with the dignity of legal proceedings, served on the honour 
 able sheriff. We give a portion of it, for those who are not 
 informed on such curious matters : it runs thus : " ' The girl 
 Clotilda aged 27 years ; her child Annette aged 7 years, 
 and a remarkable boy, Nicholas, 6 years old, all negroes, 
 
 levied upon at the suit of , to satisfy &fifa issued from 
 
 the , and set forth to be the property of Hugh Marston 
 
 of , &c. &c. ;' " as set forth in the writ of attachment. 
 
 Thus runs the curious law, based on privilege, not principle. 
 
 The document served on the sheriff, Marston resolved to 
 remain a few days in the city and watch its effect. The 
 sheriff, who is seldom supposed to evince sympathy in his 
 duties, conforms with the ordinary routine of law in 
 nigger cases ; and, in his turn, gives notice to the plaintiff, 
 who is required to enter security for the purpose of testing 
 the point of freedom. Freedom here is a slender commo 
 dity ; it can be sworn away for a small compensation. Mr. 
 Anthony E-omescos has peculiar talent that way, and his 
 services are always in tha market. The point, however, has 
 not resolved itself into that peculiar position where it must 
 be either a matter of compromise, or a question for the court 
 and jury to decide. 
 
 If Marston, now sensible of his position as father of the 
 c hildren, will yield them a sacrifice to the man trader, it is 
 in his power ; the creditors will make it their profit. Who, 
 th en, can solve the perplexity for him ? The custom of society, 
 pointing the finger of shame, denies him the right to ac- 
 kno wledge them his children. Society has established the
 
 16G EXTREMES ABE PRESENTED. 
 
 licentious wrong, the law protects it, custom enforces it. 
 He can only proceed by declaring the mother to be a free 
 \voman, and leaving the producing proof to convict her of 
 being slave property to the plaintiff. . In doing this, his 
 uidguient wars with his softer feelings. Custom though it 
 has nothing to give him is goading him with its advice ; 
 it tells him to abandon the unfashionable, unpolite scheme. 
 Natural laws have given birth to natural feelings natural 
 affections are stronger than bad laws. They bum with our 
 nature, they warm the gentle, inspire the noble, and awake 
 the daring that lies unmoved until it be called into action for 
 the rescue of those for whom our affections have taken life. 
 
 Things had arrived at that particular point where law- 
 lovers we mean lawyers look on with happy consciences 
 and pleasing expectations ; that is, they had arrived at that 
 certain hinge of slave law the turn of which sends men, 
 women, and children, into the vortex of slavery, where their 
 hopes are for ever crushed. One day Marston had strong 
 hopes of saving them ; but his hopes vanished on the next. 
 The fair creature, by him made a wretch, seemed before bim, 
 on her bended knees, clasping his hand while imploring him 
 to save her child. The very thought would have doubly 
 nerved him to action ; and yet, what mattered such action 
 against the force of slavery injustice ? All his exertions, all 
 his pleadings, all his protestations, in a land where liberty 
 boasts its greatness, would sink to nothing under the power 
 he had placed in their possession for his overthrow. 
 
 With this fatal scene before him, this indecision, he walked 
 the streets, resolving and re-resolving, weighing and re- 
 weighing the consequences, hoping without a chance for 
 hope. He would be a father as he has been a kind master ; 
 but the law says, no ! no ! Society forbids right, the law 
 crushes justice, the justice of heaven ! Marston is like 
 one driven from his home, from "the scene of his happy 
 childhood, upon which he can now only look back to make 
 the present more paiuful. He has falleu from the full flow 
 of pleasure and wealth to the low ebb of poverty clothed in 
 suspicion ; he is homeless, and fast becoming friendless. 
 A few days after, as he takes his morning walk, he is 
 pointed to the painful fact, made known through certain 
 legal documents, posted at certain corners of streets, 
 that his "negro property" is advertised for sale by the
 
 EXTREMES AEE PRESENTED. 167 
 
 sheriff. He fears his legal notice has done little legal good, 
 except to the legal gentlemen who receive the costs. He 
 retires to a saloon, finds the morning paper, commences 
 glancing over its legal columns. The waiter is surprised to 
 see him at that hour, is ignorant of the war of trouble that 
 is waging within him, knows him only as a great man, a rice 
 planter of wealth in negroes, treats him with becoming 
 civility, and enquires, with a polite bow, what he will be 
 served with. He wants nothing that will supply the phy 
 sical man. He has supped on trouble, the following, painful 
 as it is, will serve him for breakfast ; it meets his eye as he 
 traces down the column : 
 
 'S SALE. 
 
 " According to former notice, will be sold on the first 
 Tuesday in September next, between the usual hours of 
 sale, before the Court House door, in this city, the fol 
 lowing property to wit ! 
 
 " Three yoke of prime oxen, and four carts. 
 
 " Seven horses ; two of celebrated breed. 
 
 " Twenty- two mules, together with sundry other effects 
 as per previous schedule, which will be produced at 
 the sale, when the property will be pointed out. The 
 said being levied on as the property of Hugh Marston, of 
 - District, and sold to satisfy a,fi fa issued from the 
 Superior Court, W. W. C 
 
 " Also the following gang of negroes, many of whom 
 have been accustomed to the cultivation of cotton 
 and rice. Said negroes are very prime and orderly, 
 having been well trained and fed, in addition to enjoying ' 
 the benefit of Christian teaching through a Sunday- 
 school worship on the plantation. 
 
 "Dandy, and Enock (yellow), prime house servants. 
 
 " Choate, and Cato, aged 29 and 32, coachman and black 
 smith. 
 
 " Harry, a prime fellow of remarkable sagacity, said to be 
 very pious, and has been very valuable as a preacher. 
 
 " Seventeen prime field hands, ranging from 17 to 63 
 years old, together with sundry children, set forth in 
 the schedule. 
 
 " Peggy, aged 23 years, an excellent cook, house servant 
 can do almost any work, is faithful and strictly honest.
 
 168 EXTREMES ARE PRESENTED. 
 
 " Rachel, one of the very best wenches in the County ; has 
 had charge of the Manor for several years, is very 
 motherly and well disposed, and fully capable of taking 
 charge of a plantation." 
 
 The description of the negro property continues until it 
 reaches the last and most touching point, which Marston 
 reads with tears coursing down his cheeks. But, it is only 
 trade, and it is refreshing to see how much talent the 
 auctionee himself a distinguished politician, exhibits in 
 displaying his bill. It is that which has worked itself so 
 deep into Marston' s feelings. 
 
 " Clotilda, a white negro, and her child Annette ; together 
 with Nicholas a bright boy, remarkably intelligent 
 six years old. " These last," adds the list, "have been 
 well brought up, with great care, and are extremely 
 promising and pleasant when speaking. The woman 
 has superior looks, is sometimes called beautiful, has 
 finely developed features, and is considered to be the 
 handsomest bright woman in the county." 
 
 We acknowledge the italics to be ours. The list, dis 
 playing great competency in the trade of human beings, 
 concludes with warranting them sound and healthy, informing 
 all those in want of such property of the wonderful oppor 
 tunity of purchasing, and offering to guarantee its qualities. 
 The above being " levied on to satisfy three fifas" &c. &c. 
 
 Poor Clotilda ! her beauty has betrayed her : her mother 
 was made a slave, and she has inherited the sin which the 
 enlightened of the western world say shall be handed 
 down from generation to generation until time itself has an 
 end. She is within the damp walls of a narrow cell ; the 
 cold stones give forth their moisture to chill her bleeding 
 heart ; the rust of oppression cuts into her very soul. The 
 warm sunlight of heaven, once so cheering, has now turned 
 black and cold to her. She sits in that cold confine, filled 
 with sorrow, hope, and expectation, awaiting her doom, like 
 a culprit who measures the chances of escape between him 
 and the gallows. She thinks of Marston. " He was a kind 
 friend to me he was a good master," she says, little 
 thinking that at that very moment he sits in the saloon 
 reading that southern death-warrant which dooms so many
 
 EXTREMES ARE PRESENTED. 169 
 
 to a life of woe. In it fathers were not mentioned Marston's 
 feelings were spared that pain ; mothers' tears, too, were omit 
 ted, lest the sensitiveness of the fashionable world should be 
 touched. Pained, and sick at heart stung by remorse at find 
 ing himself without power to relieve Clotilda he rises from 
 his seat, and makes arrangement to return to his plantation.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 
 
 must leave Marston wending his way for the old 
 plantation, and pass to another phase of this complicated 
 affair. In doing this, we must leave the reader to draw 
 from his own imagination much that must have transpired 
 previous to the present incidents. 
 
 The E/overo family old and distinguished had struggled 
 against the misfortunes brought upon them by their son 
 Lorenzo. Deeply involved, they had allowed their diffi 
 culties' to go on till they had found themselves living by the 
 favour of courtesy and indulgence. Lorenzo and Franconia 
 were only children ; and since the departure of the former 
 the latter had been tbe idol of their indulgence. She was, 
 as we have before said, delicate, sensitive, endowed with 
 generous impulses, and admired for her gentleness, grace, 
 and vivacity. To these she added firmness, and, when once re 
 solved upon any object, could not be moved from her purpose. 
 Nor was she as is the popular fallacy of the South- 
 susceptible to the influence of wealth. Her love and tender 
 ness soared above it ; she prized wealth less than moral 
 worth. But she could not appease the pride of her parents 
 with her feelings. They, labouring under the influence of 
 their reduced fortunes, had favoured and insisted upon the 
 advances of the very wealthy Colonel M'Carstrow, a rice- 
 planter, who had a few years before inherited a large 
 estate. The colonel is a sturdy specimen of the Southern 
 gentleman, which combines a singular mixture of qualities, 
 some of which are represented by a love of good living, 
 good drinking, good horse-racing, good gambling, and fast 
 company. He lives on the fat of the land, because the fat 
 of the land was made for him to enjoy. He has no parti 
 cular objection to anybody in the world, providing they 
 believe in slavery, and live according to his notions of a 
 gentleman. His soul's delight is faro, which he wou}d not 
 exchange for all the religion in the world ; he has strong
 
 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 171 
 
 doubts about the good of religion, which, he says, should be 
 boxed up with modern morality. 
 
 Laying these things aside, however, he is anything but what 
 would have been properly selected as a partner for Fran- 
 conia ; and, while she is only eighteen, he has turned the 
 corner of his forty-third year. In a word, his manners are 
 unmodelled, his feelings coarse, his associations of the worst 
 kind ; nor is he adapted to make the happiness of domestic 
 life lasting. He is one of those persons so often met with, 
 whose affections if they may be supposed to have any 
 are held in a sort of compromise between an incitement to 
 love, and their natural inclination to revel in voluptuous 
 pleasures. The two being antagonistic at times, the latter 
 is sure to be the stronger, and not unfrequently carries its 
 victim into dissolute extremes. Riches, however, will 
 always weigh heavy in the scale ; their possession sways, 
 the charm of gold is precious and powerful. And, too, the 
 colonel had another attraction very much esteemed among 
 slave-dealers and owners he had a military title, though 
 no one knew how he came by it. 
 
 Franconia must be the affianced bride of the supposed 
 wealthy Colonel M'Carstrow ; so say her parents, who feel 
 they are being crushed out by misfortune. It is their desire ; 
 and, however repulsive it may be to Franconia's feelings, 
 she must accept the man : she must forget his years, his 
 habits, his associations, for the wealth he can bring to the 
 relief of the family. 
 
 To add eclat to the event, it is arranged that tho 
 nuptial ceremony shall take place in the spacious old 
 
 mansion of General P , in the city. General 
 
 P is a distant relation of the Rovero family. His 
 
 mansion is one of those noble old edifices, met here and 
 there in the South especially in South Carolina which, 
 strongly mark the grandeur of their ancient occupants. It 
 is a massive pile of marble, of mixed style of Grecian and 
 Doric architecture, with three stories divided by projecting 
 trellised arbours, and ornamented with fluted columns 
 surmounted with ingeniously-worked and sculptured 
 capitals, set off with grotesque figures. The front is orna 
 mented with tablets of bas-relief, variegated and chaste. 
 These are bordered with scroll-work, chases of flowers, 
 12
 
 172 A SCENE OF MANT LIGHTS. 
 
 graces, and historical designs. Around the lower story, 
 palisades and curvatures project here and there between 
 the divisions, forming bowers shaded by vines and sweet- 
 scented blossoms. These are diffusing their fragrance 
 through the spacious halls and corridors beneath. The 
 stately old pile wears a romantic appearance ; but it has 
 grown brown with decay, and stands in dumb testimony of 
 that taste and feeling which prevailed among its British 
 founders. The garden in which it stands, once rich with 
 the choicest flowers of every clime, now presents an area 
 overgrown with rank weeds, decaying hedges, dilapidated 
 walks, and sickly shrubbery. The hand that once nurtured 
 this pretty scene of buds and blossoms with so much care 
 has passed away. Dull inertness now hangs its lifeless 
 festoons over the whole, from the vaulted hall to the iron 
 railing enclosing the whole. 
 
 The day for consummating the nuptial ceremony has 
 arrived ; many years have passed since the old mansion 
 witnessed such a scene. The gay, wealthy, and intelligent 
 of the little fashionable world will be here. The spell of lone- 
 Jiness in which the old walls have so long slept will be 
 broken. Sparkling jewels, bland smiles, the rich decorations 
 of former years, are to again enhance the scene. Exhausted 
 nature is to shake off its monotony, to be enlivened with 
 the happiness of a seemingly happy assemblage. A lovely 
 bride is to be showered with smiles, congratulations, 
 t.kens of love. Southern gallantry will doff its cares, put 
 on its smiling face. Whatever may smoulder beneath, 
 pleasure and gaiety will adorn the surface. 
 
 Franconia sits in her spacious chamber. She is arrayed 
 in flowing negliye ; a pensive smile invades her countenance ; 
 she supports her head on her left hand, the jewels on 
 her tiny fingers sparkling though her hair. Everything 
 round her bears evidence of comfort and luxury ; the gentle 
 breeze, as it sweeps through the window to fan her blushing 
 cheek, isiuH'-egnated with sweetest odours. She contemplates 
 the meetir : of him who is to be the partner of her life ; can 
 she reconcile it ? Nay, there is something forcing itself 
 against her will. Her bridesmaids, young, gay, and accom 
 plished, gather around her. The fierce conflict raging in 
 her bosom discloses itself; the attempt to cheer her up,
 
 A SCKNE OF MANY LIGHTS. 173 
 
 under the impression that it arises from want of vigour 
 to buoy up her sensitive system, fails. Again she seems 
 labouring under excitement. 
 
 "Franconia!" exclaims one, taking her by the hand, "is 
 not the time approaching?" 
 
 "Time always approaches," she speaks: her mind haa 
 been wandering, picturing the gloomy spectacle that 
 presents itself in Clotilda's cell. She moves her right hand 
 slowly across her brow, casts an enquiring glance around 
 the room, then at those beside her, and changes her position 
 in the cbair. " The time to have your toilet prepared the 
 servants await you," is the reply. Franconia gathers 
 strength, sits erect in her chair, seema to have just 
 resolved upon something. A servant hastens into her 
 presence bearing a delicately-enveloped note. She breaks 
 the seal, reads it and re-reads it, holds, it carelessly in her 
 hand for a minute, then puts it in her bosom. There is 
 something important in the contents, something she must 
 keep secret. It is from Maxwell. Her friend evinced 
 some surprise, while waiting a reply as she read the letter. 
 
 " No ! not yet," she says, rising from her chair and 
 sallying across the room. " That which is forced upon me 
 ah ! I cannot love him. To me there is no loving 
 wealth. Money may shelter ; but it never moves hearts to 
 love truly. How I have struggled against it !" Again she 
 resumes her chair, weeps. Her tears gush from the parent 
 fountain woman's heart. " My noble uncle in trouble, 
 my clear brother gone ; yes ! to where, and for what, I dare 
 not think ; and yet it has preyed upon me through the 
 struggle of pride against love. My father may soon follow ; 
 but I am to be consigned to the arms of one whom it 
 would be folly to say I respect." 
 
 Her friend, Miss Alice Latel, reminds her that it were Avell 
 not to let such melancholy wanderings trouble her. She 
 suggests that the colonel, being rich, will fill the place of 
 father as well as husband ; that she will be surrounded by 
 the pleasures which wealth only can bring, and in this world 
 what more can be desired ? 
 
 " Such fathers seldom make affectionate husbands ; nor do 
 I want the father without the husband ; his wealth would 
 not make me respect him." Franconia becomes excited, 
 giving rapid utterance to her language. " Can I suppress
 
 174 A SCKNE OF MAN I LIGHTS. 
 
 my melancholy can I enjoy such pleasure, aud my dear 
 Clotilda in a prison, looking through those galling gratings ? 
 Can I be happy when the anguish of despair pierces deep 
 into her heart ? No ! oh, no ! Never, while I think of her, 
 can I summon resolution to put on a bridal robe. Nay ! 
 I will not put them on without her. I will not dissemble 
 joy while she sinks in her prison solitude!" 
 
 " Can you mean that at this hour ?" enquires Miss 
 Alice, looking upon her with anxiety pictured in her face. 
 One gives the other a look of surprise. Miss Alice must 
 needs call older counsel. 
 
 " Yes !" replies Franconia, more calm ; " even at this 
 hour ! It is never too late to serve our sisters. Could 1 
 smile could I seem happy, and so many things to contem 
 plate ? We cannot disguise them now ; we cannot smother 
 scandal with a silken mantle. Clotilda must be with me. 
 Negro as she is by law, she is no less dear to me. Nor 
 can I yield to those feelings so prominent in southern 
 breasts, I cannot disclaim her rights, leave her the mere 
 chattel subject of brute force, and then ask forgiveness of 
 heaven!" This declaration, made in a positive tone, at 
 once disclosed her resolution. We need not tell the reader 
 with what surprise it took the household ; nor, when she 
 as suddenly went into a violent paroxysm of hysterics, the 
 alarm it spread. 
 
 The quiet of the mansion has changed for uproar and 
 confusion. Servants are running here and there, getting in 
 each other's way, blocking the passages, and making the 
 confusion more intense. Colonel M'Carstrow is sent for, 
 reaches the mansion in great consternation, expects to find 
 Franconia a corpse, for the negro messenger told him such 
 a crooked story, and seemed so frightened, that he can't 
 make anything straight of it except that there is something 
 very alarming. 
 
 She has been carried to one of the ante-chambers, 
 reclines on a couch of softest tapestry, a physician at one 
 side, and Alice, bathing her temples with aromatic liquid, 
 on the other. She presents a ravishing picture of delicacy, 
 modesty, and simplicity, of all that is calmly beautiful in 
 woman. " I can scarcely account for it : but, she's coming 
 to," says the man of medicine, looking on mechanically. 
 Her white bosom swells gently, like a newly-waked zephyr
 
 A. SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 175 
 
 playing among virgin leaves ; while her eyes, like melancholy 
 stars, glimmer with the lustre of her soul. "Ah me! 5 ' 
 she sighs, raising her hand over her head and resting it 
 upon the cushion, as her auburn hair floats, calm and beau 
 tiful, down her pearly shoulder. 
 
 The colonel touches her hand ; and, as if it had been too 
 rudely, she draws it to her side, then places it upon her 
 bosom. Again raising her eyes till they meet his, she 
 blushes. It is the blush of innocence, that brightens beneath 
 the spirit of calm resolution. She extends her hand again, 
 slowly, and accepts his. " You will gratify me will you 
 not ?" she mutters, attempting to gain a recumbent position 
 They raise her as she intimates adesire; she seemsherself again. 
 
 " Whatever your wish may be, you have but to intimate 
 it," replies the colonel, kissing her hand. 
 
 " Then, I want Clotilda. Go, bring her to me ; she only 
 can wait on me ; and I am fond of her. With her I shall 
 be well soon ; she will dress me. TJncle 'will be happy, and 
 we shall all be happy." 
 
 " But," the colonel interrupts, suddenly, "where is she 
 to be found ?" 
 
 " In the prison. You'll find her there !" There is little 
 time to lose, a carriage is ordered, the colonel drives to the 
 prison, and there finds the object of Franconia's trouble. 
 She, the two children at her side, sits in a cell seven by five 
 feet ; the strong grasp of slave power fears itself, its tyranny 
 glares forth in the emaciated appearance of its female 
 victim. The cell is lighted through a small aperture in the 
 door, which hangs with heavy bolts and bars, as if torturing 
 the. innocent served the power of injustice. The prison-keeper 
 led the way through a narrow passage between stone walls. 
 His tap on the door startles her ; she moves from her position, 
 where she had been seated on a coarse blanket. It is all 
 they (the hospitable southern world, with its generous laws) 
 can afford her ; she makes it a bed for three. A people less 
 boastful of hospitality may give her more. She holds a 
 prayer-book in her hand, and motions to the children as 
 they crouch at her feet. 
 
 " Come, girl ! somebody's here to see you," says the 
 keeper, looking in at the aperture, as the sickly stench 
 escapes from the dark cavern-like place. 
 
 Nervously, the poor victim approaches, lays her trembling
 
 176 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 
 
 band on the grating, gives ^ a doubting glance at the 
 stranger, seems surprised, anxious to know the purport of 
 his mission. 
 
 " Am I wanted ?" she enquires eagerly, as if fearing some 
 rude dealer has come perhaps to examine her person, 
 that he may be the better able to judge of her market 
 value. 
 
 Notwithstanding the coldness of M'Carstrow's nature, 
 his feelings are moved by the womanly appearance of the 
 wench, as he calls her, when addressing the warden. There 
 is something in the means by which so fair a creature is 
 reduced to merchandise he cannot altogether reconcile. 
 Were it not for what habit and education can do, it would 
 be repulsive to nature in its crudest state. But it is accord 
 ing to law, that inhuman law which is tolerated in a free 
 country. 
 
 " I want you to go with me, and you will see your young 
 missis," says M'Carstrow, shrugging his shoulders. He is 
 half inclined to let his better feelings give way to sympathy. 
 But custom and commerce forbid it; they carry off the 
 spoil, just as the sagacious pumpkiu philosopher of England. 
 admits slavery a great evil, while delivering an essay for the 
 purpose of ridiculing emancipation. 
 
 M'Carstrow soon changes his feelings, addresses himself 
 to business. "Are you in here for sale?" he enquires, 
 attempting to whistle an air, and preserve an unaffected 
 appearance. 
 
 The question touches a tender chord of her feelings ; her 
 bosom swells with emotions of grief; he has wounded that 
 sensitive chord upon which the knowledge of her degradation 
 hangs. She draws a handkercln'ef from her pocket, wipes 
 the tear that glistens in her eye, clasps Annette in her arms 
 while Nicholas, frightened, hangs by the skirts of her 
 dress, buries her face in her bosom, retires a few steps, and 
 again seats herself on the blanket. 
 
 " The question is pending. If I'm right about it and I 
 believe I'm generally so on such cases it comes on before 
 the next session, fall term," says the gaoler, turning to 
 M'Carstrow with a look of wonderful importance. The 
 gaoler, who, with his keys, lets loose the anxieties of men, 
 continues his learned remarks. " Notice has been served 
 how she's free. But that kind o* twisting things to make
 
 A SCENE OF MASY LIGHTS. 177 
 
 alave property free never amounts to much, especially when 
 a man gets where they say Marston is ! Anthony Komescos 
 has been quizzing ubout, and it don't take much to make 
 such thiugs property when he's round." The man of keys 
 again looks very wise, runs his hand deep into the pocket of 
 his coat, and says something about this being a great country. 
 
 "How much do you reckon her worLh, my friend?" 
 enquires M'Carstrow, exchanging a significant glance. 
 
 " "Well, now you've got me. It's a point of judgment, 
 you see. The article's rather questionable been spoiled. 
 There's a doubt about such property when you put it up, 
 except a gentleman wants it ; and then, I reckon, it'll bring 
 a smart price. There's this to be considered, I reckon, 
 though they haven't set a price on her yet, she's excel- 
 v...: -r.ood looiiing; and the young un's a perfect cherry. 
 It'll bring a big heap one of these days." 
 
 "We won't mind that, just now, gaoler," M'Carstrow 
 says, very complacently; "you'll let me have her to-night, 
 and I'll return her safe in the morning." 
 
 " No, no," interposes Clotilda, mistaking M'Carstrow's 
 object. She crouches down on the blanket, as if shrinking 
 from a deadly assault : " let me remain, even in my cell." 
 She draws the children to her side. 
 
 " Don't mistake me, my girl : I am a friend. I want 
 you for Frauconia Eovero. She is fond of you, you 
 know." 
 
 " Francouia !" she exclaims with joy, starting to her feet 
 at the sound of the name. " I do know her, dear Fran- 
 conia! I know her, I love her, she loves me I wish she 
 was my mother. But she is to be the angel of my free 
 dom " Here she suddenly stopped, as if she had 
 
 betrayed something. 
 
 " We must lose no time," M'Carstrow says, informing her 
 that Frnnconia is that night to be his bride, and cannot be 
 happy without seeing her. 
 
 " Bride ! and cannot prepare without me," mutters the 
 woman, seeming to doubt the reality of his statement. A 
 thought flashes in her mind : " Fraucouia has not forgotten 
 me ; I will go and be Franconia's friend." And with a 
 child-like simplicity she takes Annette by the hand, as if 
 they were inseparable, " Can't Nicholas go, too ?" she 
 inquires.
 
 178 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 
 
 " You must leave the child," is the cool reply. M'Cars- 
 trow attempts to draw the heavy bolt that fastens the door. 
 
 " Not so fast, if you please," the -warden speaks. " I 
 cannot permit her to leave without an order from the sheriff." 
 He puts his hand against the door. 
 
 " She will surely be returned in the morning ; I'm good for 
 a hundred such pieces of property." 
 
 " Can't help that," interrupts the gaoler, coolly. 
 
 " But, there's my honour !" 
 
 " An article gaolers better not deal in. It may be very 
 good commodity in some kinds of business don't pay in 
 ours ; and then, when this kind of property is in question, 
 it won't do to show a favour beyond the rule." 
 
 M'Carstrow is in a sad dilemma. He must relieve himself 
 through a problem of law, which, at this late hour, brings 
 matters to a singular point. He believes Prauconia suffers 
 from a nervous affection, as the doctors call it, and has 
 fixed her mind upon the only object of relief. He had 
 made no preparation for such a critical event ; but there is no 
 postponing the ceremony, no depriving her of the indul 
 gence. Not a moment is to be lost : he sets off, post-haste, 
 for the sheriff's office. That functionary is well known for 
 his crude method of executing business ; to ask a favour of 
 him would be like asking the sea to give up its dead. He 
 is cold, methodical, unmoveable ; very much opposed to 
 anything having the appearance of an innovation upon his 
 square rules of business. 
 
 M'Carstrow finds him in just the mood to interpose all 
 the frigid peculiarities of his incomprehensible nature. The 
 colonel has known him by reputation ; he knows him now 
 through a different medium. After listening to M'Carstrow's 
 request, and comporting himself with all imaginable dignity, 
 he runs his fingers through his hair, looks at M'Carstrow 
 vacantly, and well nigh rouses his temper. M'Carstrow 
 feels, as southern gentlemen are wont to feel, that his 
 position and title are enough to ensure courtesy and a quick 
 response. The man of writs and summonses feels quite sure 
 that the pomp of his office is sufficient to offset all other 
 distinctions. 
 
 " Whar' d'ye say the gal was, in my gaol?" the sheriff 
 inquires, with solemn earnestness, and drawling his words 
 measuredly, as if the whole affair was quite within his line
 
 A SCENE OF MANT LIGHTS. 179 
 
 of business. The sheriff has the opportunity of making a 
 nice little thing of it ; the object to be released will serve 
 the profits of the profession. " Grittin' that gal out yander 
 ain't an easy thing now, 'taint! It'll cost ye 'bout twenty 
 dollars, sartin," he adds, turning over the leaves of his big 
 book, and running his finger down a scale of names. 
 
 " I don't care if it costs a hundred ! Give me an order 
 for her release !" M'Carstrow begins to understand Mr. 
 Sheriff's composition, and putting his hand into his pocket, 
 draws forth a dwenty-dollar gold piece, throws it upon the 
 table. The effect is electric : it smooths down the surface of 
 Mr. Sheriff's nature, brings out the disposition to accommo 
 date. The Sheriff's politeness now taxes M'Carstrow's 
 power to reciprocate. 
 
 " Now, ye see, my friend," says Mr. Sheriff, in a quaint 
 tone, " there's three fi fas on that critter. Hold a 
 minute!" He must needs take a better glance; he runs 
 his fingers over the page again, mutters to himself, and 
 then breaks out into a half-musical, half-undefinable 
 humming. " It's a snarled-up affair, the whole on't. T'll 
 take a plaguy cunnin' lawyer to take the shine out." The 
 sheriff pushes the piece of coin nearer the inkstand, into 
 the centre of the table. " I feel all over like accommodatin' 
 ye," he deigns to say ; "but then t'll be so pestky crooked 
 gettin' the thing straight." He hesitates before the won- 
 dgrj,ul difficulty, he can't see his way straight through it. 
 " Three fi fas \ I believe I'm correct ; there's one 
 principal one, however." 
 
 " I pledge my honour for, her return in the morning ; and 
 she shall be all shined up with a new dress. Her presence 
 is imperatively necessary to-night," M'Carstrow remarks, 
 becoming impatient. 
 
 " Two fi fas \ well, the first look looked like three. 
 But, the principal one out of the way, no matter." Mr. 
 Sheriff becomes more and more enlightened on the unen 
 lightened difficulties of the law. He remarks, touching 
 M'Carstrow on the arm, with great seriousness of counte 
 nance, " I sees how the knot's tied. Te know, my functions 
 are turned t' most everything; and it makes a body see 
 
 through a thing just as straight as . Pest on't! 
 
 Te see, it's mighty likely property, don't strike such every 
 day- That gal '11 bring a big tick in the market "
 
 180 A SCENE OF MAST LIGHTS. 
 
 " Excuse me, my dear sir," M'Carstrow suddenly inter 
 rupts. " Understand me, if you please. I want her for 
 nothing that you contemplate, nothing, I pledge you iny 
 honour as a southern gentleman !" 
 
 " Ah, bless me ! Well, but there's nothin' in that. I 
 see ! I see ! I see !" Mr. Sheriff brightens up, his very soul 
 seems to expand with legal tenacity. " Well, ye see, 
 there's a question of property raised about the gal, and her 
 young 'un, too nice young 'un 'tis ; but it's mighty easy 
 tellin' whose it is. About the law matter, though, you must 
 get the consent of all the plaintiff's attorneys, that's no 
 small job. Lawyers are devilish slippery, rough a felier 
 amazingly, once in a while ; chance if ye don't have to get 
 the critter valued by a survey. Graspum, though' s oilers 
 on hand, is first best good at that : can say her top price 
 while ye'd say seven," says Mr. Sheriff, maintaining his 
 wise dignity, as he reminds M'Carstrow that his name is 
 Cur, commonly called Mr. Cur, sheriff of the county. It 
 must not be inferred that Mr. Cur has any of the canine 
 qualities about him. The hour for the ceremony is close at 
 hand. M'Carstrow, satisfied that rules of law are very 
 arbitrary things in the hands of officials that such property 
 is difficult to get out of the meshes of legal technicality 
 that honour is neither marketable or pledgeable in such 
 cases, must move quickly : he seeks the very conscientious 
 attorneys, gets them together, pleads the necessity of tho 
 case : a convention is arranged, Grraspum will value "the 
 property as a weigher and gauger of human flesh. This 
 done, M'Carstrow signs a bond in the sum of fifteen hun 
 dred dollars, making himself responsible for the property. 
 The instrument contains a provision, that should any unfore 
 seen disaster befall it, the question of property will remain 
 subject to the decision of Court. Upon these conditions, 
 M'Carstrow procures an order for her release. He is careful, 
 however, that nothing herein set forth shall affect the suit 
 already instituted. 
 
 Love is an exhilarating medicine, moving and quickening 
 the hearts of old and young. M^Carstrow felt its influence 
 sensibly, as he hurried back to the prison excited by the 
 near approach of the ceremony with the all-important 
 order. Bolts, bars, and malarious walls, yield to it the 
 pining captive whose presence will soothe Franeouia'a 
 feelings.
 
 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 181 
 
 Clotilda was no less elated at the hope of changing her 
 prison for the presence of her young mistress ; and yet, 
 the previous summons had nearly unnerved her. She lingers 
 at the grating, waiting M'Carstrow's return. Time seems 
 fco linger, until her feelings are nearly overwhelmed in 
 suspense. Again, there is a mystery in the mission of the 
 stranger ; she almost doubts his sincerity. It may be one of 
 those plots, so often laid by slave-traders, to separate her 
 from her child, perhaps to run her where all hope of regain 
 ing freedom will be for ever lost. One after another did 
 these things recur to her mind, only to make the burden of 
 her troubles more painful. 
 
 Her child has eaten its crust, fallen into a deep sleep, and, 
 its little hands resting clasped on its bosom, lies calmly upon 
 the coarse blanket. She gazes upon it, as a mother only 
 can gaze. There is beauty in that sweet face ; it is not 
 valued for its loveliness, its tenderness, its purity. How 
 cursed that it is to be the prime object of her disgrace ! 
 Thus contemplating, M'Carstrow appears at the outer gate, is 
 admitted into the prison, reaches the inner grating, is 
 received by the warden, who smiles generously. "I'm as 
 glad as anything ! Hope you had a good time with his 
 honour, Mr. Cur?" he says, holding the big key in his 
 hand, and leading the way into the office. He takes his 
 seat at a table, commences preparing the big book. " Here 
 is the entry," he says, with a smile of satisfaction. " "We'll 
 soon straighten the thing now." Puts out his hand for 
 the order which M'Carstrow has been holding. "That's 
 just the little thing," he says, reading it word by word 
 carefully, and concluding with the remark that he has had a 
 deal of trouble with it. M'Carstrow places some pieces 
 of silver in his hand ; they turn the man of keys into a subser 
 vient creature. He hastens to the cell, M'Carstrow following, 
 draws theheavy bolts, bids the prisoner come forth. "Yes, 
 come, girl ; I've had a tough time to get you out of that place : 
 it holds its prey like lawyers' seals," rejoins M'Carstrow. 
 
 " Not without my child ?" she inquires quickly. She 
 stoops down and kisses jL "My daughter, my sweet 
 child !" she mutters. 
 
 " Till to-morrow. You must leave her for to-night." 
 
 "If I must !" Again she kisses the child, adding, as she 
 smoothed her hand over Annette, and parted her hair,
 
 182 A SCENE OE MANY LIGHTS. 
 
 "Mother will return soon." There was something so 
 touching in the word mother, spoken while leaning over a 
 sleeping babe. Clotilda reaches the door, having kept her 
 eyes upon the child as she left her behind. A tremor comes 
 over her, she reluctantly passes the threshold of the narrow 
 arch ; but she breathes the fresh air of heaven, feels as if 
 her life had been renewed. A mother's thoughts, a mother's 
 anxieties, a mother's love, veil her countenance. She turns 
 to take a last look as the cold door closes upon the dearest 
 object of her life. How it grates upon its hinges ! her 
 hopes seem for ever extinguished. 
 
 The law is thus far satisfied the legal gentlemen are 
 satisfied, the warden is not the least generous ; and Mr. Cur 
 feels that, while the job was a very nice one, he has not tran 
 scended one jot of his importance. Such is highly gratifying 
 to all parties. Clotilda is hurried into a carriage, driven at a 
 rapid rate, and soon arrives at the mansion. Here she is 
 ushered into a chamber, arrayed in a new dress, and con 
 ducted into the presence of Franconia. The meeting may 
 be more easily imagined than described. Their congratula 
 tions were warm, affectionate, touching. Clotilda kisses 
 Franconia' s hand again and again ; Franconia, in turn, lays 
 her hand upon Clotilda's shoulder, and, with a look of com 
 miseration, sets her eyes intently upon her, as if she detects 
 in her countenance those features she cannot disown. She 
 requests to be left alone with Clotilda for a short time. 
 Her friends withdraw. She discloses the difficulties into 
 which the family have suddenly fallen, the plan of escape 
 she has arranged, the hopes she entertains of her regaining 
 her freedom. " Public opinion and the state of our diffi 
 culties prompted this course, I prefer it to any other : 
 follow my directions, Maxwell has everything prepared, and 
 to-night will carry youoff upon the broad blueocean of liberty. 
 Enjoy that liberty, Clotilda, be a woman, follow the path 
 G-od has strewn for your happiness ; above all, let freedom 
 be rewarded with your virtue, your example," saysFranconia, 
 as she again places her arm round Clotilda's neck. 
 
 " And leave my child, Francojiia ?" the other inquires, 
 looking up imploringly in Franconia's face. 
 
 " To me," is the quick response. " I will be her guardian, 
 her mother. Gret you beyond the grasp of slavery get 
 beyond its contaminating breath, and I will be Annette's
 
 A SCJe,K Oi* MANY LIGHTS. 183 
 
 mother. When you are safely there, when you can breathe 
 the free air of liberty, write me, and she shall meet you. 
 Leave her to me ; think of her only in my care, and in my 
 trust she will be happy. Meet Maxwell he is your friend 
 at the centre corridor ; he will be there as soon as the 
 ceremony commences ; he will have a pass from me ; he will 
 be your guide !" She overcomes Clotilda's doubts, reasons 
 away her pleadings for her child, gives her a letter and small 
 miniature (they are to be kept until she reaches her desti 
 nation of freedom), and commences preparing for the cere 
 mony. 
 
 Night arrives, the old mansion brightens and resounds 
 with the bustle of preparation. Servants are moving about 
 in great confusion. Everything is in full dress ; " yellow 
 fellows," immersed in trim black coats, nicely-cut panta 
 loons, white vests and gloves, shirt-collars of extraordinary 
 dimensions, and hair curiously crimped, are standing at their 
 places along the halls, ready for reception. Another class, 
 equally well dressed, are running to and fro through the 
 corridors in the despatch of business. Old mammas have a 
 new shine on their faces, their best " go to church" fixings 
 on their backs. Younger members of the same property 
 species are gaudily attired some in silk, some in missus's 
 slightly worn cashmere. The colour of their faces grades 
 from the purest ebony to the palest olive. A curious phi 
 losophy may be drawn from the mixture : it contrasts 
 strangely with the flash and dazzle of their fantastic dresses, 
 their large circular ear-rings, their curiously-tied bandanas, 
 the large bow points of which lay crossed on the tufts of 
 their crimpy hair. The whole scene has an air of bewitching 
 strangeness. In another part of the mansion we find the 
 small figures of the estate, all agog, toddling and doddling, 
 with faces polished like black-balled shoes ; they are as 
 piquant and interesting as their own admiration of the dress 
 master has provided them for the occasion. 
 
 The darkness increases as the night advances. The arbour 
 leading from the great gate to the vaulted hall in the base 
 of the mansion is hung with lanterns of grotesque patterns, 
 emitting light and shade as variegated as the hues of the 
 rainbow. The trees and shrubbery in the arena, hung 
 with fantastic lanteras, enliven the picture make it grand 
 and imposing. It presents a fairy-like perspective, with
 
 184 A SCENE OF MANY. LIGHTS. 
 
 spectre lights hung here and there, their mellow glows reflect 
 ing softly upon the luxuriant foliage. 
 
 Entering the vaulted hall, its floor of antique tiles ; 
 frescoed walls with well-executed mythological designs, 
 jetting lights flickering and dazzling through its arches, we 
 find ourselves amidst splendour unsurpassed in our land. 
 At the termination of the great hall a massive flight of spiral 
 steps, of Egyptian marble, ascends to the fourth story, forming 
 a balcony at each, where ottomans are placed, and from 
 which a fine view of the curvature presents itself, from whence 
 those who have ascended may descry those ascending. On the 
 second story is a corridor, with moulded juttings and fret 
 work overhead ; these are hung with festoons of jasmines 
 and other delicate flowers, extending its whole length, and 
 lighted by globular lamps, the prismatic ornaments of which 
 shed their soft glows on the fixtures beneath. They invest 
 it with the appearance of a bower decorated with buds and 
 blossoms. From this, ou the right, a spacious arched door, 
 surmounted by a semi-circle of stained glass containing 
 devices of the Muses and other allegorical figures, leads into 
 an immense parlour, having a centre arch hung with heavy 
 folds of maroon -coloured velvet overspread with lace. Look 
 where you will, the picture of former wealth and taste pre 
 sents itself. Around the walls hang costly paintings, by 
 celebrated Italian masters ; some are portraits of the sove 
 reigns of England, from that of Elizabeth to George the 
 Third. Brilliant lights jet forth from massive chandeliers 
 and girandoles, lighting up the long line of chaste furniture 
 beneath. The floor is spread with softest Turkey carpet ; 
 groups of figures in marble, skilfully executed,form a curiously 
 arranged fire-place ; Britannia's crest surmounting the whole. 
 At each end of the room stand chastely designed pieces of 
 statuary of heroes and heroines of past ages. Lounges, 
 ottomans, reclines, and couches, elaborately carved and 
 upholstered, stand here and there in all their antiqueness 
 and grandeur. Pier-glasses, massive tables inlaid with 
 mosaic and pearl, are arranged along the sides, and overhung 
 with flowing tapestry that falls carelessly from the large 
 Doric windows. Over these windo\vs are massive cornices, 
 richly designed and gilded. Quiet grandeur pervades the 
 whole ; even the fairy-like dais that has been raised for the 
 nuptial ceremony rests upon four pieces of statuary, and is
 
 A SCEJTE OP MUTT LIGHTS. 185 
 
 covered with crimson velvet set with sparkling crystals. 
 And while this spectacle presents but the vanity of our 
 nature, grand but not lasting, the sweet breath of summer is 
 wafting its balmy odours to refresh and give life to its 
 lifeless luxury. 
 
 The gay cortege begins to assemble ; the halls fill with 
 guests ; the beauty, grace, and intelligence of this little 
 fashionable world, arrayed in its very best, will be here with 
 its best face. Sparkling diamonds and other precious 
 stones, dazzling, will enhance the. gorgeous display. And 
 yet, how much of folly's littleness does it all present ! All 
 this costly drapery all this show of worldly voluptuousness 
 all this tempest of gaiety, is but the product of pain and 
 sorrow. The cheek that blushes in the gay circle, that fair 
 form born to revel in luxury, would not blush nor shrink to 
 see a naked wretch driven with the lash. Tea ! we have 
 said it was the product of pain and sorrow ; it is the force of 
 oppression wringing from ignorance and degradation the 
 very dregs of its life. Men say, what of that ? do we not 
 live in a great good land of liberty ? 
 
 The young affianced, dressed in a flowing skirt of white 
 satin, with richly embroidered train; a neat bodice of the 
 same ma terial, with incisions of lace tipped with brilliants ; 
 sleeves tapering into neat rufflets of lace clasped upon the 
 wrist with diamond bracelets, a stomacher of chastely 
 worked lace with brilliants in the centre, relieved by two 
 rows of small unpolished pearls, is ushered into the parlour, 
 followed by groomsmen and bridesmaids as chastely dressed. 
 
 There is a striking contrast between the youth and deli 
 cacy of Franconia, blushing modestly and in her 'calmness sup 
 pressing that inert repugnance working in her mind, and the 
 brusquencss of M'Carstrow, who assumes the free and easy 
 d ash, hoping thereby to lessen his years in the picture of hi mself . 
 Clotilda, for the last time, has arranged Prancouia's hair, which 
 lies in simple braids across her polished brows, and folds upon 
 the back, where it is secured and set off" with a garland of 
 wild flowers. The hand that laid it there, that arranged it 
 so neatly, will never arrange it again. As a last token of 
 affection for her young mistress, Clotilda has plucked a 
 new-blown cluponique, white with crystal dew, and sur 
 rounded it with tiny buds and orange blossoms : this,
 
 186 A SCENE OF MANY LIGHTS. 
 
 Franconia holds in her left hand, the lace to which ifc is 
 attached falling like mist to the ground. 
 
 Thus arrayed, they appear at the altar : the good man of 
 modest cloth takes his place, the ceremony commences ; and 
 as it proceeds, and the solemn words fall upon her ear, 
 " Those whom Grod hath joined together let no man put 
 asunder," she raises her eyes upwards, with a look of melan 
 choly, as tears, like pearls, glisten in her soft expressive 
 eyes. Her heart is moved with deeper emotion than this 
 display of southern galaxy can produce. The combination 
 of circumstances that has brought her to the altar, the 
 decline of fortune, perhaps disgrace, worked upon her mind. 
 It is that which has consigned her to the arms of one she 
 cannot love, whose feelings and associations she never can 
 respect. Was she to be the ransom ? was she to atone for 
 the loss of family fortune, family pride, family inconsistency ? 
 kept forcing itself upon her. There was no gladness in it 
 no happiness. And there was the captive, the victim of 
 foul slavery so foul that hell yearns for its abettors whose 
 deliverance she prayed for with her earnest soul. She knew 
 the oppressor's grasp she had, with womanly pride, come 
 forward to relieve the wronged, and she had become sensible 
 of the ties binding her to Clotilda. Unlike too many of her 
 sex, she did not suppress her natural aifections ; she could 
 not see only the slave in a .disowned sister ; she acknow 
 ledged the relationship, and hastened to free her, to send 
 her beyond slavery's grasp, into the glad embrace of freedom. 
 
 The ceremony ends ; the smiles and congratulations of 
 friends, as they gather round Franconia, shower upon her ; 
 she receives them coldly, her heart has no love for them, it 
 throbs with anxiety for that slave whose liberty she has 
 planned, and for whose safety she invokes the all-protecting 
 nand of heaven.
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 ANOTHEB PHASE OE TUB PICTURE. 
 
 WHILE the ceremony we have described in the foregoing 
 chapter was proceeding, Clotilda, yielding to the earnest 
 request of Franconia, dresses herself in garments she has 
 provided, and awaits the commencement of the scene. A 
 little schooner from one of the Bahama Islands lies moored 
 in the harbour awaiting a fair wind to return. 
 
 We need scarcely tell the reader that a plan of escape had 
 b'een previously arranged between Franconia and Maxwell ; 
 but why she took so earnest a part in carrying it out, we 
 must reserve for another chapter. 
 
 Maxwell had sought the captain of this schooner, found 
 him of a generous disposition, ready to act in behalf of 
 freedom. Having soon gained his confidence, and enlisted his 
 good services, it took no great amount of persuasion to do 
 this, his feelings having already been aroused against slavery, 
 the giant arms of which, stretched out between fear and in 
 justice, had interfered with his rights. He had seen it 
 grasp the bones and sinews of those who were born in free 
 dom he had seen men laugh at his appeals for justice he 
 had seen one of his free-born British seamen manacled and 
 dragged to prison at noonday, merely because his skin was 
 slightly coloured ; he had been compelled to pay tribute to 
 keep alive the oppressor's power, to compensate the villainy 
 rogues practise upon honest men. 
 
 " Yes !" says the captain, a sturdy son of the sea, in 
 answer to Maxwell ; " bring her on board ; and with a heart's 
 best wishes, if I don't land her free and safe in Old Bahama 
 I'll never cross the gulf stream again." And the mode of 
 getting the boats ready was at once arranged. 
 
 The night was still and dark ; picturesque illuminations in 
 ar.cl around the mansion glittered in contrast with the starry 
 arch of heaven ; the soft south breeze fans to life the dark 
 foliage that clusters around nature has clothed the scene 
 with her beauties. Clotilda she has eagerly awaited the 
 13
 
 J88 ANOTHER PHASE OF THE PICTURE. 
 
 coming time descends to the balustrade in the rear of the 
 mansion. Here she meets a band of musicians ; they have 
 assembled to serenade, and wait the benediction, a signal for 
 which will be made from one of the balconies. She fears 
 they may recognise her, hesitates at the entrance, paces 
 backward and forward in the colonnade, and professes to be 
 awaiting some message from her mistress. Again scanning 
 the scene, she watches intently, keeping her eyes fixed in 
 the direction Pranconia has suggested. " I was to meet Max 
 well there !" works upon her mind until she becomes nervous 
 and agitated. " I was, and must meet him there ;" and she 
 walks slowly back to the entrance, turns and returns, watches 
 until her soul has nearly sickened, at length espies the joyous 
 signal. Eranconia did not deceive her. Oh, uo ! he stands 
 there in the glare of a lamp that hangs from a willow-tree 1 . 
 She vaults over the path, grasps his hand with a sister's affec 
 tion, and simultaneously the soft swelling music of " Still 
 so gently o'er me stealing !" floats in the air, as dulcet and 
 soul-stirring as ever touched the fancy, or clothed with holy 
 inspiration the still repose of a southern landscape at mid 
 night. But she is with Maxwell ; they have passed the sere- 
 naders, liberty is the haven of her joy, it gives her new 
 hopes of the future. Those hopes dispel the regrets that 
 hover over her mind as she thinks of her child. 
 
 For several minutes they stand together, listening to the 
 music, and watching the familiar faces of old friends as they 
 come upon the balcony in the second story. Southern life 
 had its pleasant associations none would attempt to deny 
 them ; but the evil brooded in the uncertainty that hung 
 over the fate of millions, now yielding indulgence to make 
 life pleasant, then sinking them for ever in the cruelties of a 
 tyrant's power. It is the crashing out of the mind's force, 
 the subduing the mental and physical man to make the 
 chattel complete, the shutting out of all the succinct virtues 
 that nurture freedom, that incite us to improve the endow 
 ments of nature, that proves the rankling poison. And this 
 poison spreads its baneful influence in and around good 
 men's better desires. 
 
 After watching in silence for a few moments, Clotilda 
 gives vent to her feelings. " I should like to see old Daddy 
 Bob once more, I should ! And my poor Annette ; shu is 
 celled to be sold, I'm afraid ; but I must yield to the kind-
 
 ANOTHER PHASE OF THE PICTURE. 189 
 
 ness of Franconia. I have seen some good times among 
 the old folks on the plantation. And there's Aunt Rachel, 
 a good creature after all, and Harry. Well ; I mustn't 
 think of these things; freedomis sweetest," she says. Maxwell 
 suggests that they move onward. The music dies away in 
 the stillness, as they turn from, the scene to flee beyond the 
 grasp of men who traffic in human things called property, 
 not by a great constitution, but under a constitution's free 
 dom giving power. Would that a great and glorious nation 
 had not sold its freedom to the damning stain of avarice ! 
 would that it had not perverted that holy word, for the 
 blessings of which generations have struggled in vain ! would 
 that it had not substituted a freedom that mystifies a juris 
 prudence, that brings forth the strangest fruit of human 
 passions, that makes prison walls and dreary cells death- 
 Beds of the innocent ; that permits human beings to be 
 born for the market, and judged by the ripest wisdom ! 
 "Has God ordained such freedom lasting?" will force 
 itself upon us. We must return to our humble adventurers. 
 The fugitives reached the back gate, leading into a narrow 
 lane, from whence they cross into the main street. Clotilda 
 has none of the African about her; the most observing 
 guardsman would not stop her for a slave. They pass along 
 unmolested ; the guardsmen, some mounted and some 
 walking at a slow pace, bow politely. No one demands a 
 pass. They arrive in safety at a point about two miles from 
 the city, where the captain and his boat await them. No time 
 is lost in embarking : the little bark rides at anchor in the 
 stream ; the boat quietly glides to her ; they are safely on 
 board. A few minutes more, and the little craft moves 
 seaward under the pressure of a gentle breeze. There is 
 no tragic pursuit of slave-hunters, no tramp of horses to 
 terrify the bleeding victim, no bowlings of ravenous blood 
 hounds, nothing that would seem, to make the issue free 
 dom or death. No ! all is as still as a midsummer night 
 in the same clime. The woman this daughter of slavery's 
 vices cherishes a love for freedom ; the hope of gaining it, 
 and improving those endowments nature has bestowed 
 upon her, freshens her spirits and gives her life to look 
 forward without desponding. Maxwell is her friend ; he 
 has witnessed the blighting power of slavery not alone in 
 its workings upon the black man, but upon the lineal
 
 190 ANOTHBB PHASE OE THE PICTUflE. 
 
 offspring of freemen and has resolved to work against its 
 mighty arm. "With him it is the spontaneous action of a 
 generous heart sympathising for the wrongs inflicted upon 
 the weak, and loving to see right respected. 
 
 The fair Franconia, who has just been forced to accept 
 the hand of a mere charlatan, disclosed the secrets of her 
 mind to him ; it was she who incited him to an act which 
 might have sacrificed his freedom, perhaps his life. But 
 mankind is possessed of an innate feeling to do good ; and 
 there is a charm added when the object to be served is a 
 fair creature about to be dragged into the miseries of 
 slavery. Even the rougher of our kind cannot resist it ; 
 and at times we except the servile opinion which slavery 
 inflicts upon a people through its profitable issues prompts 
 the ruffian to generous acts. 
 
 The little bark, bound for the haven of freedom, sailed 
 onward over the blue waters, and when daylight dawned 
 had crossed the bar separating the harbour from the ocean. 
 Clotilda ascends to the deck, sits on the companion-seat, and 
 in a pensive mood watches the fading hills where slavery 
 stains the fair name of freedom, where oppression rears 
 its dark monuments to for ever torture and disgrace a harm 
 less race. She looks intently upon them, as one by one 
 they fade in the obscure horizon, seeming to recall the many 
 associations, pleasant and painful, through which she has 
 passed. She turns from the contemplation to the deep 
 blue sea, and the unclouded arch of heaven, as they spread 
 out before her : they are God's own, man cannot pollute 
 them ; they are like a picture of glory inspiring her with 
 emotions she cannot suppress. As the last dim sight of 
 land is lost in the distance, she waves a handkerchief, as if 
 to bid it adieu for ever ; then looking at Maxwell, who sits 
 by her side, she says, with a sigh, " I am beyond it ! Free, 
 yes, free ! But, have I not left a sufferer behind r There 
 is my poor Annette, my child; I will clasp her to my bosom, 
 I will love her more when I meet her again. Grood-bye, 
 Franconia dear Franconia ! She will be a mother to my 
 little one ; she will keep her word." Thus saying, she 
 casts a look upward, invokes heaven to be merciful to her 
 persecutors, to protect her child, to guard Franconia 
 through life. Tears stream down her cheeks as she svaves 
 her hand and retires to the cabin.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 
 
 must deal gently with our scenes ; we must describe 
 them without exaggeration, and in rotation. While the 
 scenes we have just described were proceeding, another, of 
 deeper import, and more expressive of slavery's complicated 
 combin^ions, was being enacted in another part of the city. 
 A rattle of ordinary character had been announced in the 
 morning papers, we say ordinary, because it came within 
 the ordinary specification of trade, and violated neither 
 statute law nor municipal ordinance, and the raffler, 
 esteemed a great character in the city, was no less celebrated 
 for his taste in catering for the amusement of his patrons. 
 On this occasion, purporting to be a very great one, the 
 inducements held out were no less an incentive of gambling 
 propensities than an aim to serve licentious purposes. In a 
 word, it offered " all young connoisseurs of beauty a chance 
 to procure one of the finest-developed young wenches, 
 fair, bright, perfectly brought up, young, chaste, and of 
 most amiable disposition, for a trifling sum." This was all 
 straight in the way of trade, in a free country ; nobody 
 should blush at it (some maidens, reading the notice, might 
 feel modestly inclined to), because nobody could gainsay it. 
 This is prize No. 1, prime as set down in the schedule 
 and the amount per toss being only a trifle, persons m 
 want of such prizes are respectfully informed of the fact 
 that only a few chances remain, which will command a 
 premium before candle-light. Prize No. 2 is a superior 
 pony, of well-known breed here the pedigree is set forth ; 
 which advantage had not been accorded to the human animal, 
 lest certain members of the same stock should blush raised 
 with great care and attention, and exactly suited for a 
 gentleman's jant or a lady's saddle-nag. Prize No. 3 is a 
 superior setter dog, who has also been well brought up, is 
 from good stock, is kind to children, who play, with him 
 when they please. He knows niggers, is good to watch
 
 192 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 
 
 them, has been known to catch runaways, to tear their 
 shins wonderfully. Indeed, according to the setting forth 
 of the sagacious animal, he would seem to understand slave- 
 law quite well t and to be ready and willing to lend his aid with 
 dogs of a different species to enforce its provisions. The only 
 fault the brute has, if fault it may be called, is that he does not 
 understand the constitutionality of the fugitive slave law, 
 a law destined to be exceedingly troublesome among a free 
 people. Did the sagacity of the animal thus extend to the 
 sovereign law of the land of the brave and free, he would 
 bring a large price at the north, where men are made to do 
 what dogs most delight in at the south. 
 
 The first prize, as set forth, is valued at seven hundred 
 dollars : the magnanimous gentleman who caters thus gene 
 rously for his patrons states the delicate prize to be worth 
 fifty or a hundred dollars more, and will, with a little more 
 developing, be worth a great deal more money. Hence, he 
 hopes his patrons will duly appreciate enterprising liberality. 
 
 The second prize he considers generously low at two 
 hundred dollars ; and the dog the sagacious animal con 
 stituting the third prize would be a great bargain to 
 anybody wanting such an animal, especially in considera 
 tion of his propensity to catch negroes, at sixty dollars. 
 The trio of human and animal prizes produce no distinctive 
 effect upon the feelings of those who speculate in such 
 property ; with them it is only a matter of gradation between 
 dollars and cents. 
 
 But, to be more off-handed in this generous undertaking, 
 and in consideration of the deep-felt sensibility and hospi 
 tality which must always protect southern character, the 
 chances will be restricted to two hundred, at five dollars 
 per chance. Money must be paid in before friends can 
 consider themselves stock-holders. It is to be a happy time, 
 in a happy country, where all are boasted happy. The first 
 lucky dog will get the human prize ; the next lucky dog 
 will get the pony ; the third will make a dog of himself by 
 only winning a dog. The fun of the thing, however, will 
 be the great attraction ; men of steady habits are reminded 
 of this. Older gentlemen, having very nice taste for colour, 
 but no particular scruples about religion, and who seldom 
 think morals worth much to niggers, " because they aint 
 got sense to appreciate such things," are expected to be on
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 193 
 
 hand. Those who know bright and fair niggers were never 
 made for anything under the sun but to gratify theii own 
 desires, are expected to spread the good news, to set the 
 young aristocracy of the city all agog, to start up a first- 
 best crowd, have some tall drinking and first-rate amuse 
 ment. Everybody is expected to tell his friend, and his 
 friend is expected to help the generous man out with his 
 generous scheme, and all are expected to join in the 
 " bender" Nobody must forget that the whole thing is to 
 come off at " Tour House," an eating and drinking saloon, 
 of great capacity, kept by the very distinguished man, 
 Mr. O'Brodereque. 
 
 Mr. O'Brodereque, who always pledges his word upon 
 the honour of a southern gentleman frequently asserting 
 his greatness in the political world, and wondering who 
 could account for his not finding his way into Congress, 
 where talent like his would be brought out for the pro 
 tection of our south has made no end of money by 
 selling a monstrous deal of very bad liquor to customers of 
 all grades, niggers excepted. And, although his hair is well 
 mixed with the grey of many years, he declares the guilt of 
 selling liquor to niggers is not on his shoulders. It is owing 
 to this clean state of his character, that he has been able 
 to maintain his aristocratic position. " Yes, indeed," said 
 one of his patrons, who, having fallen in arrears, found 
 himself undergoing the very disagreeable process cf being 
 politely kicked into the street, " money makes a man big in 
 the south : big in niggers, big in politics, big with every 
 thing but the way I'm big, with an empty pocket. I 
 don't care, though ; he's going up by the process that I'm 
 coming down. There's philosophy in that." It could not 
 be denied that Mr. O'Brodereque-commonly called General 
 O'Brodereque was very much looked up to by great 
 people and Bacchanalians, men who pay court to appease 
 the wondrous discontent of the belly, to the total neglect 
 of the back. Not a few swore, by all their importance, a 
 greater man never lived. He is, indeed, all that can be 
 desired to please the simple pretensions of a free-thinking 
 and free-acting southern people, who, having elevated him 
 to the office of alderman, declare him exactly the man to 
 develope its functions. A few of the old school aristocracy, 
 who still retain the bad left them by their English ancestry.
 
 194 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PBOPBEl'Y. 
 
 having long since forgotten the good, do sneer now and 
 then at Mr. Brodereque'a pretensions. But, like ail great 
 men who have a great object to carry out, he affects to 
 frown such things down, to remind the perpetrators of 
 such aristocratic sneers what a spare few they are. He 
 asserts, and with more truth than poetry, that any gentle 
 man having the capacity to deluge the old aristocracy with 
 doubtful wine, line his pockets while draining theirs all 
 the time making them feel satisfied he imports the choicest 
 and who can keep on a cheerful face the while, can fill an 
 alderman's chair to a nicety. 
 
 In addition to the above, Mr. O'Brodereque is one of 
 those very accommodating individuals who never fail to 
 please their customers, while inciting their vanity ; and, at 
 the same time, always secure a good opinion for themselves. 
 And, too, he was liberally inclined, never refused tick, but 
 always made it tell ; by which well-devised process, his 
 patrons were continually becoming his humble servants, 
 ready to serve him at call. 
 
 Always civil, and even obsequious at first, ready to conde 
 scend and accommodate, he is equally prompt when matters 
 require that peculiar turn which southerners frequently 
 find themselves turned into, -^ne-more tick and a turn out 
 of doors. At times, Mr. O'Brodereque's customers have 
 the very unenviable consolation of knowing that a small 
 document called a mortgage of their real and personal 
 property remains in his hands, which he will very soon find 
 it necessary to foreclose. 
 
 It is dark, night has stolen upon us again, the hour 
 for the raffle is at hand. The saloon, about a hundred and forty 
 feet long by forty wide, is brilliantly lighted for the occasion. 
 The gas-lights throw strange shadows upon the distemper 
 painting with which the walls are decorated. Hanging care 
 lessly here and there are badly-daubed paintings of battle 
 scenes and heroic devices, alternated with lithographic and 
 badly-executed engravings of lustfully-exposed females. Soon 
 the saloon fills with a throng of variously-mixed gentlemen. 
 The gay, the grave, the old, and the young men of the 
 fashionable world, are present. Some affect the fast young 
 man ; others seem mere speculators, attracted to the place 
 for the purpose of enjoying an hour, seeing the sight, and, 
 it may be, taking a throw for the "gal." The crowd pre-
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 195 
 
 Bents a singular contrast of beings. Some are dressed to 
 the very extreme of fantastic fashion, and would seem to have 
 wasted their brains in devising colours for their backs; 
 others, aspiring to the seriously genteel, are fashioned in 
 very extravagant broadcloth ; while a third group is 
 dressed in most niggardly attire, which sets very loosely. 
 In addition to this they wear very large black, white, and 
 grey-coloured felt hats, slouched over their heads ; while 
 their nether garments, of red and brown linsey-woolsey, 
 fit like Falstaff's doublet on a whip stock. They seem 
 proud of the grim tufts of hair that, like the moss-grown 
 clumps upon an old oak, spread over their faces ; and 
 they move about in the grotesque crowd, making their 
 physiognomies increase its piquancy. 
 
 The saloon is one of those places at the south where 
 great men, small men, men of different spheres and occupa 
 tions, men in prominently defined positions, men in doubtful 
 calls of life, and men most disreputably employed, most do 
 congregate. At one end of the saloon is a large oyster 
 counter, behind which stand two coloured men, with sauces, 
 savories, and other mixtures at hand, ready to serve 
 customers who prefer the delicacy in its raw state. Men 
 are partaking without noting numbers. Mr. O'Brodereque 
 has boys serving who take very good care of the numbers. 
 Extending along one side of the saloon is an elaborately 
 carved mahogany counter, with panels of French white 
 and gilt mouldings. This is surmounted with a marble 
 slab, upon which stand well-filled decanters, vases, and 
 salvers. Behind this counter, genteelly-dressed and polite 
 attendants are serving customers who stand along its side in 
 a line, treating in true southern style. The calling for 
 drinks is a problem for nice ears to solve, so varied are the 
 sounds, so strange the names : style, quantity, and mixture 
 seemed without limit, set on in various colours to flow and 
 flood the spirits of the jovial. On the opposite side of the 
 saloon are rows of seats and arm-chairs, interspersed with 
 small tables, from which the beverage can be imbibed more 
 at ease. On the second story is the great " eating saloon," 
 with its various apartments, its curtained boxes, its prim- 
 looking waiters, its pier-glass walls. There is every accom 
 modation for belly theologians, who may discuss the choicest 
 viands of the season.
 
 196 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PttOPEBTT. 
 
 The company are assembled, the lower saloon is crowded; 
 Mr. O'Brodereque, with great dignity, mounts the stand, 
 a little table standing at one end of the room. His face 
 reddens, he gives several delinquent coughs, looks round 
 and smiles upon his motley patrons, points a finger recog- 
 nisingly at a wag in the corner, who has addressed some 
 remarks to him, puts his thumbs in the sleeve-holes of his 
 vest, throws back his coat-collar, puts himself in a defiant 
 attitude, and is ready to deliver himself of his speech. 
 
 " A political speech from the General ! Gentlemen, hats 
 off, and give your attention to Mr. General O'Brodereque's 
 remarks !" resounds from several voices. Mr. O'Brodereque 
 is somewhat overcome, his friends compliment him so : he 
 stands, hesitating, as if he had lost the opening part of his 
 speech, like a statue on a molasses-cask. At length he 
 speaks. " If it was a great political question, gentlemen, I'd 
 get the twist of the thing, I'd pitch into it, big ! These 
 little things always trouble public men more than the 
 important intricacies of government do. You see, they are 
 not comesurate, that's it !" says Mr. Brodereque, looking 
 wondrously wise the while. After bowing, smiling, and 
 acknowledging the complimeHts~df his generous customers 
 with prodigious grace, he merely announces to his friends 
 with eloquence that defies imitation, and turns rhetoric 
 into a discordant exposition of his own important self that, 
 not having examined the constitution for more nor three 
 Sundays, they must, upon the honour of a gentleman, 
 excuse his political speech. " But, gents," he says, " you 
 all know how I trys to please ye in the way of raffles and 
 such things, and how I throws in the belly and stomach 
 fixins. Now, brighten up, ye men of taste Mr. Bro 
 dereque laughs satisfactorily as he surveys his crowd I'm 
 going to do the thing up brown for ye, to give ye a chance 
 for a bit of bright property what ye don't get every day ; 
 can't scare up such property only once in a while. It'll 
 make ye old fellers wink, someMr. O'Brodereque winks at 
 several aged gentlemen, whose grey hair is figurative in the 
 crowd think about being young again. And, my friends 
 below thirty my young friends ah, ye rascals ! I thought 
 I'd play the tune on the right string!" he laughs, and 
 puts his finger to his mouth quizzically " I likes to suit ye, 
 and please ye : own her up, now, don't I ?"
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PEOPEETY. i ^7 
 
 "Hurrah! for Brod, Brod's a trump!" again resounds 
 from a dozen voices. 
 
 They all agree to the remark that nobody can touch the 
 great Mr. O'Brodereque in getting up a nice bit of fun, amus 
 ing young men with more money than mind, and being in the 
 favour of aristocratic gentlemen who think nothing of 
 staking a couple of prime niggers on a point of faro. 
 
 Mr. O'Brodereque has been interrupted ; he begs his 
 friends will, for a moment, cease their compliments and 
 allow him to proceed. " Gentlemen !" he continues, " the 
 gal's what ye don't get every day ; and she's as choice as 
 she's young ; and she's as handsome as she's young ; and 
 for this delicious young crittur throws are only five dollars 
 a piece." The sentimental southern gentleman has no 
 reference to the throes of anguish that are piercing the 
 wounded soul of the woman. 
 
 " A gentleman what ain't got a V* in his pocket 
 better not show his winkers in this crowd. After that, 
 gentlemen, there's a slap-up pony, and one of the 
 knowinest dogs outside of a court-house. .Now, gents ! 
 if this ain't some tall doings, some of a raffle, just take 
 my boots and I'll put it for Texas. A chance for a nigger 
 gal a pony a dog ; who on 'arth wants more, gentle 
 men ? " Mr. O'Brodereque again throws back his coat, 
 shrugs his shoulders, wipes the perspiration from his brow, 
 and is about to descend from the table. No, he won't come 
 down just yet. He has struck a vein ; his friends are 
 getting up a favourable excitement. 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! long may General Brodereque keep 
 the hospitable Your House ! Who wouldn't give a vote for 
 Brodereque at the next election ?" re-echoes through the 
 room. 
 
 " One more remark, gentlemen." Mr. Brodereque again 
 wipes the perspiration from his forehead, and orders a glass 
 of water, to loosen his oratorical organs. He drinks the 
 water, seems to increase in his own greatness ; his red face 
 glows redder, he makes a theatrical gesticulation with his right 
 hand, crumples his hair into curious points, and proceeds: 
 " The lucky man what gets the gal prize is to treat the 
 crowd !" This is seconded and carried by acclamation, 
 without a dissenting voice. 
 
 * Five-dollar bill.
 
 198 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAtf PEOPJ3KTY. 
 
 A murmuring noise, as of some one in trouble, is now heard 
 at the door : the crowd gives way : a beautiful mulatto girl, 
 in a black silk dress, with low waist and short sleeves, and 
 morocco slippers on her feet, is led in and placed upon the 
 stand Mr. O'Brodereque has just vacated. Her complexion 
 is that of a swarthy Greek ; her countenance is moody and 
 reflective ; her feelings are stung with the poison of her 
 degraded position. This last step of her disgrace broods in 
 the melancholy of her face. Shame, pain, hope, and fear, 
 combine to goad her very soul. But it's all for a bit of fun, 
 clearly legal ; it's all in accordance with society ; misfortune 
 is turned into a plaything, that generous, good, and noble- 
 hearted men may be amused. Those who stand around 
 her are extravagant with joy. After remaining a few 
 moments in silence, a mute victim of generous freedom, she 
 turns her head bashfully, covers her face with her hands. 
 Her feelings gush forth in a stream of tears ; she cannot 
 suppress them longer. 
 
 There is a touching beauty in her face, made more 
 effective by the deplorable-condition to which she is reduced. 
 Again she looks upward, and covers her face with her 
 hands ; her soul seems merged in supplication to the God 
 who rules all things aright. He is a forgiving God ! Can 
 he thus direct man's injustice to man, while this poor 
 broken flower thus withers under the bane ? Sad, melan 
 choly, doomed ! there is no hope, no joy for her. She weeps 
 over her degradation. 
 
 "Stop that whimperin!" says a ruffianly bystander, who 
 orders a coloured boy to let down her hair. He obeys the 
 summons ; it falls in thick, black, undulating tresses over 
 her neck and shoulders. , A few moments more, and she 
 resumes a calm appearance, looks resolutely upon her 
 auditors, with indignation and contempt pictured in her 
 countenance. 
 
 " She'll soon get over that !" ejaculates another bystander, 
 as he smooths the long beard on his haggard face. " Strip 
 her down !" The request is no sooner made, than Mr. 
 O'Brodereque mounts the stand to perform the feat. " Great 
 country this, gentlemen!" he speaks, taking her by the 
 shoulders. 
 
 " All off! all off", general !" is the popular demand. 
 
 The sensitive nature of the innocent girl recoils; she
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 199 
 
 cringes from his touch ; she shudders, and vainly attempts 
 to resist. She must yield; the demand is imperative. 
 Her dress falls at Mr. O'Brodereque's touch. She stands 
 before the gazing crowd, exposed to the very thighs, holding 
 the loose folds of her dress in her hands. There is no 
 sympathy for those moistened eyes ; oh, no ! it is a luscious 
 feast puritans have no part in the sin for those who, in 
 our laud of love and liberty, buy and sell poor human 
 nature, and make it food for serving hell. 
 
 Naked she stands for minutes ; the assembled gentlemen 
 have feasted their eyes, good men have played the part of 
 their good natures. General O'Brodereque, conscious of 
 his dignity, orders her to be taken down. The waiter 
 performs the duty, and she is led out midst the acclamations 
 and plaudits of the crowd, who call for the raffle. 
 
 Mr. O'Brodereque hopes gentlemen are satisfied with 
 what they have seen, and will pledge his honour that the 
 pony and dog are quite as sound and healthy as the wench 
 whose portions they have had a chance to shy ; and for 
 which the extra sight' they should pay an extra treat. 
 This, however, his generosity will not allow him to stand 
 upon ; and, seeing how time is precious, and the weather 
 warm, he hopes his friends will excuse the presence of the 
 animals, take his word of honour in consideration of the 
 sight of the wench. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," he says, " the throws are soon to 
 commence, and all what ain't put down the tin better attend 
 that ar' needful arrangement, quicker!" 
 
 As the general concludes this very significant invitation, 
 Dan Bengal, Anthony Bomescos, and Nath Nimrod, enter 
 together. Their presence creates some little commotion, 
 for Bomescos is known to be turbulent, and very uncertain 
 when liquor flows freely, which is the case at present. 
 
 " I say, general ! old hoss ! I takes all the chances 
 what's left," Bomescos shouts at the top of his voice. His 
 eyes glare with anxiety, his red, savage face, doubly 
 sun-scorched, glows out as he elbows his way through the 
 crowd up to the desk, where sits a corpulent clerk. " Beg 
 your pardon, gentlemen : not so fast, if you please !" he 
 says, entering names in his ledger, receiving money, " doing 
 the polite of the establishment." 
 
 Romescos's coat and nether clothing are torn in several
 
 200 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 
 
 places, a hunting-belt girdles his waist ; a bowie-knife 
 (Sheffield make) protrudes from his breast-pocket, his hair 
 hangs in jagged tufts over the collar of his coat, which, with 
 the rough moccasons on his feet, give him an air of fierce 
 desperaton and recklessness. His presence is evidently 
 viewed with suspicion ; he is a curious object which the 
 crowd are willing to give ample space to. 
 
 " No, you don't take 'em all, neither !" says another, in 
 a defiant tone. The remaining " chances " are at once put 
 up for sale ; they bring premiums, as one by one they are 
 knocked down to the highest bidders, some as much as fifty 
 per cent, advance. Gentlemen are not to know it, because 
 Mr. O'Brodereque thinks his honour above everything 
 else ; but the fact is, there is a collusion between Romescos 
 and the honourable Mr. O'Brodereque. The former is 
 playing his part to create a rivalry that will put dollars and 
 cents into the pocket of the latter. 
 
 " Well !" exclaims Rornescos, with great indifference, as 
 soon as the sale had concluded, " I've got seven throws, 
 all lucky ones. I'll take any man's bet for two hundred 
 dollars that I gets the gal prize." Nobody seems inclined 
 to accept the challenge. A table is set in the centre of the 
 saloon, the dice are brought on, amidst a jargon of noise and 
 confusion ; to this is added drinking, smoking, swearing, and 
 all kinds of small betting. 
 
 The raffle commences ; one by one the numbers are 
 called. Romescos' turn has come ; all eyes are intently set 
 upon him. He is celebrated for tricks of his trade ; he 
 seldom repudiates the character, and oftener prides in the 
 name of a shrewd one, who can command a prize for his 
 sharp dealing. In a word, he has a peculiar faculty of 
 shielding the doubtful transactions of a class of men no 
 less dishonest, but more modest in point of reputation. 
 
 Eomescos spreads himself wonderfully, throws his dice, 
 and exults over the result. He has turned up three sixes 
 at the first and second throws, and two sixes and five at the 
 third. 
 
 " Beat that ! who can ?" he says. No one discovers that 
 he has, by a very dexterous movement, slipped a set of 
 false dice into the box, while O'Brodereque diverted attention 
 at the moment by introducing the pony into the saloon. 
 
 We will pass over many things that occurred, and inform
 
 PLEASANT DEALINGS WITH HUMAN PROPERTY. 201 
 
 the reader that Eomese.os won the first prize the woman. 
 The dog and pony prizes were carried off by legitimate 
 winners. This specific part of the scene over, a band of 
 negro minstrels are introduced, who strike up their happy 
 glees, the music giving new life to the revelry. Such a 
 medley of drinking, gambling, and carousing followed, as 
 defies description. What a happy thing it is to be free ; 
 they feel this, it it is a happy feeling ! The sport lasts 
 till the small hours of morning advance. Romescos is 
 seen leaving the saloon very quietly. 
 
 "There!" says Mr. O'Brodereque exultiugly, "he hasn't 
 got so much of a showing. That nigger gal ain't what she's 
 cracked up to be!" and he shakes his head knowingly, 
 thrusts his hands deep into his breeches pockets, smiles with 
 an air of great consequence. 
 
 " Where did ye raise the critter ? devil of a feller ye be, 
 Brodereque !" says a young sprig, giving his hat a parti 
 cular set on the side of his head, and adjusting his eye-glass 
 anew. " Ye ain't gin her a name, in all the showin'," he 
 continues, drawlingly. 
 
 " That gal ! She ain't worth so much, a'ter all. She's 
 of Marston's stock ; Ellen Juvarna, I think they call her. 
 She's only good for her looks, in the animal way, 
 that's all !" 
 
 "Hav'n't told where ye got her, yet," interrupts the 
 sprig ; "none of yer crossin' corners, general." 
 
 " Well, I started up that gal of Elder Pemberton Praise 
 worthy. She takes it into her mind to get crazed now and 
 then, and Marston had to sell her ; and the Elder bought 
 her for a trifle, cured up her thinkin'-trap, got her sound 
 up for market, and I makes a strike with the Elder, and 
 gets her at a tall bargain." Mr. O'Brodereque has lost 
 none of his dignity, none of his honour, none of his hopes 
 of getting into Congress by the speculation. 
 
 It is poor Ellen Juvarna ; she has been cured for the 
 market. She might have said, and with truth, " You don't 
 know me now, so wonderful are they who deal with my 
 rights in this our world of liberty !"
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A NOT UNCOMMON SCENE SLIGHTLY CHANGED. 
 
 KOMESCOS, having withdrawn from the saloon while the 
 excitement raged highest, may be seen, with several others, 
 seated at a table in the upper room. They are in earnest 
 consultation, evidently devising some plan for carrying 
 out a deep-laid plot. 
 
 " I have just called my friend, who will give us the par 
 ticulars about the constitutionality of the thing. Here he is. 
 Mr. Scranton, ye see, knows all about such intricacies ; 
 he is an editor ! formerly from the North," one of the party 
 is particular to explain, as he directs his conversation to 
 Komeacos. That gentleman of slave-cloth only knows the 
 part they call the rascality ; he pays the gentlemen of the 
 learned law profession to shuffle him out of all the legal 
 intricacies that hang around his murderous deeds. He 
 seems revolving the thing over in his mind at the moment, 
 makes no reply. The gentleman turns to Mr. Scranton 
 the same methodical gentleman AVC have described with the 
 good Mrs. Rosebrook hopes he will be good enough to 
 advise on the point in question. Mr. Scranton sits in all 
 the dignity of his serious philosophy, quite unmoved ; his 
 mind is nearly distracted about all that is constitutionally 
 right or constitutionally wrong. He is bound to his own ways 
 of thinking, and would suffer martyrdom before his own con 
 scientious scruples would allow him to acknowledge a right 
 superior to that constitution. As for the humanity ! that 
 has nothing to do with the constitution, nothing to do with 
 the laws of the land, nothing to do with popular government, 
 nothing to do with anything, and never should be taken 
 into consideration when the point at issue involved negro 
 property. The schedule of humanity would be a poor 
 account at one's banker's. Mr. Scranton begins to smooth 
 his face, which seems to elongate like a wet moon. " The 
 question is, as I understand it, gentlemen, how far the law 
 will give you a right to convict and sell the woman in the
 
 A NOT UNCOMMON SCENE SLIGHTLY CHANGED. 203 
 
 absence of papers and against the assertions of her owner, 
 that she is free ? Now, gentlemen, in the absence of my 
 law books, and without the least scruple that I am legally 
 right, for I'm seldom legally wrong, having been many 
 } r ears secretary to a senator in Congress who made it my 
 particular duty to keep him posted on all points of the 
 constitution he drawls out with the serious complacency of 
 a London beggar I will just say that, whatever is legal 
 must be just. Laws are always founded in justice that's 
 logical, you see, and I always maintained it long 'afore I 
 come south, long 'afore I knowed a thing about ' nigger 
 law.' The point, thus far, you see, gentlemen, I've settled. 
 Now then !" Mr. Scranton rests his elbow on the table, 
 makes many legal gesticulations with his finger ; he, how 
 ever, disclaims all and every connection with the legal body, 
 inasmuch as its members have sunk very much in the scale 
 of character, and will require a deal of purifying ere he can 
 call them brothers ; but he knows a thing or two of consti 
 tutional law, and thus proceeds : " 'Tain't a whit of matter 
 about the woman, barring the dockerment's all right. You 
 only want to prove that Marston bought her, that's all ! 
 A.S for the young scraps, why supposing they are his 
 that won't make a bit of difference ; they are property for 
 all that, subject to legal restraints. Your claim will be 
 valid against it. You may have to play nicely over some 
 intricate legal points. But, remember, nigger law is won 
 derfully elastic ; it requires superhuman wisdom to unravel 
 its social and political intricacies, and when I view it 
 through the horoscope of an indefinite future it makes my 
 very head ache. You may, however, let your claim revert 
 to another, and traverse the case until such time 
 as you can procure reliable proof to convict." Mr. 
 Scrauton asserts this as the force of his legal and constitu 
 tional acumen. He addresses himself to a mercantile-look 
 ing gentleman who sits at the opposite side of the table, 
 attentively listening. He is one of several of Marston's 
 creditors, who sit at the table ; they have attached certain 
 property, and having some doubts of overthrowing Marston's 
 plea of freedom, which he has intimated his intention to 
 enter, have called in the valuable aid of Homescos. That 
 indomitable individual, however, has more interests than one 
 to serve, and is playing his cards with great " diplomatic 
 14
 
 204 A JTOT UNCOMMON SCENE SLIGHTLY CHANGED. 
 
 skill." Indeed, he often remarks that his wonderful diplo 
 matic skill would have been a great acquisition to the federal 
 government, inasmuch as it would have facilitated all its 
 Southern American projects. 
 
 The point in question at present, and which they must 
 get over, in order to prove the property, is made more 
 difficult by the doubt in which the origin of Clotilda 
 has always been involved. Many are the surmises about 
 her parentage many are the assertions that she is not of 
 negro extraction she has no one feature indicating it but 
 no one can positively assert where she came from ; in a 
 word, no one dare ! Henee is constituted the ground for 
 fearing the issue of Marston's notice of freedom. 
 
 " Well ! I'll own it puzzles my cunnin' ; there's a way 
 to get round it there is but deuced if 'tain't too much 
 for my noddle," Komescos interposes, taking a little more 
 whiskey, and seeming quite indifferent about the whole 
 affair. "Suppose Marston comes forward! yes, and 
 brings somebody to swear as a kind a' sideways ? That'll 
 be a poser in asserting their freedom ; it'll saddle you 
 creditors with the burden of proof. There'll be the rub ; 
 and ye can't plead a right to enjoin the schedule he files in 
 bankruptcy unless ye show how they were purchased by him. 
 Perchance on some legal uncertainty it might be done, by 
 your producing proof that he had made an admission, 
 anterior to the levy, of their being purchased by him," 
 Romescos continues, very wisely appealing to his learned 
 and constitutional friend, Mr. Scranton, who yields his 
 assent by adding that the remarks are very legal, and 
 contain truths worth considering, inasmuch as they involve 
 great principles of popular government. " I think our 
 worthy friend has a clear idea of the points," Mr. Scranton 
 concludes. 
 
 " One word more, * gentlemen : a bit of advice what's 
 worth a right smart price to ye all here he parenthesises by 
 saying he has great sympathy for creditors in distress and 
 ye must profit by it, for yer own interests. As the case now 
 stands, it's a game for lawyers to play and get fat at. And, 
 seein' how Marston's feelins are up in a sort of tender 
 way, he feels strong about savin' them young 'uns ; and ye, 
 nor all the gentlemen of the lower place, can't make 'em 
 property, if he plays his game right ; he knows how to !
 
 A. NOT UNCOMMON SCENE, SLIGHTLY CHANGED. 205 
 
 ye'll only make a fuss over the brutes, while the lawyers 
 bag all the game- worth a dollar. Never see'd a nigger yet 
 what raised a legal squall, that didn't get used up in law 
 leakins ; lawyers are sainted pocket masters ! But that 
 kind a' stuff! it takes a mighty deal of cross-cornered 
 swearing to turn it into property. The only way ye can 
 drive the peg in so the lawyers won't get hold on't, is by 
 selliu' out to old Graspum Norman, I mean he does up 
 such business as fine as a fiddle. Make the best strike with 
 him ye can he's as tough as a knot on nigger trade ! and, 
 if there's any making property out on 'em, he's just the 
 tinker to do it." 
 
 They shake their heads doubtingly, as if questioning the 
 policy of the advice. Mr. Scranton, however, to whom all 
 looked with great solicitation, speaks up, and affirms the 
 advice to be the wiser course, as a bird in the hand is worth 
 two in the bush. 
 
 " Oh, yes !" says Eomescos, significantly, " you'll be safe 
 then, and free from responsibility ; Graspum's a great 
 fellow to buy risks ; but, seeing how he's not popular with 
 juries, he may want to play behind the scenes, continue to 
 prosecute the case in the name of the creditors, that's all ! 
 Curious work, this making property out of doubtful women. 
 Sell out to them what understands the curious of the things, 
 clear yerselfs of the perplexiu' risks ye won't bag a bit of 
 the game, you won't. Saddle it on Norman ; he knows 
 the philosophy of nigger trade, and can swim through a sea 
 of legal perplexities in nigger cases." Mr. Eomescos never 
 gave more serious advice in his life ; he finishes his whiskey, 
 adjusts his hat slouchingly on his head, bids them good 
 night ; and, in return for their thanks, assures them that 
 they are welcome. He withdraws ; Mr. Scranton, after a 
 time, gets very muddled ; so much so, that, when daylight 
 appears, he finds, to his utter astonishment, he has enjoyed 
 a sweet sleep on the floor, some of his quizzical friends 
 having disfigured his face very much after the fashion of a 
 clown's. He modestly, and mechanically, picks up his 
 lethargic body, views his constitutional self in the glass, and 
 is much horrified, much disgusted with those who perpe 
 trated the freak.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THEY AKE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 
 
 SLOWLY we pass through the precious scenes, hoping our 
 readers will indulge us with their patience. 
 
 Five days have passed since Clotilda's departure ; her 
 absence is creating alarm. No one knows anything of her ! 
 a general search is instituted, but the searchers search in 
 vain. Maxwell has eluded suspicion Franconia no one for 
 a moment suspects. Colonel M'Carstrow his mind, for the 
 time, absorbed in the charms of his young bride gives 
 little attention to the matter. He only knows that he has 
 signed a bond for fifteen hundred dollars, to indemnify the 
 sheriff, or creditors, in the event of loss ; he reconciles him 
 self with the belief that she has been enticed into some of 
 the neighbouring bright houses, from which he can regain 
 her in the course of time. M'Carstrow knows little of 
 Clotilda's real character ; and thus the matter rests a time. 
 
 The sheriff, important gentleman of an important office, 
 will give himself no concern about the matter : the plain 
 tiffs attorney acknowledged the deed of release, which is 
 quite enough for him. Graspum, a perfect savan where 
 human property was to be judged, had decided that her 
 square inches of human vitality were worth strong fifteen 
 hundred ; that was all desirable for the sheriff it would leave 
 margin enough to cover the cost. But M'Carstrow, when 
 given the bond, knew enough of nigger law to demand the 
 insertion of a clause leaving it subject to the question of 
 property, which is to be decided by the court. A high 
 court this, where freemen sit assembled to administer curious 
 justice. What constitutional inconsistencies hover over the 
 monstrous judicial dignity of this court, this court having 
 jurisdiction over the monetary value of beings moulded after 
 God's own image ! It forms a happy jurisprudence for 
 those who view it for their selfish ends ; it gains freedom 
 tyranny's license, gives birth to strange incongruities, 
 clashing between the right of property in man and all the
 
 THEY ABJ! ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 207 
 
 viler passions of our nature. It holds forth a jurisprudence 
 that turns men into hounds of hell, devouring one another, 
 and dragging human nature down into the very filth of 
 earth. 
 
 Marston's troubles keep increasing. All the preliminaries 
 of law necessary to a sale of the undisputed property have 
 been gone through ; the day of its disposal has arrived. The 
 children, Annette and Nicholas, have remained in a cell, 
 suffering under its malarious atmosphere, anxiously awaiting 
 their fate. Marston has had them taught to read, con 
 trary to a generous law of a generous land, and at intervals 
 they sit together pondering over little books he has sent 
 them. 
 
 What are such little books to them ? the unbending 
 avarice of human nature, fostered by slavery's power, is 
 grappling at their existence. There is no sympathy for 
 them ; it is crushed out by the law which makes them 
 chattels. Oh, no ! sympathy, generosity, human affections, 
 have little to do with the transactions o slave dealing ; that 
 belongs to commerce, commerce has an unbending rule to 
 maintain while money is to be made by a legalised traffic. 
 
 We must invite the reader to accompany us to the county 
 gaol, on the morning of sale. 
 
 The "gang" Marston's slaves have been ordered to 
 prepare themselves for the market ; the yard resounds with 
 their jargon. Some are arranging their little clothing, 
 washing, "brightening up" their faces to make the property 
 show oif in the market. Others are preparing homony for 
 breakfast ; children, in ragged garments, are toddling, 
 running, playing, and sporting about the brick pavement ; 
 the smallest are crouched at the feet of their mothers, as if 
 sharing the gloom or nonchalance of their feeling. Men are 
 gathering together the remnants of some cherished memento 
 of the old plantation ; they had many a happy day upon it. 
 Women view as things of great worth the little trinkets 
 with which good master, in former days, rewarded their 
 energy. They recall each happy association of the cabin. 
 Husbands, or such as should be husbands, look upon their 
 wives with solicitude ; they feel it is to be the last day they 
 will meet together on earth. They may meet in heaven ; 
 there is no slavery there. Mothers look upon their children 
 only to feel the pangs of sorrow more keenly ; they know
 
 208 THEY ABE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 
 
 and feel that their offspring are born for the market, not for 
 the enjoyment of their affections. They may be torn from 
 them, and sold like sheep in the shambles. Happy, free 
 country ! How fair, how beautiful the picture of constitu 
 tional rights ! how in keeping with every- day scenes of 
 southern life ! 
 
 " I'ze gwine to be sold ; you're gwine to be sold ; we're all 
 gwine to be sold. Wonder what mas'r's gwine t'buy dis 
 child," says Aunt Eachel, arranging her best dress, making 
 her face " shine just so." Aunt Eachel endeavours to suit 
 her feelings to the occasion, trims her bandana about her 
 head with exquisite taste, and lets the bright- coloured points 
 hang about her ears in great profusion. 
 
 " Da'h 's a right smart heap o' dollar in dis old nigger, yet ! 
 if mas'r what gwine t'buy 'em know how't fotch um out ; 
 Mas'r must do da'h clean ting wid dis child," Eachel says, 
 as if exulting over the value of her own person. She brushes 
 and brushes, views and reviews herself in a piece of mirror 
 several are waiting to borrow it thinks she is just right 
 for market, asks herself what's the use of fretting ? It's a 
 free country, with boundless hospitality of the southern 
 stamp, and why not submit to all freedom's dealings ? Aunt 
 Eachel is something of a philosopher. 
 
 " Aunte ! da' would'nt gin much fo'hyer old pack a' bones 
 if mas'r what gwine to buy ye know'd ye like I. Ye' 
 h'ant da property what bring long price wid Buckra," replies 
 Dandy, who views Aunt Eachel rather suspiciously, seems 
 inclined to relieve her conceit, and has takeu very good care 
 that his own dimensions are trimmed up to the highest 
 point. 
 
 " Dis nigger would'nt swop h'r carcas fo'h yourn. Dat 
 she don't," Eachel retorts. 
 
 "Eeckon how ye wouldn't, ah !" Dandy's face fills with 
 indignation. " Buckra what sting ye back wid tie lash '11 
 buy ye old bag a' bones fo'h down south ; and when 'e get ye 
 down da' he make ye fo'h a corn grinder." Dandy is some 
 what inflated with his rank among the domestics ; he is 
 none of yer common niggers, has never associated with black, 
 field niggers, which he views as quite too common for his 
 aristocratic notions, has on his very best looks, his hair combed 
 with extraordinary care, his shirt collar dangerously standing 
 above his ears. He feels something better than nigger blood
 
 THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 209 
 
 in his composition, knows the ins and outs of nigger i;h:i.;- 
 losophy ; he knows it to be the very best kind, of philosophy 
 for a " nigger" to put on a good appearance at the eh: ibies. 
 A dandy nigger is not plantation stock, hence Le has 
 " trimmed up," and hopes to find a purchaser in want of his 
 specific kind of property ; it will save him from that field-life 
 so much dreaded. 
 
 The property, in all its varied shades, comes rolling out 
 from all manner of places in and about the gaol, filling the 
 . yard. It is a momentous occasion, the most momentous of 
 their life-time. And yet many seem indifferent about its 
 consequences. They speak of the old plantation, jeer each 
 other about the value of themselves, offer bets on the price 
 they will bring, assert a superiority over each other, and 
 boast of belonging to some particular grade of the property. 
 Harry we mean Harry the preacher is busy getting his 
 wife and children ready for market. He evinces great affec 
 tion for his little ones, has helped his wife to arrange their 
 apparel with so much care. The uninitiated might imagine 
 them going to church instead of the man shambles. Indeed, 
 so earnest are many good divines in the promotion of 
 slavery, that it would not be unbecoming to form a connection 
 between the southern church and the southern man shambles. 
 The material aid they now give each other for the purpose 
 of keeping up the man trade would be much facilitated. 
 
 However, there is a chance of Harry being sold to a 
 brother divine, who, by way of serving his good Lord and 
 righteous master, may let him out to preach, after the old 
 way. Harry will then be serving his brother in brotherly 
 faith ; that is, he will be his brother's property, very pro 
 fitable, strong in the faith with hia dear divine brother, to 
 whom he will pay large tribute for the right to serve the 
 same God. 
 
 Harry's emotions he has been struggling to suppress 
 them have got beyond his control ; tears will now and then 
 show themselves and course down his cheeks. " Never mind, 
 my good folks ! it is something to know that Jesus still 
 guards us ; still watches over us." He speaks encouragingly 
 to them. " The scourge of earth is man's wrongs, the death- 
 spring of injustice. We are made bearers of the burden ; 
 but that very burden will be our passport into a brighter, a
 
 210 THEY ABE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 
 
 juster world. Let us meekly bear it. Cheer up ! arm 
 yourselves witluthe spirit of the Lord; it will give you for 
 titude to live out the long journey of slave life. How we 
 shall feel when, in heaven, we are brought face to face with 
 master, before the Lord Judge. Our rights and his wrongs 
 will then weigh in the balance of heavenly justice." "With 
 these remarks, Harry counsels them to join him in prayer. 
 He kneels on the brick pavement of the yard, clasps his 
 hands together as they gather around him kneeling devotedly. 
 Fervently he offers up a prayer, he invokes the God of 
 heaven to look down upon them, to bestow his mercy upon 
 master, to incline his ways in the paths of good ; and to 
 protect these, his unfortunate children, and guide them 
 through their separate wayfaring. The ardour, grotesque- 
 ness, and devotion of this poor forlorn group, are painfully 
 touching. How it presents the portrait of an oppressed 
 race ! how sunk is the nature that has thus degraded it ! 
 Under the painful burden of their sorrow they yet manifest 
 the purity of simple goodness. " Oh ! Father in heaven, 
 hast thou thus ordained it to be so ?" breaks forth from 
 Harry's lips, as the criminals, moved by the affecting pic 
 ture, gather upon the veranda, and stand attentive listeners. 
 Their attention seems rivetted to his words ; the more 
 vicious, as he looks through grated bars upon them, whispers 
 words of respect. 
 
 Harry has scarcely concluded his prayer when the sheriff, 
 accompanied by several brokers (slave-dealers), comes rushing 
 through the transept into the yard. The sheriff is not 
 rude ; he approaches Harry, tells him he is a good boy, has 
 no objection to his praying, and hopes a good master will 
 buy him. He will do all he can to further his interests, 
 having heard a deal about his talents. He says this with 
 good-natured measure, and proceeds to take a cursory view 
 of the felons. "While he is thus proceeding, the gentlemen 
 of trade who accompanied him are putting " the property" 
 through a series of examinations. 
 
 " Property like this ye don't start up every day," says 
 one. " Best I'ze seen come from that ar' district. Give 
 ye plenty corn, down there, don't they, boys ?" enjoins 
 another, walking among them, and every moment bringing 
 the end of a small whip which he holds in his right hand
 
 THEY ABE ALL GOING TO BE BOLD. 211 
 
 about their legs. This, the gentleman remarks, is merely 
 for the purpose one of the phrases of the very honourable 
 trade of testing their nimbleness. 
 
 " Well !" replies a tall, lithe dealer, whose figure would 
 seem to have been moulded for chasing hogs through the 
 swamp, " There's some good bits among it ; but it won't stand 
 prime, as a lot !" The gentleman, who seems to have a 
 nicely balanced mind for judging the human nature value 
 of such things, is not quite sure that they have been bacon 
 fed. He continues his learned remarks. " Ye'h han't had 
 full tuck out, I reckon, boys ?" he inquires of them, deli 
 berately examining the mouths and nostrils of several. 
 The gentleman is very cool in this little matter of trade ; it 
 is an essential element of southern democracy ; some say, 
 nothing more ! 
 
 " Tes, Boss !" replies Enoch, one or*the negroes ; " Mas'r 
 oilers good t' e niggers, gin him bacon free times a week 
 sometimes mo' den dat." Several voices chime in to affirm 
 what Enoch says. 
 
 " Ah, very good. "Few planters in that district give their 
 negroes bacon ; and an all corn-fed nigger won't last 
 two years on a sugar plantation," remarks one of the 
 gentlemen dealers, as he smokes his cigar with great non 
 chalance. 
 
 "While these quaint appendancies of the trade are pro 
 ceeding, Romescos and G-raspum make their appearance. 
 They have come to forestall opinion, to make a few side- 
 winded remarks. They are ready to enter upon the dis 
 gusting business of examining property more carefully, 
 more scrupulously, more in private. The honourable sherift 
 again joins the party. He orders that every accommodation 
 be afforded the gentlemen in their examinations of the pro 
 perty. Men, women, and children sorrowing property 
 are made to stand erect ; to gesticulate their arms ; to expand 
 their chests, to jump about like jackals, and to perform 
 sundry antics pleasing to the gentlemen lookers-on. This 
 is all very free, very democratic, very gentlemanly in the 
 way of trade, very necessary to test the ingredient of the 
 valuable square inches of the property. "What matters all 
 this ! the honourable sheriff holds it no dishonour ; modest 
 gentlemen never blush at it ; the coarse dealer makes it 
 hia study, he trades in human nature ; the happy democrat
 
 212' THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BE BOLD. 
 
 thinks it should have a co-fellowship with southern iiospi- 
 tality so long and loudly boasted. 
 
 Those little necessary displays over, the honourable sheriff 
 invites his distinguished friends to " have a cigar round ;" 
 having satisfied their taste in gymnastarising the property. 
 Homescos, however, thinks he has not quite satisfied his 
 feelings; he is very dogged on nigger flesh. The other 
 gentlemen may smoke their cigars ; Mr. Romescos thinks 
 he will enjoy the exercise of his skill in testing the tenacity 
 of negroes' chests ; which he does by administering heavy 
 blows, which make them groan out now and then. Groans, 
 however, don't amount to much ; they are only nigger groans. 
 Again Mr. Bomescos applies the full force of his hands upon 
 their ears ; then he will just pull them systematically. 
 "Nice property!" he says, telling the forbearing creatures 
 not to mind the pain.* 
 
 Messrs. Graspum and Romescos will make a closjo in 
 spection of a few pieces. Here, several men and women are 
 led into a basement cell, under the veranda, and stript most 
 rudely. No discrimination is permitted. Happy freedom ! 
 What a boon is liberty ! Mr. Romescos views their nice 
 firm bodies, and their ebony black skins, with great skill and 
 precaution ; his object is to prove the disposition of the 
 articles, strong evidence being absence of scars. He lays 
 his bony fingers on their left shoulders they being com 
 pelled to stand in a recumbent position tracing their bodies 
 to the hips and thighs. Here the process ends. Mr. 
 Romescos has satisfied his very nice judgment on the solidity 
 of the human-flesh-property he has put their bodies through 
 other disgusting inspections they belong to the trade 
 which cannot be told here ; but he finds clean skins, very 
 smooth, without scars or cuts, or dangerous diseases. He 
 laughs exultingly, orders the people to stow themselves in 
 their clothes again, and relights his cigar. " If it 'ant a 
 tall lot !" he whispers to Graspum, and gives him a signi 
 ficant touch with his elbow. " Bright smooth as a leather 
 ninepence ; han't had a lash Marston was a fool, or his 
 niggers are angels, rather black, though couldn't start up 
 a scar on their flesh. A little trimmin' down it wants it, 
 you see ! to make it show otF; must have it eh ! Graspum, 
 old feller ? It only wants a little, though, and them dandy 
 niggers, and that slap-up preacher, will bring a smart price
 
 THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 213 
 
 fixed up. Great institution ! The preacher 's got knowin' ; 
 can discourse like a college-made deacon, and can convert a 
 whole plantation with his nigger eloquence. A nigger 
 preacher with Bible knowin, when it's smart, is right valuable 
 when ye want to keep the pious of a plantation straight. 
 And then ! when the preacher 'ant got a notion a' runnin 
 away in him." Eornescos crooks his finger upon Graspum's 
 arm, whispers cautiously in his ear. 
 
 " There '11 be a sharp bidding for some of it ; they '11 run 
 up some on the preacher. He '11 be a capital investment, 
 pay more than thirty per cent, insinuates another gentleman 
 a small inquisitive looking dealer in articles of the nigger 
 line. When a planter 's got a big gang a' niggers, and is 
 just fool enough to keep such a thing for the special purpose 
 of making pious valuable in 'um," Mr. Romescos rejoins, 
 shrugging his shoulders, rubbing his little hawk's eyes, and 
 looking seriously indifferent. Romescos gives wonderful 
 evidence of his " first best cunning propensities ;" and here 
 he fancies he has pronounced an opinion that will be taken 
 as profound. He affects heedlessness of everything, is quite 
 disinterested, and, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, 
 assumes an air of dignity that would not unbecome my Lord 
 Chief Justice. 
 
 " Let us see them two bits of disputed property, where 
 are they ?" inquires Graspum, turning half round, and 
 addressing himself to the gaoler. 
 
 "In the close cells," is the quick reply, "through the 
 narrow vault, up the stone passage, and on the right, in the 
 arched cell." 
 
 The gaoler good, honest-hearted man leads the way, 
 through a chilly vault, up the narrow passage, to the left 
 wing of the building. The air is pestiferous ; warm and 
 diseased, it fans us as we approach. The gaoler puts his face 
 to the grating, and in a guttural voice, says, " You're wanted, 
 young uns." They understand the summons ; they come 
 forward as if released from torture to enjoy the pure air of 
 heaven. Confinement, dreary and damp, has worn deep into 
 their systems. 
 
 Annette speaks feebly, looks pale and sickly. Her flaxen 
 curls still dangle prettily upon her shoulders. She expected 
 her mother ; that mother has not come. The picture seems 
 strange ; she looks childishly and vacantly round, at the
 
 214 THEY AEE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 
 
 dealers, at Graspum, at the sheriff, at the familiar faces of 
 the old plantation people. She recognizes Harry, and would 
 fain leap into his arms. Nicholas, less moved by what is 
 going on around him, hangs reluctantly behind, holding by 
 the skirt of Annette's frock. He has lost that vivacity and 
 pertness so characteristic on the plantation. Happy picture 
 of freedom's love ! Happy picture of immortalised injustice ! 
 Happy picture of everything that is unhappy ! How modest 
 is the boast that we live to be free ; and that in our virtuous 
 freedom a child's mother has been sold for losing her mind : 
 a faithful divine, strong with love for his fellow divines, is to 
 be sold for his faith ; the child the daughter of the demo 
 crat they say, will be sold from her democratic father. 
 The death-stinging enemy "Washington and Jefferson sought 
 to slaughter to lay ever dead at their feet, has risen to life 
 again. Annette's mother has fled to escape its poison. We 
 must pause ! we must not discourse thus in our day, when 
 the sordid web of trade is being drawn over the land by 
 King Cotton. 
 
 The children, like all such doubtful stock, are considered 
 very fancy, very choice of their kind. It must be dressed in 
 style to suit nice eyes at the shambles. 
 
 " Well ! ye'r right interesting looking," says the sheriff 
 Messrs. Graspum and Co. look upon them with great con 
 cern, now and then interrupting with some observations 
 upon their pedigree, taking them by the arms, and again 
 rumpling their hair by rubbing his hands over their heads. 
 " Fix it up, trim ; we must put them up along with the rest 
 to-day. " It '11 make Marston I pity the poor fellow 
 show his hand on the question of their freedom. Mr. 
 sheriff, being sufficiently secured against harm, is quite in 
 different about the latent phases of the suit. He remarks, 
 with great legal logic we mean legal slave logic that 
 Marston must object to the sale when the children are on 
 the stand. " It is very pretty kind a' property, very like 
 Marston will be as handsome as pictures when they grow 
 up," he says, ordering it put back to be got ready. 
 
 " Why didn't my mother come ?" the child whimpers, 
 dewy tears decorating her eyes. Why won't she come back 
 and take me to the plantation again ? I want her to come 
 back ; I've waited so long." As she turns to follow the 
 gaoler Nicholas still holds her by the skirt of her frock
 
 THEY ABE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 215 
 
 her flaxen curls again wave to and fro upon her shoulders, 
 adding beauty to her childlike simplicity. " You'll grow to 
 be something, one of these days, won't ye, little dear ?" 
 says the gaoler, taking her by the hand. She replies in 
 those silent and touching arguments of the soul ; she raises 
 her soft blue eyes, and heaven fills them with tears, which 
 she lifts her tiny hands to wipe away. 
 
 Nicholas tremblingly he cannot understand the strange 
 movement follows them through the vault ; he looks up 
 submissively, and with instinctive sympathy commences a 
 loud blubbering. " You're going to be sold, little uns ! 
 but, don't roar about it ; there's no use in that," says the 
 gaoler, inclining to sympathy. 
 
 Nicholas does'nt comprehend it ; he looks up to Annette, 
 plaintively, and, forgetting his own tears, says, in a whisper, 
 " Don't cry, Annette ; they '11 let us go and see mother, and 
 mother will be so kind to us ." 
 
 " It does seem a pifcy to sell ye, young 'uns ; ye'r such 
 nice 'uns, have so much intcrestin' in yer little skins !" 
 interrupts the gaoler, suddenly. The man of keys could 
 unfold a strange history of misery, suffering, and death, if 
 fear of popular opinion, illustrated in popular liberty, did 
 not seal his lips. He admits the present to be* rather an 
 uncommon case, says it makes a body feel kind a' unhinged 
 about the heart, which heart, however rocky at times, will 
 have its own way when little children are sorrowing. " And 
 then, to know their parents ! that's what tells deeper ou ;i 
 body's feeling, it makes a body look into the hereafter." 
 The man of keys and shackles would be a father, if the law- 
 did but let him. There is a monster power over him, a 
 power he dreads it is the power of unbending democracy, 
 moved alone by fretful painstakers of their own freedom. 
 "Poor little things! ye 'r most white, yes! suddenly 
 changing just as white as white need be. Property's pro 
 perty, though, all over the world. "What's sanctioned by the 
 constitution, and protected by the spirit and wisdom of 
 Congress, must be right, and maintained," the gaoler con 
 cludes. His heart is at war with his head; but the head 
 has the power, and he must protect the rights of an un 
 righteous system. They have arrived at a flight of steps, up 
 
 * ^We are narrating a scene related to us by the very gaoler we here 
 describe, and as nearly as possible in his own language.
 
 216 THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BH SOLD. 
 
 which they ascend, and are sotfn lost in its windings. They 
 are going to be dressed for the market. 
 
 The sheriff is in the yard, awaiting the preparation of the 
 property. Even he iron-hearted, they say gives them a 
 look of generous solicitude, as they pass out. He really 
 feels there is a point, no less in the scale of slave dealing, 
 beyond which there is something so repugnant that hell itself 
 might frown upon it. " It's a phase too hard, touches a 
 body's conscience," he says, not observing Romescos at his 
 elbow. 
 
 "Conscience!" interrupts Romescos, his eyes flashing 
 like meteors of red fire, " the article don't belong to the 
 philosophy of our business. Establish conscience let us, 
 gentlemen, give way to our feelins, and trade in nigger pro 
 perty 'd be deader than Chatham's statue, what was pulled 
 through our streets by the neck." The great obstacle, 
 however, is only this it is profitable in its way ! Romescos 
 cautiously attempts to shield this, but it will not do. 
 
 The gaoler, protruding his head from a second-story win 
 dow, like a mop in a rain storm, enquires if it is requisite to 
 dress the children in their very best shine. It is evident he 
 merely views them as two bales of merchandise. 
 
 The sheriff, angrily, says, " Yes ! I told you that already. 
 Make them look as bright as two new pins." His honour 
 has been contemplating how they will be mere pins in the 
 market, pins to bolt the doors of justice, pins to play men 
 into Congress, pins to play men out of Congress, pins to 
 play a President into the White House. 
 
 An old negress, one of the plantation nurses, is called 
 into service. She commences the process of preparing them 
 for market. They are nicely washed, dressed in clean 
 clothes; they shine out as bright and white as anybody's 
 children. Their heads look so sleek, their hair is so nicely 
 combed, so nicely parted, so nicely curled. The old slave 
 loves them, she loved their father. Her skill has been 
 lavished upon them, they look as choice and interesting a? 
 the human property of any democratic gentleman can be 
 expected to do. Let us be patriotic, let us be law-loving, 
 patient law-abiding citizens, loving that law of our free 
 country which puts them under the man-vender's hammer, 
 say our peace-abiding neighbours. * 
 
 The gaoler lias not been long in getting Annette and
 
 THEY ABE ALL QOISGt fb BE SOLD. 217 
 
 Nicholas ready. He brings them forward, so neatly and 
 prettily dressed : he places them among the " gang." But 
 they are disputed property : hence all that ingenuity which 
 the system engenders for the advancement of dealers is 
 brought into use to defeat the attempt to assert their free 
 dom. Homescos declares it no difficult matter to do this : 
 he has the deadly weapon in his possession ; he can work 
 (shuffle) the debt into Qraspurn's hands, and he can supply 
 the proof to convict. By this very desirable arrangement 
 the thing may be made nicely profitable. 
 
 No sooner has Aunt Rachel seen the children in their 
 neat and familiar attire, than her feelings bound with joy, 
 she cannot longer restrain them. She has watched Marston'? 
 moral delinquencies with suspicion ; but she loves tho 
 children none the less. And with honest negro nature she 
 runs to them, clasps them to her bosom, fondles them, and 
 kisses them like a fond mother. The happy associations of 
 the past, contrasted with their present unhappy condition, 
 unbind the fountain of her solicitude, she pours it upon 
 them, warm and fervent. " Grwiue t' sell ye, too ! Mas'r, 
 poor old Mas'r, would'nt sell ye, no how ! that he don't. 
 But poor old Boss hab 'e trouble now, G-od bless 'em," 
 she says, again pressing Annette to her bosom, nearer and 
 nearer, with fondest, simplest, holiest aifection. Looking 
 intently in the child's face, she laughs with the bounding 
 joy of her soul ; then she smooths its hair with her brawny 
 black hands : they contrast strangely with the pure carnatic 
 of the child's cheek. 
 
 " Lor ! good Lor, Mas'r Buckra," aunt Eachel exclaims, 
 " if eber de Lor' smote 'e vengence on yeh, 't '11 be fo' 
 sellin' de likes o' dese. Old Mas'r tinks much on 'em, fo' 
 true. G-wine t' sell dem what Mas'r be so fond on ? Hard 
 tellin' what Buckra don't sell win i' makes money on him. 
 Neber mind, children ; de Lor' aint so unsartin as white 
 man. He, da'h good Mas'r yonder in the clouds, save 
 ye yet ; he'll make white man gin ye back when de day o' 
 judgment come." Aunt Eachel has an instinctive know 
 ledge of the errors, accidents, and delays which have brought 
 about this sad event, she becomes absorbed in their cares, 
 'as she loses sight of her own trouble. 
 
 All ready for thv market, they are chained together in
 
 THEY ABE ILL GOINU TO BE SOLD. 
 
 pairs, men and women, as if the wrongs they bore had made 
 them untrustworthy. 
 
 Romescos, ever employed in his favourite trade, is busily 
 engaged chaining up assorting the pairs ! One by one 
 they quietly submit to the proceeding, until he reaches 
 Harry. That minister-of-the-gospel piece of property 
 thinks, that is, is foolish enough to think, his nigger 
 religion a sufficient guarantee against any inert propensity 
 to run away. " Now, good master, save my hands from 
 irons, and my heart from pain. Trust me, let me go un 
 bound; my old Master trust me wid 'is life " 
 
 "Halloo!" says Romescos, quickly interrupting, and be 
 ginning to bristle with rage ; " preach about old Master 
 here you'll get the tinglers, T reckon. Put 'em on not a 
 grunt or you 11 get thirty more yes, a collar on yer neck." 
 Holding a heavy stick over the poor victim's head, for several 
 minutes with one hand, he rubs the other, clenched, several 
 times across his nose. Grraspum interposes by reminding 
 the minister that it is for his interest to be very careful how 
 he makes any reply to white gentlemen. 
 
 " Why, massa, I'ze the minister on de plantation. My 
 old master wouldn't sell wouldn't do so wid me. Master 
 knows I love Q-od, am honest and peaceable. "Why chain 
 the honest ? why chain the peaceable ? why chain the inno 
 cent ? They need no fetters, no poisoning shackles. The 
 guilty only fear the hand of retribution," says Harry, a curl 
 of contempt on his lip. He takes a step backwards as 
 Romescos holds the heavy irons before him. 
 
 " You don't come nigger preacher over this ar' child ; 
 't'ant what's crack'd up to be. I larns niggers to preach 
 different tunes. Don't spoil prime stock for such non 
 sense " 
 
 " Master Sheriff will stand answerable for me," interrupts 
 Harry, turning to that honourable functionary, and claim 
 ing his protection. That gentleman says it is rather out of 
 his line to interfere. 
 
 " Not a preacher trick, I say again Romescos evinces 
 signs of increasing temper- ya' black theologin. Preachers 
 can't put on such dignity when they'r property." Preachers 
 of colour must be doubly humbled : they must be humble 
 before God, humbled before King Cotton, humbled before
 
 THEY ARK ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 219 
 
 the king dealer, who will sell them for their dollars' worth. 
 Harry must do the bidding of his king master ; his monkey 
 tricks won't shine with such a philosopher as Romescos. 
 The man of bones, blood, and flesh, can tell him to sell a 
 nigger preacher to his brother of the ministry, and make it 
 very profitable. He assures Harry, while holding the 
 shackles in his hands, that he may put on just as much of 
 the preacher as he can get, when he gets to the shambles, 
 and hears the fives and tens bidding on his black hide. 
 
 Harry must submit ; he does it with pain and reluctance. 
 He is chained to his wife a favour suggested by the sheriff 
 with whom he can walk the streets of a free country, but 
 they must be bound in freedom's iron fellowship. The iron 
 shackle clasps his wrist ; the lock ticks as Romescos turns 
 the key : it vibrates to his very heart. "With a'sigh he says, 
 " Ours is a life of sorrow, streaming its dark way along a 
 dangerous path. It will ebb into the bright and beautiful 
 of heaven ; that heaven wherein we put our trust where 
 our hopes are strengthened. O ! come the day when we 
 shall be borne to the realms of joy joy celestial ! There 
 no unholy shade of birth unholy only to man shall doom, 
 us ; the colour of our skin will not there be our misfor 
 tune" 
 
 "What!" quickly interrupts Romescos, "what's that?" 
 The property minister, thus circumstanced, must not show 
 belligerent feelings. Romescos simply, but very skilfully, 
 draws his club ; measures him an uuamiable blow on the 
 head, fells him to the ground. The poor wretch struggles 
 a few moments, raises his manacled hands to his face as his 
 wife falls weeping upon his shuddering body. She suppli 
 cates mercy at the hands of the ruffian the ruffian torturer. 
 " Quietly, mas'r ; my man 'ill go wid me," says the woman, 
 interposing her hand to prevent a second blow. 
 
 Harry opens his eyes imploringly, casts a look of pity 
 upon the man standing over him. Romescos is in the atti 
 tude of dealing him another blow. The wretch stays his 
 hand. " Do with me as you please, master ; you are over 
 me. My hope will be my protector when your pleasure will 
 have its reward." 
 
 A second thought has struck Romescos ; the nigger isn't 
 so bad, after all. " "Well, reckon how nobody won't have 
 no objection to ya'r thinking just as ya'v mind to ; but ya* 
 15
 
 220 THEY ARE ALL OOTKG TO BE SOLD. 
 
 can't talk ya'r own way, nor ya' can't have ya'r own way 
 with this child. A nigger what puts on parson airs if it 13 
 a progressive age nigger musn't put on fast notions to a 
 white gentleman of my standing! If he does, we just take 
 'em out on him by the process of a small quantity of first- 
 rate knockin down," says Eomescos, amiably lending him a 
 hand to get up. Graspum and the honourable sheriff are 
 measuredly pacing up and down the yard, talking over 
 affairs of state, and the singular purity of their own southern 
 democracy that democracy which will surely elect the next 
 President. Stepping aside in one of his sallies, Graspum, 
 in a half whisper, reminds Eomescos that, now the nigger 
 has shown symptoms of disobedience, he had better prove 
 the safety of the shackles. " Eight ! right ! all right !" the 
 man of chains responds ; he had forgot this very necessary 
 piece of amusement. He places both hands upon the 
 shackles ; grasps them firmly ; places his left foot against 
 Harry's stomach ; and then, uttering a fierce imprecation, 
 makes his victim pull with might and main while he braces 
 against him with full power. The victim, groaning under 
 the pain, begs for mercy. Mercy was not made for him. 
 Freedom and mercy, in this our land of greatness, have 
 been betrayed. 
 
 Harry, made willing property, is now placed by the side 
 of his wife, as four small children the youngest not more 
 than two years old cling at the skirts of her gown. The 
 children are scarcely old enough to chain ; their strong 
 affections for poor chained mother and father are quite enough 
 to guarantee against their running away. Eomescos, in his 
 ample kindness, will allow them to toddle their way to 
 market. They are not dangerous property ; they have 
 their feelings, and will go to market to be sold, without 
 running away. 
 
 The gang is ready. The gaoler, nearly out of breath, 
 congratulates himself* upon the manner of dispatching busi 
 ness at his establishment. Eomescos will put them through 
 a few evolutions before marching in the street ; so, placing 
 himself at their right, and the gaoler at their left flank, they 
 are made to march and counter-march several times round 
 the yard. This done, the generous gaoler invites the gentle 
 men into his office : he haa a good glass of whiskey waiting 
 their superior tastes.
 
 THEY ARE ALL GOING TO BE SOLD. 221 
 
 The ward gates are opened ; the great gate is withdrawn ; 
 the property, linked in iron fellowship, the gentlemen 
 having taken their whiskey, are all ready for the word, 
 inarch ! This significant admonition the sheriff gives, and 
 the property sets off in solemn procession, like wanderers 
 bound on a pilgrimage. Tramp, tramp, tramp, their foot 
 steps fall in dull tones as they sally forth, in broken file, 
 through the long aisles Romescos is in high glee, his feel 
 ings bound with exultation, he marches along, twirling a 
 stick over his head. They are soon in the street, where he 
 invites them to strike up a lively song " Jim crack corn, and 
 I don't care, fo'h Mas'r's gone away !" he shouts ; and several 
 strike up, the rest joining in the old plantation chorus 
 " Away ! away ! away ! Mas'r's gone away." Thus, with jin 
 gling chorus and seemingly joyous hearts, they march down 
 to the man-market. The two children, Annette and Nicholas, 
 trail behind, in charge of the sheriff, whose better feelings 
 seem to be troubling him very much. Every now and then, 
 as they walk by his side, he casts a serious look at Annette, 
 as if conscience, speaking in deep pulsations, said it wasn't 
 just right to sell such an interesting little creature. On 
 ward they marched, his head and heart warring the while. 
 " There's something about it that does'nt seem to come just 
 right in a fellow's feelins," keeps working itself in his mind, 
 until at length he mutters the words. It is the natural will 
 to do good, struggling against the privileges which a govern 
 ment fives ungovernable men to do wrong.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 LET US FOLLOW POOR HUMAN NATURE TO THE MAN 
 SHAMBLES. 
 
 GENTLEMEN dealers in want of human property, planters 
 in want of a few prime people, brokers who have largo 
 transactions in such articles, and factors who, being rather 
 sensitive of their dignity, give to others the negotiation of 
 their business, are assembled in and around the mart, a co 
 vered shed, somewhat resembling those used by railroad 
 companies for the storing of coarse merchandise. Marston's 
 negroes are to be sold. Suspicious circumstances are con 
 nected with his sudden decline : rumour has sounded her seven- 
 tongued symbols upon it, and loud are the speculations. 
 The cholera has made mighty ravages ; but the cholera could 
 not have done all. Q-raspum has grasped the plantation, 
 quietly and adroitly, but he has not raised the veil of mys 
 tery that hangs over the process. There must be long 
 explanations before the obdurate creditors are satisfied. 
 
 The irons have been removed from the property, who are 
 crouched round the stand an elevated platform--in a for 
 lorn group, where sundry customers can scrutinize their 
 proportions. Being little or no fancy among it, the fast 
 young gentlemen of the town, finding nothing worthy their 
 attention and taste, make a few cursory observations, and 
 slowly swagger out of the ring. The children are wonder 
 fully attractive and promising ; they are generally admired 
 by the customers, who view them with suspicious glances. 
 Annette's clean white skin and fine features are remarkably 
 promising, much valued as articles of merchandise, and 
 will, in time, pay good interest. Her youth, however, saves 
 her from present sacrifice, it thwarts that spirited compe 
 tition which older property of the same quality produces when 
 about to be knocked down under the hammer of freedom. 
 
 It is a great day, a day of tribulation, with the once happy 
 people of Marston's plantation. No prayer is offered up for 
 them, their souls being only embodied in their market value.
 
 HUMAN KATtJBE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 223 
 
 Prayers are not known at the man shambles, though the 
 hammer of the vender seals with death the lives of many. 
 No gentleman in modest black cares aught for such death. 
 The dealer will not pay the service fee ! Q-ood master is no 
 longer their protector; his familiar face, so buoyant with joy 
 and affection, has passed from them. No more will that 
 strong attachment manifest itself in their greetings. Fathers 
 will be fathers no longer it is unlawful. Mothers cannot 
 longer clasp their children in their arms with warm affections. 
 Children will no longer cling around their mothers, no 
 longer fondle in that bosom where once they toyed and joyed. 
 
 The articles murmur among themselves, cast longing 
 glances at each other, meet the gaze of their purchasers, 
 with pain and distrust brooding over their countenances. 
 They would seem to trace the character cruel or gentle 
 of each in his look. 
 
 "Was it that God ordained one man thus to doom another ? 
 No ! the very thought repulsed the plea. He never made 
 one man's life to be sorrow and fear to be the basest object, 
 upon which blighting strife for gold fills the passions of 
 tyrants. He never raaie man to be a dealer in his own 
 kind. He never maax; man after his own image to imprecate 
 the wrath of heaven by blackening earth with his foul deeds. 
 He never made man to blacken this fair portion of earth 
 with storms of contention, nor to overthrow the principles 
 that gave it greatness. He never made man to fill the cup 
 that makes the grim oppressor fierce in his triumphs over 
 right. 
 
 Come reader come with us : let us look around the pale 
 of these common man shambles. Here a venerable father 
 sits, a bale of merchandise, moved with the quick pulsation 
 of human senses. He looks around him as the storm of 
 resentment seems ready to burst forth : his wrinkled brow 
 and haggard face in vain ask for sympathy. A little further 
 on, and a mother leans over her child, tremblingly draws it 
 to her side ; presses it nearer and nearer to her bosom. 
 Near her, feeding a child with crumbs of bread, is a coarse 
 negro, whose rough exterior covers a good heart. He gives 
 a glance of hate and scorn at those who are soon to tear 
 from him his nearest and dearest. A gloomy ring of sullen 
 faces encircle us : hope, fear, and contempt are pictured ia 
 each countenance. Anxious to know its doom, the pent-up
 
 224 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 soul burns madly within their breasts ; no tears can quench 
 the fire freedom only can extinguish it. But, what are 
 such things ? mere trifles when the soul loves only gold. 
 What are they to men who buy such human trifles ? who 
 buy and sell mankind, with feelings as unmoved as the virgin 
 heart that knows no guilt ? 
 
 Various are the remarks made by those who are taking a 
 cursory view of the people ; very learned in nigger nature 
 are many ; their sayings evince great profoundness. A 
 question seems to be the separating of wenches from their 
 young 'uns. This is soon settled. Graspum, who has made 
 his appearance, and is very quaintly and slowly making his 
 apprehensions known, informs the doubting spectators that 
 Homescos, being well skilled, will do that little affair right 
 up for a mere trifle. It takes him to bring the nonsense 
 out of nigger wenches. This statement being quite satis 
 factory, the gentlemen purchasers are at rest on that point. 
 
 The hour of sale has arrived, the crier rings his bell, the 
 purchasers crowd up to the stand, the motley group of 
 negroes take the alarm, and seem inclined to close in towards 
 a centre as the vender mounts the stand. The bell, with 
 the sharp clanking sound, rings their funeral knell ; they 
 startle, as with terror ; they listen with subdued anxiety ; 
 they wait the result in painful suspense. How little we 
 would recognise the picture from abroad. The vender, an. 
 amiable gentleman dressed in modest black, and whose 
 cheerful countenance, graced with the blandest smile, be 
 tokens the antipodes of his inhuman traffic, holding his hat 
 in his left hand, and a long paper in his right, makes an 
 obsequious bow to those who have honoured him with their 
 company. He views them for a few moments, smiles, casts 
 his eye over the paper again, it sets forth age and quality 
 and then at his marketable people. The invoice is complete ; 
 the goods correspond exactly. The texture and quality have 
 been appraised by good judges. Being specified, he com 
 mences reading the summons and writs, and concludes with 
 other preliminaries of the sale. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," says Mr. Forshou for such is his 
 name as he adjusts his hat, lays the document on the desk 
 at his right hand, pulls up the point of his shirt-collar, 
 sots his neatly-trimmed whiskers a point forward, and 
 smooths his well-oiled hair : " We will proceed with
 
 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 225 
 
 the sale of this lot of negroes, according to the 
 directions of the sheriff of the coiinty. And if no restric 
 tions are imposed, gentlemen can make their selection of 
 old or young to suit their choice or necessities ! G-entlemen, 
 however, will he expected to pay for separating." Mr. 
 Forshou, by way of interpolation, reminds his friends that, 
 seeing many of his very best customers present, he expects 
 sharp and healthy bids. He will further remind them 
 (smiling and fretting his hands, as if to show the number of 
 diamond rings he can afford to wear), that the property has 
 been well raised, is well known, and ranges from the 
 brightest and most interesting, to the commonest black 
 field hand. " Yes, gentlemen," he adds, " by the 
 fortune of this unfortunate sale we can accommodate you 
 with anything in the line of negro property. We can sell 
 you a Church and a preacher a dance-house and a fiddler 
 a cook and an oyster-shop. Anything ! All sold for no 
 fault ; and warranted as sound as a roach. The honourable 
 sheriff will gives titles that functionary being present 
 signifies his willingness and every man purchasing is ex 
 pected to have his shiners ready, so that he can plunk 
 down cash in ten days. I need not recount the circum 
 stances under which this property is offered for sale ; it is 
 enough to say that it is offered ; but, let me say, gentlemen, 
 to enlarge upon it would be painful to my feelings. I will 
 merely read the schedule, and, after selling the people, put 
 up the oxen, mules, and farming utensils." Mr. Porshou, 
 with easy contentment, takes up the list and reads at the 
 top of his voice. The names of heads of families are 
 announced one by one ; they answer the call promptly. 
 He continues till he reaches Annette and Nicholas, and here 
 he pauses for a few moments, turning from the paper to 
 them, as if he one minute saw them on the paper and the 
 next on the floor. " Here, gentlemen," he ejaculates, in a 
 half guttural voice something he could not account for 
 touched his conscience at the moment holding the paper 
 nearer his eye-glass, " there is two bits of property bordering 
 on the sublime. It dazzles seems almost too interesting 
 to sell. It makes a feller's heart feel as if it warn't stuck 
 in the right place." Mr. Forshou casts another irresistible 
 look at the children ; his countenance changes ; he says he 
 is very sensitive, and shows it in his blushes. He might
 
 226 HUMAN NATTTBE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 have saved his blushes for the benefit of the State. 
 The State is careful of its blushes ; it has none to sell 
 none to bestow on a child's sorrow ! 
 
 Annette returns his somewhat touching manifestation of 
 remorse with a childlike smile. 
 
 "Well! I reckon how folks is gettin' tenderish, now 
 a' days. Who'd thought the major had such touchy kind 
 a' feelins ? Anything wrong just about yer goggler r" 
 interrupts Romescos, giving the vender a quizzical look, and 
 a " half-way wink." Then, setting his slouch hat on an extra 
 poise, he contorts his face into a dozen grimaces. " Keep 
 conscience down, and strike up trade," he says, very coolly, 
 drawing a large piece of tobacco from his breast-pocket and 
 filling his mouth to its utmost capacity. 
 
 " Feelings are over all things," responds the sheriff, who 
 stands by, and will speak for the vender, who is less accus 
 tomed to speaking for himself. " Feelings bring up 
 recollections of things one never thought of before, of the 
 happiest days of our happiest home. 'Tain't much, no, 
 nothing at all, to sell regular black and coloured property ; 
 but there's a sort of cross-grained mythology about the 
 business when it comes to selling such clear grain as this." 
 The vender relieves the honourable sheriff from all 
 further display of sympathy, by saying that he feels the 
 truth of all the honourable and learned gentleman has said, 
 " which has 'most made the inward virtue of his heart come 
 right up." He leans over the desk, extends his hand, 
 helps himself to a generous piece of Romescos' tobacco. 
 
 Romescos rejoins in a subdued voice " He thinks a man 
 what loves dimes like the major cannot be modest in. 
 nigger business, because modesty ain't trade commodity. 
 It cannot be ; the man who thinks of such nonsense should 
 sell out should go north and join the humane society. 
 Polks are all saints, he feels sure, down north yander ; 
 wouldn't sell nigger property ; they only send south 
 right smart preachers to keep up the dignity of the insti 
 tution ; to do the peculiar religion of the very peculiar 
 institution. uSTo objection to that ; nor hain't no objection 
 to their feelin' bad about the poor niggers, so long as they 
 like our cash and take our cotton. That's where the pin's 
 drove in ; while it hangs they wouldn't be bad friends with 
 us for the world."
 
 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 227 
 
 " Tou may, Mr. Uomescos, suspend your remarks," says 
 the vender, looking indignant, as he thrusts his right hand 
 into his bosom, and attempts a word of introduction. 
 
 Romescos must have his last word ; he never says die 
 while he has a word at hand . " The major's love must be 
 credited, gentlemen ; he's a modest auctioneer, a gentle 
 man what don't feel just right when white property's for 
 sale," he whispers, sarcastically. 
 
 Another pause, then a hearty laughing, and the man 
 commences to sell his people'. He has uttered but a few 
 words, when Marston's attorney, stepping into the centre 
 of the ring, and near the vender, draws a paper from his 
 pocket, and commences reading in a loud tone. It is a copy 
 of the notice he had previously served on the sheriff, setting 
 forth in legal phraseology the freedom of the children, 
 "And therfo'h this is t' stay proceedings until further 
 orders from the honourable Court of Common Pleas," is 
 audible at the conclusion. The company are not much 
 surprised. There is not much to be surprised at, when 
 slave law and common law come in contact. With 
 Marston's sudden decline and unfathomable connection 
 with Graspum, there is nothing left to make the reading of 
 the notice interesting. 
 
 " Tou hear this, gentlemen ?" says the vender, biting his 
 lips : " the sale of this very interesting portion of this very 
 interesting property is objected to by the attorney for the 
 defendant at law. The)' must, therefore, be remanded to the 
 custody of the sheriff, to await the decision of court." 
 That court of strange judgments ! The sheriff, that won 
 derful medium of slaveocratic power, comes forward, 
 muttering a word of consolation ; he will take them away. 
 He passes them over to an attendant, who conducts them 
 to their dark chilly cells. 
 
 " All right !" says Graspum, moving aside to let the 
 children pass out. " No more than might have been 
 expected ; it's no use, though. Marstou will settle that 
 little affair in a very quiet way." He gives the man-vender 
 a look of approval ; the very celebrated Mr. Graspum has 
 self-confidence enough for "six folks what don't deal in 
 niggers." A bystander touching him on the arm, he gives 
 his head a cunning shake, crooks his finger on his red nose. 
 " Just a thing of that kind," he whispers, making some very
 
 228 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 delicate legal gesticulations with the fore-finger of his 
 right hand in the palm of his left ; then, with great gravity, 
 he discusses some very nice points of nigger law. He is 
 heard to say it will only be a waste of time, and make some 
 profitable rascality for the lawyers. He could have settled 
 the whole on't in seven minutes. " Better give them up 
 honourably, and let them be sold with the rest. Property's 
 property all over the world ; and we must abide by the laws, 
 or what's the good of the constitution ? To feel bad about 
 one's own folly ! The idea of taking advantage of it at this 
 late hour won't hold good in law. How contemptibly 
 silly ! men feeling fatherly after they have made property of 
 their own children! Poor, conscientious fools, how they 
 whine at times, never thinking how they would let their 
 womanish feelings cheat their creditors. There's no honour 
 in that." 
 
 " Gentlemen !" interrupts the vender, " we have had 
 enough discussion, moral, legal, and otherwise. We will 
 now have some selling." 
 
 The honourable sheriff desires to say a word or two upon 
 points not yet advanced. "The sheriff! the sheriff!" is 
 exclaimed by several voices. He speaks, having first 
 adjusted his spectacles, and relieved himself of three trouble 
 some coughs. " The institution I mean, gentlemen, the 
 peculiar institution must be preserved ; we cannot, must 
 not, violate statutes to accommodate good-feeling people. 
 My friend Graspum is right, bob and sinker ; we'd 
 get ourselves into an everlasting snarl, if we did. I am 
 done !" The sheriff withdraws his spectacles, places them 
 very carefully in a little case, wipes his mouth modestly, and 
 walks away humming an air. 
 
 "Now, gentlemen," says the vender, bristling with 
 renewed animation. " seeing how you've all recovered from 
 a small shock of conscience, we will commence the sale." 
 
 Aunt Rachel is now placed upon the stand. Her huge 
 person, cleanly appearance Auntie has got her bandana 
 tied with exquisite knot and very motherly countenance 
 excite general admiration, as on an elevated stand she 
 looms up before her audience. Mr. Forshou, the very 
 gentlemanly ve'nder, taking up the paper, proceeds to 
 describe Aunt Rachel's qualities, according to the style and 
 manner of a celebrated race-horse. Auntie doesn't like
 
 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 229 
 
 this, her dignity is touched ; she honours him with an 
 angry frown. Then she appeals to the amiable gentleman ; 
 " come, mas'r, sell 'um quick ; don' hab no nonsense wid 
 dis child ! Sell 'um to some mas'r what make I house 
 keeper. Old mas'r, good old Boas, know I fus' rate at 
 dat. Let 'um done gone, mas'r, fo'h soon." Rachel 
 is decidedly opposed to long drawn-out humbuggery. 
 
 The bids now commence ; Rachel, in mute anxiety, 
 tremblingly watches the lips they fall from. 
 
 " Give you u first best title to this ar' old critter, gentle 
 men !" says the vender, affecting much dignity, as he holds 
 up his baton of the trade in flesh. Anybody wanting a 
 good old mother on a plantation where little niggers are 
 raised will find the thing in the old institution before you. 
 The value is not so much' in the size of her, as in her 
 glorious disposition." Aunt Rachel makes three or four 
 turns, like a peacock on a pedestal, to amuse her admirers. 
 Again, Mr. Wormlock intimates, in a tone that the vender 
 may hear, that she has some grit, for he sees it in her 
 demeanour, which is assuming the tragic. Her eyes, as she 
 turns, rest upon the crispy face of Romescos. She views 
 him for a few moments she fears he will become her 
 purchaser. Her lip curls with contempt, as she turns 
 from his gaze and recognises an old acquaintance, whom 
 she at once singles out, accosts and invites beseechingly 
 to be her purchaser, " to save her from dat man !" She 
 points to Romescos. 
 
 Her friend shakes his head unwillingly. Fearing he may 
 become an object of derision, he will not come forward. 
 Poor old slave ! faithful from her childhood up, she has 
 reached an age where few find it profitable to listen to her 
 supplications. The black veil of slavery has shut out the 
 past good of her life, all her faithfulness has gone for 
 nothing ; she has passed into that channel where only the 
 man-dealer seeks her for the few dollars worth of labour left 
 in a once powerful body. Oh! valuable remnant of a life, 
 how soon it may be exhausted forgotten! 
 
 Bidders have some doubts about the amount of labour 
 she can yet perform ; and, after much manifest hesitancy, 
 she is knocked down to Romescos for the sum of two 
 hundred and seventy dollars. " There ! 'tain't a bad price 
 for ye, nohow !" says the vender, laconically. " Get down,
 
 230 HUMAN NATTJBE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 old woman." Rachel moves to the steps, and is received 
 by Romescos, who, taking his purchase by the arm, very 
 mechanically sets it on one side. " Come, Auntie, we'll make 
 a corn-cracker a' you, until such time as we can put yer 
 old bones in trim to send south. Grenerousness, ye see, made 
 me gin more nor ye war' worth not much work in ye when 
 ye take it on the square; but a feller what understands 
 the trimmin' a' niggers like I can do ye up young, and put 
 an honest face on while he's cheatin' some green chap 
 with yer old bones." Romescos, very clever in his 
 profession, is not quite sure that his newly-purchased 
 property will " stay put." He turns about suddenly, 
 approaches Rachel crouched in a corner mumbling over 
 some incomprehensible jargon, evidently very much disturbed 
 in her feelings, saying, " I kind a' think I see devil in yer 
 eye, old woman." Rachel turns her head aside, but makes 
 no answer. Mr. Romescos will make everything certain ; 
 so, drawing a cord, similar to a small sized clothes line, from 
 his pocket, she holds up her hands at his bidding : he winds 
 it several times round her wrists, then ties it securely. 
 " The property's all safe now," he whispers, and returns to 
 attend the bidding arrangements. 
 
 One by one mothers, fathers, and single property, old 
 and youug, as may be are put upon the stand ; sold for 
 the various uses of manifest democracy. Harry, the 
 thinking property, whose sense-keeping has betrayed the 
 philosophy of profound democracy, is a preacher, and, by 
 the value of his theological capacity, attracts more than 
 ordinary attention. But his life has been a failure, a mere 
 experiment in divinity struggling with the sensitive power of 
 model democracy. He now seems impatient to knowthat doom 
 to which the freedom of an enlightened age has consigned 
 him. One minute some cheering hope of his getting a good 
 master presents itself in a familiar face ; then it turns away, 
 and with it vanishes his hope. Another comes forward, but 
 it is merely to view his fine proportions. 
 
 Harry has feelings, and is strongly inclined to cling to 
 the opinion that those who know his character and talents, 
 will be inclined to purchase. Will they save him from the 
 cruelties of ordinary plantation life ? 
 
 " Now for the preacher! Mr. Forshou touches his hat, 
 politely. Gentlemen purchasing, and wanting a church
 
 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 231 
 
 can be accommodated with that article to-morrow. Come, 
 boy, mount up here !" The preaching article draws his 
 steps reluctantly, gets up, and there stands, a black divine : 
 anybody may look at him, anybody may examine him, any 
 body may kick him ; anybody may buy him, body, soul, and 
 theology. How pleasing, how charmingly liberal, is the 
 democracy that grants the sweet privilege of doing all these 
 things ! Harry has a lew simple requests to make, which 
 his black sense might have told him the democracy could 
 not grant. He requests (referring to his position as a 
 minister of the gospel) that good master the vender 
 will sell him with his poor old woman, and that he do 
 not separate him from his dear children. In support of his 
 appeal he sets forth, in language that would be impressive 
 were it from white lips, that he wants to teach his little 
 ones in the ways of the Lord. " Do, mas'r ! try sell us so 
 we live together, where my heart can feel and my eyes see 
 my children," he concludes, pointing to his children (living 
 emblems of an oppressed race), who, with his hapless wife, 
 are brought forward and placed on the stand at his feet. 
 Harry (the vender pausing a moment) reaches out his hand 
 (that hand so feared and yet so harmless), and affectionately 
 places it on the head of his youngest child ; then, taking it 
 up, he places it in the arms of his wife, perhaps not long 
 to be so, who stands trembling and sobbing at his side. 
 Behold how picturesque is the fruit of democracy! Three small 
 children, clinging round the skirts of a mother's garment, 
 casting sly peeps at purchasers as if they had an instinctive 
 knowledge of their fate. They must be sold for the satis 
 faction of sundry debts held by sundry democratic creditors. 
 How we affect to scorn the tyranny of Russia, because 
 of her serfdom ! Would to God there were truth and 
 virtue in the scorn ! 
 
 Mr. Forshou, the very sensitive and gentlemanly vender 
 he has dropped the title of honourable, which was given him 
 on account of his having been a member of the State Senate 
 takes Harry by the right hand, and leads him round, where, at 
 the front of the tribune, customers may have a much better 
 opportunity of seeing for themselves. 
 
 "Yes! he's a swell a right good fellow." Mr. Forshou 
 turns to his schedule, glancing his eye up and down. " I see ; 
 it's put down here in the invoice: a minister warranted
 
 232 HUMAN NATUBE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 sound in every respect. It does seem to me, gentlemen, 
 that here s a right smart chance for a planter who 'tends to 
 the pious of his niggers, giving them a little preaching 
 once in a while. Now, let the generous move ; shake your 
 dimes ; let us turn a point, and see what can be done in 
 the way of selling the lot, preacher, wife, and family. The 
 boy, H^rry, is a preacher by nature ; has by some unknown 
 process tumbled into the profession. He's a methodist, I 
 reckon ! But there's choice field property in him ; and his 
 wife, one of the primest wenches in the gang, never says 
 die when there's plenty of cotton to pick. As for the 
 young uns, they ar_> pure stock. You must remember, 
 gentlemen, preachers are not in the market every day ; and 
 when one's to be got that'll preach the right stripe, there's 
 no knowing the value of him " 
 
 " We don't want so much of this," interrupts a voice in 
 the crowd. 
 
 " Kather anxious to buy the feller," Mr. Forshou 
 replies, affecting much indifference. He will say a few 
 words more. " Think the matter over, upon strict principles 
 of political economy, arid you'll find, gentlemen, he's just 
 the article for big planters. I am happy to see the calm, 
 and serene faces of three of my friends of the clergy 
 present ; will they not take an interest for a fellow-worker 
 in a righteous cause ?" The vender smiles, seems inclined 
 to jocularity, to which the gentlemen in black are un 
 willing to submit. They have not been moving among 
 dealers, and examining a piece of property here and there, 
 with any sinecure motive. They view the vender's remarks 
 as exceedingly offensive, return a look of indignation, and 
 slowly, as if with wounded piety, walk away. The gentlemen 
 in black are most sensitive when any comparison is made 
 between them and a black brother. How horible shocked 
 they seem, as, with white neckerchiefs so modest, they look 
 bak as they merge from the mart into the street ! 
 
 It is a question whether these sensitive divines were 
 shocked at the affectation and cold indifference manifested 
 by legitimate dealers, or at the vender's very impertinent 
 remarks. We will not charge aught against our brethren 
 of the clergy : no, we will leave the question open to the 
 reader. We love them as good men who might labour for 
 a better cause ; we will leave them valiant defenders oi
 
 HUMAN NATUBE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 233 
 
 southern chivalry, southern generosity, southern affability, 
 and southern injustice. To be offended at so small an 
 affair as selling a brother clergyman, to make the insinua 
 tion that they are not humane, cause of insult, is, indeed, 
 the very essence of absurdity. 
 
 The vender makes a few side-motions with his thumbs, 
 winks to several of his customers, and gives a significant 
 nod, as the gentlemen in black pass out of the insulting 
 establishment. " Well, gentlemen, I'm sorry if I've 
 offended anybody ; but there's a deep-rooted principle in 
 what I've said, nor do I think it Christian for the clergy to 
 clear out in that shape. However, God bless 'em; let 'em go 
 on their way rejoicing. Here's the boy he turns and puts 
 his hand kindly on Harry's shoulder and his wench, and his 
 young uns, a minister and family, put down in the 
 invoice as genuine prime. Our worthy sheriff's a good 
 judge of deacons the sheriff high functionary acknow 
 ledges the compliment by respectfully nodding and my 
 opinion is that the boy'll make a good bishop yet : he 
 only wants an apron and a fair showing." He touches Harry 
 under the chin, laughing heartily the while. 
 
 " Yes, master," replies Harry he has little of the negro 
 accent quieting his feelings ; " what I larn is all from the 
 Bible, while master slept. Sell my old woman and little 
 ones with me ; my heart is in their welfare " 
 
 " Don't trifle with the poor fellow's feelings ; put him 
 up and sell him to the best advantage. There's nobody here 
 that wants a preacher and family. It's only depreciating the 
 value of the property to sell it in the lot," says Graspum, 
 in a firm voice. He has been standing as unmoved as a 
 stoic, seeing nothing but property in the wretch of a clergy 
 man, whose natural affections, pictured in his imploring 
 looks, might have touched some tender chord of his feelings. 
 
 After several attempts, it is found impossible to sell the 
 minister and his family in one lot. Hence, by the force 
 of necessity, his agonising beseechings pouring forth, he 
 is put up like other single bales of merchandise, and sold 
 
 to Mr. MTadden, of A district. The minister brought 
 
 eleven hundred dollars, ready money down ! The purchaser 
 is a well-known planter ; he has worked his way up in the 
 world, is a rigid disciplinarian, measuring the square inches
 
 234 HITMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 
 
 of labour in his property, and adapting the best process of 
 bringing it all out. 
 
 " He's all I want," says MTadden, making a move 
 outward, and edging his way through the crowd. 
 
 " A moment with my poor old woman, master, if you 
 please?" says Harry, turning round to his wife. 
 
 " None of your black humbugging ; thei'e's wives enough 
 on my place, and a parson can have his choice out of fifty," 
 returns MTadden, dragging him along by the arm. The 
 scene that here ensues is harrowing in the extreme. The 
 cries and sobs of children, the solicitude and- affection of 
 his poor wife, as she throws her arms about her husband's 
 neck, his falling tears of sorrow, as one by one he snatches 
 up his children and kisses them, are painfully touching. 
 It is the purest, simplest, holiest of love, gushing forth from 
 nature's fountain. It were well if we could but cherish 
 its heavenly worth. That woman, the degraded of a 
 despised race, her arms round a fond husband's neck, 
 struggling with death-like grasp, and imploring them not 
 to take him from her. The men who have made him mer 
 chandise, who have trodden his race in the dust, look 
 on unmoved as the unfeeling purchaser drags him from 
 the embrace of all that is near and dear to him on earth. 
 Here, in this boasted freest country the sun shines on 
 where freedom was bequeathed by our brave forefathers, 
 where the complex tyranny of an old world was over 
 thrown, such scenes violate no law. When will the 
 glorious, the happy day of their death come ? When shall 
 the land be free ? 
 
 M'Fadden, having paid the price of his clergyman, drags 
 him to (.he door. " Once more, master," mutters the victim^ 
 looking back with fear and hope pictured on his imploring 
 face. MTaddeu has no patience with such useless implorings, 
 and orders him to move along. "I will see them once more!" 
 the man exclaims, " I will ! Grood bye ! may Heaven bless 
 you on earth, my little ones ! God will protect us when we 
 meet again !" The tears course down his cheeks. 
 
 " None of that ar' kind of nonsense ! Shut down yer 
 tear-trap," says M'Fadden, calling an attendant, and, 
 drawing a pair of irons from his pocket, placing them about 
 Harry's hands. Mr. MTadden' s property shows signs ol
 
 HUMAN NATURE AT THE MAN SHAMBLES. 235 
 
 being somewhat belligerent : to obviate any further non 
 sense, and to make short work of the thing, Mr. M'Fadden 
 calls in aid, throws his property on the ground, ties its legs 
 with a piece of rope, places it upon a drag, and orders it to 
 be conveyed to the depot, from whence it will be despatched 
 by rail for a new home. 
 
 This little ceremony over, the wife and children 
 (Komescos and M'Fadden, not very good friends, were 
 competitors for the preacher property) are put up and sold 
 to Itomescos. That skilful and very adroit gentleman 
 is engaged to do the exciting business of separating, which 
 he is progressing with very coolly and cleverly. The whole 
 scene closes with selling the animal property and farming 
 utensils. Happy Christian brothers are they who would spread 
 the wings of their Christianity over such scenes! 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 IF modern Christianity, as improved in our southern world 
 we mean our world of slavery had blushes, it might 
 improve the use of them were we to recount in detail the 
 many painful incidents which the improved and very christianiy 
 process of separating husbands from wives, narents from 
 children, brothers from sisters, and friends from all the ties 
 and associations the heart, gives birtn to. Negroes have 
 tender sympathies, strong loves. Reader, we will save your 
 feelings, we will not recount them ; our aim is not to excite 
 undue feeling, but to relate every-day scenes. 
 
 Days and weeks pass on drearily with Marston. Un 
 happy, forlorn, driven to the last extremity by obdurate 
 creditors, he waits the tardy process of the law. He seldom 
 appears in public ; for those who professed to be his best 
 friends have become his coldest acquaintances. But hehastwo 
 friends left, friends whose pure friendship is like sweetest 
 dew-drops : they are Pranconia and Daddy Bob. The rusty 
 old servant is faithful, full of benevolence, gratitude, and 
 unshaken fidelity ; the other is the generous woman, in 
 whose bosom beat the tender impulses of a noble soul. 
 Those impulses have been moved to action in defence of the 
 innocent ; they never can be defeated. Bob is poor, abject, 
 and old with toil. He cares not to be free, he wants 
 mas'r free. But there yet remains some value in Bob ; and 
 he has secreted himself, in hopes of escaping the man- 
 dealer, and sharing his earnings in the support of old mas'r. 
 Franconia is differently situated ; yet she can only take 
 advantage of circumstances which yet depend upon the 
 caprice of a subtle-minded husband. Over both these 
 friends of the unfortunate, slavery has stretched its giant 
 arms, confusing the social system, uprooting the integrity 
 of men, weakening respect for law, violating the best pre 
 cepts of nature, substituting passion for principle, confound 
 ing reason, and enslaving public opinion.
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 237 
 
 Under the above disorganising state of the social compact, 
 the children, known to be Marston's, are pursued as property 
 belonging to the bankrupt estate. When the law has made 
 it such, it must be sold in satisfaction of Marston's debts. 
 
 Seven months have passed since they were shut up in 
 a felon's cell. They have been visited by Marston ; he has 
 been kind to them, kind as a father could be under such 
 circumstances. Franconia has not forgotten them : she 
 sends many little things to lighten the gloom of their con 
 finement ; but society closes her lips, and will frown upon 
 any disclosure she may make of their parentage. "Were 
 she to disclose it to Colonel M'Carstrow, the effect would be 
 doubtful: it might add to the suspicious circumstances 
 already excited against her unfortunate uncle. The para 
 mount question whether they are hereafter to be chattel 
 slaves, or human beings with inalienable rights must be 
 submitted to the decision of a judicial tribunal. It is by 
 no means an uncommon case, but very full of interest. It 
 will merely be interesting not as involving any new ques 
 tion of law, nor presenting new phases of southern juris-, 
 prudence in showing what very notorious dealers in human 
 kind, and lawyers of great legal ability, can morally and 
 legally perform. It will show how great men figure in the 
 arena of legal degradation, how they unrayel the mystery 
 of slave power. 
 
 G-raspum, professedly uninterested, has purchased the 
 claims, and will pursue the payment in the name of the 
 original plaintiffs. With Homescos's cunning aid, of course 
 the trial will be a perfect farce, the only exception being 
 that the very profound Mr. Graspum will exhibit a degree of 
 great sincerity on his part. 
 
 The sessions are sitting ; the day for the trial of this 
 important case has arrived ; the little dingy court-room is 
 early crowded to excess, but there is not much expression of 
 anxiety. Men speak lightly of the issue, as if some 
 simple game were to be played. The judge, a grave-looking 
 gentleman of no ordinary mien, in whose full countenance 
 sternness is predominant in the well-displayed estimation 
 in which he holds his important self, walks measuredly into 
 court the lacqueys of the law crying " Court ! court !" to 
 which he bows and takes his seat upon an elevated tribune. 
 There is great solemnity preserved at the opening: the
 
 238 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 sheriff, with well-ordained costume and sword, sits at his 
 honour's left, his deputy on the right, and the very ho 
 nourable clerk of the court just below, where there can be 
 no impediment during the process of feeding "the Court" on 
 very legal points of " nigger law." In truth, the solemnity 
 of this court, to those unacquainted witu the tenor of legal 
 proceedings at the south, might have been misconstrued for 
 something more in keeping with justice. 
 
 The legal gentlemen, most modest of face, are seated 
 round the bar a semicircular railing dividing their dignity 
 from the common spectator waiting the reading of the 
 docket. The clerk takes his time about that, and seems a 
 great favourite with the spectators, who applaud his rising. 
 He reads, the sheriff crying " order ! order !" while the judge 
 learnedly examines his notes. Some consultation takes 
 place between several of the attorneys, which is interlarded 
 with remarks from the judge, who, with seeming satisfaction 
 to all parties, orders the case of B. C. E. K. Marston's 
 writ of replevin to be called and proceeded with. " As 
 there are three ji fas" says the junior attorney for the de 
 fendants, a very lean strippling of the law, just working his 
 way up in the world, " I object to the manner of procedure; 
 the case only involves a question of law, and should be sub 
 mitted to the special decision of the Court. It is not a 
 matter for a jury to decide upon," he concludes. The judge 
 has listened to his remarks, objections, and disclaimers, with 
 marked attention ; nevertheless, he is compelled to overrule 
 them, and order the case to proceed. Upon this it is agreed 
 among the attorneys happy fellows, always ready to agree 
 or disagree that a decision taken upon one fi fa shall be 
 held as establishing a decision for all the cases at issue. 
 
 The children are now brought into Court, and seated near 
 one of the attorneys. Marston stands, almost motionless, a 
 few steps back, gazing upon them as intently and solicitously 
 as if the issue were life or death. Deacon Rosebrook, his 
 good lady, and Franconia, have been summoned as witnesses, 
 and sit by the side of each other on a bench within the bar. 
 We hear a voice here and there among the crowd of spec 
 tators expressing sympathy for the children ; others say 
 they are only " niggers," and can't be aught else, if it bo 
 
 Soved that Marston bought the mother. And there is 
 r. Scranton ! He is well seated among the gentlemen of
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 239 
 
 the legal profession, for whom, he has a strong fellow feeling. 
 He sits, unmoved, in his wonted moodiness ; now and then 
 he gives the children a sly look of commiseration, as if the 
 screws of his feelings were unloosing. They the little pro 
 pertylook so interesting, so innocent, so worthy of being 
 something more than merchandise in a land of liberty, that 
 Mr. Scrauton's heart has become irresistibly softened. It 
 gets a few degrees above Mr. Scranton's constitutional 
 scruples. " Painful ailhir this ! What do you think of it, 
 Mr. Scranton r" enquires a member of the profession, touch 
 ing his arm. 
 
 " It is the fruit of Marston's weakness, you see ! don't 
 feel just straight, I reckon. Didn't understand the philo 
 sophy of the law, neither ; and finds himself pinched up by 
 a sort of humanity that won't pass for a legal tender in 
 business " 
 
 " Ah ! we cannot always look into the future," interrupts 
 the attorney. 
 
 Mr. Scranton holds that whatever is constitutional must 
 be right and abidable ; that one's feelings never should 
 joggle our better understanding when these little curiosities 
 come in the way. He admits, however, that they are strange 
 attendants coming up once in a while, like the fluctuations of 
 an occult science. With him, the constitution gives an in 
 disputable right to overlook every outrage upon natural law; 
 and, while it exists in full force, though it may strip one 
 half the human race of rights, he has no right to complain so 
 long as it does not interfere with him. It strikes Mr. 
 Scranton that people who differ with him in opinion must 
 have been educated under the teaching of a bad philosophy. 
 Great governments, he holds, often nurture the greatest 
 errors. It matters not how much they feel their magnitude; 
 often, the more they do, th.e least inclined are they to correct 
 them. Others fear the constitutional structure so much, 
 that they stand trembling lest the slightest correction totter 
 it to the ground. Great governments, too, are most likely 
 to stand on small points when these errors are pointed out. 
 Mr. Scranton declares, with great emphasis, that all these 
 things are most legally true, perfectly natural : they follow 
 in man as well as governments. 
 
 With all due deference to Mr. Scranton's opinion, so 
 much demanded among his admiring neighbours, it must be
 
 240 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 said that he never could bring liis miud to understand the 
 difference between natural philosophy and his own constitu 
 tional scruples, and was very apt to commit himself in argu 
 ment, forgetting that the evil was in. the fruits of a bad system, 
 bringing disgrace upon his countrymen, corrupting the moral 
 foundation of society, spreading vice around the domestic 
 fireside, and giving to base-minded men power to speculate 
 in the foulness of their own crimes. 
 
 The case is opened by the attorney for the plaintiff, who 
 makes a great many direct and indirect remarks, and then 
 calls witnesses. "Marco Grraspum!" the clerk exclaims. 
 That gentleman comes forward, takes his place, calmly, upon 
 the witnesses' stand. At first he affects to know but little ; 
 then suddenly remembers that he has heard Marston call 
 their mothers property. Further, he has heard him, while 
 extolling their qualities, state the purchase to have been made 
 of one Silenus, a trader. 
 
 " He stated be sure now ! to you, that he purchased 
 them of one Silenus, a trader?" interpolates the judge, rais 
 ing his glasses, and advancing his ear, with his hand raised 
 at its side. 
 
 " Tes, yer honour !" " Please observe this testimony," re 
 joins the attorney, quickly. He bows ; says that is enough. 
 The opposing attorney has no question to put on cross- 
 examination : he knows Grraspum too well. Being quite at 
 home with the gentlemen of the legal profession, they know 
 his cool nonchalance never can be shaken upon a point of 
 testimony. 
 
 " Any questions to put ? ' asks the legal opponent, with an 
 air of indifference. 
 
 " No, nothing," is the reply. 
 
 His brother of special pleas smiles, gives a cunning glance 
 at Gfraspum, and wipes his face with a very white handker 
 chief. He is conscious of the character of his man ; it saves 
 all further trouble. " When we know who we have to deal 
 with, we know how to deal," he mutters, as he sits down. 
 
 Graspum retires from the stand, and takes his seat among 
 the witnesses. " We will now call Anthony Jiomescos," says 
 the attorney. A few minutes' pause, and that individual rolls 
 out in all his independence, takes his place on the stand. 
 He goes through a long series of questioning and cross- 
 q-uestioning, answers for which he seems to have well studied
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 241 
 
 The whole amounts to nothiua; more than a corroboration 
 of Graspum's testimony. He has heard Marston call their 
 mothers property : once, he thinks, but would hesitate 
 before pledging his honour, that Marston offered to him the 
 woman Clotilda. Yes ; it was her ! 
 
 Considerable excitement is now apparent ; the auditory 
 whisperamongthemselves,attorneys puttheir heads together, 
 turn and turn over the leaves of their statutes. His honour, 
 the Court, looks wiser still. Marston trembles and turns pale; 
 his soul is pinioned between hope and fear. Romescos has 
 told something more than he knows, and continues, at 
 random, recounting a dozen or more irrelevant things. The 
 court, at length, deems it necessary to stop his voluntary 
 testimony, orders that he only answer such questions as are 
 put to him. 
 
 " There's no harm in a feller tellin' what he knows, eh ! 
 judge ?" returns Romescos, dropping a quid of tobacco at 
 his side, bowing sarcastically to the judge, and drawing his 
 face into a comical picture. 
 
 Mr. Romescos is told that he can stand aside. At this 
 seemingly acceptable announcement, he bristles his crispy red 
 hair with his fingers, shrugs his shoulders, winks at two or 
 three of ths jurymen, pats Grraspum on the shoulder as he 
 passes him, and takes his seat. 
 
 " "We will close tne case here, but reserve the right of in 
 troducing further testimony, if necessary," says the learned 
 and very honourable counsel. 
 
 The defence here rises, and states the means by which his 
 client intends to prove the freedom of the children ; and 
 concludes by calling over the names of the witnesses. 
 Franconia ! Franconia ! we hear that name called ; it sounds 
 high above the others, and falls upon our ear most mourn 
 fully. Franconia, that sweet creature of grace and delicacy, 
 brought into a court where the scales of injustice are made 
 to serve iniquity ! 
 
 Franconia's reserve and modesty put legal gentlemen's 
 gallantry to the test. One looks over the pages of his re 
 ports, another casts a sly look as she sweeps by to take that 
 place the basest of men has just left. The interested spec 
 tators stretch their persons anxiously, to get a look at the 
 two pretty children, honourable and legal gentlemen are 
 straining their ability to reduce to property. There stands
 
 >42 A FATHER S TRIALS. 
 
 the blushing woman, calm and beautiful, a virtuous rebuke 
 to curious spectators, mercenary slave dealers, the very 
 learned gentlemen of the bar, and his enthroned honour, the 
 Court ! She will give testimony that makes nature frown 
 at its own degradation. Not far from Franconia sits the 
 very constitutional Mr. Scranton, casting side glances now and 
 then. Our philosopher certainly thinks, though he will not 
 admit it, the chivalry is overtaxing itself ; there wasno occasion 
 for compelling so fair a creature to come into court, and hear 
 base testimony before a base crowd, to aid a base law in 
 securing base ends. And then, just think and blush, ye who 
 have blushes to spare. 
 
 Will the learned gentleman proceed with the examination 
 of this witness ?" says his honour, who, pen in hand, has 
 been waiting several minutes to take down her testimony. 
 Court and audience, without knowing why, have come to an 
 unconscious pause. 
 
 " Will the witness state to the court in what relation she 
 stands to the gentleman who defends the freedom of the 
 children, Mr. Hugh Marston?" saysthe attorney, addressing 
 his bland words to Franconia, somewhat nervously. 
 
 " He he he is my ," she mutters, and stops. Her 
 
 face turns pale ; then suddenly changes to glowing crimson. 
 She rests her left hand on the rail, while the judge, as if 
 suddenly moved by a generous impulse, suggests that the 
 attorney pause a moment, until the deputy provides a c'.iair 
 for the lady. She is quiet again. Calmly and modestly, as 
 her soft, meaning eyes wander over the scene before her, 
 compelled to encounter its piercing gaze, the crystal tears 
 leave their wet courses on her blushing cheeks. Her feelings 
 are too delicate, too sensitive, to withstand the sharp and 
 deadly poison of liberty's framework of black laws. She sees 
 her uncle, so kind, so fond of her and her absent brother ; 
 her eye meets his in kindred sympathy, imagination wings 
 its way through recollections of the past, draws forth its 
 pleasures with touching sensations, and fills the cup too full. 
 That cup is the fountain of the soul, from which trouble 
 draws its draughts. She watches her uncle as he turns 
 toward the children ; she knows they are his ; she feels how 
 much he loves them. 
 
 The attorney the man of duty -is somewhat affected. 
 " I have a duty to perform," he says, looking at the court,
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 243 
 
 at tbe witness, at the children, at the very red-faced clerk, 
 at^the opposing counsel, and anything within the precincts of 
 the court-room. We see his lips move ; he hesitates, makes 
 slight gesticulations, turns and turns a volume of Blackstone 
 with his hands, and mutters something we cannot understand. 
 The devil is doing battle with his heart a heart bound with 
 the iron strings of the black law. At length, in broken accents, 
 we catch the following remarks, which the learned gentleman 
 thinks it necessary to make in order to save his gallantry : 
 " I am sorry extremely sorry, to see the witness, a lady so 
 touchingly sensitive, somewhat affected ; but, nevertheless 
 (the gentleman bows to the judge, and says the Court 
 will understand his position !) it is one of those cases which 
 the demands of the profession at times find us engaged in. 
 As such we are bound, morally, let me say, as well as legally, 
 to protect the interests of our clients. In doing so, we are 
 often compelled to encounter those delicate irregularities 
 to which the laws governing our peculiar institutions are 
 liable. I may say that they are so interwoven with our 
 peculiar institution, that to act in accordance with our duty 
 makes it a painful task to our feelings. We I may appeal 
 to the court for corroboratiou can scarcely pursue an ana- 
 Ivsation of these cases without pain ; I may say, remorse of 
 conscience." Mr. Petterwester, for such is his name, is 
 evidently touched with that sense of shame which the- dis 
 closures of the black system bring upon his profession. This 
 is aided by the fascinating appearance of the witness on the 
 stand. It is irresistible because it is at variance with those 
 legal proceedings, those horrors of southern jurisprudence, 
 which he is pressing for the benefit of his clients. Again he 
 attempts to put another question, but is seized with a 
 tremor; he blushes, is nervous and confused, casts a doubting 
 look at the judge. That functionary is indeed very grave 
 unmoved. The responsibility of the peculiar institution 
 HO rely hardened the war of heart against head that was 
 waging among the learned gentlemen ; but the institution 
 must be preserved, for its political power works wonders, and 
 its legal power is wondrously curious. " Please tell the 
 court and jury what you know about the relation in which 
 these children stand to the gentleman who asserts their 
 freedom, dear madam ? We will not trouble you with 
 questions ; make a statement," says Mr. Petterwester, with
 
 A FATHER S TRIALS. 
 
 great sincerity of manner. Indeed, Mr. Petterwester has 
 been highly spoken of among the very oldest, most respec 
 table, and best kind of female society, for his gallantry. 
 
 The brother opposite, a small gentleman, with an exceed 
 ingly studious countenance, dressed in shining black, and a 
 profusion of glossy hair falling upon his shoulders, rises with 
 great legal calmness, and objects to the manner of procedure, 
 describing it as contrary to the well-established rules of the 
 bar. The court interpolates a few remarks, and then inti 
 mates that it very seriously thinks gentlemen better 
 waive the points, better come to an understanding to let the 
 lady make her statements ! Courtesy entitles her, as a lady, 
 to every respect and consideration. The gentlemen, having 
 whispered a few words together, bow assent to the high 
 functionary's intimation. 
 
 Franconia proceeds. She asserts that Hugh Marston 
 (pointing to him) is her uncle ; that she -knows little or 
 nothing of his business affairs, cannot tell why her brother 
 left the country so suddenly ; she knew Clotilda and Ellen 
 Juvarna, mothers of the children. They never were consi 
 dered among the property of the plantation. Her short story 
 is told in touching tones. The learned and gallant attorney, 
 esteeming it indispensable, puts a question or two as to 
 whether anything was ever said abont selling them in con 
 sequence of certain jealousies. Before the brother can 
 object, she answers them evasively, and the testimony 
 amounts to just no testimony at all. The court, bowing 
 respectfully, informs the lady she can get down from the 
 stand. 
 
 The next witness called is Mrs. Rosebrook. This good 
 and benevolent lady is more resolute and determined. The 
 gentlemen of the bar find her quite clever enough for them. 
 Approaching the stand with a firm step, she takes her place 
 as if determined upon rescuing the children. Her answers 
 come rather faster than is compatible with the dignity of 
 the learned gentlemen of the bar. She knows Marston. 
 knows Fraucouia, knows the old plantation, has spent many 
 happy hours upon it, is sorry to see the old proprietor reduced 
 to this state of things. She knows the two children, dear 
 creatures, has always had a kindly feeling for them ; knew 
 their poor mothers, has befriended them since Marston's 
 troubk-'s begun. She always her large, loving eyes glowing
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 245 
 
 with the kindness of her soulheard Marston say they were 
 just as free as people could be, and they should be free, too ! 
 Some people did'nt look at the moral obligation of the 
 thing. Here, the good lady, blushing, draws the veil over 
 her face. There is something more she would like to dis 
 close if modesty did not forbid. 
 
 " Nothing direct in such testimony, your honour will 
 perceive !" says Mr. Petterwester, directing himself to the 
 judge. 
 
 " Is there any question with regard to the father of the 
 children ?" enquires his honour, again placing his hand to 
 his ear and leaning forward inquisitively. His honour sud 
 denly forgot himself. 
 
 "Ah, ha'h, he em! The question, so buried under a 
 mountain of complexity, requires very nice legal discrimi 
 nation to define it properly. However, w r e must be governed 
 by distinct pleadings, and I think that, in this case, this 
 specific question is not material ; nor do my brother col 
 leagues of the Bench think it would be advisable to establish 
 such questions, lest they affect the moral purity of the 
 atmosphere we live in." 
 
 " If your honour will permit it, I may say it will only be 
 necessary in this case to establish the fact of property exist 
 ing in the mothers. That will settle the whole question ; 
 fathers, as you are aware, not being embraced in the law 
 regulating this species of property ;" the learned gentleman 
 instructs the court. 
 
 His honour, rejoining with a few very grave and very legal 
 remarks, says they look very much alike, and are of one 
 mother. He is a little undecided, however, takes another 
 good stare at them, and then adds Ins glasses, that the affinity 
 nay be more clear. Turning again to his book, he examines 
 his pages, vacantly. A legal wag, who has been watching 
 the trial for mere amusement, whispering in the ear of his 
 brother, insinuates that the presiding functionary is medi 
 tating some problem of speculation, and has forgotten the 
 point at issue. 
 
 "No!" interrupts Mr. Petterwester, "your honour is 
 curiously labouring under an error ; they have two mothers, 
 both of the same tenour in life that is Mr. Petterwester 
 corrects himself embodying the same questions of pro
 
 246 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 perty. The issue of the case now on is taken as final over 
 the rest." 
 
 " Ah ! bless me, now I rather see into it. The 
 clerk will hand me Cobb's Greorgia Reports. A late case, 
 curiously serious, there recorded, may lead me to gather a 
 parallel. Believe me, gentlemen, my feelings are not so 
 dead his honour addresses himself to the bar in geneml- 
 that I cannot perceive it to be one of those very delicate 
 necessities of our law which so embarrasses the gallantry of 
 the profession at times " 
 
 " Yes ! yer honour," the attorney for the defence sud 
 denly interrupts, " and which renders it no less a disgrace to 
 drag ladies of high rank into a court of this kind ." 
 
 His honour can assure the learned gentleman that this 
 court has very high functions, and can administer justice 
 equal to anything this side of divine power, his honour 
 interrupts, indignantly. 
 
 " The court misunderstood the counsel, he had no re 
 ference to the unquestioned high authority of the tribunal ; it 
 was only the character of the trials brought before it. 
 When, notwithstanding our boasts of chivalry, delicate ladies 
 are dragged before it in this manner, they must not only 
 endure the painful tenour of the evidence, but submit to the 
 insolence of men who would plunder nature of its right 
 
 " I shall claim the protection of the court against such 
 unprofessional imputations," his brother of the opposite 
 interrupts, rising and affecting an air of indignation. The 
 court, quite bewildered, turns a listening ear to his remarks 
 " Hopes the learned gentlemen will not disgrace themselves." 
 
 Order ! order ! order ! demands the sheriff, making a 
 flourish with his sword. The spectators, rising on tip-toe, 
 express their anxiety to have the case proceed. They 
 \\hisper, shake their heads, and are heard to say that it will 
 be utterly useless to attempt any thing against the testimony 
 of Graspum and llomescos. Mr. Graspum, in the fulness of 
 his slavish and impudent pedantry, leeliug secure in the 
 possession of his victims, sits within the bar, seeming to feel 
 his position elevated a few degrees above his highness the 
 judge. 
 
 " I do hope the interposition of this Court will not be 
 necessary in this case. Gentlemen of the learned proles-
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 sion should settle those differences more like gentlemen," 
 says his honour, looking down upon his minions with a 
 frown of contempt. 
 
 " The matter is one entirely of a professional nature, yer 
 honour !" responds the scion of the law, quickly, first 
 addressing himself to the judge, and then to the jury. " If 
 the testimony we hare already adduced direct as it is be 
 not sufficient to establish the existence of property in these 
 children (B-omescos has just whispered something in his ear) 
 we will produce other testimony of the most conclusive 
 character. However, we will yield all further cross-ques 
 tioning the ladies ; and I now suggest that they be relieved 
 from the painful position of appearing before this court 
 again. 
 
 Mrs. Rosebrook descends from the stand amidst murmurs 
 and applause. Some amount of legal tact now ensues ; the 
 attorney for the prosecution displays an earnestness amount 
 ing to personal interest. 
 
 Here the counsel for the defence steps forward, whispers 
 to the clerk, and gives notice that he shall call witnesses 
 to impeach the characters of Graspum and Romescos. 
 These two high dignitaries, sitting together, express the 
 utmost surprise at such an insinuation. The character of 
 neither is sacred material, nor will it stand even in a 
 southern atmosphere. They have been pronounced legally 
 impure many years ago. 
 
 Just at this juncture there is quite an excitement in the 
 court-room, Romescos, like a disfigured statue, rises from 
 among his legal friends and addresses the court on the 
 independent principle. " Well now, Squire, if ya'r goin' to 
 play that ar' lawyer game on a feller what don't understand 
 the dodge, I'll just put a settler on't ; I'll put a settler on't 
 what ya' won't get over. My word's my honour ; didn't 
 come into this establishment to do swarin' cos I wanted to ; 
 scein' how, when a feller's summoned by the Boss Squire, 
 he's got to walk up and tell the truth and nothin' shorter. 
 I knows ya' don't feel right about it ; and it kind a hurts a 
 feller's feelins to make property of such nice young uns, 
 especially when one knows how nice .they've been brought 
 up. This aint the thing, though; 'taint the way to get 
 along in the world ; and seein' I'm a man of honour, and 
 wouldn't do a crooked thing nohow "
 
 248 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 His honour the Sheriff, being somewhat impressed with 
 the fact that Mr. Romescos is rather transgressing the rules 
 of the court, interposes. His defence of his honour cannot 
 longer be tolerated ; and yet, very much after the fashion of 
 great outlaws, who, when arraigned for their crimes, think 
 themselves very badly used men, Romescos has the most 
 exalted opinion of himself ; never for a moment entertains 
 a doubt of his own integrity. 
 
 He reaches over the bar ; places his lips to the attorney's 
 ear ; is about to whisper something. That gentleman 
 quickly draws back, as if his presence were repulsive. Not 
 the least offended, Romescos winks significantly, crooks the 
 fore-finger of his right hand, and says " something that'll 
 put the stopper on." The legal gentleman seems recon 
 ciled ; listens attentively to the important information. 
 "All right ! nothing more is needed," he says, rising from 
 his seat, and asking permission to introduce proof which 
 will render it quite unnecessary to proceed with anything 
 that may have for its object the impeachment of the wit 
 nesses. 
 
 The attorney for the defence objects to this mode of 
 procedure; and the judge, having sustained the objec 
 tions, orders the counsel to proceed with his witnesses. 
 Several persons, said to be of very high standing, are now 
 called. They successively depose that they would not be 
 lieve Romescos nor Graspum upon oath ; notwithstanding, 
 both may be very honourable and respectable gentlemen. 
 Thus invalidating the testimony of these high functionaries 
 of the peculiar institution, the gentleman of the prosecution 
 has an opportunity of producing his conclusive proof. Ro- 
 mescod has been seen passing him a very suspicious-looking 
 document. 
 
 All attention is now directed to the children ; they sit 
 pensively, unconscious of the dread fate hanging over them. 
 " What can this testimony be ?" rings in whispers about 
 the court-room. Some deep intrigue is going on ; it is some 
 unforeseen movement of the slave-dealers, not comprehended 
 by the spectators. Can the bond-fide creditors be impli 
 cated ? Even Mr. Scranton feels that his knowledge of the 
 philosophy of slave power is completely at fault. 
 
 "Now, your honour, and gentlemen of the jury," says 
 the gentleman of the prosecution, " I am fully aware of the
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 249 
 
 painful suspense in which this case has kept the court, the 
 jury, and the very respectable persons I see assembled ; but, 
 notwithstanding the respectability and well-known position 
 of my clients and witnesses, the defence in this case has 
 succeeded in expunging the testimony, and compelling us to 
 bring forward such proof as cannot be impeached." Here 
 the legal gentleman draws from .his pocket a stained and 
 coloured paper, saying, " Will the gentlemen of the jury be 
 kind enough to minutely examine that instrument." He 
 passes it to the foreman. 
 
 " "What is the purport of the instrument ?" his honour 
 enquires. 
 
 " The bill of sale, your honour." 
 
 Foreman, has examined it satisfactorily ; passes it to 
 several of his fellows. All are satisfied. He returns it to 
 the learned gentleman. That very important and chivalrous 
 individual throws it upon the table with great self-confi 
 dence. 
 
 His honour would like to scan over its details. It is 
 passed to the little fat clerk, and by that gentleman to his 
 honour. "Very, singularly strong!" his honour says, giv 
 ing his head a very wise shake. 
 
 " "When the court gets through," says the advocate for 
 the defence, rising and placing his hand on the clerk's 
 desk. 
 
 "The gentleman can examine," replies the court, passing 
 it coldly to the Sheriff, who politely forwards it. 
 
 He turns it and turns it ; reads it slowly ; examines the 
 dates minutely. " How did the prosecution come in pos 
 session of this document P" 
 
 His brother of the law objects, " That's not an admissible 
 question. If the defence will institute an action against the 
 parties for unlawfully procuring it, we will take great plea 
 sure in showing our hands. It may be, however, well to 
 say, that Mr. Marston and Mr. Graspum have always been 
 on the most friendly terms ; but the former gentleman 
 forgot to take care of this very essential document," he 
 continues, taking it from the hand of his professional bro 
 ther, and turning toward the spectators, his countenance 
 glowing with exultation. The pride of his ambition is 
 served. The profession has honourably sustained itself 
 through the wonderful abilities of this learned brother, who,
 
 250 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 holding the paper in his hand, awaits the gracious applause 
 of the assembled spectators. There is some applause, some 
 murmuring, much whispering. 
 
 The court, in coldly measured words, hopes the audience 
 will evince no excitement pro or co 1 ?. 
 
 Some persons declare the bill of sale a forgery, that 
 Romescos has tried that very same trick twice before. 
 Others say it matters but little on that score, - that all the 
 law in the country won't restrain Graspum ; if he sets at it 
 in good earnest he can turn any sort of people into pro 
 perty. A third whispers that the present order of things 
 must be changed, or nobody's children will be safe. Legal 
 gentlemen, not interested in the suit, shake their heads, and 
 successively whisper, " The prosecution never came by that 
 bill of sale honestly." Creditors, not parties to this suit, 
 and brokers who now and then do something in the trade 
 of human beings, say, " If this be the way Marston's going 
 to play the dodge with his property, we will see if there be 
 not some more under the same shaded protection." 
 
 " Will the counsel for the defence permit his client to 
 inspect this instrument ?" says the learned gentleman, 
 passing it across the table. 
 
 Marston's face flushes with shame ; he is overcome ; he 
 extends his trembling hand and takes the fatal document. 
 It is, to him, his children's death-warrant. A cloud of dark 
 ness overshadows his hopes ; he would question the signa 
 ture, but the signer, Silenus, is dead, as dead as the justice 
 of the law by which the children are being tried. And 
 there is the bond attached to it! Again the thought 
 flashed through his mind, that he had sold Ellen Juvarna 
 to Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy. However much he 
 might struggle to save his children however much a fa 
 ther's obligations might force themselves upon him how 
 ever much he might acknowledge them the offspring of his 
 own body, they were prope.rty in the law property in the 
 hands of Graspum ; and, with the forethought of that 
 honourable gentleman opposed to him as it evidently was 
 his efforts and pleadings would not only prove futile, but 
 tend to expose Lorenzo's crime. 
 
 "The philosophy of the thing is coming out, just as I said 
 precisely," ejaculates Mr. Scranton, raising his methodical 
 eyes, and whispering to a legal gentleman who sits at his 
 right.
 
 <fcf A FATHER'S TRIALS. 251 
 
 " Serious philosophy, that embraces and sanctions the sale 
 of such lovely children, making property of one's children 
 against his wishes ! I'm a great Southern rights man, but 
 this is shaving the intermixture a little too close," rejoins 
 the other, casting a solicitous look at Marston, who has 
 been intently and nervously examining the bill of sale. 
 
 "Any objections to make to it?" says the learned gen 
 tleman, bowing politely and extending his hand, as he con 
 cludes by inquiring how it happened, in the face of such an 
 array of evidence, that he sold the girl, Ellen Juvarna ? 
 
 " No objection, none !" is Marston' s quick response. His 
 head droops ; he wipes the tears from his eyes ; he leaves 
 the court in silence, amid murmurs from the crowd. The 
 female witnesses left before him ; it was well they did so. 
 
 That this is the original bill of sale, from one Silenus to 
 Hugh Marston, has been fully established. However pain 
 ful the issue, nothing remained but to give the case to the 
 jury. All is silent for several minutes. The judge has 
 rarely sat upon a case of this kind. He sits unnerved, the 
 pen in his hand refusing to write as his thoughts wander 
 into the wondrous vortex of the future of slavery. But 
 the spell has passed ; his face shades with pallor as slowly he 
 rises to address the jury. He has but few words to say ; 
 they fall like death-knells on the ears of his listeners. 
 Some touching words escape his hesitating lips ; but duty, 
 enforced by the iron rod of slave power, demands him to 
 sustain the laws of the land. He sets forth the undisputed 
 evidence contained in the bill of sale, the unmistakeable 
 bond, the singular and very high-handed attempt to conceal 
 it from the honest creditors, and the necessity of jurymen 
 restraining their sympathies for the children while perform 
 ing a duty to the laws of the land. Having thus made 
 his brief address, he sits down ; the sheriff shoulders his 
 tip -staff, and the august twelve, with papers provided, are 
 marched into che jury-room, as the court orders that the case 
 of Dunton v. Higgins be called. 
 
 Five minutes have intervened ; the clerk calling the case 
 s interrupted by a knocking at the jury-room door; he 
 stops his reading, the door is opened, and the sheriff con 
 ducts his twelve gentlemen back to their seats. Not a 
 whisper is heard ; the stillnc'ps'of the tomb reigns over this 
 17
 
 252 A FATHER'S TRIALS. 
 
 high judicial scene. The sheriff receives a packet of papers 
 from the foreman's hands, and passes them to the clerk. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the jury will please stand up," says that 
 very amiable functionary. " Have you agreed on your ver 
 dict ?" The foreman bows assent. 
 
 " Guilty or not guilty, gentlemen ?" 
 
 " Guilty," says the former, in tones like church-yard 
 wailings : " G-uilty. I suppose that's the style we must 
 render the verdict in ?" The foreman is at a loss to know 
 what style of verdict is necessary. 
 
 " Yes," returns the clerk, bowing ; and the gentlemen of 
 the jury well complimented by the judge, are discharged 
 until to-morrow. The attorney for the defence made a 
 noble, generous, and touching appeal to the fatherly twelve ; 
 but his appeal fell like dull mist before the majesty of slavery. 
 Guilty ! O heavens, that ever the innocent should be made 
 guilty of being born of a mother! That a mother that 
 name so holy should be stained with the crime of bearing 
 her child to criminal life ! 
 
 Two children, fair and beautiful, are judged by a jury of 
 twelve perhaps all good and kind fathers, free and enlight 
 ened citizens of a free and happy republic guilty of the 
 crime of being born of a slave mother, Can this inquiring 
 jury, this thinking twelve, feel as fathers only can feel when 
 their children are on the precipice of danger? Could they but 
 break over that seeming invulnerable power of slavery which 
 crushes humanity, freezes up the souls of men, and makes 
 the lives of millions but a blight of misery, and behold with 
 the honesty of the heart what a picture of misery their 
 voice " Guilty !" spreads before these unfortunate children, 
 how changed would be the result I 
 
 A judge, endeared to his own children by the kindest 
 affections, feels no compunction of conscience while admi 
 nistering the law which denies a father his own children 
 which commands those children to be sold with the beasts 
 of the field! Mark the slender cord upon which the 
 fate of these unfortunates turns ; mark the suffering 
 through which they must pass. 
 
 The hand on the clock's pale face marks four. His 
 honour reminds gentlemen of the bar that it is time to ad 
 journ court. Court is accordingly adjourned. The crowd
 
 A FATHER'S TRIALS. '253 
 
 disperse in silence. Gentlemen of the legal profession are sat 
 isfied the majesty of the law has been sustained. 
 
 Hence the guilty children, scions of rights-loving democracy, 
 like two pieces of valuable merchandise judicially decreed upon, 
 are led back to prison, where they will await sale. Annette 
 has caught the sound of " Guilty ! " she mutters it while be 
 ing taken home from the court, in the arms of an old slave. 
 May heaven forgive the guilt we inherit from a mother, in this 
 our land of freedom !
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 BUT a few months have passed since the popularly called 
 gallant M'Carstrow led the fair Franconia to the hyme 
 neal altar ; and, now that he has taken up his residence in 
 the city, the excitement of the honeymoon is waning, and 
 he has betaken himself to his more congenial associations. 
 The beautiful Franconia for him had but transient charms, 
 which he now views as he would objects necessary to the 
 gratifications of his coarse passions. His feelings have not 
 been softened with those finer associations which make man 
 the kind patron of domestic life ; nor is his mind capable of 
 appreciating that respect for a wife which makes her an 
 ornament of her circle. Saloons, race-courses, and nameless 
 places, have superior attractions for him : home is become 
 but endurable. 
 
 In truth, Franconia, compelled to marry in deference to 
 fortune, finds she is ensnared into misfortunes. M'Carstrow 
 (Colonel by courtesy) had fifteen hundred dollars, cash down, 
 to pay for Clotilda : this sad grievance excites his feelings, 
 inasmuch as it was all owing to his wife's whims, and the 
 poverty of her relations. The verdict of the jury, recently 
 rendered, was to his mind a strictly correct one ; but he 
 cannot forget the insane manner in which the responsibility 
 was fastened upon him, and the hard cash which might have 
 made two handsome stakes on the turf drawn from his 
 pocket. His wife's poverty-stricken relations he now de 
 tests, and can tolerate them best when farthest away from 
 him. But Franconia does not forget that he is her husband ; 
 no, night after night she sits at the window until midnight, 
 waiting his return. Feeble and weary with anxiety, she will 
 despatch a negro on a hopeless errand of search ; he, true to 
 his charge, returns with the confidential intelligence of find 
 ing Mas'r in a place less reputable than it is proper to 
 mention. Such is our southern society* \ery hospitable in 
 language, chivalrous in memory, base in morals ! Some-
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 times the gallant colonel deems it necessary to remain until 
 daylight, lest, in returning by night, the pavement may annoy 
 his understanding. Of this, however, he felt the world 
 knew but little. Now and then, merely to keep up the luxury 
 of southern life, the colonel finds it gratifying to his feel 
 ings, on returning home at night, to order a bed to be made 
 for him in one of the yard-houses, in such manner as to give 
 the deepest pain to his Franconia. Coarse and dissolute, in 
 difference follows, cold and cutting ; she finds herself a mere 
 instrument of baser purpose in the hands of one she knows 
 only as a ruffian she loathes ! Thus driven under the bur 
 den of trouble, she begins to express her unhappiness, to 
 remonstrate against his associations, to plead with him 
 against his course of life. He jeers at this, scouts such 
 prudery, proclaims it far beneath the dignity of his standing 
 as a southern gentleman. 
 
 The generous woman could have endured his dissipation 
 she might have tolerated his licentiousness, but his arbitrary 
 and very uncalled-for remarks upon the misfortunes of her 
 family are more than she can bear. She has tried to respect 
 him love him she cannot and yet her sensitive nature 
 recoils at the thought of being attached to one whose feelings 
 and associations are so at variance with her own. Her im 
 pulsive spirit quails under the bitterness of her lot ; she 
 sees the dreary waste of trouble before her only to envy the 
 happiness of those days of rural life spent on the old planta 
 tion. That she should become fretful and unhappy is a 
 natural consequence. 
 
 "We must invite the reader to go with us to M'Carstrow' s 
 residence, an old-fashioned wooden building, three stories 
 high, with large basement windows and doors, on the south 
 side of King Street. It is a wet, gloomy night, in the month of 
 November, the wind, fierce and chilling, has just set in from 
 the north-east ; a drenching rain begins to fall, the ships in 
 the harbour ride ill at ease ; the sudden gusts of wind, sweep 
 ing through the narrow streets of the city, lighted here and 
 there by the sickly light of an old-fashioned lamp, bespread the 
 scene with drear. At a second-story window, lighted by a taper 
 burning on the sill,sits Franconia, alone, waiting the return of 
 M'Carstrow. M'Carstrow is enjoying his night orgies ! He 
 cares neither for the pelting storm, the anxiety of his wife, 
 nor the sweets of home.
 
 256 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 A. gust of wind shakes the house ; the windows rattle their 
 stormy music ; the cricket answers to the wailings of the 
 gale as it gushes through the crevices ; Franconia's cares 
 are borne to her husband. Now the wind subsides, a slow 
 rap is heard at the hall door, in the basement : a female 
 servant, expecting her master, hastens to open it. Her mas 
 ter is not there ; the wind has extinguished the flaring light ; 
 and the storm, sweeping through the sombre arch,spreadsnoise 
 and confusion. She runs to the kitchen, seizes the globular 
 lamp, and Boon returns, frightened at the sight presented in 
 the door. Masteris not there it is the lean figure of a strange 
 old " nigger," whose weather-worn face, snowy with beard 
 and wrinkled with age, is lit up with gladness. He has a warm 
 soul within him, a soul not unacceptable to heaven ! The 
 servant shrinks back, she is frightened at the strange sight 
 of the strange old man. " Don' be feared, good child ; Bob 
 ain't bad nigger," says the figure, in a guttural whisper. 
 
 " An't da'h fo'h notin good ; who is ye' ?" returns the girl, 
 holding the globular lamp before her shining black face. 
 Cautiously she makes a step or two forward, squinting at 
 the sombre figure of the old negro, as he stands trembling in 
 the doorway. " Is my good young Miss wid'n ?" he enquires, 
 in the same whispering voice, holding his cap in his right 
 hand. 
 
 " Beckon how ye bes be gwine out a dat afo'h Miss come. 
 Yer miss don' lib in dis ouse." So saying, the girl is 
 about to close the door in the old man's face, for he is 
 ragged and dejected, and has the appearance of a " suspicious 
 nigger without a master." 
 
 " Don' talk so, good gal ; ye don' know dis old man, so 
 hungry, most starved. I lub Miss Franconia. Tell she 
 I'ze here," he says, in a supplicating tone, as the girl, regain 
 ing confidence, scrutinises him from head to foot with the 
 aid of her lamp. 
 
 The servant is about to request he will come inside that she 
 may shut out the storm. Fraukone knows old Daddy Bob, 
 dat she do !" he reiterates, working his cap in his 
 fingers. The familiar words have caught Fruncoma's ear ; 
 she recognises the sound of the old man's voice ; she springs 
 to her feet, as her heart gladdens with joy. She bounds 
 down the stairs, and to the door, grasps the old man's 
 hand, as a fond child warmly . grasps the hand of a parent,
 
 WE CHANGE "WITH FORTUNE. 257 
 
 and welcomes him with the tenderness of a sister. " Poor 
 my poor old Daddy!" she says, looking in his lace so 
 sweetly, so earnestly, " where have you come from ? who 
 bought you? how did you escape?" she asks, in rapid 
 succession. Holding his hand, she leads him along the 
 passage, as he tells her. " Ah, missus, I sees hard times 
 since old mas'r lef de plantation. Him an't how he was 
 ven you dah." He views her, curiously, from head to 
 foot ; kisses her hand ; laughs with joy, as he was wont to 
 laugh on the old plantation. 
 
 " Faithful as ever, Daddy ? You found me out, and came 
 to see me, didn't you?" says Franconia, so kindly, leading 
 him into a small room on the left hand of the hall, where, 
 after ordering some supper for him, she begs he will tell 
 her all about his wayfaring. It is some minutes before Bob 
 can get an opportunity to tell Franconia that he is a fugitive, 
 having escaped the iron grasp of the law to stand true to 
 old mas'r. At length he, in the enthusiastic boundings of 
 his heart, commences his story. 
 
 " Nigger true, Miss Franconia he mumbles out on'e 
 gib 'im chance to be. Ye sees, Bob warn't gwine t' lef 
 old mas'r, nohow ; so I gin 'ern da slip when'e come t' takes 
 'em fo'h sell " 
 
 "Then they didn't sell you, old Dad? That's good! 
 that's good ! And Daddy's cold and wet ?" she interrupts, 
 anxiously, telling the servant to get some dry clothes for him. 
 
 " I is dat, Miss Frankone. Han't ad nofin t' eat dis most 
 two days," he returns, looking at her affectionately, with one 
 of those simple smiles, so true, so expressive. 
 
 A supper is soon ready for Daddy, to which he sits down 
 as if he were about to renew all his former fondness and 
 familiarity. "Seems like old times, don'un, Miss Frankone? 
 Wish old mas'r war here, too," says the old man, putting 
 the bowl of coffee to his lips, and casting a side-look at the 
 servant. 
 
 Franconia sits watching Trim intently, as if he were a 
 child just rescued from some impending danger. " Don't 
 mention my poor uncle, Daddy. He feels as much interest 
 in you as I do ; but the world don't look upon him now 
 as it once did " 
 
 " Neber mind : I gwine to work fo' old mas'r. It'll take 
 die old child to see old mas'r all right," replies the old man,
 
 258 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 forgetting that he is too old to take care of himself, properly. 
 Bob finishes his supper, rests his elbow on the table and 
 his head in his handj and commences disclosing his troubles 
 to Franconia. He tells her how he secreted himself in the 
 pine-woods, how he wandered through swamps, waded 
 creeks, slept on trunks of trees, crept stealthily to the 
 old mansion at night, listened for mas'r's footsteps, and 
 watched beneath the veranda ; and when he found he was 
 not there, how he turned and left the spot, his poor heart 
 regretting. How his heart beat as he passed the old familiar 
 cabin, retracing his steps to seek a shelter in the swamp ; 
 how, when he learned her residence, famished with hunger, 
 he wended his way into the city to seek her out, knowing 
 she would relieve his wants. 
 
 "What vil da do wid me, spose da cotch me, Miss 
 ITrankone?" enquires the old man, simply, looking down 
 at his encrusted feet, and again at his nether wardrobe, 
 which he feels is not just the thing to appear in before 
 young missus. 
 
 " They won't do anything cruel to you, Daddy. You are 
 too old ; your grey hairs will protect you. "Why, Daddy, 
 you would not fetch a bid if they found out who owned 
 you, and put you up at auction to-morrow," she says, 
 with seeming unconsciousness. She little knew how much 
 the old man prided in his value, how much he esteemed 
 the amount of good work he could do for master. He shakes 
 his head, looks doubtingly at her, as if questioning the 
 sincerity of her remark. 
 
 " Just get Daddy Bob he mutters a badge, den 'e show 
 missus how much work in 'urn." 
 
 " Prauconia promises to comply with his request, and, 
 with the aid of a friend, will intercede for him, and procure 
 for him a badge, that he may display his energies for the 
 benefit of old mas'r. This done, she orders the servant to 
 show him his bed in one of the "yard houses ;" bids the 
 old man an affectionate good night, retires to her room, 
 and watches the return of her truant swain. 
 
 There, seated in an arm-chair, she waits, and waits, and 
 waits, hope and anxiety recording time as it passes. The 
 servant has seen Daddy safe in his room, and joins her missus, 
 where, by the force of habit, she coils herself at her feet, 
 and sleeps. She has not long retrained in this position when
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 259 
 
 loud singing breaks upon her ear ; louder and louder it 
 vibrates through the music of the storm, and approaches. 
 Now she distinctly recognises the sharp voice of M' Cars- 
 trow, which is followed bj loud rappings at the door of 
 the basement hall. M'Carstrow, impatiently, demands 
 entrance. The half-sleeping servant, startled at the noise, 
 springs to her feet, rubs her eyes, bounds down the stairs, 
 seizes the globular lamp, and proceeds to open the door. 
 Franconia, a candle in her hand, waits at the top of the 
 stairs. She swings back the door, and there, bespattered 
 with mud, face bleeding and distorted, and eyes glassy, 
 stands the chivalrous M'Carstrow. He presents a sorry 
 picture ; mutters, or half growls, some sharp imprecations ; 
 makes a grasp at the girl, falls prostrate on the floor. 
 Attempting to gain his perpendicular, he staggers a few 
 yards the girl screaming with fright and groans as his 
 face again confronts the tiles. To make the matter still 
 worse, three of his boon companions follow him, and, almost 
 in succession, pay their penance to the floor, in an inde 
 scribable catacomb. 
 
 " I tell you what, Colonel ! if that nigger gal a' yourn 
 don't stand close with her blazer we'll get into an all-fired 
 snarl," says one, endeavouring to extricate himself and 
 regain his upright. After sundry ineffectual attempts, 
 surging round the room in search of his hat, which is being 
 very unceremoniously transformed into a muff beneath their 
 entangled extremes, he turns over quietly, saying, 
 " There's something very strange about the floor of this 
 establishment, it don't seem solid ; 'pears how there's ups 
 and downs in it." They wriggle and twist in a curious 
 pile ; endeavour to bring their knees out of " a fix" to free 
 themselves from the angles which they are most unmathe- 
 matically working on the floor. "Working and twisting, 
 now staggering, and again giving utterance to the coarsest 
 language, one of the gentry they belong to the sporting 
 world calls loudly for the colonel's little 'oman. Regaining 
 his feet, he makes indelicate advances towards the female 
 servant, who, nearly pale with fright a negro can look pale 
 runs to her mistress at the top of the stairs. 
 
 He misses the frightened maid, and seats himself on the 
 lowest step of the stairs. Here he delivers a sort of half- 
 musical soliloquy, like the following : " Gentlemen ! this
 
 260 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 kind a' thing only happens at times, and isn't just the 
 square thing when yer straight ; but seein' how southern 
 life will be so when a body get's crooked what's got a 
 wife what don't look to matters and things, and never comes 
 to take care on a body when he's done gone, he better shut 
 up shop. Better be lookin' round to see what he caji 
 scare up !" 
 
 Franconia holds the flaring light over the stairs : pale and 
 death-like, she trembles with fear, every moment expecting 
 to see them ascend. 
 
 " I see the colonel's 'oman ! yander she is ; she what 
 was imposed on him to save the poverty of her folks. The 
 M'Carstrows know a thing or two : her folks may crawl 
 under the dignity of the name, but they don't shell under 
 the dignity of the money they don't !" says a stalwart 
 companion, attempting to gain a position by the side of his 
 fellow on th ,: steps. lie gives a leering wink, contorts 
 his face into a dozen grimaces, stares vacantly round the hall 
 (slidiug himself along on his hands and knees), hia glassy 
 eyes inflamed like balls of fire. " It'll be all square soon," 
 he growls out. 
 
 The poor affrighted servant again attempts having 
 descended the stairs to relieve her master ; but the 
 crawling creature ha? regained his feet. He springs upon 
 her like a fiend, utters a fierce yell, and, snatching the lamp 
 from her hand, dashes it upon the tiles, spreading the frac 
 tured pieces about the hall. Wringing herself from his 
 grasp, she leaves a portion of her dress in his bony hand, 
 and seeks shelter in a distant part of the hall. Holding up 
 the fragment as a trophy, he staggers from place to place, 
 making hieroglyphics on the wall with his fingers. His 
 misty mind searches for some point of egress. Confronting 
 (rather uncomfortably) hat stands, tables, porcelains, and 
 other hall appurtenances, he at length shuffles his way 
 back to the stairs, where, as if doubting his bleered optics, 
 he stands some moments, swaying to and fro. His hat 
 again falls from his head, and his body, following, lays its 
 lumbering length on the stairs. Happy fraternity ! how use 
 ful is that body ! Hia companion, laying his muddled head 
 upon it, says it will serve for a pillow. " E'ke hum 
 spose 'tis so? I reckon how r I'm some ec ! eke ! some 
 where or nowhere; aint we, Joe? It's a funny house,
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 261 
 
 fellers," he continues to soliloquise, laying his arm affec 
 tionately over his companion's neck, arid again yielding to 
 the caprice of his nether limbs. 
 
 The gentlemen will now enjoy a little refreshing sleep ; to 
 further which enjoyment, they very coolly and uncere 
 moniously commence a pot-pourri of discordant snoring. 
 This seems of grateful concord for their boon companions, who 
 -forming an equanimity of good feeling on the floor -join in. 
 
 The servant is but a slave, subject to her owner's will ; she 
 dare not approach him while in such an uncertain condition. 
 Franconia cannot intercede, lest his companions, strangers to 
 her, and having the appearance of low-bred men, taking ad 
 vantage of M'Carstrow's besotted condition, make rude 
 advances. M'Carstrow, snoring high above his cares, will 
 take his comfort upon the tiles. 
 
 The servant is supplied with another candle, which, at 
 Franconia's bidding, she places in a niche of the hall. It will 
 supply light to the grotesque sleepers, whose lamp has goneout. 
 
 Franconia has not forgotten that M'Carstrow is her 
 husband ; she has not forgotten that she owes him a wife's 
 debt of kindness. She descends the stairs gently, leans 
 over his besotted body, smooths his feverish brow with 
 her hand, and orders the servant to bring a soft cushion ; 
 which done, she raises his head and places it beneath so 
 gently, so carefully. Her loving heart seems swelling with 
 grief, as compassionately she gazes upon him ; then, drawing 
 a cambric handkerchief from her bosom, spreads it so kindly 
 over his face. Woman ! there is worth in that last little act. 
 She leaves him to enjoy his follies, but regrets their existence. 
 Retiring to the drawing-room, agitated and sleepless, she 
 reclines on a lounge to await the light of morning. Again 
 the faithful servant, endeavouring to appease her mistress's 
 agitation, crouches upon the carpet, resting her head on the 
 ottoman at Franconia's feet. 
 
 The morning dawns bright and sunny : Francouia has not 
 slept. She luia passed the hours in watchfulness ; has 
 watched the negro sleeping, while her thoughts were rivetted 
 to the scene in the hall. She gets up, paces the room from 
 the couch to the window, and sits down again undecided, un 
 resolved. Taking Diana such is the servant's name by 
 the hand, she wakes her, and sends her into the hall to 
 ascertain the condition of the sleepers. The metamorphosed
 
 262 WE CHANGE WITH PORTtTNK. 
 
 group, poisoning the air with their reeking breath, are still 
 enjoying the morbid fruits of their bacchanaliauism. Quietly, 
 coolly, and promiscuously, they lay as lovingly as fellows of 
 the animal world could desire. 
 
 The servant returns, shaking her head. " Missus, da'h 
 lays yander, so in all tixins dat no tellin' which most done 
 gone. Mas'r seems done gone, sartin !" says the servant, 
 her face glowing with apprehension. 
 
 The significant phrase alarms Franconia. She repairs to 
 the hall, and commences restoring the sleepers to conscious 
 ness. The gentlemen are doggedly obstinate ; they refuse 
 to be disturbed. She recognises the face of one whose 
 business it is to reduce men to the last stage of poverty. 
 Her sensitive nature shudders at the sight, as she views 
 him with a curl of contempt on her lip. " Oh, M'Carstrow, 
 M'Carstrow !" she whispers, and taking him by the hand, 
 shakes it violently. M'Carstrow, with countenance ghastly 
 and inflamed, begins to raise his sluggish head. He sees 
 Franconia pensively gazing in his face ; and yet he enquires 
 who it is that disturbs the progress of his comforts. " Only 
 me!" says the good woman, soliciting him to leave his 
 companions and accompany her. 
 
 "Oh, you, is it?" he replies, grumblingly, rising on his 
 right elbow, and rubbing his eyes with his left hand. 
 Wildly and vacantly he stares round the hall, as if aroused 
 from a trance, and made sensible of his condition. 
 
 " Yes, me simply me, who, lost to your affections, is 
 
 made most unhappy " Franconia would proceed, but is 
 
 interrupted by her muddling swain. 
 
 "Unhappy! unhappy!" says the man of southern 
 chivalry, making sundry irresistible nods. " Propagator of 
 mischief, of evil contentions, of peace annihilators. Ah ! 
 ah ! ah ! Thinking about the lustre of them beggared 
 relations. It always takes fools to make a fuss over small 
 things : an angel wouldn't make a discontented woman 
 happy." Franconia breaks out into a paroxysm of grief, 
 so unfeeling is the tone in which he addresses her. He is 
 a southern gentleman, happily not of New England in his 
 manners, not of New England in his affections, not of New 
 England in his domestic associations. He thinks Franconia 
 very silly, and scouts with derision the idea of marrying a 
 southern gentleman who likes enjoyment, and then making
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 268 
 
 a fuss about it. He thinks she had better shut up her 
 whimpering, learn to be a good wife upon southern 
 principles. 
 
 " Husbands should be husbands, to claim a wife's respect ; 
 and they should never forget that kindness makes good 
 wives. Take away the life springs of woman's love, and 
 what is she ? "What is she with her happiness gone, her 
 pride touched, her prospects blasted ? What respect or 
 love can she have for the man who degrades her to the level 
 of his own loathsome companions?" Franconia points to 
 those who lie upon the floor, repulsive, and reeking with 
 the fumes of dissipation. " There are your companions," 
 she says. 
 
 " Companions ?" he returns, enquiringly. He looks 
 round upon them with surprise. " "Who are those fellows 
 you have got here ?" he enquires, angrily. 
 
 " You brought them to your own home ; that home you 
 might make happy " 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! They are some of your d d disre 
 putable relations." 
 
 " My relations never violate the conduct of gentle 
 men." " No ; but they sponge on me. These my compa 
 nions ! looking at them inquisitively Oh, no ! Don't 
 let us talk about such things; I'ze got fifteen hundred 
 dollars and costs to pay for that nigger gal you were fool 
 enough to get into a fit about when we were married. 
 That's what I'ze got for my good-heartedne'ss." M'Carstrow 
 permits his very gentlemanly southern self to get into a 
 rage. He springs to his feet suddenly, crosses and recrosses 
 the hall like one frenzied with excitement. Franconia is 
 frightened, runs up the stairs, and into her chamber, where, 
 secreting herself, she fastens the door. He looks wistfully after 
 her, stamping his foot, but he will not follow. Too much of a 
 polished gentleman, he will merely amuse himself by 
 running over the gamut of his strongest imprecations. The 
 noise creates general alarm among his companions, who, 
 gaining their uprights, commence remonstrating with him 
 on his rude conduct, as if they were much superior beings. 
 
 " Now, colonel, major, or whatever they dubbed ye, in 
 the way of a title," says one, putting his hand to his hat 
 with a swaggering bow ; "just stop that ar' sort a' nonsense, 
 and pay over this 'ere little affair afore we gets into polite
 
 SJ64 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 
 
 etiquette and such things. When, to make the expenses, ye 
 comes into a place like ours, and runs up a credit score, 
 when ye gets so lofty that ye can't tell fifty from five, we puts 
 a sealer on, so customers don't forget in the morning." The 
 modest gentleman presents to M'Carstrow's astonished 
 eyes a note for twenty-seven hundred dollars, with the 
 genuine signature. M'Carstrow takes it in his hand, stares 
 at it, turns it over and over. The signature is his ; but he 
 is undecided about the manner of its getting there, and 
 begins to give expression to some doubt. 
 
 The gentleman watches M'Carstrow very cautiously. 
 "Straight! colonel he says just turn out the shiners, or, 
 to 'commodate, we'll let ye off with a sprinkling of niggers." 
 The colonel puts the fore-finger of his left hand to his 
 lips, and, with serious countenance, walks twice or thrice 
 across the hall, as if consulting his dignity : " Shell out 
 the niggers first ; we'll take the dignity part a'ter," he 
 concludes. 
 
 "I demand to know how you came in my house," inter 
 rupts the colonel, impatiently. He finds himself in very bad 
 company ; company southern gentlemen never acknowledge 
 by daylight. 
 
 "We brought you here! Anything else you'd like to 
 know ? is the cool, sneering response. The gentleman will 
 take a pinch of snuff; he draws his fancy box from his 
 pocket, gives the cover a polite rap with his finger, invites 
 the enraged M'Carstrow to "take." That gentleman 
 shakes his head, declines. He is turning the whole affair 
 over in his head, seems taking it into serious consideration. 
 Seriously, he accepted their accommodation, and now finds 
 himself compelled to endure their painful presence. 
 
 "I, I, I m, rather in doubt," stammers M'Carstrow, 
 fingering the little obligation again, turning it over and 
 over, rubbing his eyes, applying his glass. He sees nothing 
 in the signature to dispute. " I must stop this kind of 
 fishing," he says; "don't do. It 's just what friend 
 Scranton would call very bad philosophy. Gentlemen, 
 suppose you sit down ; we'd better consider this matter 
 a little. Han't got a dime in the bank, just now." 
 M' Cars trow is becoming more quiet, takes a philosophical 
 view of the matter, affects more suavity. Calling loudly for 
 the negro servant, that personage presents herself, and is
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNB. 265 
 
 ordered to bring chairs to provide accommodation for the 
 gentlemen, in the hall. 
 
 " Might just as well settle the matter in the parlour, 
 colonel; t'wont put you out a mite," the gambler suggests, 
 with a laconic air. He will not trouble M'Carstrow by 
 waiting for his reply. Ts"o ; be leads the way, very coolly, 
 asking no odds of etiquette ; and, having entered the apart 
 ment, invites his comrades to take seats. The dignity and 
 coolness with which the manoeuvre is executed takes " Boss" 
 M'Carstrow by surprise ; makes him feel that he is merely 
 a dependent individual, whose presence there is not much 
 need of. " I tell you what it is, gents, I'ze shaved my ac 
 counts at the bank down to the smallest figure, have ! but 
 there's an honourable consideration about this matter ; and, 
 honour's honour, and I want to discharge it somehow 
 niggers or cash !" The gentlemen's feelings have smoothed 
 down amazingly. M'Carstrow is entirely serious, and willing 
 to comply. 
 
 The gentlemen have seated themselves in a triangle, with 
 the " done over" colonel in the centre. 
 
 " Well, niggers will do just as well, provided they are 
 sound, prime, and put at prices so a feller can turn 'em into 
 tin, quick," says the gentleman, who elects himself spokes 
 man of the party. 
 
 " Keeps my property in tall condition, but won't shove 
 it oif under market quotations, no how !" M'Carstrow inter 
 rupts, aa. the spokesman, aifecting the nonchalance of a 
 newly-elected alderman, places his feet upon the rich 
 upholstery of a sofa close by. He would enjoy the ex 
 tremes of southern comfort. " Colonel, I wish you had a 
 more convenient place to spit," rejoins the gentleman. He 
 will not trouble the maid, however he let's fly the noxious 
 mixture, promiscuously ; it falls from his lips upon the soft 
 hearth-rug. " It will add another flower to the expensive 
 thing," he says, very coolly, elongating his figure a little 
 more. He has relieved himself, wondrously. M'Carstrow 
 calls the servant, points to the additional wreath on the 
 hearth-rug ! 
 
 " All your nigger property as good-conditioned as that 
 gal?" enquires the gentleman, the others laughing at the 
 nicety of his humour. Eising from his seat very deliberately.
 
 266 WE CHANGE WITH FOBTUNE. 
 
 he approaches the servant, lays his hand upon her neck and 
 shoulders. 
 
 " JSTot quite so fast, my friend: d n it, gentlemen, don't 
 be rude. That's coming the thing a little too familiar. 
 There is a medium : please direct your moist appropriations 
 and your improper remarks in their proper places." The 
 girl, cringing heneath the ruffian's hand, places the necessary 
 receptacle at his feet. 
 
 The gentleman is offended, very much offended. He 
 thinks it beneath the expansion of his mind to be standing 
 on aristocratic nonsense ! " Spit boxes and nigger property 
 ain't the thing to stand on about haristocrats ; just put down 
 the dimes. Three bright niggers '11 do : turn 'em out." 
 
 " Three of my best niggers !" ejaculates the Colonel. 
 
 " Nothin' shorter, Colonel." 
 
 " Remember, gentlemen, the market price of such pro 
 perty. The demand for cotton has made niggers worth their 
 weight in gold, for any purpose. Take the prosperity of 
 our country into consideration, gentlemen ; remember the 
 worth of prime men. The tip men of the market are worth 
 1200 dollars." 
 
 " Might as well lay that kind a' financerin aside, Colonel. 
 What's the use of living in a free country, where every man 
 has a right to make a penny when he can, and talk so ? 
 Now, 'pears to me faint no use a' mincing the matter; we 
 might a' leaked ye in for as many thousands as hundreds. 
 Seein' how ye was a good customer, we saved ye on a small 
 shot. Better put the niggers out : ownin' such a lot, ye 
 won't feel it ! Give us three prime chaps ; none a' yer old 
 sawbones what ye puts up at auction when ther' worked 
 down to nothin'." 
 
 M'Carstrow's powers of reasouiug are quite limited ; and, 
 finding himself in one of those strange situations southern 
 gentlemen so often get into, and which not unfrequently 
 prove as perplexing as the workings of the peculiar institution 
 itself, he seeks relief by giving an orderfor three prime fellows. 
 They will be delivered up, at the plantation, on the fol 
 lowing day, when the merchandise will be duly made over, as 
 per invoice. Everything is according to style and honour; the 
 gentlemen pledge their faith to be gentlemen, to leave no dis 
 honourable loop-hole for creeping out. And now, having settled
 
 WE CHANGE WITH FORTUNE. 267 
 
 the little matter, they make M'Carstrow the very best of bows, 
 desire to be remembered to his woman, bid him good morn 
 ing, and leave. They will claim their property three prune 
 men by the justice of a "free-born democracy." 
 
 M'Carstrow watches them from the house, moralising over 
 his folly. They have gone ! He turns from the sight, ascends 
 the stairs, and repairs to meet his Franconia. 
 
 18
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHER. 
 
 left Harry, the faithful servant, whose ministerial 
 functions had been employed in elevating the souls of Mars- 
 ton's property, being separated from his wife and sold to 
 Mr. M'Fadden. M'Fadden is a gentleman we do not 
 impugn the name, ;n a southern sense of that class very 
 large class who, finding the laws of their own country too 
 oppressive for their liberal thoughts, seek a republican's home 
 in ours. It is to such men, unhappily, the vices of slavery are 
 open. They grasp them, apply them to purposes most mer 
 cenary, most vile. The most hardened of foreigners that 
 essence of degraded outcasts, may, under the privileges of 
 slavery, turn human misery into the means of making money. 
 He has no true affiliations with the people of the south, 
 nor can he feel aught beyond a selfish interest in the pros 
 perity of the State ; but he can be active in the work of 
 evil. "With the foreigner we speak from observation af 
 fecting love of liberty at home, it would seem, only makes 
 him the greater tyrant when slavery gives him power to 
 execute its inhuman trusts. Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden is 
 one of this description of persons ; he will make a for 
 tune in the South, and live a gentleman in the North 
 perhaps, at home on his own native Isle. Education he has 
 none ; moral principle he never enjoyed, never expects to. 
 He is a tall, athletic man, nearly six feet two inches in 
 height, with extremely broad, stooping shoulder;*, and al 
 ways walks as if he were meditating some speculation. His 
 dress is usually of southern red-mixed homespun. a dress 
 which he takes much pride in wearing, in connection with a 
 black brigand hat, which gives his broad face, projecting 
 cheek-bones, and blunt chin, a look of unraistakeable sullen- 
 ness. Add to this a low, narrow forehead, generally covered 
 with thick tufts of matted black hair, beneath which two 
 savage eyes incessantly glare, and, reader, you have the 
 repulsive personification of the man. Mr. M'Fadden has
 
 " Got a tall chap here, boys ! Mate ye 
 stand round some, in pickin' time ; and 
 can preach, too ! Can put in the big licks 
 preachin'; and I'ze goin' t'let 'im, once 
 in a while. Goin' t'have good times on 
 my place, boys ha'h ! Got a jug of whis 
 key to have a fandango, and a preacher 
 to do it up brown at t'other end." 
 
 M'FADDEN AMUSES HIS PEOPLE WITH A FANDANGO.
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PBEACHEE. -269 
 
 bought a preacher, an article with the very best kind of a 
 soul, which he would send to his place in the country. 
 Having just sent the article to the rail-road, he stands in a 
 neighbouring bar-room, surrounded by his cronies, who are 
 joining him in a social glass, discussing the qualities of the 
 article preacher. "We are not favoured with the point at 
 issue ; but we hear Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden say, with 
 great force, " Preachers are only good property under cer 
 tain circumstances ; and if them circumstances ain't just so, 
 it won't do to buy 'em. Old aristocrat rice planters may 
 make a good thing or two on 'em, because they can make 
 'em regulate the cummin' o' their property, and make it 
 understand what the Lord says about minding their masters." 
 For his Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden's own part, he wouldn't 
 give seven coppers for the thinking part of any property, 
 having no belief in that fashionable way of improv 
 ing its value. " My preacher has been nicely packed up 
 and sent off in advance," he says, wiping his mouth with 
 his coat sleeve, and smacking his lips, as he twirls his glass 
 upon the zinc counter, shakes hands with his friends they 
 congratulate him upon the good bargain in his divine 
 and proceeds to the railroad depot. Harry has arrived 
 nearly two hours in advance, delivered in good condition, 
 as stated in a receipt which he holds in his hand, and 
 which purports to be from the baggage-master. " Ah ! 
 here you are," says M'Fadden, taking the paper from 
 Harry's hand, as he enters the luggage-room. " Take good 
 care on ye, I reckon I will !" He looks down upon him 
 with an air of satisfaction. The poor preacher the 
 soul-glowing property is yet chained, hand and foot. He 
 sits upon the cold floor, those imploring eyes swelling at 
 the thought that freedom only awaits him in another world. 
 M'Fadden takes a little flask from his breast pocket, and, 
 with a motion of kindness, draws the cork, passes it to him. 
 " It's whiskey !" he says ; " take a drop do ye good, old 
 feller." Quietly the man passes it to his lips, and moistens 
 his mouth. " No winking and blinking it's tip-top stuff," 
 enjoins M'Fadden ; ".don't get it every day." 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden will take a little himself. " Glad to find 
 ye here, all straight !" he mutters, taking the flask from his 
 mouth. He had returned the receipt to his property ; and,
 
 270 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHER. 
 
 having gratified his appetite a little, he begins to take a 
 more perspective view of his theological purchase. 
 
 "Yes, master; I am here!" He again holds up his 
 chained hands, drops his face upon his knees ; as much as 
 to say, be sure I am all safe and sound. 
 
 Looking at the receipt again, and then at his preacher, 
 " Guess 'hain't made a bad rap on ye' to-day !" he ejaculates, 
 taking out his pocket-book and laying away the precious 
 paper as carefully as if it were a hundred dollar note. 
 " Should like to have bought your old woman and young 
 'uns, but hadn't tin enough. And the way stock's up now, 
 ain't slow ! Look up here, my old buck ! just put on a face 
 as bright and smooth as a full moon no sulkin'. Come 
 along here." 
 
 The manacled preacher turns upon his hands, gets up as 
 best he can M'Fadden kindly assists by taking hold of his 
 shoulder and follows his purchaser to the platform, 
 like a submissive animal goaded to the very flesh, but 
 chained, lest it make some show of resentment. " Good 
 heap o' work in ye', old chuck ; had a master what didn't 
 understand bringing on't out, though !" mutters M'Fadden, 
 as he introduces Harry to the negro car, at the same time 
 casting a look of satisfaction at the brakeman standing at 
 his left hand ready to receive the freight. 
 
 In the car a dungeon-like box about ten feet square, the 
 only aperture for admitting light being a lattice of about 
 eight inches square, in the door are three rough negro 
 men and one woman, the latter apparently about twenty 
 years of age. 
 
 " Got a tall chap here, boys ! Make ye stand round 
 some, in pickin' time ; and can preach, too. M'Fadden 
 shakes his head exultingly ! Can put in the big licks 
 preachin' ; and I'ze goin' t' let 'im, once in a while. Goin' 
 t' have good times on my place, boys ha'h ! Got a jug of 
 whiskey to have a fandango when ye gits home. Got it 
 somewhere, I knows." Mr. M'Fadden exults over the 
 happy times his boys have at home. He shakes himself all 
 over, like a polar bear just out of the water, and laughs 
 heartily. He has delivered himself of something that 
 'makes everybody else laugh ; the mania has caught 
 upon his own subtle self. The negroes laugh in expres-
 
 THE 'VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHER. 271 
 
 sive cadences, and shrug their shoulders as Mr. M'Eadden 
 continues to address them so sportively, so familiarly. 
 Less initiated persons might have formed very satisfac 
 tory opinions of his character. He takes a peep under one 
 of the seats, and with a rhapsody of laughter draws forth 
 a small jug. " You can't come the smuggle over me, boys ! 
 I knew ye had a shot somewhere," he exclaims. At his 
 bidding, the woman hands him a gourd, from which he very 
 deliberately helps himself to a stout draught. 
 
 " Sit down here ! Isaac, Abraham, Daniel, or whatever 
 yer name isj Mr. M'Fadden addresses himself to his 
 preacher. Ye'll get yer share on't when ye gits to my 
 place." He sets the jug down, and passes the gourd back, 
 saying: "What a saucy hussy ye are !' ? slapping the 
 woman's black shoulder playfully. " Give him some won't 
 ye', boys ?" he concludes. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden (the cars are not yet ready to start, but 
 the depot is thronging with travellers, and the engine is 
 puffing and snorting, as the driver holds his hand on the 
 throttle, and the stoker crams with pitch pine knots the 
 iron steed of fiery swiftness) will step out and take the 
 comfort of his cigar. He pats his preacher on the shoulder, 
 takes oif his shackles, rubs his head with his hand, tells the 
 boys to keep an eye on him. " Yes, mas'r," they answer, 
 in tones of happy ignorance. The preacher must be jolly, 
 keep on a bright face, never mind the old gal and her young 
 'uns, and remember what a chance he will have to get 
 another. He can have two or more, if he pleases ; so says 
 his very generous owner. 
 
 Mr. M'Eadden shakes hands with his friends on the 
 platform, smokes his cigar leisurely, mingles with the crowd 
 importantly, thinking the while what an unalloyed paragon 
 of amiability he is. Presently the time-bell strikes its 
 warning ; the crowd of passengers rush for the cars ; the 
 whistle shrieks ; the exhaust gives forth its gruff snorts, the 
 connections clank, a jerk is felt, and onward bounds mighty 
 in power, but controlled by a finger's slightest touch the 
 iron steed, dragging its curious train of living merchandise. 
 
 M'Fadden again finds his way to the negroes' car, where, 
 sitting down in front of his property, he will take a bird's- 
 eye view of it. It is very fascinating to a man who loves 
 the quality of such articles as preachers. He will draw hia
 
 272 THK VICISSITUDES Off A. PKKACHER. 
 
 seat somewhat closer to the minister; his heart bounds 
 with joy at the prime appearance of his purchase. Reach 
 ing out his hand, he takes the cap from Harry's head, 
 throws it into the woman's lap ; again rubs his hair into a 
 friz. Thus relieved of his pleasing emotions, he will pass 
 into one of the fashionable cars, and take his place among 
 the aristocrats. 
 
 " Boss mighty funny when 'e come t' town, and git just 
 BO 'e don't see straight : wish 'e so good wen 'e out da'h 
 on de plantation yander," ejaculates one of the negroes, 
 who answers to the name Joe ! Joe seems \f> have charge 
 of the rest ; but he watches M'Fadden's departure with a 
 look of sullen hatred. 
 
 " Hard old Boss on time an't he, boys ?" enquires 
 Harry, as an introduction to the conversation. 
 
 " Won't take ye long t' find 'um out, I reckon ! Git 
 nigger on de plantation 'e don't spa' him, nohow," rejoins 
 another. 
 
 " Lor', man, if ye ain't tough ye'll git used up in no 
 time, wid him !" the woman speaks up, sharply. Then, 
 pulling her ragged skirts around her, she casts a sympathis 
 ing look at Harry, and, raising her hand in a threatening 
 attitude, and shaking it spitefully in the direction M'Padden 
 has go;ie, says : " If only had dat man, old Boss, where 
 'um could revenge 'um, how a' would make 'um suffer ! He 
 don' treat 'e nigger like 'e do 'e dog. If 'tw^arn't fo'h 
 Buckra I'd cut 'e troat, sartin." This ominous expression, 
 delivered with such emphasis, satisfies Harry that he has 
 got into the hands of a master very unlike the kind and 
 careless Marston. 
 
 Onward the cars speed, with clanking music making din 
 as they go. One of the negroes will add something to 
 change the monotony. Fumbling beneath the seats for 
 some minutes, he draws forth a little bag, carefully unties 
 it, and presents his favourite violin. Its appearance 
 gladdens the hearts of his comrades, who welcome it with 
 smiling faces and loud applause. The instrument is of the 
 most antique and original description. It has only two 
 strings ; but Simon thinks wonders of it, and would not 
 swap it for a world of modern fiddles, what don't touch the 
 heart with their music. He can bring out tremendous 
 waitings with these two strings ; such as will set the whole
 
 THE VICISSITUDES Of A PBEACHEB. 273 
 
 plantation dancing. He puts it through the process of 
 tuning, adding all the scientific motions and twists of an 
 Italian first-fiddling artiste. Simon will moisten its ears 
 by spitting on them, which he does, turning and twist 
 ing himself into the attitudes of a pompous maestro. 
 But now he has got it in what he considers the very nick of 
 tune ; it makes his face glow with satisfaction. " Jest 
 lef 'um cum, Simon; big and strong!" says Joe, 
 beginning to keep time by slapping his hands on his knees. 
 And such a sawing, such a scraping, as he inflicts, never 
 machine of its kind, ancient or modern, got before. Simon 
 and his companions are in ecstasies ; but such cross-grained, 
 such painful jingling of sounds! Its charm is irresistible 
 with the negro ; he mustn't lose a note of the tune ; every 
 creak is exhausted in a break-down dance, which the motion 
 of the " Jim Crow " car makes more grotesque by every 
 now and then jolting them into a huddle in one corner. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden has been told that his property Sre 
 having a lively time, and thinks he will leave his aristocratic 
 friends, and go to see it ; here he is followed by several young 
 gentlemen, anxious to enjoy the hilarity of the scene. 
 
 "All my property, right prime, isn't it?" says 
 M'Fadden, exultingly, nudging one of the young men on 
 the shoulder, as he, returning, enters the car. The gentle 
 man nods assent, sits down, and coolly lights his cigar. 
 " Good thing to have a fiddler on a plantation ! I'd rather 
 have it than a preacher ; keeps the boys together, and 
 makes 'um a deal better contented," he adds, beginning to 
 exhale the fumes from his weed. 
 
 " Yes ! and ye sees, fellers, how I'ze bought a parson, 
 too. Can do the thing up brown now, boys, I reckon," 
 remarks the happy politician, slapping his professional gen 
 tleman on the knee, and laughing right heartily. 
 
 Turning to Harry with a firm look, he informs the 
 
 fentlemen that " this critter's kind o got the sulks, a'cos 
 Lomescos he hates Eomescos has bought his wench 
 and young 'uns. Take that out on him, at my place," 
 he adds. 
 
 The dancing continues right merrily. One of the young 
 gentlemen would like to have the fiddler strike up " Down 
 in Old Tennessee." The tune is sounded forth with all that
 
 274 THE VICISSITUDES OE A PREACHER. 
 
 warmth of feeling the negro only can add to the comical 
 action of his body. 
 
 " Clar' the way ; let the boys have a good time," says 
 Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden, taking Harry by the arm and 
 giving him a violent shake. He commands him to join in, 
 and have a jolly good tune with the rest on 'em. 
 
 " Have no call for that, master. Let me act but the part 
 of servant to you." 
 
 " Do you mean to come nigger sulks over this child ?" 
 interrupts M'Fadden, impatiently, scowling his heavy eye 
 brows, and casting a ferocious look at Harry. After 
 ordering him to stow himself in a corner, he gets the others 
 upon the floor, and compels them to shuffle what he calls a 
 plantation " rip-her-up." The effect of this, added to the 
 singular positions into which they are frequently thrown 
 by the motion of the cars, affords infinite amusement. 
 
 " Tou see, gentlemen, there's nothing like putting the 
 springs of life into property. Makes it worth fifty per cent. 
 more ; and then ye'll get the hard knocks out to a better 
 profit. Old southerners spoil niggers, makin' so much on 
 'em ; and soft-soapin' on 'em. That bit o' property's bin 
 spiled just so he points to Harry, crouched in the corner 
 And the critter thinks he can preach ! Take that out on 
 him with a round turn, when I git to my place," he 
 continues. 
 
 Harry cares very little for M'Fadden' s conversation ; he 
 sits as quietly and peaceably as if it had been addressed to 
 some other negro. M'Fadden, that he may not be found 
 wanting in his efforts to amuse the young gentlemen, reaches 
 out his hand to one of them, takes his cigar from a case, lights 
 it, and proceeds to keep time by beating his hands on 
 his knees. 
 
 The train is approaching the crossing where Mr. 
 M'Fadden will discharge his property, his human mer 
 chandise, and proceed with it some eleven miles on the 
 high i$pa<l. The noise created by the exuberance of feeling 
 on the part of Mr. M'Fadden has attracted a numerous 
 assemblage of passengers to the " Jim Crow" car. The 
 conductor views this as violating the rules of the cor 
 poration; he demands it shall be stopped. All is quiet 
 for a time ; they reach the " crossing" about five o'clock 
 P.M., where, to Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden' s great delight, ho
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHER. 275 
 
 finds himself surrounded by a promiscuous assembly of 
 sovereign citizens, met to partake of the hospitalities 
 offered by the candidate for the Assembly, who, having 
 offered himself, expects the distinguished honour of being 
 elected. The assembled citizens will hear what the learned 
 man's going to talk about when he gets into the Assembly. 
 
 As Mr. M'Fadden. is a great politieiau, and a greater 
 democrat we speak according to the southern acceptation- 
 his presence is welcomed with an enthusiastic burst of 
 applause. Shout after shout makes the very welkin ring, as 
 his numerous friends gather round him, smile solicitously, 
 shake him warmly by the hand, honour him as the peasantry 
 honour the Lord of the Manor. 
 
 The crossing one of those points so well known in the 
 south is a flat, wooded lawn, interspersed here and there 
 with clumps of tall pine-trees. It is generally dignified 
 with a grocery, a justice's office, and a tavern, where 
 entertainment for man and beast may always be had. An 
 immense deal of judicial and political business "is put 
 through a process" at these strange places. The squire's 
 law-book is the oracle ; all settlements must be made by it ; 
 all important sayings drawn from it. The squire himself is 
 scarcely less an individual of mysterious importance ; he 
 draws settled facts from, his copious volume, and thus saves 
 himself the trouble of analysing them. Open it where he 
 will, the whys and wherefores for every case are never 
 wanting. 
 
 Our present crossing is a place of much importance, being 
 where the political effervescence of the state often concen 
 trates. It will not do, however, to analyse that concentra 
 tion, lest the fungi that give it life and power may seem to 
 conflict with the safety of law and order. On other occa 
 sions it might be taken for a place of rural quiet, instead of 
 those indescribable gatherings of the rotten membranes of a 
 bad political power. 
 
 Here the justice's office is attached to the grocery, a little 
 shop in which all men may drink very deleterious liquor ; 
 and, in addition to the tavern, which is the chief building 
 -a quadrangular structure raised a few feet from the ground 
 on piles of the palmetto tree there is a small church, 
 shingled and clapboarded, and having a belfry with lattice 
 work sides. An upper and lower veranda surround the
 
 276 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHER. 
 
 tavern, affording gentlemen an opportunity to enjoy the 
 shade. 
 
 Several of Mr. Lawrence MTadden's friends meet him at 
 the station, and, as he receives his property, assist him in 
 securing it with irons preparatory to lodging it in a place of 
 safe keeping. 
 
 " (join' t' make this chap a deacon on my place ; can 
 preach like sixty. It'll save the trouble seudin' north for 
 such trash as they send us. Can make this feller truer ou 
 southern principles," says M'Eaddeu, exultingly, addressing 
 himself to his companions, looking Harry smilingly in the 
 face, and patting him on the shoulder. The gentlemeui 
 view Harry with particular admiration, and remark upon 
 his fine points with the usual satisfaction of connoisseurs. 
 Mr. MTadden will secure his preacher, in iron fellowship, 
 to the left hand of the woman slave. 
 
 " All right !' ' he says, as the irons are locked, and he 
 marches his property up to the tavern, where he meets mine 
 host-a short, fat man, with a very red and good-natured face, 
 who always dresses in brown clothes, smiles, and has an 
 extra laugh for 'lection days who stands his consequential 
 proportions in the entrance to the lower veranda, and is 
 receiving his customers with the blandest smiles. " I 
 thinks a right smart heap on ye, or I would'nt a' 'gin ye 
 that gal for a mate," continues MTadden, walking along, 
 looking at Harry earnestly, and, with an air of self-congra 
 tulation, ejecting a quantity of tobacco-juice from his capa 
 cious mouth. " Mr. M'Padden is very, very welcome ;" so 
 says mine host, who would have him take a social glass with 
 his own dear self. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden must be excused until he has seen the 
 place in which to deposit his preacher and other property. 
 
 "Ah, ha!" mine host cants his ear, enquiringly;" want 
 grits for 'em, I s'pose ?" he returns, and his round fat face 
 glows with satisfaction. " Can suit you to a shavin'." 
 
 " That's right, Colonel ; I know'd ye could," ejaculates 
 the other. Mine host is much elated at hearing his title 
 appended. Colonel Prank Jones such is mine host's 
 name never fought but one duel, and that was the time 
 when, being a delegate to the southern blowing-up conven 
 tion, lately holden in the secession city of Charleston, he 
 entered his name on the register of the Charleston Hotel
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PREACHES. 277 
 
 " Colonel Prank Jones, Esq., of the South Carolina 
 Dragoons ;" beneath which an impertinent wag scrawled 
 " Corporal James Henry Williamson M'Donal Cudgo, Esq. 
 of the same regiment." Colonel Frank Jones, Esq. 
 took this very gross insult in the highest kind of dudgeon, 
 and forthwith challenged the impertinent wag to settle the 
 matter as became gentlemen. The duel, however, ended 
 quite as harmlessly as the blowing-up convention of which 
 Mr. Colonel Prank Jones was a delegate, the seconds 
 -thoughtless wretches having forgot to put bullets in the 
 weapons. 
 
 Our readers must excuse us for digressing a little. Mine 
 host rubs his hands, draws his mouth into a dozen different 
 puckers, and then cries out at the top of his voice, " Ho, 
 boys, ho !" 
 
 Three or four half-clad negroes come scampering into the 
 room, ready to answer the summons. " Take charge 0' this 
 property o' my friend's here. Get 'em a good tuck out o* 
 grits." 
 
 " Can grind 'em themselves," interrupts M'Fadden, 
 quickly. " About the price, Colonel ?" 
 
 " That's all straight," spreading his hands with an accom 
 panying nod of satisfaction : " 'commodate ye with a first- 
 rate lock-up and the grits at seven-pence a day." 
 
 " No objection." Mr. M'Fadden is entirely satisfied. 
 The waiters take the gentleman's property in charge, and 
 conduct it to a small building, an appropriate habitation of 
 hens and pigs. It was of logs, rough hewn, without chink 
 ing ; without floor to keep Mr. M'Fadden' s property from 
 the ground, damp and cold. Unsuited as it is to the re 
 ception of human beings, many planters of great opulence 
 have none better for their plantation people. It is about 
 ten feet high, seven broad, and eleven long. 
 
 " Have a dandy time on't in here to-night," says Mr. 
 M'Fadden, addressing himself to Harry, as one of the 
 waiters unlocks the door and ushers the human property 
 into its dreary abode. Mr. M'Fadden will step inside, to 
 take a bird's-eye view of the security of the place. He enter 
 tains some doubts about the faith of his preacher, however, and 
 has half an inclination to turn round as he is about making 
 his exit. He will. Approaches Harry a second time ; he 
 feels his pockets carefully, and suggests that he has some
 
 278 THE VICISSITUDES OF A PBEACH.KE. 
 
 mischievous weapon of liberty stowed away somewhere. 
 He presses and presses his hands to his skirts and bosom. 
 And now he knew he was not mistaken, for he feels some 
 thing solid in the bosom of his shirt, which is not his heart, 
 although that thing makes a deuce of a fluttering. Mr. 
 MTadden's anxiety increases as he squeezes his hands over 
 its shapes, and watches' the changes of Harry's countenance. 
 " Book, ha'h !" he exclaims, drawing the osnaburg tight over 
 the square with his left hand, while, with his right, he sud 
 denly grasps Harry firmly by the hair of the head, as if he 
 has discovered an infernal machine. " Book, ha'h !" 
 
 " Pull it out, old buck. That's the worst o' learned 
 niggers ; puts the very seven devils in their black heads, 
 and makes 'em carry their conceit right into nigger stub 
 bornness, so ye have t' bring it out by lashin' and botherin'. 
 Can't stand such nigger nonsense nohow." 
 
 Harry has borne all very peaceably ; but there is a time 
 when even the worm will turn. He draws forth the book, 
 it is the Bible, his hope and comforter ; he has treasured it 
 near his heart that heart that beats loudly against the 
 rocks of oppression. " What man can he be who feareth 
 the word of God, and says he is of his chosen ? Master, 
 that's my Bible : can it do evil against righteousness ? It ia 
 the light my burdened spirit loves, my guide " 
 
 " Your spirit ?" inquires M'Fadden, sullenly, interrupting 
 Harry. " A black spirit, ye' mean, ye' nigger of a preacher. 
 I didn't buy that, nor don't want it. 'Taint worth seven 
 coppers in picking time. But I tell ye, cuff, wouldn't mind 
 lettin' on ye preach, if a feller can make a spec* on't." The 
 gentleman concludes, contracting his eyebrows, and scowling 
 at his property forbiddingly. 
 
 " You'll let me have it again when I gets on the planta 
 tion, won't ye, master ?" inquires Harry, calmly. 
 
 "Let you have it on the plantation?" Mr. MTadden 
 gives his preacher a piercingly fierce look " that's just 
 whore ye won't have 't. Have any kind o' song-book ye' 
 wants ; only larn 'em to other niggers, so they can put in 
 the chorus once in a while. Now, old buck (I'm a man o 1 
 genius, ye know), when niggers get larnin' the Bible out o' 
 ther' own heads, 't makes 'em sassy'r than ther's any calcu- 
 latiti' on. It just puts the very d 1 into property. Why, 
 * Good profit.
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF A F^IACHEB. 279 
 
 deacon," he addresses himself to Harry with more compla 
 cency, " my old father he was as good a father as ever 
 came from Dublin said it was just the spilin' on his chil 
 dren to larn 'em to read. See me, now ! what larnin' I'ze 
 got ; got it all don't know how : cum as nat'ral as daylight. 
 I've got the allfired'st sense ye ever did see ; and it's com 
 mon sense what makes money. Yer don't think a feller 
 what's got sense like me would bother his head with larnin' 
 in this ar' down south ?" Mr. M'Eadden exhibits great 
 confidence in himself, and seems quite playful with his 
 preacher, whom he pats on the shoulder and shakes by the 
 hand. " I never read three chapters in that ar' book in my 
 whole life wouldn't neither. Really, deacon, two-thirds of 
 the people of our State can't read a word out o' that book. 
 As for larnin', I just put me mind on the thing, and got the 
 meanin' out on't sudden." 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden's soothing consolation, that, as he has 
 become such a wonderful specimen of mankind without 
 learning, Harry must be a very dangerous implement of 
 progress if allowed to go about the plantation with a Bible 
 in his pocket, seems strange in this our Christian land. 
 " Can fiddle just as much as yer mind t'," concludes Mr. 
 Lawrence M'Fadden, as he again shakes the hand of his 
 preacher, and proceeds to mingle with the political gather 
 ing, the Bible in his pocket.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 ME. M'FADDEK enters the tavern, which presents one of 
 those grotesque scenes so peculiarly southern, i Imost impos 
 sible for the reader to imagine, and scarcely less for pen to 
 describe. In and around the verandas are numerous arm 
 chairs, occupied by the fashionable portion of the political 
 material, who, dressed in extreme profuseness, are dis 
 playing their extraordinary distinctions in jewellery of 
 heavy seals and long dangling chains. Some are young 
 men who have enjoyed the advantage of a liberal education, 
 which they now turn into the more genial duty of ornament 
 ing themselves. They have spent much time and many 
 valuable cosmetics on their heads, all of which is very satis 
 factorily repaid by the smoothness of their hair. Their 
 pleasure never penetrated beyond this ; they ask no more. 
 
 They ask but little of the world, and are discussing the 
 all-important question, whether Colonel Mophauy or 
 General Vandart will get the more votes at the polls. 
 So they smoke and harangue, and drink and swear, 
 and with inimitable provincialisms fill up the clattering 
 music. There is a fascinating piquancy in the strange 
 slang and conversational intermixture. It is a great day at 
 the crossing ; the political sediment has reduced all men to 
 one grade, one harmonious whole, niggers excepted. Spirits 
 that cannot flow one way must flow another. 
 
 In an adjoining room sit the two candidates gentlemen 
 of high distinction for the votes of the sovereign people. 
 Through those sovereign rights they will satisfy their yearn 
 ing desire to reach the very high position of member of the 
 general assembly. Anxiety is pictured on their very counte 
 nances ; it is the fruit of care when men travel the road to 
 distinction without finding it. They are well dressed, and 
 would be modest, if modesty were worth its having in such an 
 atmosphere. Indeed, they might have been taken for men with 
 other motives than those of gaining office by wallowing in a
 
 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 281 
 
 political quagmire reeking with democratic filth. Courteous 
 to each other, they sit at a large table containing long slips 
 of paper, each candidate's sentiments printed thereon. 
 As each voter good fellow that he is enters the room, one 
 or the other candidate reaches out his hand to welcome him, 
 and, as a sequel, hands him his slip, making the politest 
 bow. Much is said about the prospects of the South, and 
 much more that is very acceptable to those about to do 
 the drinking part of the scene. 
 
 Both candidates are very ambitious men ; both profess to 
 be the people's champion the sovereign people the dear 
 people the noble- hearted people the iron-handed, un- 
 bribable, unterrified democracy the people from whom all 
 power springs. The never-flinching, unterrified, irresistible 
 democracy are smothered with encomiums of praise, sound 
 ing from all parts of the room. Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden 
 is ushered into the room to the great joy of his friends : 
 being a very great man among the loyal voters, his appear 
 ance produces great excitement. 
 
 Several friends of the candidates, working for their 
 favourites, are making themselves very humble in their 
 behalf. Although there is little Care for maintaining any 
 fundamental principle of government that does not serve 
 his own pocket, Mr. M'Fadden can and will control a 
 large number of votes, do a deal of knocking down at the 
 polls, and bring up first-rate fighting men to do the keeping 
 away the opposite's constituents. Thus our man, who has 
 lately been bought as preacher, is most useful in this our little 
 democratic world. 
 
 Some two or three hundred persons have collected near a 
 clump of trees on the lawn, and are divided into knots 
 intermixed with ruffian-looking desperadoes, dressed most 
 coarsely and fantastically. They are pitting their men, after 
 the fashion of good horses ; then they boldly draw forth and 
 expose the minor delinquencies of opposing candidates. 
 Among them are the " Saw-piters," who affect an air of 
 dignity, and scout the planter's offer of work so long 
 as a herring runs the river ; the " piny woods-man," of 
 great independence while rabbits are found in the woods, 
 and he can wander over the barren unrestrained ; and 
 the " "Wire- Grass-Men ;" and the Crackers,* who live any- 
 * Singular species of gypsies, found throughout the State.
 
 282 HOW WE MAffTTFACTTJEE POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 where and everywhere, and whom the government delights to 
 keep in ignorance, while declaring it much better they were 
 enslaved. The State possesses many thousands of these 
 people ; but few of them can read, while never having 
 Avritten a stroke in their lives is a boast. Continually 
 armed with double-barrel guns, to hunt the panting buck 
 is one of their sports ; to torture a runaway negro is 
 another ; to make free with a planter's corn field is the 
 very best. The reader may imagine this picture of lean, 
 craven faces unshaven and made fiercely repulsive by their 
 small, treacherous eyes, if he can. It can only be seen in 
 these our happy slave states of our happy Union. 
 
 The time draws near when the candidates will -come 
 forward, address the sovereign constituency, and declare 
 their free and open principles their love of liberal govern 
 ments, and their undying affection for the great truths 
 of democracy. The scene, as the time approaches, 
 becomes more and more animated. All are armed to the 
 teeth, with the symbol of honour something so called 
 beneath their coarse doublets, or in the waistbands of their 
 pantaloons. The group evinces so much excitement that 
 belligerents are well nigh coming to blows ; in fact, 
 peace is only preserved by the timely appearance of the 
 landlord, who proclaims that unless order be preserved 
 until after the candidates have addressed them, the next 
 barrel of whiskey will positively "not be tapped." He 
 could not use a more effectual argument. Mr. MTadden, 
 who exercises great authority over the minions under him, 
 at this announcement mounts the top of an empty whiskey 
 barrel, and declares he will whip the " whole crowd," if 
 they do not cease to wage their political arguments. 
 
 While the above cursory remarks and party sparrings are 
 going on, some forty negroes are seen busily employed prepar 
 ing the indispensable adjuncts of the occasion the meats. 
 Here, beneath the clump of trees, a few yards from the 
 grocery and justices' office, the candidates' tables are being 
 spread with cold meats, crackers, bread and cheese, cigars, 
 &c., &c. As soon as the gentlemen candidates have deli 
 vered themselves of their sentiments, two barrels of real 
 " straight-back" whiskey will be added. 
 
 " This is the way we puts our candidate through, down 
 Boutb, ye see, fellers, voters : it's we what's the bone and
 
 HOW WK MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 283 
 
 siners o' the rights o' the south. It's we what's got t' take 
 the slow-coach politics out o' the hands o' them ar' old 
 harristocrats what don't think them ar' northern abolition 
 ists han't goin to do uothin. It's we, fellow citizens, what 
 puts southern-rights principles clean through ; it's we what 
 puts them ar' old Union haristocrats, what spiles all the 
 nigger property, into the straight up way o' doing things ! 
 Now, feller voters, free and independent citizens freemen 
 who have fought for freedom, you, whose old, grey-headed 
 fathers died for freedom! it takes you t' know what sort a 
 thing freedom is ; and how to enjoy it so niggers can't take 
 it away from you ! I'ze lived north way, know how it is ! 
 Yer jist the chaps to put niggers straight, to vote for my 
 man, Colonel Mohpany," Mr. M'Fadden cries out at the 
 very top of his voice, as he comes rushing out of the tavern, 
 edging his way through the crowd, followed by the two 
 candidates. The gentlemen look anxiously good-natured ; 
 they walk together to the rostrum, followed by a crowd, 
 measuring their way to the assembly through the darling 
 affections of our free and independent voters. Gossamer 
 citizenship, this ! 
 
 As they reach the rostrum, a carriage is seen in the 
 distance, approaching in great haste. All attention being 
 directed to it, the first candidate, Colonel Mohpany, mounts 
 the stump, places his right hand in his bosom, and pauses as if 
 to learn who it brings. To the happy consolation of 
 Mr. M'Padden and his friends, it bears Mr. Scranton the 
 philosopher. Poor Mr. Scrantou looks quite worn out with 
 anxiety ; he has come all the way from the city, prepared 
 with the very best kind of a southern-rights speech, to 
 relieve his friend, General Vardant, who is not accustomed 
 to public declamation. The General is a cunning fellow, 
 fears the stump accomplishments of his antagonist, and has 
 secured the valuable services of philosopher Scranton. Mr. S. 
 will tell the constituency, in very logical phraseology, making 
 the language suit the sentiments of his friends, what prin 
 ciples must be maintained ; how the General depends upon 
 the soundness of their judgment to sustain him ; how they 
 are the bone and sinews of the great political power of the 
 South ; how their hard, uncontrastable appearance, and their 
 garments of similar primitiveuess, are emblematic of the 
 iron firmness of their democracy. Mr. Scranton will further 
 19
 
 284 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 assure them that their democracy is founded on that very 
 accommodating sort of freedom which will be sure to keep 
 all persons of doubtful colour in slavery. 
 
 Mr. Scranton arrives, receives the congratulations of his 
 friends, gets the negroes to brush him down, for it is 
 difficult to distinguish him from a pillar of dust, save 
 that we have his modest eyes for assurances takes a few 
 glasses of moderate mixture, and coolly collects his ideas. 
 The mixture will bring out Mr. Scranton's philosophical facts : 
 and, now that he has got his face and beard cleanly washed, 
 he will proceed to the stand. Here he is received with loud 
 cheering ; the gentleman is a great man, all the way from 
 the city. Sitting on a chair he is sorry was made at the 
 north, he exhibits a deal of method in taking from his 
 pocket a long cedar pencil, with which he will make notes 
 of all Colonel Mohpany's loose points. 
 
 The reader, we feel assured, will excuse us for not following 
 Colonel Mohpany through his speech, so laudatory of the 
 patriotism of his friends, so much interrupted by applause. 
 The warm manner in which his conclusion is received assures 
 him that he now is the most popular man in the State. 
 Mr. Scranton, armed with his usually melancholy counte 
 nance, rises to the stump, makes his modestly political bow, 
 offers many impressive apologies for the unprepared state in 
 which he finds himself, informs his hearers that he appears 
 before them only as a substitute for his very intimate and 
 particular friend, General Vardant. He, too, has a wonderful 
 prolixity of compliments to bescow upon the free, the patri 
 otic, the independent voters of the very independent district. 
 He tries to be facetious; but his temperament will not 
 admit of any inconsistencies, not even in a political contest. 
 No ! he must be serious; because the election of a candidate 
 to so high an office is a serious affair. So he will tell the 
 "Saw-pit men" a great deal about their noble sires: how 
 they lived and died for liberty ; how the tombstones of 
 immortality are emblazoned with the fame of their glorious 
 deeds. And he will tell these glorious squatters what 
 inalienable rights they possess ; how they must be main 
 tained ; and how they have always been first to maintain 
 the principle of keeping " niggers" in their places, and 
 resisting those mischievous propagators of northern villainy 
 abolitionists. He will tell the deep-thinking saw-pit voters
 
 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 285 
 
 how it has been charged against them that they were only 
 independent once a year, and that was when herrings run 
 up the Santee river. Such a gross slander Mr. Scranton 
 declares to be the most impious. They were always inde 
 pendent ; and, if they were poor, and preferred to habit 
 themselves in primitive garbs, it was only because they 
 preferred to be honest ! This, Mr. Scranton, the northern 
 philosopher, asserts with great emphasis. Yes ! they are 
 honest ; and honest patriots are always better than rich 
 traitors. From the san-pit men, Mr. Scranton, his face 
 distended with eloquence, turns to his cracker and " wire- 
 grass" friends, upon whom he bestows most piercing compli 
 ments. Their lean mules the speaker laughs at his own wit- 
 and pioneer waggons always remind him of the good old times, 
 when he was a boy, and everybody was so honest it was 
 unnecessary even to have such useless finery as people put 
 on at the present day. A word or two, very derogatory of 
 the anti-slavery people, is received with deafening applause. 
 Of the descendants of the Huguenots he says but little; they 
 are few, rich, and very unpopular in this part of the little 
 sovereign state. And he quite forgot to tell this unlettered 
 mass of a sovereign constituency the true cause of their poverty 
 and degradation. Mr. Scranton, however, in one particular 
 point, which is a vital one to the slave-ocracy, differs with 
 the ungovernable Romescos, he would not burn all common 
 schools, nor scout all such trash as schoolmasters. 
 
 In another part of Mr. Scranton's speech he enjoins them 
 to be staunch supporters of men known to be firm to the 
 south, and who would blow up every yankee who came south, 
 and refused to declare his sentiments to be for concession. 
 " You ! he points round him to the grotesque crowd- 
 were first to take a stand and keep niggers down ; to keep 
 them where they can't turn round and enslave you ! Great 
 Britain, fell ercitizens, Mr. Scranton begins to wax warm ; 
 he adjusts his coat sleeves, and draws himself into a tragic 
 attitude as he takes his tobacco from his mouth, seemingly 
 
 unconscious of his own enthusiasm I say Great Britain " 
 
 A sudden interruption is caused. Mr. Scranton's muddled 
 quid, thrown with such violence, has bedaubed the cheek of 
 an admiring saw-pitter, whose mind was completely absorbed 
 in his eloquence. He was listeningwith breathless suspense,
 
 286 HOW AVE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 and only saved its admission in bis capacious mouth by 
 closing it a few seconds before. 
 
 " Sarved bim just right; keep on, Colonel!" exclaims 
 Mr. M'Fadden. He takes the man by the arm, pushes 
 bim aside, and makes a slight bow to Mr. Scranton. He 
 would have bim go on. 
 
 " Great Britain feller citizens, I say was first to 
 commence the warfare against nigger slavery ; and now she 
 is joining the north to seek its permanent overthrow. She 
 is a monster tyrant wherever she sets her foot I say ! 
 (Three cheers for that.) She contributed to fasten the 
 curse upon us ; and now she wants to destroy us by taking 
 it away according to the measures of the northern aboli 
 tionists fanaticism ! Whatever the old school southerner 
 neglects to do for the preservation of the peculiar institution, 
 we must do for him ! And we, who have lived at the north, 
 can, with your independent support, put the whole thing 
 through a course of political crooks." Again Mr. Scrantou 
 pauses ; surveys his assembly of free and independent citizens. 
 
 "That we can: I knows what fanatics down east be!" 
 rejoins Mr. M'Faddeu, shaking his head very knowingly. 
 He laughs with an air of great satisfaction, as much as to 
 say that, with such northern philosophers to do the cham- 
 pionism of slavery in the south, all the commercial relations 
 for which northern merchants are under so many obligations 
 to slave-labour, will be perfectly safe. But Mr. Scranton 
 has drawn out his speech to such an uncommon length, that 
 the loquacious M'Fadden is becoming decidedly wearied. 
 His eyes begin to glow languid, and the lids to close, and 
 now he nods assent to all Mr.Scrantou's sayings, which singu 
 larly attracts the attention of that orator's bearers. The orator 
 becomes very much annoyed at this, suddenly stops begs 
 Mr. M'Fadden will postpone bis repose. This, from so 
 great a man as Mr. Scranton, is accepted as provokingly 
 witty. Mr. M'Fadden laughs ; and they all laugh. The 
 gentleman will continue his speech. 
 
 " The South must come out ; must establish free trade, 
 direct trade, trade that will free her from her disreputable 
 association with the North. She can do it !" Mr. Scrauton 
 wipes bis forehead with his white pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 " Ain't we deeply indebted to the North ?" a voice in the 
 crowd cries out.
 
 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 287 
 
 " Well ! what if we are ? Can't we offset the debts oil 
 the principles of war ? Let it go against the injury of abo 
 lition excitements !" Mr. Scranton makes a theatrical 
 flourish with his right hand, and runs the fingers of his 
 left through his crispy hair, setting it on end like quills on a 
 porcupine's back. Three long and loud cheers follow, and 
 the gentleman is involuntarily compelled to laugh at his own 
 singular sayings. " The South must hold conventions ; she 
 must enforce constitutional guarantees ; she must plant her 
 self in the federal capital, and plead her cause at the bar of 
 the world. She will get a hearing there ! And she must 
 supplant that dangerous engine of abolition, now waging 
 war against our property, our rights, our social system." 
 Thus concluding, Mr. Scranton sits down, very much fatigued 
 from his mental effervescence, yet much lighter from having 
 relieved himself of his speech, amidst a storm of applause. 
 Such a throwing up of hats and slouches, such jostling, abet 
 ting, and haranguing upon -the merits of the candidates, 
 their speeches and their sentiments, never was heard or seen 
 before. 
 
 Mine host now mounts the stand to make the welcome 
 announcement, that, the speeches being over, the eating 
 entertainments are ready. He hopes the friends of the 
 candidates will repair to the tables, and help themselves 
 without stint or restraint. As they are on the point of 
 rushing upon the tables, Colonel Mohpany suddenly jumps 
 up, and arrests the progress of the group by intimating that 
 he has one word more to say. That word is, his desire to 
 inform the bone and sinew of the constituency that his op 
 ponent belongs to a party which once declared in the Assem 
 bly that they the very men who stand before him now 
 were a dangerous class unless reduced to slavery ! The 
 Colonel has scarcely delivered himself of this very clever 
 charge, when the tables, a few yards distant, are surrounded 
 by promiscuous friends and foes, who help themselves after 
 the fashion most advantageous. All rules of etiquette are 
 unceremoniously dispensed with, he who can secure 
 most is the best diplomatist. Many find their mouths so 
 inadequate to the temptation of the feast, that they improve 
 on Mr. Scranton' s philosophy by making good use of their 
 ample pockets. Believe us, reader, the entertainment is the 
 essential part of the candidate's political virtue, which must
 
 288 HOW WE MANUFACTURE POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 be measured according to the extent of his cold meats and 
 very bad whiskey. 
 
 To carry out the strength of General Yardant's principles, 
 several of his opponent's friends are busily employed in cir 
 culating a report that his barrel of whiskey has been " brought 
 on" only half full. A grosser slander could not have been 
 invented. But the report gains circulation so fast, that his 
 meats and drinks are mischievously absorbed, and the demon 
 stration of his unpopular position begins to be manifest. The 
 candidates, unflinching in their efforts, mix with the medley, 
 have the benefit of the full exercise of free thought and ac 
 tion, hear various opinions upon "the Squire's chances," 
 and listen to the chiming of high-sounding compliments 
 While this clanging of merry jargon is at its highest, as if 
 by some magic influence Romescos makes his appearance, 
 and immediately commences to pit sides with Mr. M'Fadden. 
 With all Romescos' outlawry, he is tenacious of his 
 southern origin ; and he will assert its rights against 
 Mr. M'Fadden, whom he declares to be no better than a 
 northern humbug, taking advantage of southern institutions. 
 To him all northerners are great vagabonds, having neither 
 principles nor humanity in their composition ; he makes the 
 assertion emphatically, without fearor trembling; and he calls 
 upon his friends to sustain him, that he may maintain the 
 rights of the South. Those rights Romescos asserts, and re 
 asserts, can only be preserved by southern men not by 
 sneaking northerners, who, with their trade, pocket their souls. 
 Northerners are great men for whitewashing their faces with 
 
 Setence ! Romescos is received with considerable eclat. 
 e declares, independently, that Mr. Scranton too is no less 
 a sheer humbug of the same stripe, and whose humbugging 
 propensities make him the humble servant of the south so 
 long as he can make a dollar by the bemeaning operation. 
 His full aud unmeasured appreciation of all this northern- 
 southern independence is here given to "the world for the 
 world's good. And he wants the world to particularly un 
 derstand, that the old southerner is the only independent 
 man, the only true protector of humanity ! 
 
 Romescos' sudden appearance, and the bold stand he 
 takes against Mr. M'Fadden and his candidate, produce 
 the utmost confusion ; he being unpopular with the saw- 
 pit men, with whom he once exhibited considerable" dexterity
 
 HOW WK SPREAD POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 in carrying off one of their number and putting the seal of 
 slavery on him, they take sides against him. It is the Saw- 
 pitters against Romescos and the Crackers. The spirits 
 have flowed, and now the gods of our political power sway 
 to and fro under most violent shocks. Many, being unable 
 to keep a perpendicular, are accusing each other of all sorts 
 of misdeeds of the misdeeds of their ancestors of the 
 specific crimes they committed the punishments they suf 
 fered. From personalities of their own time they descend 
 forthinto jeering each otheron matters of family frailty, setting 
 what their just deserts would have entitled them to receive. 
 They continue in this strain of jargon for some time, until 
 at length it becomes evident the storm of war is fast ap 
 proaching a crisis. Mr. M'Fadden is mentally unprepared 
 to meet this crisis, which Romescos will make to suit him 
 self ; and to this end the comical and somewhat tragical 
 finale seems pretty well understood by the candidates and a 
 few of the " swell- ocracy," -who have assembled more to see 
 the grand representation of physical power on the part of 
 these free and enlightened citizens, than to partake of the 
 feast or listen to the rhetoric of the speeches. In order to 
 get a good view of the scene they have ascended trees, 
 where, perched among their branches like so many jackals, 
 they cheer and urge on the sport, as the nobility of Spain 
 applaud a favourite champion of the ring. At length the op 
 posing parties doff their hats and coats, draw knives, make 
 threatening grimaces, and twirl their steel in the air : 
 their desperation is earnest; theymake an onset, charging with 
 the bravado of men determined to sacrifice life. The very 
 air resounds with their shouts of blasphemy ; blood flows 
 from deep incisions of bowie-knives ; garments are rent into 
 shreds ; and men seem to have betaken themselves to 
 personating the demons. 
 
 "Would that they were rational beings ! would that they 
 were men capable of constituting a power to protect the 
 liberty of principle and the justice of law ! Shout after 
 shout goes up ; tumult is triumphant. Two fatal ren 
 contres are announced, and Mr. Lawrence MTadden is 
 dangerously wounded ; he has a cut in the abdomen. The 
 poor victims attract but little attention ; such little trifling 
 affairs are very common, scarcely worth a word of commise 
 ration. One gentleman insinuates that the affair has been
 
 290 HOW WE SPREAD POLITICAL FAITH. 
 
 a desperately amusing one ; another very coolly adds, that 
 this political feed has had much more interest in it than any 
 preceding one. 
 
 The victims are rolled in blankets, and laid away in the 
 corn-shed ; they will await the arrival of the coroner, who, 
 the landlord says, it will be no more than right to send for. 
 They are only two dead Crackers, however, and nobody 
 doubts what the verdict will be. In truth and it must be 
 told once in a while, even in our atmosphere the only loss 
 is the two votes, which the candidate had already secured 
 with his meat and drink, and which have now, he regrets, 
 been returned to the box of death instead of his ballot. Poor 
 voters, now only fit to serve the vilest purpose ! how degraded 
 in the scale of human nature is the being, only worth a suf- 
 france at elections, where votes cast from impulse control the 
 balance of power. Such beings are worth just no thing ; they 
 would not sell in the market. The negro waiters say, "It don't 
 make a bit of matter how much white rubbish like this is 
 killed, it won't fetch a bid in the market ; and when you 
 sell it, it won't stay sold." 
 
 " Lose I dat way, Cato, might jist as well take 
 tousand dollar straight out o' mas'r's pocket; but dese 
 critters b'nt notin' nohow," says old Daniel, one of the 
 servants, who knows the value of his own body quite well. 
 Daniel exults as he looks upon the dead bodies he is assisting 
 to deposit in the corn-shed. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden is carefully borne into the tavern, where, 
 after much difficulty, he is got up stairs and laid on a very 
 nice bed, spread with snowy white linen. A physician is 
 called, and his wound dressed with all possible skill and 
 attention. He is in great pain, however ; begs his friends to 
 bestow all care upon him, and save no expense. 
 
 Thus ends our political day. The process of making power 
 to shape the social and political weal of our State, closes.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 MB. M'FADDEN SEES SHADOWS IN THE FUTURE. 
 
 NIGHT has quickly drawn its curtain over the scene. Mr. 
 M'Fadden lies on his bed, writhing under the pain of the 
 poisoned wound. He left his preacher locked up for the 
 night in a cold hovel, and he has secured the dangerous 
 Bible, lest it lessen his value. Mr. M'Fadden, however, 
 feels that now his earthly career is fast closing he must 
 seek redemption. He has called in the aid of a physician, 
 who tells him there is great danger, and little hope unless 
 his case takes a favourable turn about midnight. The pro 
 fessional gentleman merely suggests this, but the suggestion 
 conveys an awful warning. All the misdeeds of the past 
 cloud before his eyes ; they summon him to make his peace 
 with his Maker. He remembers what lias been told him 
 about the quality of mercy, the duration of hope in 
 redemption, which he may secure by rendering justice 
 to those he has wronged. But now conscience wars with 
 him ; he sees the fierce elements of retribution gathering 
 their poisoned shafts about him ; he quails lest their points 
 pierce his heart ; and he sees the God of right arraigning 
 him at the bar of justice. There, that Dispenser of all Good 
 sits in his glory and omnipotence, listening while the 
 oppressed recites his sufferings : the oppressed there meets 
 him face to face, robed in that same garb of submission which 
 he lias inflicted upon him on earth. His fevered brain gives 
 out strange warnings, warnings in which he sees the 
 angel of light unfolding the long list of his injustice to 
 his fellow man, and an angry God passing the awful 
 sentence. Writhing, turning, and contorting his face, his 
 very soul burns with the agony of despair. He grasps the 
 hand of his physician, who leans over his wounded body, and, 
 with eyes distorted and glassy, stares wildly and frantically 
 round the room. Again, as if suffering inward torture, he 
 springs from his pillow, utters fierce imprecations against 
 the visions that surround him, grasps at them with his out-
 
 292 ME. M'FADDEN SEES SHADOWS OF THE FTTTTTBE. 
 
 stretched fingers, motions his hand backward and forward, 
 and breaks out into violent paroxysms of passion, as if 
 struggling in the unyielding grasp of death. 
 
 That physical power which has so long borne him up in 
 his daily pursuits yields to the wanderings of his haunted 
 mind. He lays his hand upon the physician's shoulder as 
 his struggles now subside, looks mournfully in his face, and 
 rather mutters than speaks : " Bring bring bring him 
 here: I'll see him, I must see him! I I I took away 
 the book ; there's what makes the sting worse ! And when 
 I close my eyes I see it burning fiercely 
 
 " Who shall I bring ?" interrupts the physician, mildly, 
 endeavouring to soothe his feelings by assuring him there is 
 no danger, if he will but remain calm. 
 
 " Heaven is casting its thick vengeance round me ; heaven 
 is consuming me with the fire of my own heart ! How can 
 I be calm, and my past life vaulted with a glow of fire ? 
 The finger of Almighty Grod points to that deed I did to 
 day. I deprived a wretch of his only hope : that wretch 
 can forgive me before heaven. T-e-s, he can, can speak 
 for me, can intercede for me ; he can sign my repentance, 
 and save me from the just vengeance of heaven. His 
 his his " 
 
 ""What?" the physician whispers, putting his ear to his 
 mouth. "Becalm." 
 ' " Calm !" he mutters in return. 
 
 " Neither fear death nor be frightened at its shadows " 
 
 " It's life, life, life I fear not death !" he gurgles out. " Bring 
 him to me ; there is the Bible. Oh ! how could I have robbed 
 him of it ! 'Twas our folly all folly my folly ! " Mr. M'Fad- 
 den had forgotten that the bustle of current life was no excuse 
 for his folly ; that it would be summed up against him in the 
 day of trouble. He never for once thought that the Bible and 
 its teachings were as dear to slave as master, and that its truths 
 were equally consoling in the hour of death. In life it strength 
 ens man's hopes ; could it have been thus with M'Fadden before 
 death placed its troubled sea before his eyes, how happy he 
 would have died in the Lord ! 
 
 The emphatic language, uttered in such supplicating tones, 
 and so at variance with his habits of life, naturally excited 
 the feelings of his physician, whose only solicitude had been
 
 MB. M'FA.DDEH SEES SHADOWS OF THE FUTURE. 293 
 
 evinced in his efforts to save life, to heal the wound. 
 Isever had he watched at a patient's bed-side who had 
 exhibited such convulsions of passion, such fears of death. 
 
 JSlovr struggling against a storm of convulsions, then 
 subsiding into sluggish writhings, accompanied with low 
 moans, indicating more mental disquietude than bodily pain. 
 Again he is quiet ; points to his coat. 
 
 The physician brings it forward and lays it upon the bed, 
 where Mr. M'Fadden can put his hand upon it. " It is 
 there in there !" he says, turning on his left side, and 
 with a solicitous look pointing to the pocket? of his coat. 
 The professional gentleman does not understand him. 
 
 He half raises himself on his pillow, but sinks back 
 fatigued, and faintly whispers, "Oh, take it to him to him! 
 Give him the comforter : bring him, poor fellow, to me, that 
 his spirit may be my comforter !" 
 
 The physician understands, puts his hand into the pocket ; 
 draws forth the little boon companion. It is the Bible, book 
 of books ; its great truths have borne Harry through many 
 trials, he hopes it will be his shield and buckler to carry him 
 through many more. Its associations are as dear to him 
 as its teachings are consoling in the days of tribulation. 
 It is dear to him, because the promptings of a noble-hearted 
 woman secretly entrusted it to his care, in violation of 
 slavery's statutes. Its well-worn pages bear testimony of 
 the good service it has done. It was Franconia's gift 
 -Franconia, whose tender emotions made her the friend of 
 the slave made in the kindness of woman's generous 
 nature. The good example, when contrasted with the fierce 
 tenor of slavery's fears, is worthy many followers. 
 
 But men seldom profit by small examples, especially 
 when great fear3 are paramount. 
 
 The physician, holding the good book in his hand, enquires 
 if Mr. M'Fadden would have him read from it ? He has no 
 answer to make, turns his feverish face from it, closes his 
 eyes, and compressing his forehead with his hands, mutely 
 shakes his head. A minute or two passes in silence ; he has 
 re-considered the point, answers, no ! He wants Harry 
 brought to him, that he may acknowledge his crimes ; that 
 he may quench the fire of unhappiness burning within him. 
 " How seldom we think of death while in life, and how 
 painful to see death while gathering together the dross of
 
 294 ME. M'FADDEN SEES SHADOWS OF TIIE FUTUHE. 
 
 this worldly chaos ! Great, great, great is the reward of 
 the good, and mighty is the hand of Omnipotence that, hold 
 ing the record of our sins, warns us to prepare." As Mr. 
 M 'Madden utters these words, a coloured woman enters the 
 room to enquire if the patient wants nourishment. She 
 will wait at the door. 
 
 The physician looks at the patient ; the patient shakes 
 his head and whispers, " Only the boy. The boy I bought 
 to-day." The Bible lays at his side on the sheet. He 
 points to it, again whispering, " The boy I took it from !" 
 
 The boy, the preacher, Mr. MTadden's purchase, can 
 read ; she will know him by that ; she must bring him 
 from the shed, from his cold bed of earth. That crime of 
 slavery man wastes his energies to make right, is wrong in 
 the sight of heaven ; our patient reads the glaring testimony 
 as the demons of his morbid fancy haunt him with their 
 damning terrors, their ghastly visages. 
 
 " Gro, woman, bring him !" he whispers again. 
 
 Almost motionless the woman stands. She has seen the 
 little book she knows it, and her eyes wander over the 
 inscription on the cover. A deep blush shadows her coun 
 tenance ; she fixes her piercing black eyes upon it until 
 they seem melting into sadness ; with a delicacy and 
 reserve at variance with her menial condition, she approaches 
 the bed, lays her hand upon the book, and, while the 
 physician's attention is attracted in another direction, 
 closes its pages, and is about to depart. 
 
 " Can you tell which one he wants, girl ?" enquires the 
 physician, in a stern voice. 
 
 " His name, I think, is Harry ; and they say the poor 
 thing can preach ; forgive me what I have done to him, 
 oh Lord ! It is the weakness of man grasping the things of 
 this world, to leave behind for the world's nothingness," says 
 Mr. M'Padden, as the woman leaves* the room giving an 
 affirmative reply. 
 
 The presence of the Bible surprised the woman ; she 
 knew it as the one much used by Harry, on Marston's plan 
 tation. It was Franconia's gift ! The associations of the 
 name touched the chord upon which hung the happiest 
 incidents of her life. Retracing her steps down the stairs, 
 she seeks mine host of the tavern, makes known the demand, 
 and receives the keys of this man-pen of our land of
 
 MB. H'FADUEN SEES SHADOWS OF THE FTJTTJEE. 295 
 
 liberty. Lantern in hand, she soon reaches the door, unlocks 
 it geutly,as if she expects the approach of some strange object, 
 and fears a sudden surprise. 
 
 There the poor dejected wretches lay ; nothing but 
 earth's surface for a bed, no blanket to cover them. They 
 have eaten their measure of corn, and are sleeping ; they 
 sleep while chivalry revels ! Harry has drawn his hat 
 partly over his face, and made a pillow of the little bundle 
 he carried under his arm. 
 
 Passing from one to the other, the woman approaches 
 him, as if to see if she can recognise any familiar feature. 
 She stoops over him, passes the light along his body, from 
 head to foot, and from foot to head. " Can it be our 
 Harry ?" she mutters. " It can't be ; master wouldn't 
 sell him." Her eyes glare with anxiety as they wander up 
 and down his sleeping figure. 
 
 " Harry, Harry, Harry ! which is Harry ?" she 
 demands. 
 
 Scarcely has she lisped the words, when the sleeper 
 starts to his feet, and sets his eyes on the woman with a 
 stare of wonderment. His mind wanders bewildered ; is 
 he back on the old plantation ? That cannot be ; they 
 would not thus provide for him there. " Back at the old 
 home ! Oh, how glad I am : yes, my home is there, with 
 good old master. My poor old woman ; I've nothing for 
 her, nothing," he says, extending his hand to the woman, 
 and again, as his mind regains itself, their glances become 
 mutual ; the sympathy of two old associates gushes forth 
 from the purest of fountains, the oppressed heart. 
 
 " Harry oh, Harry ! is it you ?" 
 
 " Ellen ! my good Ellen, my friend, and old master's 
 friend !" is the simultaneous salutation. 
 
 " Sold you, too?" enquires Harry, embracing her with all 
 the fervour of a father who has regained his long-lost child. 
 She throws her arms about his neck, and clings to him, as 
 he kisses, and kisses, and kisses her olive brow. 
 
 " My sale, Harry, was of little consequence,- but why did 
 they sell you? (Her emotions have swollen into tears). 
 You must tell me all, to-night ! You must tell me of my 
 child, my Nicholas, if master cares for him, and how he 
 looks, grows, and acts. Oh, how my heart beats to havo 
 him at my side ; when, when will that day come ! I 
 would have him with me, even if sold for the purpose."
 
 296 MB. M'FADDEN SEES SHADOWS OF THE TTUTUEE. 
 
 Tears gush down her cheeks, as Harry, encircling her with 
 his arm, whispers words of consolation in her ear. 
 
 " If we were always for this world, Ellen, our lot could not 
 be borne. But heaven has a recompense, which awaits us 
 in- the world to come. Ellen ! he holds her from him and 
 looks intently in her face masters are not to blame for our 
 sufferings, the law is the sinner ! Hope not, seek not for 
 common justice, rights, privileges, or anything else while 
 we are merchandise among men who, to please themselves, 
 gamble with our souls and bodies. Takeaway that injus 
 tice, Ellen, and men who now plead our unprofitable 
 ness would hide their heads with shame. Make us men, and 
 we will plead our own cause ; we will show to the world 
 that we are men ; black men, who can be made men when 
 they are not made merchandise." Ellen must tell him 
 what has brought her here, first ! He notices sad changes 
 in her countenance, and feels anxious to listen to the recital 
 of her troubles. 
 
 She cannot tell him now, and begs that lie will not ask 
 her, as the recollection of them fills her heart with sorrow. 
 She discloses the object of her mission, will guide him to his 
 new master, who, they say, is going to die, and feels very 
 bad about it. He was a desperate man on his plantation, 
 and has become the more contrite at death's call. " I hope 
 God will forgive him !" 
 
 " He will ! He will ! He is forgiving," interrupts Harry, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 Ellen reconnoitres tne wearied bodies of the others as 
 they lie around. " Poor wretches ! what can I do for 
 them ?" she says, holding the lamp over them. She can 
 do but little for them, poor girl. The will is good, but 
 the wherewith she hath not. Necessity is a hard master ; 
 none know it better than the slave woman. She 
 will take Harry by the hand, and, retracing her steps, 
 usher him into the presence of the wounded man. Press 
 ing his hand as she opens the door, she bids him good 
 night, and retires to her cabin. " Poor Harry !" she says, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 The kind woman is Ellen Juvarna. She has passed 
 another eventful stage of her eventful life. Mine host, 
 good fellow, bought her of Mr. O'Brodereque, that's all !
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 HOW THEY STOLE THE PREACHER. 
 
 THE scenes we have described in the foregoing chapter 
 have not yet been brought to a close. In and about the 
 tavern may be seen groups of men, in the last stage of 
 muddled mellowness, the rank fumes of bad liquor making 
 the very air morbid. Conclaves of grotesque figures are 
 seated in the veranda and drinking-room, breaking the 
 midnight stillness with their stifled songs, their frenzied 
 congratulations, their political jargon ; nothing of fatal con 
 sequence would seem to have happened. 
 
 "Did master send for me? You've risen from a rag 
 shop, my man !" interrupts the physician. 
 
 " Master there sorry to see him sick owns me." Harry 
 cast a subdued look on the bed where lay his late purchaser. 
 
 Harry's appearance is not the most prepossessing, he 
 might have been taken for anything else but a minister of 
 the gospel ; though the quick eye of the southerner readily 
 detected those frank and manly features which belong to a 
 class of very dark men who exhibit uncommon natural 
 genius. 
 
 At the sound of Harry's voice, MTadden makes an 
 effort to raise himself on his elbow. The loss of blood has 
 so reduced his physical power that his effort is unsuccessful. 
 He sinks back, prostrate, requests the physician to assist 
 him in turning over. He will face his preacher. Putting 
 out his hand, he embraces him cordially, motions him to be 
 seated. 
 
 The black preacher, that article of men merchandise, takes 
 a seat at the bed-side, while the man of medicine withdraws 
 to the table. The summons is as acceptable to Harry as it 
 is strange to the physician, who has never before witnessed 
 so strange a scene of familiarity between slave and master. 
 All is silent for several minutes. Harry looks at his master, 
 as if questioning the motive for which he is summoned into 
 his presence ; and still he can read the deep anxiety playing
 
 298 HOW THEY STOLE THE PKEACHER. 
 
 upon M'Fadden's distorted countenance. At length, 
 Harry, feeling that his presence may be intrusive, breaks 
 the silence by enquiring it' there is anything he can do for 
 master. Mr. M'Fadden whispers something, lays his 
 trembling hand on Harry's, casts a meaning glance at the 
 physician, and seems to swoon. Returning to his bed-side, 
 the physician lays his hand upon the sick man's brow ; he 
 will ascertain the state of his system. 
 
 " Give him his Bible," mutters the wounded man, 
 pointing languidly to the table. " Give it to him that ho 
 may ask God's blessing for me for me for me, " 
 
 The doctor obeys his commands, and the wretch, heart 
 bounding with joy, receives back his inspiring companion. 
 It is dear to him, and with a smile of gratitude invading his 
 countenance he returns thanks. There is pleasure in that 
 little book. " And now, Harry, my boy," says M'Fadden, 
 raising his hand to Harry's shoulder, and looking implor 
 ingly in his face as he regains strength ; "forgive what I have 
 done. I took from you that whicla was most dear to your 
 feelings ; I took it from you when the wounds of your heart 
 
 were gushing with grief " He makes an effort to say 
 
 more, but his voice fails ; he will wait a few moments. 
 
 The kind words touch Harry's feelings; tears glistening 
 in his eyes tell how he struggles to suppress the emotions 
 of his heart. " Did you mean my wife and children, 
 master?" he enquires. 
 
 M'Fadden, somewhat regaining strength, replies in the 
 affirmative. He acknowledges to have seen that the thing 
 " warn't just right." His imagination has been wandering 
 through the regions of heaven, where, he is fully satisfied, 
 there is no objection to a black face. God has made a great 
 opening in his eyes and heart just now. He sees and 
 believes such things as he neither saw nor believed before ; 
 they pass like clouds before his eyes, never, never to be 
 erased from his memory, Never before has he thought 
 much about repentance ; but now that he sees heaven on 
 one side and hell on the other, all that once seemed right in 
 bartering and selling the bodies and souls of men, vanishes. 
 There, high above all, is the vengeance of heaven written 
 in letters of blood, execrating such acts, and pointing to 
 the retribution. It is a burning consciousness of all the 
 suffering he has inflicted upon his negroes. .Death, awful
 
 HOW THEY STOLE THE PREACHER. 299 
 
 monitor ! stares him in the face ; it holds the stern realities 
 of truth and justice before him ; it tells him of the wrong, 
 points him to the right. The unbending mandates 
 of .slave law, giving to man power to debase himself 
 with crimes the judicious dare not punish, are being con 
 sumed before Omnipotence, the warning voice of which is 
 calling him to his last account. 
 
 And now the wounded man is all condescension, hoping 
 forgiveness ! His spirit has yielded to Almighty power ; 
 he no longer craves for property in man ; no, his coarse 
 voice is subdued into softest accents. He whispers 
 "coloured man," as if the merchandise changed as his 
 thoughts are brought in contact with revelations of the 
 future. 
 
 " Take the Bible, my good boy take it, read it to me, 
 before I die. Head it, that it may convert my soul. If I 
 have neglected myself on earth, forgive me ; receive my 
 repentance, and let me be saved from eternal misery. Bead, 
 my dear good boy, M'Fadden grasps his hand tighter 
 and tighter and let your voice be a warning to those who 
 never look beyond earth and earth's enjoyments." The 
 physician thinks his patient will get along until morning, 
 and giving directions to the attendants, leaves him. 
 
 Harry has recovered from the surprise which so sudden a 
 change of circumstances produced, and has drawn from the 
 patient the cause of his suffering. He opens the restored 
 Bible, and reads from it, to Mr. M'Fadden's satisfaction. 
 He reads from Job ; the words producing a deep effect upon 
 the patient's mind. 
 
 The wretched preacher, whose white soul is concealed 
 beneath black skin, has finished his reading. He will now 
 address himself to his master, in the following simple 
 manner. 
 
 " Master, it is one thing to die, and another to die happy. 
 It is one thing to be prepared to die, another to forget that 
 we have to die, to leave the world and its nothingness behind 
 us. But you are not going to die, not now. Master, the 
 Lord will forgive you if you, make your repentance durable. 
 'Tis only the tear of death that has produced the change on 
 your mind. Do, master ! learn the Lord ; be just to we 
 poor creatures, for the Lord now tells you it is not right to 
 
 buy and sell us." 
 
 J 20
 
 300 HOW THEY STOLE THE PEEA.CHEB. 
 
 " Buy and sell you !" interrupts the frightened man, 
 making an effort to rise from his pillow ; " that I never will, 
 man nor woman. If God spares my life, my people shall be 
 liberated ; I feel different on that subject, now ! The dif 
 ference between the commerce of this world and the glory 
 of heaven brightens before me. I was an ignorant man on 
 all religious matters ; I only wanted to be set right in the 
 way of the Lord, that's all." Again he draws his face 
 under the sheet, writhing with the pain of his wound. 
 
 " I wish everybody could see us as master does, about 
 this time ; for surely God can touch the heart of the 
 most hardened. But master ain't going to die so soon 
 as he thinks," mutters Harry, wiping the sweat from 
 his face, as he lays his left hand softly upon master's 
 arm. " God guide us in all coming time, and make us 
 forget the retribution that awaits our sins !" he concludes, 
 with a smile glowing on his countenance. 
 
 The half spoken words catch upon the patient's ear. 
 He starts suddenly from his pillow, as if eager to receive some 
 favourable intelligence. " Don't you think my case dan 
 gerous, my boy ? Do you know how deep is the wound ?" 
 he enquires, his glassy eyes staring intently at Harry. 
 "It is all the same, master!" is the reply. 
 " Give me your hand again M'Fadden grasps his hand 
 and seems to revive pray lor me now ; your prayers will be 
 received into heaven, they will serve me there !" 
 
 " Ah, master," says Harry, kindly, interrupting him at 
 this juncture, " I feel more than ever like a Christian. 
 It does my heart good to hear you talk so true, so kind. 
 How different from yesterday! then I was a poor slave, forced 
 from my children, with nobody to speak a kind word for 
 me ; everybody to reckon me as a good piece of property 
 only. I forgive you, master I forgive you ; God is a 
 loving God, and will forgive you also." The sick man is 
 consoled ; and, while his preacher kneels at his bed-side, 
 offering up a prayer imploring forgiveness, he listens to the 
 words as they fall like cooling drops on his burning soul. The 
 earnestness the fervency and pathos of the words, as they 
 gush forth from the lips of a wretch, produce a still deeper 
 effect upon the wounded man. Nay, there is even a chord 
 loosened in his heart ; he sobs audibly. " Live on earth so as 
 to be prepared for heaven ; that when death knocks at the
 
 HOW THEY STOLE THE PREA.CHEB. 801 
 
 door you may receive him as a welcome guest. But, master ! 
 you cannot meet our Father in heaven while the sin of 
 selling men clings to your garments. Let your hair grow 
 grey with justice, and Gk>d will reward you," he concludes. 
 
 " True, Harry ; true ! he lays his hand on the black 
 man's shoulder, is about to rise it is the truth plainly told, 
 and nothing more." He will have a glass of water to 
 quench his thirst ; Harry must bring it to him,- for there 
 is consolation in his touch. Seized with another pain, he 
 grasps with his left hand the arm of his consoler, works 
 his fingers through his matted hair, breathes violently, con 
 torts his face haggardly, as if suffering acutely. Harry waits 
 till the spasm has subsided, then calls an attendant to watch 
 the patient while he goes to the well. This done he proceeds 
 into the kitchen to enquire for a vessel. Having entered that 
 department as the clock strikes two, he finds Ellen busily 
 engaged preparing food for Mr. M'Fadden's property, 
 which is yet fast secured in the pen. Feeling himself a 
 little more at liberty to move about unrestrained, he 
 procures a vessel, fills it at the well, carries it to his master's 
 bed-side, sees him comfortably cared for, and returns to the 
 kitchen, where he will assist Ellen in her mission of 
 goodness. 
 
 The little pen is situated a few yards from the tavern, on 
 the edge of a clump of tall pines. 
 
 Ellen has got ready the corn and bacon, and with Harry 
 she proceeds to the pen, where the property are still enjoy 
 ing that inestimable boon, a deep sleep. 
 
 "Always sleeping," he says, waking them one by one at 
 the announcement of corn and bacon. " Start up and get 
 something good my girl has prepared for you." He shakes 
 them, while Ellen holds toe lantern. There is something 
 piercing in the summons meats are strong arguments with 
 the slave they start from their slumbers, seize upon the 
 food, and swallow it with great relish. Harry and Ellen 
 stand smiling over the gusto with which they swallow their 
 coarse meal. 
 
 " You must be good boys to-night. Old master's sick ; 
 flat down on e' back, and'spects he's going to die, he does." 
 Harry shakes his head as he tells it to the astonished mer 
 chandise. " Had a great time at the crossing to-day ; killed 
 two or three certain, and almost put master on the plank."
 
 802 HOW THEY STOLE THE PREACHER. 
 
 " ' Twarn't no matter, nohow : nobody lose nofin if old 
 Boss do die : nigger on e' plantation don' put e' hat in 
 mournin','' mutters the negro woman, with an air of hatred. 
 She has eaten her share of the meal, shrugs her shoulders, 
 and again stretches her valuable body on the ground. 
 
 " Uncle Sparton know'd old Boss warn't gwine t' be whar 
 de debil couldn't cotch 'em, so long as 'e tink. If dat old 
 mas'r debil, what white man talk 'bout so much, don' gib 
 'em big roasting win 'e git 'e dab, better hab no place wid 
 fireins fo' such folks," speaks up old Uncle Sparton, one of 
 the negroes, whose face shiues like a black-balled boot. 
 
 " Neber mind dat, Uncle Sparton; 'taint what ye say 
 'bout he. Ven rnas'r debil cotch old Boss 'e don't cotch no 
 fool. Mas'r debil down yander find old Boss too tuf fo' he 
 business ; he jus' like old hoss what neber die," rejoins 
 another. 
 
 In a word, MTadden had told his negroes what a great 
 democrat he was how he loved freedom and a free country 
 until their ideas of freedom became strangely mystified ; and 
 they ventured to assert that he would not find so free a 
 country when the devil became his keeper. " Mas'r tink 'e 
 carry 'e plantation t' t'oder world wid him, reckon," Uncle 
 Sparton grumblingly concludes, joining the motley conclave 
 of property about to resume its repose. 
 
 Ellen returns to the house. Harry will remain, and have 
 a few words more with the boys. A few minutes pass, and 
 Ellen returns with an armful of blankets, with which she 
 covers the people carefully and kindly. How full of good 
 ness how touching is the act ! She has done her part, and 
 she returns to the house in advance of Harry, who stops to 
 take a parting good-night, and whisper a word of consola 
 tion in their ears. He looks upon them as dear brothers in 
 distress, objects for whom he has a fellow sympathy. He 
 leaves them for the night ; closes the door after him ; locks 
 it. He will return to Ellen, and enjoy a mutual exchange 
 of feeling.. 
 
 Scarcely has he left the door, when three persons, dis 
 guised, rush upon him, muffle his head with a blanket, bind 
 his hands and feet, throw him. bodily into a waggon, and 
 drive away at a rapid speed.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 IT is enough to inform the reader that Romescos and Mr. 
 M'Fadden were not only rival bidders for this very desir 
 able piece of preaching property, but, being near neighbours, 
 had become inveterate enemies and fierce political oppo 
 nents. The former, a reckless trader in men, women, and 
 children, was a daring, unprincipled, and revengeful man, 
 whose occupation seldom called him to his plantation ; while 
 the latter was notorious as a hard master and a cruel tyrant, 
 who exacted a larger amount of labour from his negroes 
 than his fellow planters, and gave them less to eat. His 
 opinion was, that a peck of corn a week was quite enough 
 for a negro ; and this was his systematic allowance ; but 
 he otherwise tempted the appetites of his property, by driv 
 ing them, famished, to the utmost verge of necessity. Thus 
 driven to predatory acts in order to sustain life, the advan 
 tages offered by Romescos' swamp generally well sprinkled 
 with swine were readily appropriated to a very good use. 
 
 Under covert of Romescos' absence, Mr. MTadden had 
 no very scrupulous objection to his negroes foraging the 
 amply provided swamp, provided, however, they did the 
 thing on the sly, were careful whose porker they dispatched, 
 and said nothing to him about the eating. In. fact, it was 
 simply a matter of economy with Mr. M'Fadden ; and as 
 Romescos had a great number of the obstinate brutes, it 
 saved the trouble of raising such undignified stock. Find 
 ing, however, that neighbour MTadden, or his predatory 
 negroes such they were called were laying claim to more 
 than a generous share of their porkships, Romescos thought 
 it high time to put the thing down by a summary process. 
 But what particularly " riled" Romescos in this affair of 
 the hogs was, that M'Fadden's negroes were not content 
 with catching them in an honourable way, but would do it 
 through the agency of nasty cur-dogs, which he always bad 
 despised, and held as unfit even to hunt niggers with.
 
 304 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS, 
 
 Several times had he expressed his willingness to permit a 
 small number of his grunters to be captured for the benefit 
 of his neighbour's half-starved negroes, provided, always, 
 they were hunted with honourable hound-dogs. He held 
 such animals in high esteem, while curs he looked iipon with 
 utter contempt ; he likened the one to the chivalrous old 
 rice-planter, the other to a pettifogging schoolmaster, fit for 
 nothing but to be despised and shot. With these feelings he 
 (Komescos) declared his intention to kill the very first negro 
 he caught in his swamp with cur-dogs ; and he kept his 
 word. Lying in ambush, he would await their approach, 
 and, when most engaged in appropriating the porkers, rush 
 from his hiding-place, shoot the dogs, and then take a turn 
 at the more exhilarating business of shooting the negroes. 
 He would, with all possible calmness, command the Iright- 
 ened property to approach and partake of his peculiar mix 
 ture, administered from his double-barrel gun. 
 
 That the reader may better understand liomescos' process 
 of curing this malady of his neighbour's negroes, we will 
 give it as related by himself. It is a curious mode of 
 dispatching negro property ; the reader, however, cannot 
 fail to comprehend it. " Plantin' didn't suit my notions o' 
 gittin' rich, ye see, so I spec'lates in nigger property, and 
 makes a better thing on't. But there's philosophy about 
 the thing, and a body's .got t' know the hang on't afore he 
 can twist it out profitably ; so I keeps a sort of a plantation 
 just to make a swell ; cos ye got to make a splash to be 
 anybody down south. Can't be a gentleman, ye see, 'cept 
 ye plants cotton and rice ; and then a feller what's got a 
 plantation in this kind of a way can be a gentleman, and 
 do so many other bits of trade to advantage. The thing 
 works like the handle of a pump ; and then it makes a right 
 good place for raising youcg niggers, and gettin' old uns 
 trimmed up. With me, the worst thing is that old screw 
 driver, M'Eadden, what don't care no more for the wear 
 and tear of a nigger than nothin', and drives 'em like as 
 many steam-engines he thinks he can keep going by feeding 
 on saw-dust. He han't no conception o' nigger constitu 
 tion, and is just the worst sort of a chap that ever cum 
 south to get a fortune. Why, look right at his niggers : 
 they look like crows after corn-shuckin. Don't give 'em 
 no meat, and the critters must steal somethin' t' keep out
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 305 
 
 o' the bune-yard. Well, I argers the case with Mack, tells 
 him how t'll be atweeu he and me on this thing, and warns 
 him that if he don't chunk more corn and grease into hia 
 niggers, there '11 be a ruptous fuss. But he don't stand on 
 honour, as I does, especially when his property makes a haul 
 on my swamp of shoats. I an't home often; so the hogs 
 suffer ; and Mack's niggers get the pork. This 'ere kind o' 
 business" B-omescos maintains the serious dignity of him 
 self the while " don't go down nohow with me ; so Mack 
 and me just has a bit of a good-natured quarrel ; and from 
 that we gets at daggers' points, and I swears how I'll kill 
 the first nigger o' his'n what steals hogs o' mine. Wouldn't 
 a cared a sous, mark ye, but it cum crossways on a feller's 
 feelins to think how the 'tarnal niggers had no more sense 
 than t' hunt hogs o' mine with cur-dogs : bin hounds, ho 
 nourable dogs, or respectable dogs what '11 do to hunt nig 
 gers with, wouldn't a cared a toss about it ; but when I 
 hears a cur-dog yelp, oh ! hang me if it don't set my sen 
 sations all on pins, just as somethin' was crucifyin' a feller. 
 I warns and talks, and then pleads like a lawyer what's got 
 a bad case ; but all to no end o' reformin' Mack's morals, 
 feller han't got no sense o' reform in him. So I sets my 
 niggers on the scent it gives 'em some fun and swears 
 I'll kill a nigger for every hog he steals. This I concludes 
 on ; and I never backs out when once I fixes a conclusion. 
 
 " Hears the infernal cur-dog's yelp, yelp, yelp, down in 
 the swamp ; then I creeps through the jungle so sly, lays 
 low till the fellers cum up, all jumpin' pig ahead, then dogs, 
 niggers follerin', puffin' and blowin', eyes poppin' out, 
 'most out o' breath, just as if they tasted the sparerib 
 afore they'd got the critter. 
 
 " Well, ye see, I know'd all the ins and outs of the law, 
 keeps mighty shy about all the judicial quibbles on't, 
 never takes nobody with me whose swearin' would stand 
 muster in a court of law. All right on that score (Romes- 
 cos exults in his law proficiency). I makes sure o' the dogs 
 fust, oilers keepin' the double-barrel on the right eye for 
 the best nigger in the lot. It would make the longest-faced 
 deacon in the district laugh to see the fire flash out o' the 
 nigger's big black eyes, when he sees the cur drop, knowin' 
 how he'll get the next plugs souced into him. It's only 
 nat'ral, cos it would frighten a feller what warn't used to it
 
 306 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 just to see what a thunder-cloud of agitation tho nigger 
 screws his black face into. And then he starts to run, 
 and puts it like streaks o' cannon-balls chased by express 
 lightnin'. 
 
 " ' Stand still, ye thievin' varmint ! hold up, bring to a 
 mooring : take the mixture according to G-unter !' I shouts. 
 The way the nigger pulls up, begs, pleads, and says things 
 what'll touch a feller's tender feelins, aiut no small kind of 
 an institution. 'Twould just make a man what had stretchy 
 conscience think there was somethin' crooked somewhere. 
 ' Well, boys,' says I, feeling a little soft about the stomach, 
 seeing how it's yer Boss what don't feed ye, I'll be kind o' 
 good, and give ye a dose of the mixture in an honourable 
 way.' Then I loads t'other barrel, the feller's eyes flashin' 
 streaks of blue lightnin' all the time, lookin' at how I 
 rams it down, chunk ! ' Now, boys,' says I, when the plugs* 
 is all ready, 'there's system 'bout this ere thing a' mine 
 t'aint killln' ye I wants, don't care a copper about that 
 (there an't no music in that), but must make it bring the 
 finances out a' yer master's pocket. That's the place where 
 he keeps all his morals. Now, run twenty paces and I'll 
 gin ye a fair chance !' The nigger understands me, ye see, 
 and moves off, as if he expected a thunderbolt at his heel, 
 lookin' back and whining like a puppy what's lost his 
 mother. Just when he gets to an honourable distance, say 
 twenty paces, according to fighting rule, I draws up, takes 
 aim, and plumps the plugs into him. The way the critter 
 jumps reminds me of a circus rider vaultin' and turnin' 
 sumersets. You'd think he was inginrubber 'lectrified. 
 A'ter all, I finds these playiu' doses don't do ; they don't 
 settle things on the square. So I tries a little stronger mix 
 ture, which ends in killin' three o' Mack's niggers right up 
 smooth. But the best on't is that Mack finds he han't no 
 proof, goes right into it and kills three o' my prime fat 
 niggers : that makes us bad friends on every score. But he 
 got a nigger ahead o' me a' ter awhile, and I ware detarmined 
 to straighten accounts, if it was by stealin' the odds. Them 
 ar's my principles, and that's just the way I settles accounts 
 with folks what don't do the square thing in the way o' 
 nigger property." 
 
 Thua the two gentlemen lived in the terror of internal 
 
 * Shot.
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 307 
 
 war ; and Romescos, seeing sucli a fine piece of property 
 pass into the hands of his antagonist, resolved on squaring 
 accounts by stealing the preacher, an act Mr. M'Fadden 
 least expected. 
 
 The candidates' festival offered every facility for carrying 
 this singular coup-cTetat into effect. Hence, with the 
 skilful assistance of Nath. Nimrod, and Dan Bengal, Harry 
 was very precipitately and dexterously passed over to the 
 chances of a new phase of slave life. 
 
 Ellen waited patiently for Harry's return until it became 
 evident some ill-luck had befallen him. Lantern in hand, 
 she proceeds to the pen in search. No Harry is to be found 
 there ; Mr. M'Fadden's common negroes only are there, 
 and they sleep sweetly and soundly. What can have 
 befallen him ? She conjectures many things, none of which 
 are the right. The lock is upon the door ; all is still outside ; 
 no traces of kidnapping can be found. She knows his 
 faithfulness, knows he would not desert his master unless* 
 some foul means had been used to decoy him into trouble. 
 She returns to the house and acquaints her master. 
 
 Straggling members, who had met to enjoy the generous 
 political banquet, and who still remain to see the night 
 " through" with appropriate honour, are apprised of the 
 sudden disappearance of this very valuable piece of property. 
 They are ready for any turn of excitement, anything for 
 " topping off" with a little amusement ; and to this end they 
 immediately gather round mine host in a party of pursuit. 
 Komescos- he must make his innocence more imposing- 
 has been conspicuous during the night, at times expressing 
 sympathy for Mr. M'Eadden, and again assuring the com 
 pany that he haa known fifty worse cases cured. In order 
 to make this better understood, he will pay the doctor's 
 bill if M'Fadden dies. Mine host has no sooner given the 
 alarm than Honiescos expresses superlative surprise. He 
 was standing in the centre of a conclave of men, whom he 
 harangues on the particular political points necessary for 
 the candidates to support in order to maintain the honour 
 of the State ; now he listens to mine host as he recounts the 
 strange absence of the preacher, pauses and combs his long 
 red beard with his fingers, looks distrustfully, and then 
 says, with a quaintness that disarmed suspicion, " Nigger- 
 like ! preacher or angel, nigger will be nigger ! The idea
 
 308 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 o' makin' the black rascals preachers, thinkin' they won't 
 run away ! Now, fellers, that ar' chap's skulkin' about, not 
 far off, out among the pines ; and here's my two dogs he 
 points to his dogs, stretched on the floor- what'll scent 
 him and bring him out afore ten minutes ! Don't say a 
 word to Mack about it; don't let it 'scape yer fly-trap, cos 
 they say he's got a notion o' dying, and suddenly changed 
 his feelins 'bout nigger tradin'. There's no tellin' how it 
 would affect the old democrat if he felt he warut goin' to 
 slip his breeze. This child Romescos refers to himself- 
 felt just as Mack does more nor a dozen times, when Davy 
 Jones looked as if he was making slight advances : a feller 
 soon gets straight again, nevertheless. It's only the 
 difference atween one's feelings about makin' money when 
 he's well, and thiukin' how he made it when he's about to 
 bid his friends good morning and leave town for awhile. 
 Anyhow, there aint no dodging now, fellers ! We got to 
 hunt up the nigger afore daylight, so let us take a drop 
 more and be moving." He orders the landlord to set on 
 the decanters, they join in a social glass, touch glasses to 
 the recovery of the nigger, and then rush out to the pursuit. 
 Romescos heads the party. With dogs, horses, guns, and all 
 sorts of negro-hunting apparatus, they scour the pine- 
 grove, the swamp, and the heather. They make the pursuit 
 of man full of interest to those who are fond of the chase ; 
 they allow their enthusiasm to bound in unison with the 
 sharp baying of the dogs. 
 
 For more than two hours is this exhilarating sport kept 
 up. It is sweet music to their ears ; they have been trained 
 (educated) to the fascination of a man-hunt, and dogs and 
 men become wearied with the useless search. 
 
 E-omescos declares the nigger is near at hand : he sees 
 the dogs curl down their noses ; he must be somewhere in 
 a hole or jungle of the swamp, and, with more daylight and 
 another dog or two, his apprehension is certain. He makes 
 a halt on the brow of a hill, and addresses his fellow-hunters 
 from the saddle. In his wisdom on nigger nature he will 
 advise a return to the tavern for it is now daylight where 
 they will spend another hour merrily, and then return 
 brightened to the pursuit. Acting on this advice, friends 
 and foes both join as good fellows in the chase for a 
 nigger followed his retreat as they had his advance.
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 309 
 
 "No nigger preacher just about this circle, Major!" 
 exclaims Romescos, addressing mine host, as he puts his 
 head into the bar-room, on his return. " Feller's burrowed 
 somewhere, like a coon : catch him on the broad end of 
 morning, or I'll hang up my old double-barrel," he concludes, 
 shaking his head, and ordering drink for the party at his 
 expense. 
 
 The morning advanced, however, and nothing was to be 
 seen of Komescos : he vanished as suddenly from among 
 them as Harry had from the pen. Some little surprise is 
 expressed by the knowing ones ; they whisper among them 
 selves, while mine host reaches over the counter, cants his 
 head solicitously, and says : " What's that, gentlemen ?" 
 
 In this dilemma they cannot inform mine host ; they must 
 continue the useless chase without Romescos' valuable 
 services. And here we must leave mine host preparing 
 further necessaries for capturing the lost property, that he 
 may restore it to its owner so soon as he shall become con 
 valescent, and turn to Harry. 
 
 Like a well-stowed bale of merchandise, to be delivered 
 at a stated place within a specified time, he was rolled in 
 bagging, and not permitted to see the direction in which he 
 was being driven. When the pursuing party started from 
 the crossing, Romescos took the lead in order to draw it in 
 an opposite direction, and keep the dogs from the trail. 
 This would allow the stolen clergyman to get beyond their 
 reach. When daylight broke upon the capturers they were 
 nearly twenty miles beyond the reach of the pursuers, ap 
 proaching an inn by the road side. The waggon suddenly 
 stopped, and Harry found himself being unrolled from his 
 winding sheet by the hands of two strangers. Lifting him 
 to his feet, they took him from the waggon, loosed the 
 chains from his legs, led him into the house, and placed him 
 in a dark back room. Here, his head being uncovered, he 
 looks upon his captors with an air of confusion and distrust. 
 " Te know me too, I reckon, old feller, don't ye?" enquires 
 one of the men, with a sardonic grin, as he lifts, his hat with 
 his left hand, and scratches his head with his right. 
 
 " Yes, mas'r; there's no mist-akin on ye!" returns Harry, 
 shaking his head, as they release the chains from his hands. 
 He at length recognises the familiar faces of Dan Bengal
 
 310 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 and Nath. ISfimrod. Both have figured about Marston's 
 plantation, in tire purchase and sale of negroes. 
 
 " Te had a jolly good ride, old feller, had'nt ye ?" says 
 Bengal, exultingly, looking Harry in the face, shrugging his 
 shoulders, and putting out his hand to make his friendship. 
 
 Harry has no reply to make ; but rubs his face as if he is 
 not quite satisfied with his new apartment, and wants to 
 know a little more of the motive of the expedition. " Mas'r ! 
 I don't seem to know myself, nor nothin'. Please tell me 
 where I am going to, and who is to be my master ? It will 
 relieve my double troubles," he says, casting an enquiring 
 look at Nimrod. 
 
 " Shook up yer parson-thinkin' some, I reckon, did'nt it, 
 old chap ?" returns Nimrod, laughing heartily, but making 
 no further reply. He thinks it was very much like riding 
 in a railroad backwards. 
 
 " Did my sick maa'r sell me to you ?" again he enquires. 
 
 " No business o' yourn,that ain't; yer nigger-knowin ought 
 to tell you how ye'd got into safe hands. We'll push along 
 down south as soon as ye gets some feed. Put on a straight 
 face, and face the music like a clever deacon, and we'll do 
 the square in selling ye to a Boss what '11 let ye preach 
 now and then. (Nimrod becomes very affectionate). Do 
 the thing up righteous, and when yer sold there '11 be a five- 
 dollar shiner for yerself. (He pats him on the head, and 
 puts his arm over his shoulder.) Best t' have a little shot 
 in a body's own pocket ; now, shut up yer black bread-trap, 
 and don't go makin a fuss about where yer goin' to : that's 
 my business !" 
 
 Harry pauses as if in contemplation ; he is struggling 
 against his indignation excited by such remarks. He knew 
 his old master's weaknesses, enjoyed his indulgences ; but he 
 had never been made to feel so acutely how degraded he 
 could be as a mere article of trade. It would have been 
 some consolation to know which way he was proceeding, and 
 why he had been so suddenly snatched from his new 
 owner. Fate had not ordained this for him ; oh no ! 
 He must resign himself without making any further en 
 quiries ; he must be nothing more than a nigger happy 
 nigger happily subdued ! Seating himself upon the floor, in 
 a recumbent position, he drops his face on his knees, is
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 311 
 
 humbled among the humblest. He is left alone for some 
 time, while his captors, retiring into an adjoining room, hold 
 a consultation. 
 
 Breakfast is being prepared, and much conversation is 
 kept up in an inaudible tone of voice. Harry has an in 
 stinctive knowledge that it is about him, for he hears the 
 words, " Peter ! Peter !" his name must be transmogrified 
 into " Peter !" In another minute he hears dishes rattling 
 on the table, and Bengal distinctly complimenting the 
 adjuncts, as he orders some for the nigger preacher. This 
 excites his anxiety ; he feels like placing his ear at the key 
 hole, doing a little evesdropping. He is happily disap 
 pointed, however, for the door opens, and a black boy bearing 
 a dish of homony enters, and, placing it before him, begs 
 that he will help himself. Harry takes the plate and sets it 
 beside him, as the strange boy watches him with an air of 
 commiseration that enlists his confidence. " A.in't da'h some- 
 fin mo' dat I can bring ye ?" enquires the ooy, pausing for 
 an answer. 
 
 " Nothing, nothing more !" 
 
 Harry will venture to make some enquiries about the 
 locality. "Do you belong to master what live here?" 
 He puts out his hand, takes the other by the arm. 
 
 " Hard tellin who I belongs to. Buckra man own 'em 
 to-day ; ain't sartin if he own 'em to-morrow, dough. 
 What country-born nigger is you ?" 
 
 " Down country ! My poor old master's gone, and now 
 I'm goin' ; but God only knows where to. White man sell 
 all old Boss's folks in a string, my old woman and children 
 among the rest. My heart is with them, God bless 
 them !" 
 
 " Eeckon how ya' had a right good old Boss what larn ye 
 somethin." The boy listens to Harry with surprise. 
 " Don't talk like dat down dis a way ; no country-born 
 nigger put in larn'd wods so, nohow," returns the boy, with 
 a look of curious admiration. 
 
 " But you harn't told me what place this is ?" 
 
 " Dis 'ouse ! e' ant nowhare when Buckra bring nigger 
 what he want to sell, and don' want nobody to know whar 
 e' bring him from. Dat man what bring ye here be greab 
 Buckra. De 'h way he lash nigger whin e' don do jiat so!" 
 The boy shakes his head with a warning air.
 
 312 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 " How did you get here ? There must be roads leading 
 in some directions ?" 
 
 " Roads runnin' every which way, yand'r ; and trou de 
 woods anyway, but mighty hard tellin whar he going to, he 
 is. Mas'r Boss don lef 'e nigger know how 'e bring 'um, nor 
 how he takes 'um way. Guess da 'h gwine to run ye down 
 country, so God bless you," says the boy, shaking him by 
 the hand, and taking leave. 
 
 " Well ! if I only knew which way I was going I should 
 feel happy ; because I could then write to my old master, 
 somewhere or somehow. And I know my good friend 
 Missus Rosebrook will buy me for her plantation, I know 
 she will. She knows my feelings, and in her heart wouldn't 
 see me abused, she wouldn't! I wish I knew who my master is, 
 where I am, and to whom I'm going to be sold next. I think 
 new master has stolen me, thinking old master was going 
 to die," Harry mutters to himself, commencing his break 
 fast, but still applying his listening faculties to the conver 
 sation in the next room. At length, after a long pause, 
 they seem to have finished breakfast and taken up the 
 further consideration of his sale. 
 
 " I don't fear anything of the kind ! Romescos is just 
 the keenest fellow that can be scared up this side of Balti 
 more. He never takes a thing o' this stamp in hand but 
 what he puts it through," says Bengal, in a whispering 
 tone. 
 
 " True ! the trouble's in his infernal preaching ; that's 
 the devil of niggers having intelligence. Can do anything 
 in our way with common niggers what don't know nothin' ; 
 but when the critters can do clergy, and preach, they'll 
 be sending notes to somebody they know as acquaintances. 
 An intelligent nigger's a bad article when ye want to play 
 off in this way," replies the other, curtly. 
 
 " Never mind," returns Bengal, " can't oilers transpose 
 a nigger, as easy as turnin' over a sixpence, specially 
 when he don't have his ideas brightened. Can't steer clar 
 on't. Larnin's mighty dangerous to our business, jS"atb. 
 better knock him on the head at once ; better end him and 
 save a sight of trouble. It'll put a stopper on his preach 
 ing, this pesks exercisin' his ideas." 
 
 A third interrupts. Thinks such a set of chicken-hearted 
 fellows won't do when it comes to cases of 'mergency
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 313 
 
 like this. He will just make clergyman Peter Somebody 
 the deacon ; and with this honorary title he'll put him 
 through to Major AViley's plantation, when he'll be all 
 right down in old Mississippi. The Colonel and he, under 
 standing the thing, can settle it just as smooth as sunrise. 
 The curate is what we call a right clever fellow, would make 
 the tallest kind of a preacher, and pay first-rate per 
 centage on himself. Bengal refers to Harry. His remarks 
 are, indeed, quite applicable. " I've got the dockerment, 
 ye see, all prepared ; and we'll put him through without a 
 wink," he concludes, in a measured tone of voice. 
 
 The door of Harry's room opens, and the three enter 
 together. " Had a good breakfast, old feller, hain't ye ?" 
 says Nimrod, approaching with hand extended, and patting 
 him on the head with a child's playfulness. " I kind o' likes 
 the looks on ye (a congratulatory smile curls over hia 
 countenance), old feller ; and means to do the square thing 
 in the way o' gettin' on ye a good Boss. Put on the 
 I^zarus, and no nigger tricks on the road. I'm sorry to 
 leave ye on the excursion, but here's the gentleman what'll 
 see ye through, will put ye through to old Mississipjust as 
 safe as if ye were a nugget of gold." Nimrod introduces 
 Harrr to a short gentleman with a bald head, and very 
 smooth, red face. His dress is of brown homespun, a garb 
 which would seem peculiar to those who do the villainy of 
 the peculiar institution. The gentleman has a pair of 
 handcuffs in his left hand, with which he will make his 
 pious merchandise safe. Stepping forward, he places the fore 
 finger of his right hand on the preacher's forehead, and reads 
 him a lesson which he must get firm into his thinking shell. 
 It is this. " Now, at this very time, yer any kind of a 
 nigger ; but a'ter this ar' ye got to be a Tennessee nigger, 
 raised in a pious Tennessee family. And yer name is Peter 
 Peter Peter ! don't forget the Peter : yer a parson, and 
 ought t' keep the old apostle what preached in the market- 
 place in yer noddle. Peter, ye see, is a pious name, and 
 Harry isn't ; so ye must think Peter and sink Harry." 
 
 " What do I want to change my name for ? Old master 
 give me that name long time ago !" 
 
 " None o' yer business ; niggers ain't t' know the philo 
 sophy of such things. No nigger tricks, now !" interrupts 
 Bengal, quickly, drawing his face into savage contortions.
 
 314 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 
 
 At this the gentleman in whose charge he will proceed 
 steps forward and places the manacles on Harry's hands with 
 the coolness and indifference of one executing the com 
 monest branch of his profession. Thus packed and baled 
 for export, he is hurried from the house into a two-horse 
 waggon, and driven off at full speed. Bengal watches the 
 waggon as it rolls down the highway and is lost in the 
 distance. He laughs heartily, thinks how safe he has got 
 the preacher, and how much hard cash he will bring. God 
 speed the slave on his journey downward, we might add. 
 
 It frill be needless for us to trace them through the 
 many incidents of their journey ; our purpose will be served 
 when we state that his new guardian landed him safely 
 at the plantation of Major Wiley, on the Tallahatchee 
 Biver, Mississippi, on the evening of the fourth day after 
 their departure, having made a portion of their passage on 
 the steamer Ohio. By some process unknown to Harry 
 he finds himself duly ingratiated among the major's field 
 hands, as nothing more than plain Peter. Ho is far from 
 the Hgh-road, far from his friends, without any prospect *of 
 communicating with his old master. The major, in his way, 
 seems a well-disposed sort of man, inclined to " do right" 
 by his negroes, and willing to afford them an opportunity 
 of employing their time after task, for their own benefit. 
 And yet it is evident that he must in some way be con 
 nected with G-raspum and his party, for there is a 
 continual interchange of negroes to and from his plantation. 
 This, however, we must not analyse too closely, but leave 
 to the reader's own conjectures, inasmuch as Major "Wiley 
 is a very distinguished gentleman, and confidently expects 
 a very prominent diplomatic appointment under the next 
 administration. 
 
 Harry, in a very quiet way, sets himself about gaining a 
 knowledge of his master's opinions on religion, as well as 
 obtaining his confidence by strict fidelity to his interests. 
 So far does he succeed, that in a short time he finds him 
 self holding the respectable and confidential office of rc aster 
 of stores. Then he succeeds in inducing his master to hear 
 him preach a sermon to his negroes. The major is per 
 fectly willing to allow him the full exercise of his talents, and 
 is moved to admiration at his fervency, his aptitude, his 
 knowledge of the Bible, and the worth there must be in such
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 315 
 
 a piece of clergy property. Master Wiley makes his man the 
 offer of purchasing his time, which Harry, under the alias of 
 Peter, accepts, and commences his mission of preaching on 
 the neighbouring plantations. 
 
 Ardently and devoutedly does he pursue his mission of 
 Christianity among his fellow-bondmen ; but he has reaped 
 little of the harvest to himself, his master having so in 
 creased the demand for his time that he can scarcely save 
 money enough to purchase clothes. At first he was only 
 required to pay six dollars a week ; now, nothing less than 
 ten is received. It is a happy premium on profitable human 
 nature ; aud through it swings the strongest hinge of that 
 cursed institution which blasts alike master and slave. 
 Major Wiley is very chivalrous, very hospitable, and very 
 eminent for his many distinguished qualifications ; but 
 his very pious piece of property must pay forty-seven per 
 cent, annual tribute for the very hospitable privilege of 
 administering the Word of Grod to his brother bondmen. 
 Speak not of robed bishops robbing Christianity in a foreign 
 laud, ye men who deal in men, and would rob nature of its 
 tombstone ! Te would rob the angels did their garments give 
 forth gold. 
 
 The poor fellow's income, depending, in some measure, 
 upon small presents bestowed by the negroes to whom he 
 preached, was scarcely enough to bring him out at the end 
 of the week, and to be thus deprived of it seemed more than 
 his spirits could bear. Again and again had he appealed to 
 his master for justice ; but there was no justice for him, his 
 appeals proved as fruitless as the wind, on his master's 
 callous sensibilities. Instead of exciting compassion, he 
 omy drew upon him his master's prejudices ; he was 
 threatened with being sold, if he resisted for a day the pay 
 ment of wages for his own body. Hence he saw but one 
 alternative left one hope, one smile from a good woman, 
 who might, and he felt would, deliver him ; that was in 
 writing to his good friend, Mrs. Kosebrook, whose generous 
 heart he might touch through his appeals for mercy. And 
 yet there was another obstacle ; the post-office might be ten 
 miles off, and his master having compelled him to take the 
 name of Peter Wiley, how was he to get a letter to her 
 without the knowledge of his master ? Should his letter be 
 intercepted, his master, a strict disciplinarian, would not 
 21
 
 316 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. , 
 
 only sell him farther south, but inflict the severest punish 
 ment. Nevertheless, there was one consolation left ; his 
 exertions on behalf of the slaves, and his earnestness in 
 promoting the interests of their masters, had not passed 
 unnoticed with the daughter of a neighbouring planter 
 (this lady has since distinguished herself for sympathy with 
 the slave), who became much interested in his welfare. 
 She had listened to his exhortations with admiration ; she had 
 listened to his advice on religion, and become his friend and 
 confidant. She would invite him to her father's house, sit for 
 hours at his side, and listen with breathless attention to his 
 pathos, his display of natural genius. To her he unfolded 
 his deep and painful troubles ; to her he looked for consola 
 tion ; she was the angel of light guiding him on his weary 
 way, cheering his drooping soul on its journey to heaven. 
 To her he disclosed hew he had been called to the bedside of 
 his dying master ; how, previously, he had been sold from 
 his good old master, Marston, his wife, his children ; how 
 he was mysteriously carried off and left in the charge of his 
 present master, who exacts all he can earn. 
 
 The simple recital of his story excites the genial feelings 
 of the young lady ; she knows some foul transaction is 
 associated with his transition, and at once tenders her services 
 to release him. But she must move cautiously, for even 
 Harry's preaching is in direct violation of the statutes ; 
 and were she found aiding in that which would unfavourably 
 affect the interests of his master she would be subjected to 
 serious consequences perhaps be invited to spend a short 
 season at the sheriff's hotel, commonly called the county 
 gaol. However, there was virtue in the object to be served, 
 and feeling that whatever else she could do to relieve him 
 would be conferring a lasting benefit on a suffering mortal, 
 she will brave the attempt. 
 
 " Tell me he is not a man, but a slave ! tell me a being 
 with such faculties should be thus sunken beneath the 
 amenities of freeedom ! that man may barter almighty gifts 
 for gold ! trample his religion into dust, and turn it into 
 dollars and cents ! What a mockery is this against the 
 justice of heaven ! "When this is done in this our happy 
 land of happy freedom, scoffers may make it their foot-ball, 
 and kings in their tyranny may point the finger of scorn at 
 us, and ask us for our honest men, our cherished freedom !
 
 COMPETITION IN HUMAN THINGS. 317 
 
 " "Woman can do something, if she will ; let me see what I 
 can do to relieve this poor oppressed," she exclaims one day, 
 after he has consulted her on the best means of relief. " I 
 will try." 
 
 Woman knows the beatings of the heart ; she can re 
 spond more quickly to its pains and sorrows. Our youthful 
 missionary will sit down and write a letter to Mrs. Rose- 
 brook she will do something, the atmosphere of slavery 
 will hear of her yet it will !
 
 CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 
 
 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 
 
 How varied are the sources of human nature how chang 
 ing its tints and glows how immeasurable its uncertainties, 
 and how obdurate the will that can turn its teuderest threads 
 into profitable degradation ! But what democrat can 
 know himself a Ireeman when the whitest blood makes 
 good merchandise in the market ? When the only lineal 
 siain on a mother's name for ever binds the chains, 
 let no man boast of liberty. The very voice re-echoes, oh, 
 man, why be a hypocrite ! cans't thou not see the scorner 
 looking from above ? But the oligarchy asks in tones so 
 modest, so full of chivalrous fascination, what hast thou 
 to do with that ? be no longer a fanatic. So we will bear 
 the warning pass from it for the present. 
 
 More than two years have passed ; writs of error have 
 been filed and argued ; the children have dragged out time 
 in a prison-house. Is it in freedom's land a prison was 
 made for the innocent to waste in ? So it is, and may 
 Heaven one day change the tenour ! Excuse, reader, this 
 digression, and let us proceed with our narrative. 
 
 The morning is clear and bright ; Mrs. Jiosebrook sits at 
 ^ie window of her cheerful villa, watching the approach of 
 the post<-rider seen in the distance, near a cluster of oaks 
 that surround the entrance of the arbour, at the north side 
 of the garden. The scene spread out before her is full of 
 rural beauty, softened by the dew-decked foliage, clothing 
 the landscape with its clumps. As if some fairy hand had 
 spread a crystal mist about the calm of morning, and angels 
 were bedecking it with the richest tints of a rising sun at 
 morn, the picture sparkles with silvery life. There she sits, 
 her soft glowing eyes scanning the reposing scene, as her 
 graceful form seems infusing spirit into its silent loveliness. 
 And then she speaks, as if whispering a secret to the waft 
 ing air: "our happy union /" It falls upon the ear like 
 some angel voice speaking of things too pure, too holy for
 
 THE PBETHY CHILDREN ABE TO BE SOLD. 319 
 
 the caprices of earth. She would be a type of that calmness 
 pervading the scene that sweetness and repose which 
 seem mingling to work out some holy purpose ; and yet 
 there is a touching sadness depicted in her face. 
 
 " Two years have passed; how changed!" she exclaims, 
 as if rousing from a reverie : " I would not be surprised if 
 he brought bad tidings." 
 
 The postman has reached the gate and delivered a letter, 
 which the servant quickly bears to her hand. She grasps it 
 anxiously, as if recognising the superscription ; opens it 
 nervously ; reads the contents. It is from ITranconia, inter 
 ceding with her in behalf of her uncle and the two children, 
 in the following manner : 
 " My dearest Friend, 
 
 " Can I appeal to one whose feelings are more ready to 
 be enlisted iu a good cause ? I think not. I wish now to 
 enlist your feelings in something that concerns myself. It 
 is to save two interesting children who, though our eyes 
 may at times be blinded to facts, I cannot forget are nearly 
 allied to me by birth and association from the grasp of 
 slavery. Misfortune never comes alone ; nor, in this in 
 stance, need I recount ours to you. Of my own I will say 
 but little ; the least is best. Into wedlock I have been sold 
 to one it were impossible for me to love ; he cannot cherish 
 the respect due to my feelings. His associations are of the 
 coarsest, and his heartless treatment beyond my endurance. 
 He subjects me to the meanest grievances ; makes my posi 
 tion more degraded than that of the slave upon whom he 
 gratifies his lusts. Had my parents saved me from such a 
 monster- I cannot call him less they would have saved me 
 many a painful reflection. As for his riches I know not 
 whether they really exist they are destined only to serve 
 his lowest passions. With him misfortune is a crime ; and 
 I am made*to suffer under his taunts, about the disappear 
 ance of my brother, the poverty of my parents. 
 
 " Tou are well aware of the verdict of the jury, and the 
 affirmation of the Court of Appeal, upon those dear chil 
 dren. The decree orders them to be sold in the market, for 
 the benefit of my uncle's creditors : this is the day, the fatal 
 day, the sale takes place. Let me beseech of you, as you 
 have it in your power, to induce the deacon to purchase 
 them. 0, save them from the fate that awaits them ! You
 
 320 THE PEETTT CHILDBEK ABE TO BE SOLD 
 
 know my uncle's errors ; you know also his goodness of 
 heart; you can sympathise with him in his sudden downfall. 
 Then the affection he has for Annette is unbounded. No 
 father could be more dotingly fond of his legitimate child. 
 But you know what our laws are what they force us to do 
 against our better inclinations. Annette's mother, poor 
 wretch, has fled, and M'Carstrow charges me with being 
 accessory to her escape : I cannot, nor will I, deny it, while 
 my most ardent prayer invokes her future happiness. That' 
 she has saved herself from a life of shame I cannot doubt ; 
 and if I have failed to carry out a promise I made her before 
 her departure that of rescuing her child the satisfaction 
 of knowing that she at least is enjoying the reward of free 
 dom partially repays my feelings. Let me entreat you to 
 f repair to the city, and, at least, rescue Annette from that 
 life of shame and disgrace now pending over her a shame 
 and disgrace no less black in the sight of heaven because 
 society tolerates it as among the common things of social 
 life. ' 
 
 " I am now almost heart-broken, and fear it will soon be 
 my lot to be driven from under the roof of Colonel M'Cars 
 trow, which is no longer a home, but a mere place of durance 
 to me. It would be needless for me here to recount his 
 conduct. Were I differently constituted I might tolerate 
 his abuse, and accept a ruffian's recompense in consideration 
 of his wealth. 
 
 " Go, my dear friend, save that child, 
 
 " Is the prayer of your affectionate 
 
 " PBANCONIA." 
 
 Mrs. Hosebrook reads and re-reads the letter ; then heaves 
 a sigh as she lays it upon the table at her side. As if dis 
 cussing the matter in her mind, her face resumes a contem 
 plative seriousness. . 
 
 " And those children are to be sold in the market ! "Who 
 won't they sell, and sanctify the act ? How can I relieve 
 them ? how can I be their friend, for Franconia's sake ? My 
 husband is away on the plantation, and I cannot brave the 
 coarse slang of a slave mart ; I cannot mingle with those 
 who there congregate. 
 
 "And, too, there are so many such cases bearing on 
 their front the fallacy of this our democracy that however
 
 THE PBETTY CHILDBEN ABE TO BE SOLD. 321 
 
 ^ 
 
 much one may have claim* over another, it were impossible 
 to take one into consideration without inciting a hundred to 
 press their demands. In this sense, then, the whole ac 
 cursed system would have" to be uprooted before the remedy 
 could be applied effectually. Notwithstanding, I will go ; 
 I will go : I'll see what can be done in the city," says Mrs. 
 Rosebrook, bristling with animation. " Our ladies must 
 have something to arouse their energies ; they all have a 
 deep interest to serve, and can do much:" she will 
 summon resolution and brave all. Hi sing from her seat, 
 she paces the room several times, and then orders a 
 servant to command Uncle Bradshaw to get the carriage 
 ready, and be prepared for a drive into the city. 
 
 Soon Bradshaw has got the carriage ready, and our good 
 lady is on the road, rolling away toward the city. As they 
 approach a curvature that winds round a wooded hill, Brad 
 shaw intimates to " missus" that he sees signs of a camp a 
 short distance ahead. He sees smoke curling upwards 
 among the trees, and very soon the notes of a long-metre 
 tune fall softly on the ear, like the tinkling of distant bella 
 in the desert. Louder and louder, as they approach, the 
 sounds become more and more distinct. Then our good 
 lady recognises the familiar voice of Elder Pemberton. 
 Praiseworthy. This worthy Christian of the Southern 
 Church is straining his musical organ to its utmost capa 
 city, in the hope there will be no doubt left on the minds 
 of those congregated around him as to his very sound piety. 
 The carriage rounds the curvature, and there, encamped in 
 a grove of pines by the road side, is our pious Elder, ad 
 ministering consolation to his infirm property. Such people ! 
 they present one of the most grotesque and indiscriminate 
 spectacles ever eyes beheld. The cholera has subsided ; the 
 Elder's greatest harvest time is gone ; few victims are to be 
 found for the Elder's present purposes. Now he is constrained 
 to resort to the refuse of human property (those afflicted 
 with what are called ordinary diseases), to keep alive the 
 Christian motive of his unctuous business. To speak 
 plainly, he must content himself with the purchase of such 
 infirmity as can be picked up here and there about the 
 country. 
 
 A fire of pine knots blazes in the centre of a mound, and 
 it hangs an iron kettle, 'on a straddle, filled with corn-
 
 322 THE PRETTY CHILD11EN ABE ,TO BE SOLD. 
 
 grits. Around this, and anxiously watching its boiling, are 
 the lean figures of negroes, with haggard and sickly faces, 
 telling but too forcibly the tale of their troubles. They 
 watch and watch, mutter in grumbling accents, stir the 
 homony, and sit down again. Two large . mule carts stand 
 in the shade of a pine tree, a few yards from the fire. A 
 few paces further on are the mules tethered, quietly grazing ; 
 while, seated on a whiskey-keg, is the Elder, book in 
 hand, giving out the hymn to some ten or a dozen infirm 
 negroes seated round him on the ground. They have en 
 joyed much consolation by listening with wondrous astonish 
 ment to the Elder's exhortations, and are now ready to join 
 their musical jargon to the words of a Watts's hymn. 
 
 On arriving opposite the spot, our good lady requests 
 Bradshaw to stop ; which done, the Elder recognises her, 
 and suddenly adjourning his spiritual exercises, advances to 
 meet her, his emotions expanding with enthusiastic joy. In 
 his eagerness, with outstretched hand, he comes sailing 
 along, trips his toe in a vine, and plunges head foremost 
 into a broad ditch that separates the road from the rising 
 ground. 
 
 The accident is very unfortunate at this moment ; the 
 Elder's enthusiasm is somewhat cooled, nevertheless; but, 
 as there is seldom a large loss without a small gain, he finds 
 himself strangely bespattered from head to foot with the 
 ingredients of a quagmire. 
 
 " U'h ! u'h ! u'h ! my dear madam, pardon me, I pray ; 
 strange moment to meet with a misfortune of this kind. 
 But I was so glad to see you!" he ejaculates, sensitively, 
 making the best of his way out, brushing his sleeves, and 
 wiping his face with his never-failing India handkerchief. 
 He approaches the carriage, apologising for his appearance. 
 
 He hopes our lady will excuse him, having so far lost him 
 self in his enthusiasm, which, together with the fervency and 
 devotion of the spiritual exercises he was enjoying with his 
 poor, helpless property, made him quite careless of himself. 
 Begging a thousand pardons for presenting himself in such 
 a predicament (his gallantry is proverbially southern), he 
 forgets that his hat and spectacles have been dislodged by 
 his precipitation into the ditch. 
 
 The good lady reaches out her hand, as a smile curls over 
 her face ; but Bradshaw must grin ; and grin he does, in 
 right good earnest.
 
 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 323 
 
 " Bless me, my dear Elder ! what trade are you now 
 engaged in ?" she enquires. 
 
 " A little devotional exercises, my dea madam ! We 
 were enjoying them with so much Christian feeling that I was 
 quite carried away, indeed I was!" He rubs his fingers through 
 his bristly hair, and then downwards to his nasal organ, 
 feeling for his devoted glasses. He is surprised at their ab 
 sence makes another apology. He affirms, adding his sacred 
 honour, as all real southerners do, that he had begun to feel 
 justified in the belief that there never was a religion like 
 that preached by the good apostles, when such rural spots 
 as this (he points to his encampment) were chosen for its 
 administration. Everything round him made him feel so 
 good, so much like the purest Christian of the olden time. 
 He tells her, with great seriousness, that we must serve 
 God, and not forget poor human nature, never ! " To the 
 world he would seem labouring under the influence of 
 those inert convictions by which we strive to conceal our 
 natural inclinations, while drawing the flimsy curtain of 
 " to do good" over the real object. 
 
 He winks and blinks, rubs his eyes, works his face into 
 all the angles and contortions it is capable of, and commences 
 searching for his hat and spectacles. Both are necessary 
 adjuncts to his pious appearance ; without them there is 
 that in the expression of his countenance from which none 
 can fail to draw an unfavourable opinion of his real 
 character. The haggard, care-worn face, browned to the 
 darkest tropical tints ; the ceaseless leer of that small, 
 piercing eye, anxiety and agitation pervading the tout 
 ensemble of the man, will not be dissembled. Kay ; those 
 acute promontories of the face, narrow and sharp, and that 
 low, reclining forehead, and head covered with bristly iron- 
 grey hair, standing erect in rugged tufts, are too strong an 
 index of character for all the disguises Elder Pemberton 
 Praiseworthy can invent. 
 
 " One minute, my dear madam," he exclaims, in his 
 eagerness for the lost ornaments of his face. 
 
 "Never mind them, Elder; never mind them ! In my 
 eyes you are just as w r ell without them," she rejoins, an 
 ironical smile invading her countenance, and a curl of 
 contempt on her lip. " But, tell me what are you doing 
 here ?"
 
 324 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 
 
 ' Here ! ray dear madam ? Doing good for mankind 
 and the truth of religion; I claim merit of the parish, for 
 my pursuit is laudable, and saves the parish much trouble," 
 says the Elder, beginning to wax warm in the goodness of 
 his pursuit, before anyone has undertaken to dispute him, 
 or question the purity of his purpose. 
 
 "Still speculating in infirmity; making a resurrection 
 man of yourself ! You are death's strongest opponent ; you 
 fight the great slayer for small dollars and cents." 
 
 " Weil, now," interrupts the Elder, with a serious smile, 
 " I'd rather face a Mexican army than a woman's insinuating 
 questions, in matters of this kind ! But it's business, ye 
 see ! according to law ; and ye can't -get over that. There's 
 no getting over the law ; and he that serveth the Lord, no 
 matter how, deserveth recompense ; my recompense is in 
 the amount of life I saves for the nigger." 
 
 " That is not what I asked ; you evade my questions. 
 Elder! better acknowledge honestly, for the sake of the 
 country, where did you pick up these poor wretches ?" 
 
 " I goes round the district, madam, and picks up a cripple 
 here, and a cancer case there, and a dropsy doubtful yonder ; 
 and then, some on em's got diseases what don't get out 
 until one comes to apply medical skill. Shan't make much 
 
 on these sort o' cases, " 
 
 The lady interrupts him, by bidding him good morning, 
 and advising him, whenever he affects to serve the Lord, 
 to serve him honestly, without a selfish motive. She 
 leaves the Elder to his own reflections, to carry his victim, 
 property to his charnel-houso, where, if he save life for the 
 enjoyment of liberty, he may serve the Lord to a good 
 purpose. She leaves him to the care of the Christian church 
 of the South, the church of Christian slaVery, the rules of 
 which he so strictly follows. 
 
 As our good lady moves quickly away toward the city, 
 the Elder looks up, imploringly, as if invoking the praise of 
 heaven on his good deeds. He is, indeed, astonished, that 
 his dear friend, the lady, should have made such a declaration 
 so closely applied, so insinuating. That such should have 
 escaped her lips when she must know that his very soul 
 aud intention are pur.ty! " I never felt like making a wish 
 before now; and now I wishes I was, or that my father 
 had made me, a lawyer. I would defend my position in n
 
 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 325 
 
 legal sense then ! I don't like lawyers generally, I confess ; 
 the profession's not as honourable as ours, and its members 
 are a set of sharpers, who would upset gospel and every 
 thing else for a small fee, they would !" He concludes, as 
 his eyes regrettingly wander after the carriage. The words 
 have moved him ; there is something he wishes to say, but 
 can't just get the point he would arrive at. He turns away, 
 sad at heart, to his sadder scenes. "I know that my 
 Redeemer liveth," he sings. 
 
 In the city a different piece is in progress of performance. 
 Papers, and all necessary preparations for procuring the 
 smooth transfer of the youthful property, are completed ; 
 customers have begun to gather round the mart. Some are 
 searching among the negroes sent to the warehouse ; others 
 are inquiring where this property, advertised in the morn 
 ing journals, and so strongly commented upon, may be 
 found. They have been incited to examine, in consequence 
 of the many attractions set forth in the conditions of sale. 
 
 There the two children sit, on a little seat near the 
 vender's tribune. Old Aunt Dina, at the prison, has dressed 
 Annette so neatly ! Her white pinafore shines so brightly, 
 is so neatly arranged, and her silky auburn locks curl so 
 prettily, in tiny ringlets, over her shoulders ; and then her 
 round fair face looks so sweetly, glows with such innocent 
 curiosity, as her soft blue eyes, deep with sparkling vivacity, 
 wander over the strange scene. She instinctively feels that 
 she is the special object of some important event. Laying 
 her little hand gently upon the arm of an old slave that sits 
 by her side, she casts shy glances at those admirers who 
 stand round her and view her as a marketable article only. 
 
 " Auntie, where are they going to take me ?" the child 
 inquires, with a solicitous look, as she straightens the folds 
 of her dress with her little hands. 
 
 " Grwinc t' sell 'um," mumbles the old slave. " Lor', 
 child, a'h wishes ye wa'h mine ; reckon da'h wouldn't sell 
 ye. T'ant much to sell nigger like I, nohow ; but e' hurt 
 my feelins just so 'twarnt right t' sell de likes o' ye." The 
 old slave, in return, lays her hand upon Annette's head, and 
 smooths her hair, as if solicitous of her fate. " Sell ye, 
 child sell ye ?" she concludes, shaking her head. 
 
 " And what will they do with me and Nicholas when they
 
 326 THE PEETTY CHILDBEN AEE TO BE SOLD. 
 
 get us sold ?" continues the child, turning to Nicholas and 
 taking him by the arm. 
 
 " Don' kno' : perhaps save ye fo'h sinnin' agin de Lor'," is 
 the old slave's quick reply. She shakes her head doubt- 
 ingly, and bursts into tears, as she takes Annette in her 
 arms, presses her to her bosom, kisses and kisses her pure 
 cheek. How heavenly is the affection of that old slave 
 how it rebukes our Christian mockery ! 
 
 " Will they sell us where we can't see mother, auntie ? I 
 do want to see mother so," says the child, looking up in the 
 old slave's face. There seemed something too pure, too 
 holy, in the child's simplicity, as it prattled about its mo 
 ther, for such purposes as it is about to be. consigned to. 
 " They do not sell white folks, auntie, do they ? My face is 
 as white as anybody's ; and Nicholas's aint black. I do 
 want to see mother so ! when will she come back and take 
 care of me, auntie ?" 
 
 " Lor', child," interrupts the old negro, suppressing her 
 emotions, " no use to ax dem questions ven ye gwine t* 
 market. Buckra right smart at makin' nigger what bring 
 cash." 
 
 The child expresses a wish that auntie would take her 
 back to the old plantation, where master, as mother used to 
 call him, wouldn't let them sell her away off. And she 
 shakes her head with an air of unconscious pertness : tells 
 the old negro not to cry for her. 
 
 The cryer's bell sounds forth its muddling peals to sum 
 mon the customers ; a grotesque mixture of men close round 
 the stand. The old slave, as if from instinct, again takes 
 Annette in her arms, presses and presses her to her bosom, 
 looks compassionately in her face, and smiles while a tear 
 glistens in her eyes. She is inspired by the beauty of the 
 child 5 her heart bounds with affection for her tender years ; 
 she loves her because she is lovely ; and she smiles upon her 
 as a beautiful image of God's creation. But the old 
 slave grieves over her fate ; her grief flows from the 
 purity of the heart ; she knows not the rules of the slave 
 church. 
 
 Annette is born a child of sorrow in this our land of love 
 and liberty ; she is a democrat's daughter, cursed by the 
 inconsistencies of that ever-praised democratic goodness.
 
 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 327 
 
 A child ! nothing more than an item of common trade. It 
 is eveu so ; but let not happy democracy blush, for the child, 
 being merchandise, has no claims to that law of the soul 
 which looks above the frigidity of slave statutes. What 
 generosity is there in this generous laud ? what impulses of 
 nature not quenched by force of public opinion, when the 
 associations of a child like this (we are picturing a true 
 story), her birth and blood, her clear complexion, the bright 
 carnatic of her cheek, will not save her from the mercenary 
 grasp of dollars and cents ? It was the law ; the law had 
 made men demons, craving the bodies and souls of their 
 fellow men. It was the white man's charge to protect the 
 law and the constitution ; and any manifestation of sympa 
 thy for this child would be in violation of a system which 
 cannot be ameliorated without endangering the whole struc 
 ture : hence the comments escaping from purchasers are 
 only such as might have been expressed by the sporting 
 man in his admiration of a finely proportioned animal. 
 
 " What a sweet child!" says one, as they close round. 
 
 " Make a woman when she grows up !" rejoins another, 
 twirling his cane, and giving his hat an extra set on the 
 side of his head. 
 
 " Take too long to keep it afore its valuable is developed ; 
 but it's a picture of beauty. Face would do to take draw 
 ings from, it's so full of delicate outlines," interposes a 
 third. , 
 
 An old gentleman, with something of the ministerial in 
 his countenance, and who has been very earnestly watching 
 them for some time, thinks a great deal about the subject of 
 slavery, and the strange laws by which it is governed just at 
 this moment. He says, " One is inspired with a sort of 
 admiration that unlocks the heart, while gazing at such 
 delicacy and child-like sweetness as is expressed in the face 
 of that child." He points his cane coldly at Annette. " It 
 causes a sort of reaction in one's sense of right, socially and 
 politically, when we see it mixed up with niggers and black 
 ruffians to be sold." 
 
 " Must abide the laws, though," says a gentleman in black, 
 on his left. 
 
 " Yes," returns our friend, quickly, " if such property 
 could be saved the hands of speculators"
 
 328 THE PRETTY CHILDREN ARE TO BE SOLD. 
 
 " Speculators ! speculators !" rejoins the gentleman in 
 black, knitting his brows. 
 
 " Tes : it's always the case in our society. The beauty 
 of such property makes it dangeroiis about a well-ordained 
 man's house. Our ladies, generally, have no sympathy with, 
 and rather dislike its ill-gotten tendencies. The piety of the 
 south amounts to but little in its influence on the slave po 
 pulation. The slave population generates its own piety. 
 There is black piety and white piety ; but the white piety 
 effects little when it can dispose of poor black piety just as 
 it pleases ; and there's no use in clipping the branches off the 
 tree while the root is diseased," concludes our nnnisterial- 
 looking gentleman, who might have been persuaded himself 
 to advance a bid, TV ere he not so well versed in the tenour 
 of society that surrounded him. 
 
 During the above ad interim at the shambles, our good 
 lady, Mrs. Rosebrook, is straining every nerve to induce a 
 gentleman of her acquaintance to repair to the mart, and 
 purchase the children on her account.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 N&TTTBE SHAMES ITSELF. 
 
 MRS. ROSEBROOK sits in Mrs. Pringle's parlour. Mrs. 
 Pringle is thought well of in the city of Charleston, where 
 she resides, and has done something towards establishing a 
 church union for the protection of orphan females. They must, 
 however, be purely white, and without slave or base blood in 
 their veins, to entitle them to admittance into its charitable 
 precincts. This is upon the principle that slave blood is 
 not acceptable in the sight of Heaven ; and that allowing 
 its admittance into this charitable earthly union would only 
 be a sad waste of time and Christian love. Mrs. Pringle, 
 however, feels a little softened to the good cause, and does 
 hope Mrs. Rosebrook may succeed at least in rescuing the 
 little girl. She has counselled Mr. Seabrook, commonly 
 called Colonel Seabrook, a very distinguished gentleman, 
 who has a very distinguished opinion of himself, having 
 studied law to distinguish himself, and now and then merely 
 practises it for his own amusement. Mr. Seabrook never gives 
 an opinion, nor acts for his friends, unless every thing he 
 does be considered distinguished, and gratuitously rendered. 
 " What will you do with such property, madam ?" inquires 
 the gentleman, having listened profoundly to her request. 
 
 " To save them from being sold into the hands of such 
 men as Graspum and Romescos ; it's the only motive I have" 
 she speaks, gently : " I love the child ; and her mother still 
 loves her : I am a mother." 
 
 " Remember, my dear lady, they are adjudged property by 
 law ; and all that you can do for them won't save them, nor 
 change the odour of negro with which it has stamped them." 
 " Of that I am already too well aware, Mr. Seabrook ; 
 and I know, too, when once enslaved, how hard it is to 
 unslave. Public sentiment is the worst slave we have ; 
 unslave that, and the righteousness of heaven will give us 
 hearts to save ourselves from the unrighteousness of 
 our laws.
 
 330 NATURE SHAMES ITSELF. 
 
 " Go, Mr. Seabrook, purchase the children for me, and 
 you will soon see what ornaments of society I will make 
 them !" 
 
 " Ornaments to our society !" interrupts Mr. Seabrook, 
 pausing for a moment, as he places the fore- finger of his 
 right hand upon his upper lip. " That would be a pretty 
 consummation -at the south ! Make ornaments of our 
 society !" Mr. Seabrook turns the master over and over 
 and over in his mind. " Of such things as have been pro 
 nounced property by law ! A pretty fix it would get our 
 society into !" he rejoins, with emphasis. Mr. Seabrook 
 shakes his head doubtingly, and then, taking three or four 
 strides across the room, his hands well down in -his nether 
 pockets, relieves himself of his positive opinion. " Ah ! 
 ah ! hem! my dear madam," he says, " if you undertake the 
 purchase of all that delicate kind of property I mean the 
 amount total, as it is mixed up your head'll grow grey 
 afore you get all the bills of sale paid up, my word for it ! 
 That's my undisguised opinion, backed up by all the pale- 
 faced property about the city." 
 
 " We will omit the opinion, Mr. Seabrook ; such have kept*" 
 our society where it now is. I am resolved to have those 
 
 children. If you hesitate to act for me, I'll brave " 
 
 " Don't say that, my dear lady. Let me remind you that 
 it ill becomes a lady of the south to be seen at a slave- 
 mart ; more especially when such delicate property is for 
 sale. Persons might be present who did not understand 
 your motive, and would not only make rude advances, but 
 question the propriety of your proceedings. You would 
 lose caste, most surely." 
 
 Mrs. E-osebrook cares little for Mr. Seabrook' s very 
 learned opinion, knowing that learned opinions are not 
 always the most sensible ones, and is seen arranging her 
 bonnet hastily in a manner betokening her intention to 
 make a bold front of it at the slave-mart. This is rather too 
 much for Mr. Seabrook, who sets great value on his chival 
 rous virtues, and fearing they may suffer in the esteem of the 
 softer sex, suddenly proffers his kind interposition, becomes 
 extremely courteous, begs she will remain quiet, assuring 
 her that no stone that can further her wishes shall be left 
 unturned. Mr. Seabrook (frequently called the gallaud 
 colonel) makes one of his very best bows, adjusts his hat
 
 NATURE SHAMES ITSELF. 331 
 
 with exquisite grace, and leaves to exercise the wisest judg 
 ment and strictest faith at the man-market. 
 
 " Such matters are exceedingly annoying to gentlemen of 
 my standing," says Mr. Seabrook, as deliberately he pro 
 ceeds to the fulfilment of his promise. He is a methodical 
 gentleman, and having weighed the matter well over in his 
 legal mind, is deeply indebted to it for the conclusion that 
 Mrs. Rosebrook has got a very unsystematised crotchet into 
 her brain. " The exhibition of sympathy for ' niggers' 
 they're nothing else," says Mr. Seabrook " much adds to 
 that popular prejudice which is already placing her in an 
 extremely delicate position." He will call to his aid some 
 very nice legal tact, and by that never-failing unction satisfy 
 the good lady. 
 
 When Mr. Seabrook enters the mart (our readers will 
 remember that we have already described it) he finds the 
 children undergoing a very minute examination at the hands 
 of several slave-dealers. As Mr. Forshou, the very polite 
 man-seller, is despatching the rougher quality of human 
 merchandise, our hero advances to the children, about whose 
 father he asks them unanswerable questions. How interest 
 ing the children look ! how like a picture of beauty 'Annette's 
 cherub face glows forth ! Being seriously concerned about 
 the child, his countenance wears an air of deep thought. 
 " Colonel, what's your legal opinion of such pretty pro 
 perty?" enquires Romescos, who advances to Mr. Seabrook, 
 and, after a minute's hesitation, takes the little girl in his 
 arms, rudely kissing her as she presses his face from her 
 with her left hand, and poutingly wipes her mouth with 
 her right. 
 
 " Pretty as a picture Romescos has set the child down 
 but I wouldn't give seven coppers for both ; for, by my 
 faith, such property never does well." The gentleman 
 shakes his head in return. " It's a pity they're made it out 
 nigger, though, it's so handsome. Sweet little creature, 
 that child, I declare : her beauty would be worth a fortune 
 on the stage, when she grows up." 
 
 Romescos touches Mr. Seabrook on the arm ; remarks 
 that such things are only good for certain purposes ; although 
 one can make them pay if they know how to trade in them. 
 But it wants a man with a capable conscience to do the 
 business up profitably. " No chance o' your biddin' on 'um, 
 22
 
 332 NATURE SHAMES ITSKI.F. 
 
 is there, colonel ?" lie enquires, with a significant leer, 
 folding his arms with the indifference of a field-marshal. 
 After a few minutes' pause, during which Mr. Seabrook 
 seems manufacturing an answer, he shrugs his shoulders, 
 and takes a few pleasing steps, as if moved to a waltzing 
 humour. " Don't scare up the like o' that gal-nigger 
 every day," he adds. Again, as if moved by some sudden 
 idea, he approaches Annette, and placing his hand on her 
 head, continues : " If this ain't tumbling down a man's 
 affairs by the run! Why, colonel, 'taint more nor three 
 years since old Hugh Marston war looked on as the tallest 
 planter on the Ashley ; and he thought just as much o' these 
 young 'uns as if their mother had belonged to one of the 
 first families. Now I pity the poor fellow ! because he 
 tried to save 'em from being sold as slaves, they his 
 creditors think he hag got more property stowed away 
 somewhere. They're going to cell him, just to try his 
 talent at putting away things." 
 
 The " prime fellows" and wenches of the darker and 
 coarser quality have all been disposed of; and the vender 
 (the same gentlemanly man we have described selling 
 Marston' s undisputed property) now orders the children to be 
 brought forward. Homescos, eagerly seizing them by te 
 arms, brings them forward through the crowd, places them 
 upon the stand, before the eager gaze of those assembled. 
 Strangely placed upon the strange block, the spectators 
 close in again, anxious to gain the best position for inspec 
 tion: but little children cannot stand the gaze of such 
 an assemblage : no ; Annette turns toward Nicholas, 
 and with a childish embrace throws her tiny arms about his 
 neck, buries her face on his bosom. The child of misfor 
 tune seeks shelter from that shame of her condition, 
 the evidence of which is strengthened by the eager glances 
 of those who stand round the shambles, ready to purchase 
 her fate. Even the vender, distinguished gentleman that 
 he is, and very respectably allied by marriage to one of the 
 "first families," is moved with a strange sense of wrong at 
 finding himself in a position somewhat repugnant to his 
 feelings. He cannot suppress a blush that indicates an 
 innate sense of shame. 
 
 " Here they are, gentlemen ! let no man say I have not 
 done my duty. You have, surely, all seen the pedigree
 
 NATURE SHAMES ITSELF. 
 
 of these children set forth in the morning papers ; and, now 
 that you have them before you, the living specimen of their 
 beauty will fully authenticate anything therein set forth," 
 the vender exclaims, aifecting an appearance in keeping 
 with his trade. Notwithstanding this, there is a faltering 
 nervousness in his manner, betraying all his efforts at dis 
 simulation. He reads the invoice of human property to the 
 listening crowd, dilates on its specific qualities with powers 
 of elucidation that would do credit to any member of the 
 learned profession. This opinion is confirmed by Eomescos, 
 the associations of whose trade have gained for him a very 
 intimate acquaintance with numerous gentlemen of that 
 very honourable profession. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen," continues the vender, " the honour 
 able high sheriff is anxious, and so am I and it's no more 
 than a feelin' of deserving humanity, which every southern 
 gentleman is proud to exercise that these children be sold 
 to good, kind, and respectable owners ; and that they do not 
 fall into the hands, as is generally the case, of men who 
 raise them up for infamous purposes. Gentlemen, I am 
 decidedly opposed to making licentiousness a means of 
 profit." 
 
 "That neither means you nor me," mutters Eomescos, 
 touching Mr. Seabrook on the arm, shaking his head 
 knowingly, and stepping aside to Grraspum, in whose ear 
 he whispers a word. The very distinguished Mr. Grraspum 
 has been intently listening to the outpouring of the 
 vender's simplicity. What sublime nonsense it seems to 
 him ! He suggests that it would be much more effectual if 
 it came from the pulpit, the southern pulpit ! 
 
 " Better sell 'um to some deacon's family," mutters a 
 voice in the crowd. 
 
 " That's precisely what we should like, gentlemen ; any 
 bidder of that description would get them on more favour 
 able terms than a trader, he would," he returns, quickly. 
 The man of feeling, now wealthy from the sale of human 
 beings, hopes gentlemen will pardon his nervousness on this 
 occasion. He never felt the delicacy of his profession so 
 forcibly never, until now ! His countenance changes with 
 the emotions of his heart ; he blushes as he looks upon the 
 human invoice, glances slily over the corner at the children,
 
 334 NATUBE SHAMES ITSELF. 
 
 and again at his customers. The culminating point of his 
 profession has arrived ; its unholy character is making war 
 upon his better feelings. " I am not speaking ironically, 
 gentlemen : any bidder of the description I have named 
 will get these children at a satisfactory figure. Remember 
 that, and that I am only acting in my office for the honour 
 able sheriff and the creditors," he concludes. 
 
 " If that be the case," Mr. Seabrook thinks to himself, 
 "it's quite as well. Our good lady friend will be fully 
 satisfied. She only wants to see them in good hands : 
 deacons are just the fellows." He very politely steps aside, 
 lights his choice habanero, and sends forth its curling fumes 
 as the bidding goes on. 
 
 A person having the appearance of a country gentleman, 
 who has been some time watching the proceedings, is seen 
 to approach Graspum : this dignitary whispers something in 
 his ear, and he leaves the mart. 
 
 " I saj', squire !" exclaims Romescos, addressing him 
 self to the auctioneer, " do you assume the responsibility 
 of making special purchasers? perhaps you had better keep an 
 eye to the law and the creditors, you had ! (Romescos's 
 little red face fires with excitement.) No objection t' yfcr 
 sellin' the gal to deacons and elders, even to old Elder 
 Pemberton Praiseworthy, who's always singing, ' I know 
 that my Redeemer cometh !' But the statutes give me just 
 as good a right to buy her, as any first-class deacon. I knows 
 law, and got lots o' lawyer friends." 
 
 " The issue is painful enough, without any interposition 
 from you, my friend," rejoins the vender, interrupting 
 Romescos in his conversation. After a few minutes pause, 
 during which time he has been watching the faces of his 
 customers, he adds: "Perhaps, seeing how well mated 
 they are, gentlemen will not let them be separated. They 
 have been raised together." 
 
 "Certainly!" again interrupts Romescos, "it would be 
 a pity to separate them, 'cos it might touch somebody's 
 heart." 
 
 " Ah, that comes from Romescos ; we may judge of its 
 motive as we please," rejoins the man of feeling, taking 
 Annette by the arm and leading her to the extreme edge of 
 the stand. " Make us a bid, gentlemen, for the pair. I can
 
 NATURE SHAMES ITSELF. 335 
 
 see in the looks of my customers that nobody will be so 
 hard-hearted as to separate them. What do you offer ? say 
 it! Start them ; don't be bashful, gentlemen !" 
 
 " Rather cool for a hard-faced nigger-seller! Well, squire, 
 say four hundred dollars and the treats, that is, s'posin' ye 
 don't double my bid cos I isn't a deacon. Wants the boy 
 t' make a general on when he grows up ; don't want the 
 gal at all. Let the deacon here (he points to the man who 
 was seen whispering to Graspum) have her, if he wants." 
 The deacon, as Romescos calls him, edges his way through 
 the crowd up to the stand, and looks first at the vender 
 and then at the children. Turning his head aside, as if it 
 may catch the ears of several bystanders, Romescos whispers, 
 "That's deacon Staggers, from Pineville." 
 
 "Like your bid; but I'm frank enough to say I don't 
 want you to have them, Romescos," interposes the 
 auctioneer^ with a smile. 
 
 " Four hundred and fifty dollars!" is sounded by a second 
 bidder. The vender enquires, "For the two?" 
 
 " Yes ! the pair on 'em," is the quick reply. 
 
 " Four hundred and fifty dollars!" re-echoes the man of 
 feeling. " What good democrats you are ! Why, gentle 
 men, it's not half the value of them. Tou must look upon 
 this property in a social light ; then you will see its 
 immense value. It's intelligent, civil, and promisingly 
 handsome ; sold for no fault, and here you are hesitating 
 on a small bid. 
 
 " Only four hundred and fifty dollars for such property, in 
 this enlightened nineteenth century !" 
 
 " Trade will out, like murder. Squii'e wouldn't sell 'em 
 to nobody but a deacon a few minutes ago !" is heard coming 
 from a voice in the crowd. The vender again pauses, blushes, 
 and contorts his face : he cannot suppress the zest of his 
 profession ; it is uppermost in his feelings. 
 
 Romescos says it is one of the squire's unconscious mis 
 takes. There is no use of humbugging ; why not let them 
 run off to the highest bidder ? 
 
 " The deacon has bid upon them ; why not continue his 
 advance ?" says Mr. Seabrook, who has been smoking his 
 cigar the while. 
 
 " Oh, well ! seein' how it's the deacon, I won't stand agin 
 his bid. It's Deacon Staggers of Pineville ; nobody doubts
 
 836 JTATTJEE SHAMES ITSELF. 
 
 his generosity," ejaculates Romescos, in a growling tone. 
 The bids quicken, soon reach six hundred dollars. 
 
 " Getting up pretty well, gentlemen ! You must not 
 estimate this property upon their age : it's the likeliness 
 and the promise." 
 
 " Six hundred and twenty-five !" mutters the strange gen 
 tleman they call Deacon Staggers from Pineville. 
 
 " All right," rejoins Romescos ; "just the man what 
 ought to have 'em. I motion every other bidder withdraw in 
 deference to the deacon's claim," rejoins Romescos, laughing. 
 
 The clever vender gets down from the stand, views 
 the young property from every advantageous angle, 
 dwells upon the bid, makes further comments on its choice- 
 ness, and after considerable bantering, knocks them down 
 
 to "What name, sir?" he enquires, staring at the 
 
 stranger vacantly. 
 
 " Deacon Staggers," replies the man, with a broad grin. 
 Romescos motions him aside, slips a piece of gold into his 
 hand ; it is the price of his pretensions. 
 
 The clerk enters his name in the sales book : " Deacon 
 Staggers, of Pineville, bought May 18th, 18 
 
 " Two children, very likely : boy, prime child, darkish hair, 
 round figure, intelligent face, not downcast, and well outlined 
 in limb. Girl, very pretty, bluish eyes, flaxen hair, very 
 fair and very delicate. Price 625 dollars. Property of 
 Hugh Marston, and sold per order of the sheriff of the 
 county, to satisfy two fi fas issued from the Court of 
 Common Pleas, &c. &c. &c." 
 
 An attendant now steps forward, takes the children into 
 his charge, and leads them away. To where ? The reader 
 may surmise to the gaol. No, reader, not to the gaol ; to 
 Marco Graspum's slave-pen, to that pent-up hell where 
 the living are tortured unto death, and where yearning souls 
 are sold to sink ! 
 
 Thus are the beauties of this our democratic system illus 
 trated in two innocent children being consigned to the 
 miseries of slave life because a mother is supposed a slave : 
 a father has acknowledged them, and yet they are sold 
 before his eyes. It is the majesty of slave law, before which 
 good men prostrate their love of independence. Democracy 
 says the majesty of that law must be carried out ; creditors 
 must be satisfied, even though all that is generous and
 
 NATURE SHAMES ITSELF. 337 
 
 noble in man should be crushed out, and the rights of free 
 men consigned to oblivion. A stout arm may yet rise up in 
 a good cause ; democrats may stand ashamed of the inhuman 
 traffic, and seek to cover its poisoning head with artifices 
 and pretences ; but they write only an obituary for the curse. 
 " A quaint-faced, good-looking country deacon has bought 
 them. Very good ; I can now go home, and relieve Mrs. 
 Rosebrook's very generous feelings," says the very distin 
 guished Mr. Seabrook, shrugging his shoulders, lighting a 
 fresh cigar, and turning toward home with a deliberate step, 
 full of good tidings.
 
 CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH HAS PAST. 
 
 MB. SEABROOK returns to the mansion, and consoles the 
 anxious lady by assuring her the children have been saved 
 from the hands of obnoxious traders sold to a good, country 
 deacon. He was so delighted with their appearance that he 
 could not keep from admiring them, and does not wonder the 
 good lady took so great an interest in their welfare. He 
 knows the ministerial-looking gentleman who bought them 
 is a kind master ; he has an acute knowledge of human 
 nature, and judges from his looks. And he will further 
 assure the good lady that the auctioneer proved himself a 
 gentleman every inch of him ! He wouldn't take a single 
 bid from a trader, not even from old Graspum (he dreads to 
 come in contact with such a brute as he is, when he gets his 
 eye on a good piece o' nigger property), with all his money. 
 As soon as he heard the name of a deacon among the bidders, 
 something in his heart forbade his bidding against him. 
 
 " You were not as good as your word, Mr. Seabrook," 
 says the good lady, still holding Mr. Seabrook by the hand. 
 " But, are you sure there was no disguise about the sale ?" 
 " Not the least, madam !" interrupts Mr. Seabrook, 
 emphatically. " Bless me, madam, our people are too sen 
 sitive not to detect anything of that kind ; and too generous 
 to allow it if they did discover it. The children my heart 
 feels for them are in the very best hands ; will be brought 
 up just as pious and morally. Can't go astray in the hands of 
 a deacon that's certain !" Mr. Seabrook rubs his hands, 
 twists his fingers in various ways, and gives utterance to 
 words of consolation, most blandly. The anxious lady seems 
 disappointed, but is forced to accept the assurance. 
 
 We need scarcely tell the reader how intentionally Mr. 
 Seabrook contented himself with the deception practised at 
 the mart, nor with what freedom he made use of that blandest 
 essence of southern assurance, extreme politeness, to deceive 
 the lady. She, however, had long been laudably engaged in
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 339 
 
 behalf of a down-trodden race ; and her knowledge of the 
 secret workings of an institution which could only cover its 
 monstrosity with sophistry and fraud impressed her with 
 the idea of some deception having been practised. She well 
 knew that Mr. Seabrook was one of those very contented 
 gentlemen who have strong faith in the present, and are 
 willing to sacrifice the future, if peace and plenty be secured 
 to their hands. He had many times been known to listen to 
 the advice of his confidential slaves, and even to yield to 
 their caprices. And, too, he had been known to decry the 
 ill-treatment of slaves by brutal and inconsiderate masters ; 
 but he never thinks it worth while to go beyond expressing 
 a sort of rain-water sympathy for the maltreated. With 
 those traits most prominent in his character, Annette and 
 Nicholas were to him mere merchandise ; and whatever 
 claims to freedom they might have, through the acknow 
 ledgments of a father, he could give them no consideration, 
 inasmuch as the law was paramount, and the great con 
 servator of the south. 
 
 Our worthy benefactress felt the force of the above, in his 
 reluctance to execute her commands, and the manner in 
 which he faltered when questioned about the purchase. 
 Returning to her home, weighing the circumstances, she re 
 solves to devise some method of ascertaining the true posi 
 tion of the children. "Women are not to be outdone," she 
 says to herself. 
 
 We must again beg the reader's indulgence while accompa 
 nying us in a retrograde necessary to the connection 
 of our narrative. W T hen we left Mr. M'Padden at the 
 crossing, more than two years ago, he was labouring under the 
 excitement of a wound he greatly feared would close the 
 account of his mortal speculations. 
 
 On the morning following that great political gathering, 
 and during the night Harry had so singularly disappeared, 
 the tavern was rife with conjectures. On the piazza and 
 about the "bar- room" were a few stupefied and half-insensible 
 figures stretched upon benches, or reclining in chairs, their 
 coarse garments rent into tatters, and their besotted faces 
 resembling as many florid masks grouped together to repre 
 sent some demoniacal scene among the infernals ; others 
 were sleeping soundly beside the tables, or on the lawn. 
 With filthy limbs bared, they snored with painful discord,
 
 340 THE VISION OB DEATH IS PAST. 
 
 in superlative contempt of everything around. Another 
 party, reeking with the fumes of that poisonous drug 
 upon which candidates for a people's favours had built their 
 high expectations, were leaning carelessly against the rude 
 counter of the " bar-room," casting wistful glances at the 
 fascinating bottles so securely locked within the lattice-work 
 in the corner. Oaths of touching horror are mingling with 
 loud calls for slave attendants , whose presence they wait 
 to quench their burning thirst. Reader ! digest the moral. 
 In this human menagerie in this sink of besotted degrada 
 tion lay the nucleus of a power by which the greatest 
 interests of state are controlled. 
 
 A bedusted party of mounted men have returned from a 
 second ineffectual attempt to recover the lost preacher: 
 the appearance of responsibility haunts mine host. He 
 assured Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden that his property would 
 be perfectly secure under the lock of the corn-shed. And 
 now his anxiety exhibits itself in the readiness with which 
 he supplies dogs, horses, guns, and such implements as are 
 necessary to hunt down an unfortunate minister of the 
 gospel. What makes the whole thing worse, was the report 
 of M'Faclden having had a good sleep and awaking much 
 more comfortable ; that there was little chance of the for 
 tunate issue of his death. In this, mine host saw the liabi 
 lity increasing two-fold. 
 
 He stands his important person, (hat off, face red with 
 expectancy, and hands thrust well down into his breeches 
 pocket), on the top step of the stairs leading to the veranda, 
 and hears the unfavourable report with sad discomfiture. 
 " That's what comes of making a preacher of a slave ! 
 Well ! I've done all I can. It puts all kinds of deviltry 
 about runnin' away into their heads," he ventures to assert, 
 as he turns away, re-enters the " bar-room," and invites all 
 his friends to drink at his expense. 
 
 "Mark what I say, now, Squire Jones. The quickest 
 way to catch that ar' nigger 's just to lay low and keep 
 whist. He's a pious nigger ; and a nigger can't keep his 
 pious a'tween his teeth, no more nor a blackbird can his 
 chattering. The feller '11 feel as if he wants to redeem 
 somebody ; and seein how 'tis so, if ye just watch close 
 eoine Sunday ye'll nab the fellow with his own pious bait. 
 Oan catch a pious runaway nigger 'most any time ; the
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 341 
 
 brute never knows enough to keep it to himself," says a 
 flashily dressed gent, as he leaned against the counter, 
 squinted his eye with an air of ponderous satisfaction, and 
 twirled his tumbler round and round on the counter. " 'Pears 
 to me," he continues, quizzically, " Squire, you've got a lot o' 
 mixed cracker material here what it '11 be a hard manufactor 
 to make dependable voters on 'lection day:" he casts a look 
 at the medley of sleepers. 
 
 " I wish the whole pack on 'em was sold into slavery, I 
 do ! They form six- tenths of the voters in our state, and 
 are more ignorant, and a great deal worse citizens, than our 
 slaves. Bl 'em, there isn't one in fifty can read or write, 
 and they're impudenter than the Governor." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! squire. 'Twon't do to talk so. There 
 ain't men nowhere stand on dignity like them fellers ; they 
 are the very bone-and-siners of the unwashed, hard-fisted 
 democracy. The way they'd pull this old tavern down, if 
 they heard reflections on their honour, would be .a caution 
 to storms. But how 's old iron-sided M'Fadden this morning ? 
 Begins to think of his niggers, I reckon," interrupts the 
 gent ; to which mine host shakes his head, despondingly. 
 Mine host wishes MTadden, nigger, candidates and all, a 
 very long distance from his place. 
 
 " I s'pose he thinks old Death, with his grim visage, ain't 
 going to call for him just now. That's oilers the way 
 with uortheners, who lives atween the hope of something 
 above, and the love of makin money below : they never 
 feel bad about the conscience until old Davy Jones, Esq. 
 the gentleman with the horns and tail, takes them by the 
 nose, and says come!" 
 
 " I have struck an idea," says our worthy host, suddenly 
 striking his hand on the counter. " I will put up a poster. 
 I will offer a big reward. T'other property's all safe; 
 there's only the preacher missing." 
 
 " Just the strike ! Give us yer hand, squire !" The gent 
 reaches his hand across the counter, and smiles while cor 
 dially embracing mine host. " Make the reward about two 
 hundred, so I can make a good week's work for the dogs and 
 me. Got the best pack in the parish ; one on 'em knows as 
 much as most clergymen, he does !" he very deliberately 
 concludes, displaying a wonderful opinion of his own nigger- 
 catching philosophy.
 
 342 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 
 
 And Mr. Jones, such is mine host's name, immediately 
 commenced exercising his skill in composition on a large 
 poster, which with a good hour's labour he completes, and 
 posts upon the ceiling of the " bar-room," just below an 
 enormously illustrated Circus bill. 
 
 " There ! now 's a chance of some enterprise and some 
 sense. There's a deuced nice sum to be made at that !" 
 says Mr. Jones, emphatically, as lie stands a few steps back, 
 and reads aloud the following sublime outline of his genius: 
 
 " G-BEAT INDUCEMENT FOR SPOBTSHEN. 
 Two Hundred Dollars Reward. 
 
 The above reward will be given- anybody for the appre 
 hension of the nigger-boy, Harry, the property of 
 Mr. M'Fadden. Said Harry suddenly disappeared 
 from these premises last night, while his master was 
 supposed to be dying. The boy's a well-developed 
 nigger, 'ant sassy, got fine bold head and round face, 
 and intelligent eye, and 's about five feet eleven inches 
 high, and equally proportionate elsewhere. He 's much 
 giv'n to preachiu', and most likely is secreted in some of 
 the surrounding swamps, where he will remain until 
 tempted to make his appearance on some plantation for 
 the purpose of exortin his feller niggers. He is well 
 disposed, and is said to have a good disposition, so that 
 no person need fear to approach him for capture. The 
 above reward will be paid upon his delivery at any gaol 
 in the State, and a hundred and fifty dollars if delivered 
 at any gaol out of the State. 
 
 " JETHEO JONES." 
 
 "Just the instrument to bring him, Jethro!" intimates 
 our fashionable gent, quizzically, as he stands a few feet 
 behind Mr. Jones, making grimaces. Then, gazing intently 
 at the bill for some minutes, he runs his hands deep into 
 his pockets, affects an air of greatest satisfaction, and com 
 mences whistling a tune to aid in suppressing a smile that is 
 invading his countenance. " Wouldn't be in that nigger's 
 skin lor a thousand or more dollars, I wouldn't!" he con 
 tinues, screeching in the loudest manner, and then shaking, 
 kicking, and rousing the half-animate occupants of the floor
 
 THE VISION OP DEATH IS PAST. 343 
 
 and benches. " Coifle ! get up here ! Prize money ahead ! 
 Fine fun for a week. Prize money ahead ! wake up, ye jolly 
 sleepers, loyal citizens, independent voters wake up, I say. 
 Here's fun and frolic, plenty of whiskey, and two hundred 
 dollars reward for every mother's son of ye what wants to 
 hunt a nigger ; and he's a preachin nigger at that ! Come ; 
 whose in for the frolic, ye hard-faced democracy that love 
 to vote for your country's good and a good cause ?" After 
 exerting himself for some time, they begin to scramble up 
 like so many bewildered spectres of blackness, troubled to get 
 light through the means of their blurred faculties. 
 
 " Who's dragging the life out o' me ?" exclaims one, 
 straining his mottled eyes, extending his wearied limbs, 
 gasping as if for breath ; then staggering to the counter. 
 Finally, after much struggling, staggering, expressing con 
 sternation, obscene jeering, blasphemous oaths and filthy 
 slang, they stand upright, and huddle around the notice. 
 The picture presented by their ragged garments, their woe 
 begone faces, and their drenched faculties, would, indeed, be 
 difficult to transfer to canvas. 
 
 " Now, stare ! stare ! with all yer fire-stained eyes, ye 
 clan of motley vagrants ye sovereign citizens of a sovereign 
 state. Two hundred dollars ! aye, two hundred dollars for 
 ye. Make plenty o' work for yer dogs ; knowin brutes they 
 are. And ye'll get whiskey enough to last the whole 
 district more nor a year," says our worthy Jones, standing 
 before them, and pointing his finger at the notice. They, aa 
 if doubting their own perceptibilities, draw nearer and 
 nearer, straining their eyes, while their bodies oscillate against 
 each other. 
 
 Mine host tells them to consider the matter, and be pre- 
 paredfor action, while he will proceed to M'Fadden's chamber 
 and learn the state of his health. 
 
 He opens the sick man's chamber, and there, to his 
 surprise, is the invalid gentleman, deliberately taking his 
 tea and toast. Mine host congratulates him upon his 
 appearance, extends his hand, takes a seat by his bed-side. 
 " 1 had fearful apprehensions about you, my friend,' ' 
 he says. 
 
 " So had I about myself. I thought I was going to slip 
 it in right earnest. My thoughts and feelins how they wan 
 dered !" M'Fadden raises his hand to his forehead, and slowly
 
 344 THE VISION or DEATH is PAST. 
 
 shakes his head. " I would'nt a' given*much for the chances, 
 at one time ; but the wound isn't so bad, after all. My 
 nigger property gets along all straight, I suppose ?" He 
 enquires, coolly, rolling his eyes upwards with a look of 
 serious reflection. " Boy preacher never returned last 
 night. It's all right, though, I suppose ?" again he enquired, 
 looking mine host right iu the eye, as if he discovered some 
 misgiving. His seriousness soon begins to give place te 
 anxiety. 
 
 " That boy was a bad nigger," says mine host, in a half- 
 whisper ; " but you must not let your property worry you, 
 my friend." 
 
 " Bad nigger !" interrupts the invalid. Mine host pauses 
 for a moment, while MTadden sets his eyes upon him with 
 a piercing stare. 
 
 " Not been cutting up nigger tricks ?" he ejaculates, 
 enquiringly, about to spring from his couch with his usual 
 nimbleness. Mine host places his left hand upon his 
 shoulder, and assures him there is no cause of alarm. 
 
 " Tell me if any thing's wrong about my property. Now 
 do, be candid :" his eyes roll, anxiously. 
 
 " All right except the preacher ; he's run away," r:,ine 
 host answers, suggesting how much better it will be to take 
 the matter cool, as he is sure to be captured. 
 
 " What ! who how ? you don't say ! My very choicest 
 piece of property. Well well ! who will believe in religion, 
 after that ? He came to my sick chamber, the black 
 vagabond did, and prayed as piously as a white man. And 
 it went right to my heart ; and I felt that if I died itrwould 
 a' been the means o' savin my soul from all sorts of things 
 infernal," says the recovering H'Fadden. He, the black 
 preacher, is only a nigger after all ; and his owner will have 
 him back, or he'll have his black hide that he will ! The 
 sick man makes another effort to rise, but is calmed into 
 resignation through mine host's further assurance that the 
 property will be " all right" by the time he gets well. 
 
 " How cunning it was in the black vagrant ! I shouldn't 
 be a bit surprised if he cleared straight for Massachusetts 
 Massachusetts hates our State. Her abolitionists will 
 ruin us yet, sufe as the world. We men of the South 
 must do something on a grand scale to protect our rights 
 and our property. The merchants of the North will help
 
 THE VISION OF DKATH IS PAST. 345 
 
 us ; they are all interested in slave labour. Cotton is king ; 
 and cotton can rule, if it will. Cotton can make friendship 
 strong, and political power great. 
 
 " There's my cousin John, ye see ; he lives north, but is 
 married to a woman south. He got her with seventeen 
 mules and twenty-three niggers. And there's brother 
 Jake's daughter was married to a planter out south what 
 owns lots o' niggers. And there's good old uncle llichard ; 
 he traded a long time with down south folks, made heaps a 
 money tradin niggers in a sly way, and never heard a word 
 said about slavery not being right, that lie did'nt get 
 into a deuce of a fuss, and feel like fightin? Two of 
 Simon Wattler's gals were married down south, and all 
 the family connections became down-south in prin 
 ciple. And here's Judge Brooks out here, the very best 
 down-south Judge on the bench ; he come from cousin 
 Ephraim's' neighbourhood, down east. It's just this way 
 things is snarled up a'tween us and them ar' fellers down 
 New England way. It keeps up the strength of our 
 peculiar institution, though. And southern Editors ! just look 
 at them ; why, Lord love yer soul ! two thirds on' em are 
 imported from down-north way ; and they make the very 
 best southern-principled men. I thought of that last night, 
 when Mr. Jones with the horns looked as if he would go 
 with him. But, I'll have that preachin vagrant, I'll have 
 him !" says Mr. M'Padden, emphatically, seeming much 
 more at rest about his departing affairs. As the shadows of 
 death fade from his sight into their proper distance, 
 worldly figures and property justice resume their wonted 
 possession of his thoughts. 
 
 Again, as if suddenly seized with pain, he contorts his face, 
 and enquires in a half-whisper " What if this wound 
 should mortify ? would death follow quickly ? I'm dubious 
 yet!" 
 
 Mine host approaches nearer his bed-side, takes his hand. 
 M'Fadden, with much apparent meekness, would know 
 what he thought of his case ? 
 
 He is assured by the kind gentleman that he is entirely 
 out of danger worth a whole parish of dead men. At the 
 same time, mine host insinuates that he will never do to fight 
 duels until he learns to die fashionably. 
 
 IVL'Eadden smiles, remembers how many men have been
 
 846 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 
 
 nearly killed and yet escaped the undertaker , seems to have 
 regained strength, and calls for a glass of whiskey and 
 water. Not too strong! but, reminding mine Lost of the 
 excellent quality of his bitters, he suggests that a little may 
 better his case. 
 
 "I didn't mean the wound," resuming his anxiety for 
 the lost preacher : " I meant the case of the runaway ?" 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! bless me ! he will forget he is a runaway piece 
 of property in his anxiousness to put forth his spiritual 
 inclinations. That's what'li betray the scamp ; nigger will 
 be nigger, you know ! They can't play the lawyer, nohow," 
 mine host replies, with an assurance of his ability to judge 
 negro character. This is a new idea, coming like the dew- 
 drops of heaven to relieve his anxiety. The consoling 
 intelligence makes him feel more comfortable. 
 
 The whiskey-and-bitters mostunpoetic drink isbrought 
 to his bed-side. He tremblingly carries it to his lips, sips 
 and sips ; then, with one gulp, empties the glass. At this 
 moment the pedantic physician makes his appearance, scents 
 the whiskey, gives a favourable opinion of its application 
 as a remedy in certain cases. The prescription is not a 
 bad one. Climate, and such a rusty constitution as Mr. 
 M'Fadden is blest with, renders a little stimulant very 
 necessary to keep up the one thing needful courage ! 
 The patient complins bitterly to the man of pills and 
 powders ; tells a great many things about pains and fears. 
 What a dreadful thing if the consequence had proved fatal ! 
 He further thinks that it was by the merest act of Pro 
 vidence, in such a desperate affray, he had not been killed 
 outright. A great many bad visions have haunted him in 
 his dreams, and he is very desirous of knowing what the man 
 of salts and senna thinks about the true interpretation of 
 such. About the time he was dreaming such dreams he 
 was extremely anxious to know how the spiritual character 
 of slave-holders stood on the records of heaven, and 
 whether the fact of slave-owning would cause the 
 insertion of an item in the mortal warrant forming the 
 exception to a peaceful conclusion with the Father's for 
 giveness. He felt as if he would surely die during the 
 night past, and his mind became so abstracted about what 
 he had done in his life, what was to come, how negro 
 property had been treated, how it should be treated, that,
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 347 
 
 although he had opinions now and then widely different, it 
 had left a problem which would take him all his life-time to 
 solve, if he should live ever so long. And, too, there were 
 these poor wretches accidentally shot down at his side ; his 
 feelings couldn't withstand the ghostly appearance of their 
 corpses as he was carried past them, perhaps to be buried 
 in the same forlorn grave, the very next day. All these 
 things reflected their results through the morbidity of Mr. 
 M'Fadden' s mind ; but his last observation, showing how 
 slender is the cord between life and death, proved what 
 was uppermost in his mind. " You'll allow I'm an honest 
 man ? I have great faith in your opinion, Doctor ! And if 
 I have been rather go-ahead with my niggers, my virtue in 
 business matters can't be sprung," he mutters. The phy 
 sician endeavours to calm his anxiety, by telling him he is 
 a perfect model of goodness, a just, honest, fearless, and 
 enterprising planter j and that thase attributes of our better 
 nature constitute such a balance in the scale as will give 
 any gentleman slaveholder very large claims to that spiritual 
 proficiency necessary for the world to come. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden acquiesces in the correctness of this 
 remark, but desires to inform the practitioner what a sad 
 loss he has met with. He is sure the gentleman will 
 scarcely believe his word when he tells him what it is. " I 
 saw how ye felt downright affected when that nigger o' mine 
 prayed with so much that seemed like honesty and Chris 
 tianity, last night," he says. 
 
 "Yes," interrupts the man of medicine, "he was a 
 wonderful nigger that. I never heard such natural eloquence 
 nor such pathos ; he is a wonder among niggers, he is ! 
 JExtraordinary fellow for one raised up on a plantation. 
 Pity, almost, that such a clergyman should be a slave." 
 
 " You don't say so, Doctor, do you ? "Well ! I've lost him 
 just when I wanted him most." 
 
 "He is not dead ?" enquires the physician, suddenly 
 interrupting. He had seen Mr. M'Fadden's courage fail at 
 the approach of death, and again recover quickly when the 
 distance widened between that monitor and himself, and 
 could not suppress the smile stealing over his countenance. 
 
 " Dead ! no indeed. Worse he has run away !" Mr. 
 M'Fadden quickly retorted, clenching his right hand, and 
 scowling. In another minute he turns back the sheets, and,
 
 848 THE TISTON OF DEATH IS PAST. 
 
 with returned strength, makes a successful attempt to sit 
 up in bed. "I dcm't know whether I'm better or worse; 
 but I think it would be all right if I warn't worried so 
 much about the loss of that preacher. I paid a tremendous 
 sum for him. And the worst of it is, my cousin deacon 
 Stoner, of a down-east church, holds a mortgage on my 
 nigger stock, and he may feel streaked when he hears of the 
 loss ;" Mr. MTadden concludes, holding his side to the 
 physician, who commences examining the wound, which the 
 enfeebled man says is very sore and must be dressed 
 cautiously, so that he may be enabled to get out and see to 
 his property. 
 
 To the great surprise of all, the wound turns out to be 
 merely a slight cut, with no appearance of inflammation, 
 and every prospect of being cured through a further appli 
 cation of a very small bit of dressing plaster. 
 
 The physician smiled, mine host smiled ; it was impossible 
 to suppress the risible faculties. The poor invalid is 
 overpowered with disappointment. His imagination had 
 betrayed him into one of those desperate, fearful, and 
 indubitable brinks of death, upon which it seems the first law 
 of nature reminds us what is necessary to die by. They 
 laughed, and laughed, and laughed, till Mr. M'Fadden 
 suddenly changed countenance, and said it was no laughing 
 affair, such things were not to be trifled with ; men should 
 be thinking of more important matters. And he looked at 
 the wound, run his fingers over it gently, and rubbed it as 
 if doubting the depth. 
 
 " A little more whiskey would'nt hurt me, Doctor?" he 
 enquires, complacently, looking round the room distrustfully 
 at those who were enjoying the joke, more at his expense 
 than he held to be in accordance with strict rules of etiquette. 
 
 " I'll admit, my worthy citizen, your case seemed to baffle 
 my skill, last night," the physician replies, jocosely. " Had I 
 taken your political enthusiasm into consideration, and 
 your readiness to instruct an assemblage in the holy demo 
 cracy of our south, and your hopes of making strong 
 draughts do strong political work, I might have saved my 
 opiate, and administered to your case more in accordance 
 with the skilfully administered prescriptions of our poli 
 ticians. Notwithstanding, I am glad you are all right, and 
 trust that whenever you get your enthusiasm fired with
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 349 
 
 bad brandy, or the candidates' bad whiskey, you will not tax 
 other people's feelings with your own dying affairs ; nor 
 send for a ' nigger' preacher to redeem your soul, who will 
 run away when he thinks the job completed." 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden seemed not to comprehend the nature of 
 his physician's language, and after a few minutes pause 
 he must needs enquire about the weather ? if a coroner's 
 inquest has been held over the dead men ? what was its 
 decision ? was there any decision at all ? and have they been 
 buried ? Satisfied on all these points, he gets up, himself 
 again, complaining only of a little muddled giddiness about 
 the head, and a hip so sore that he scarcely could reconcile 
 his mind to place confidence in it. 
 
 "Good by! good by !" says the physician, shaking him 
 by the hand. " Measure the stimulant carefully ; and take 
 good care of dumplin depot No. 1, and you'll be all right 
 very soon. You're a good democrat, and you'll make as good 
 a stump orator as ever took the field." 
 
 The man of medicine, laughing heartily within himself, 
 descends the stairs and reaches the bar-room, where are 
 concentrated sundry of the party we have before described. 
 They make anxious enquiries about Mr. M'Fadden, how 
 he seemed to " take it ;" did he evince want of pluck ? had 
 he courage enough to fight a duel ? and could his vote be 
 taken afore he died ? These, and many other questions of 
 a like nature, were put to the physician so fast, and with 
 so many invitations to drink " somethin'," that he gave a 
 sweeping answer by saying Mac had been more frightened 
 than hurt ; that the fear of death having passed from 
 before his eyes his mind had now centered on the loss of his 
 nigger preacher a valuable piece of property that had cost 
 him no less than fifteen hundred dollars. And the worst of it 
 was, that the nigger had aggravatingly prayed for him when 
 he thought he was going to sink out into the arms of 
 father death. 
 
 So pressing were the invitations to drink, that our man 
 of medicine advanced to the counter, like a true gentleman 
 of the south, and with his glass filled with an aristocratic 
 mixture, made one of his politest bows, toasted the health 
 of all free citizens, adding his hope for the success of the 
 favourite candidate. 
 
 " Drink it with three cheers, standin' !" shouted a formi-
 
 350 THE VISION or DEATH is PAST. 
 
 dably -mustached figure, leaning against the counter with 
 his left hand, while his right was grasping the jug from 
 which he was attempting in vain to water his whiskey. To 
 this the physic gentleman bows assent ; and they are 
 given to the very echo. Taking his departure for the city, 
 as the sounds of cheering die away, he emerged from 
 the front door, as Mr. MTadden, unexpectedly as a 
 ghost rising from the tomb, made his entrance from the old 
 staircasein the back. The citizens forof suchis our assembly 
 composed are astonished and perplexed. " Such a set of 
 scapegoats as you are I" grumbles out the debutant, as he 
 stands before them like a disentombed spectre. "With open 
 arms they approach him, congratulate him on his recovery, 
 and shower upon him many good wishes, and long and 
 strong drinks. 
 
 A few drinks more, and our hero is quite satisfied with 
 his welcome. His desire being intimated, mine host 
 conducts himself to the corn-shed, where he satisfies 
 himself that his faithful property (the preacher excepted) 
 is all snugly safe. Happy property in the hands of a pro 
 digious democrat ! happy republicanism that makes freedom 
 but a privilege ! that makes a mockery of itself, and enslaves 
 the noblest blood of noble freemen ! They were happy, the 
 victims of ignorance, contented with the freedom their 
 country had given them, bowing beneath the enslaving yoke 
 of justice-boasting democracy, and ready to be sold and 
 shipped, with an invoice of freight, at the beckon of 
 an owner. 
 
 Mr. M'Fadden questions the people concerning Harry's 
 departure ; but they are as ignorant of his whereabouts as 
 himself. They only remember that he came to the shed at 
 midnight, whispered some words of consolation, and of his 
 plain fare gave them to eat ; nothing more. 
 
 " Poor recompense for my goodness !" says Mr. M'Fadden, 
 muttering some indistinct words as he returns to the tavern, 
 followed by a humorous negro, making grimaces in satisfac 
 tion of " mas'r's " disappointment Now friends are gathered 
 together, chuckling in great glee over the large reward 
 offered for the lost parson, for the capture of which abscond 
 ing article they have numerous horses, dogs, confidential 
 negroes, and a large supply of whiskey, with which very 
 necessary liquid they will themselves become dogs of one
 
 THE VISION OF DEATH IS PAST. 351 
 
 kine. The game to be played is purely a democratic one ; hence 
 the clansmen are ready to loosen their souls' love for the ser 
 vice. M'Fadden never before witnessed such satisfactory proofs 
 of his popularity ; his tenderest emotions are excited ; he can 
 not express the fullness of his heart ; he bows, puts his hand to 
 his heart, orders the balance of his invoice sent to his plantation, 
 mounts his horse, and rides off at full gallop, followed by his 
 friends.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 
 
 THE reader will again accompany us to the time when we find 
 Annette and Nicholas in the hands of Graspum, who will nurture 
 them for their increasing value. 
 
 Merciless creditors have driven Marston from that home 
 of so many happy and hospitable associations, to seek 
 shelter in the obscure and humble chamber of a wretched 
 building in the outskirts of the city. Fortune can afford 
 him but a small cot, two or three broken chairs, an ordinary 
 deal table, a large chest, which stands near the fire-place, 
 and a dressing-stand, for furniture. Here, obscured from 
 the society he had so long mingled with, he spends most of 
 his time, seldom venturing in public lest he may encounter 
 those indomitable gentlemen who would seem to love the 
 following misfortune into its last stage of distress. His 
 worst enemy, however, is that source of his misfortunes 
 he cannot disclose ; over it hangs the mystery he must not 
 solve ! It enshrines him with guilt before public opinion ; 
 by it his integrity lies dead ; it is that which gives to mother 
 rumour the weapons with which to wield her keenest 
 slanders. 
 
 Having seized Marston's real estate, Graspum had no 
 scruples about swearing to the equity of his claim ; nor 
 were any of the creditors willing to challenge an investiga 
 tion ; and thus, through fear of such a formidable abettor, 
 Marston laboured under the strongest, and perhaps the 
 most unjust imputations. But there was no limit to 
 Graspum' s mercenary proceedings ; for beyond involving 
 Marston through Lorenzo, he had secretly purchased many 
 claims of the creditors, and secured his money by a dexte 
 rous movement, with which he reduced the innocent children 
 to slavery. 
 
 Reports have spread among the professedly knowing that 
 Marston can never have made away with all his property in 
 BO few years. And the manner being so invisible, the
 
 A FEIEND IS WOilAlf. 653 
 
 charge becomes stronger. Thus, labouring between the pain of 
 misfortune and the want of means to resent suspicion, his 
 cheerless chamber is all he can now call his home. But he 
 has two good friends left Franconia, and the old negro 
 Bob. Franconia has procured a municipal badge for Daddy; 
 and, through it (disguised) he seeks and obtains work at 
 stowing cotton on the wharfs. His earnings are small, 
 but his soul is large, and erabued 'with attachment for his 
 old master, with whom he will share them. Day by day the 
 old slave seems to share the feelings of his master, to 
 exhibit a solicitous concern for his comfort. Earning his 
 dollars and twenty-five cents a day, he will return when the 
 week has ended, full of exultation, spread out his earnings 
 with childlike simplicity, take thirty cents a day for himself, 
 and slip the remainder into Marston's pocket. How happy 
 he seems, as he watches the changes of Marston's counte 
 nance, and restrains the gushing forth of his feelings ! 
 
 It was on one of those nights upon which Daddy had 
 received his earnings, that Marston sat in his cheerless 
 chamber, crouched over the faint blaze of a few pieces of 
 wood burning on the bricks of his narrow fire-place, con 
 templating the eventful scenes of the few years just passed. 
 The more he contemplated the more it seemed like a dream ; 
 his very head wearied with the interminable maze of his 
 difficulties. Further and further, as he contemplated, did it 
 open to his thoughts the strange social and political mystery 
 of that more strange institution for reducing mankind to 
 the level of brutes. And yet, democracy, apparently honest, 
 held such inviolable and just to its creed; which creed it would 
 defend with a cordon of steel. The dejected gentleman, 
 sighs, rests his head on his left hand, and his elbow on 
 the little table at his side. "Without, the weather is cold 
 and damp ; an incessant rain had pattered upon the roof 
 throughout the day, wild and murky clouds hang their 
 dreary festoons along the heavens, and swift scudding fleeces, 
 driven by fierce, murmuring winds, bespread the prospect 
 with glooni that finds its way into the recesses of the 
 heart. 
 
 "Who is worse than a slave!" sighs the rejected man, 
 getting up and looking out of his window into the dreary 
 recesses of the narrow lane. " If it be not a ruined planter 
 I mistake the policy by which we govern our institution !
 
 354 A FBIENJ> IS WOMAW. 
 
 As the slave is born a subject being, so is the planter a 
 dependent being. "We planters live in disappointment, 
 in fear, in unhappy uncertainty ; and yet we make no pre 
 parations for the result. Nay, we even content ourselves 
 with pleasantly contemplating what may come through the 
 eventful issue of political discord ; and when it comes in 
 earnest, we find ourselves the most hapless of unfortunates. 
 For myself, bereft of all I had once, even friends, I am 
 but a forlorn object in the scale of weak mankind ! No 
 man will trust me with his confidence, scarce one knows 
 me but to harass me ; I can give them no more, and yet I 
 am suspected of having more. It is so, and ever will be 
 so. Such are the phases of man's downfall, that few follow 
 them to the facts, while rumour rules supreme over misfor 
 tune. There may be a fountain of human pain concealed 
 beneath it ; but few extend the hand to stay its quickening. 
 Nay, when all is gone, mammon cries, more ! until body 
 and soul are crushed beneath the " more" of relentless self. 
 
 " Few know the intricacies of our system ; perhaps 'twere 
 well, lest our souls should not be safe within us. But, ah ! 
 my conscience chides me here. And betwixt those feelings 
 which once saw all things right, but now through necessity 
 beholds their grossest wrongs, comes the pain of self-con 
 demnation. It is a condemnation haunting me unto death. 
 Had I been ignorant of Clotilda's history, the fiendish deed 
 of those who wronged her in her childhood had not now 
 hung like a loathsome pestilence around my very garments. 
 That which the heart rebukes cannot be concealed ; but we 
 must be obedient to the will that directs all things ; and if 
 it be that we remain blind in despotism until misfortune 
 opens our eyes, let the cause of the calamity be charged to those 
 it belongs to," he concludes ; and then, after a few minutes' 
 silence, he lights his taper, and sets it upon the table. His 
 care-worn countenance pales with melancholy ; his hair has 
 whitened with tribulation ; his demeanour denotes a man of 
 tender sensibility fast sinking into a physical wreck. A 
 well-soiled book lies on the table, beside which he takes his 
 seat ; he turns its pages over and over carelessly, as if it were 
 an indiiferent amusement to wile away the time. "They 
 cannot enslave affection, nor can they confine it within 
 prison walls," he mutters. He has proof in the faithfulness 
 of Daddy, his old slave. And as he contemplates, the words
 
 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 355 
 
 " she will be more than welcome to-night," escape his lips. 
 Simultaneously a gentle tapping is heard at the door. Slowly 
 it opens, and the figure of an old negro, bearing a basket on 
 his arm, enters. He is followed by the slender and grace 
 ful form of Frariconia, who approaches her uncle, hand 
 extended, salutes him with a kiss, seats herself at his side, 
 says he must not be sad. Then she silently gazes upon him 
 for a few moments, as if touched by his troubles, while the 
 negro,having spread the contents of the basket upon the chest, 
 makes a humble bow, wishes mas'r and missus good night, 
 and withdraws. " There, uncle," she says, laying her hand 
 gently on his arm, " I didn't forget you, did I ?" She 
 couples the word with a smile a smile so sweet, so expres 
 sive of her soul's goodness. " You are dear to me, uncle ; 
 yes, as dear as a father. How could I forget that you have 
 been a father to me ? I have brought these little things to 
 make you comfortable," she points to the edibles on the 
 chest and I wish I were not tied to a slave, uncle, for 
 then I could do more. Twice, since my marriage to 
 M'Carstrow, have I had to protect myself from his ruffian 
 ism." 
 
 "From his ruffianism!" interrupts Marston, quickly: 
 " Can it be, my child, that even a ruffian would dare exhibit 
 his vileness toward you?" 
 
 "Even toward me, uncle. With reluctance I married 
 him, and my only regret is, that a slave's fate bad not been 
 mine ere the fruits of that day fell upon me. Women like 
 me make a feeble defence in the world ; and bad husbands 
 are the shame of their sex," she returns, her eyes bright 
 ening with animation, as she endeavours to calm the excite 
 ment her remarks have given rise to : " Don't, pray don't 
 mind it, uncle," she concludes. 
 
 " Such news had been anticipated ; but I was cautious not 
 to" 
 
 " Never mind," she interrupts, suddenly coiling her deli 
 cate arm round his neck, and impressing a kiss on his care 
 worn cheek. " Let us forget these things ; they are but the 
 fruits of weak nature. It were better to bear up under 
 trouble than yield to trouble's burdens : better far. Who 
 knows but that it is all for the best ?" She rises, and, with 
 seeming cheerfulness, proceeds to spread the little table 
 with the refreshing tokens of her friendship. Yielding to
 
 356 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 
 
 necessity, the table is spread, and they sit down, with an 
 appearance of domestic quietness touchingly humble. 
 
 " There is some pleasure, after all, in having a quiet spot 
 where we can sit down and forget our cares. Perhaps (all 
 said and done) a man may call himself prince of his own 
 garret, when he can forget all beyond it," says Marston, 
 affected to tears by Franconia's womanly resignation. 
 
 " Yes," returns Franconia, joyously, " it's a consolation 
 to know that we have people among us much worse off than 
 we are. I confess, though, I feel uneasy about our old 
 slaves. Slavery's wrong, uncle ; and it's when one's reduced 
 to such extremes as are presented in this uninviting garret 
 that we realise it the more forcibly. It gives the poor 
 wretches no chance of bettering their condition ; and if one 
 exhibits ever so much talent over the other, there is no 
 chance left him to improve it. It is no recompense to the 
 slave that his talent only increases the price of the article 
 to be sold. Look what Harry would have been had he 
 enjoyed freedom. Uncle, we forget our best interests while 
 pondering over the security of a bad system. Would it not 
 be better to cultivate the slave's affections, rather than op 
 press his feelings ?" Franconia has their cause at heart 
 forgets her own. She is far removed from the cold specu 
 lations of the south ; she is free from mercenary motives ; 
 unstained by that principle of logic which recognises only 
 the man merchandise. No will hath she to contrive inge 
 nious apologies for the wrongs inflicted upon a fallen race. 
 Her words spring from the purest sentiment of the soul ; 
 they contain a smarting rebuke of Marston's former mis 
 doings : but he cannot resent it, nor can he turn the tide of 
 his troubles against her noble generosity. 
 
 They had eaten their humble supper of meats and bread, 
 and coffee, when Francouia hears a rap at the lower entrance, 
 leading into the street. Bearing the taper in her hand, she 
 descends the stairs quickly, and, opening the door, recog 
 nises the smiling face of Daddy Bob. Daddy greets her as 
 if he were surcharged with the very best news for old mas'r 
 and missus. He laughs in the exuberance of his simplicity, 
 and, with an air of fondness that would better become a child, 
 says, " Lor', young missus, how glad old Bob is to see ye ! 
 Seems like long time since old man see'd Miss Frankone 
 look so spry. Got dat badge." The old man shows her
 
 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. '357 
 
 his badge, exultingly. " Missus, nobody know whose nigger 
 I'm's, and old Bob arns a right smart heap o' money to make 
 mas'r comfortable." The old slave never for once thinks of 
 his own infirmities ; no, his attachment for master soars 
 above every thing else ; he thinks only in what way he can 
 relieve his necessities. Honest, faithful, and affectionate, 
 the associations of the past are uppermost in his mind ; he 
 forgets his slavery in his love for master and the old plan 
 tation. Readily would he lay down his life, could he, by so 
 doing, lighten the troubles he instinctively sees in the 
 changes of master's position. The old plantation and its 
 people have been sold ; and he, being among the separated 
 from earth's chosen, must save his infirm body lest some 
 man sell him for the worth thereof. Bob's face is white 
 with beard, and his coarse garments are much worn and 
 ragged ; but there is something pleasing in the familiarity 
 with which Franconia accepts his brawny hand. How free 
 from that cold advance, that measured welcome, and that 
 religious indifference, with which the would-be friend of the 
 slave, at the north, too often accepts the black man's 
 hand ! There is something in the fervency with which she 
 shakes his wrinkled hand that speaks of the goodness of the 
 heart ; something that touches the old slave's childlike na 
 ture. He smiles bashfully, and says, " Grlad t' see ye, 
 missus ; dat I is : 'spishilly ven ye takes care on old mas'r." 
 After receiving her salutation he follows her to the chamber, 
 across which he hastens to receive a welcome from old 
 mas'r. Marston warmly receives his hand, and motions him 
 to be seated on the chest near the fire-place. Bob takes 
 his seat, keeping his eye on mas'r the while. " Neber mind, 
 mas'r," he says, " Big Mas'r above be better dan Buckra. 
 Da'h is somefin' what Buckra no sell from ye, dat's a good 
 heart. If old mas'r on'y keeps up he spirit, de Lor' ']! carry 
 un throu' 'e triblation," he continues ; and, after watch 
 ing his master a few minutes, returns to Franconia, and 
 resumes his jargon. 
 
 Franconia is the same fair creature Bob watched over 
 when she visited the plantation : her countenance wears 
 the same air of freshness and frankness ; her words are ot 
 the same gentleness ; she seems as solicitous of his comfort 
 as before. And yet a shadow of sadness shrouds that 
 vivacity which had made her the welcome guest of the
 
 358 A FBIBND IS WOMAN. 
 
 old slaves. He cannot resist those expressions which are 
 ever ready to lisp forth from the negro when his feelings 
 are excited. " Lor, missus, how -old Bob's heart feels ! 
 Hah, ah ! yah, yah ! Looks so good, and reminds old Bob 
 how e' look down on dah Astley, yander. But, dah somefin 
 in dat ar face what make old nigger like I know missus 
 don't feel just right," he exclaims. 
 
 The kind woman reads his thoughts in the glowing 
 simplicity of his wrinkled face. " It has been said that a 
 dog was our last friend, Bob : I now think a slave should 
 have been added. Don't you think so, uncle ?" she 
 enquires, looking at Marston, and, again taking the old 
 slave by the hand, awaits the reply. 
 
 " We rarely appreciate their friendship until it be too 
 late to reward it," he replies, with, an attempt to smile. 
 
 " True, true ! but the world is full of ingratitude, very- 
 amiable ingratitude. Never mind, Daddy ; you must now 
 tell me all about your affairs, and what has happened 
 since the night you surprised me at our house ; and you 
 must tell me how you escaped M'Carstrow on the morning 
 of the disturbance," she enjoins. And while Bob relates 
 his story Eranconia prepares his supper. Some cold ham, 
 bread, and coffee, are soon spread out before him. He will 
 remove them to the chest, near the fire-place. " AVhy, Missus 
 Frankone," Le says, "ye sees how I'se so old now dat 
 nobody tink I'se werf ownin ; and so nobody axes old Bob 
 whose nigger he is. An't prime nigger, now ; but dei) a' 
 good fo' work some, and get cash, so t' help old mas'r 
 yander (Bob points to old master). Likes t' make old master 
 feel not so bad." 
 
 "Yes," rejoins Marston, "Bob's good to me. He makes 
 his sleeping apartments, when he comes, at the foot of my 
 bed, and shares his earnings with me every Saturday night. 
 He's like an old clock that can keep time as well as a new 
 one, only wind it up with care." 
 
 " Dat I is !" says Daddy, with an exulting nod of the 
 head, as he, to his own surprise, lets fall his cup. It was 
 only the negro's forgetfulness in the moment of excitement. 
 Giving a wistful look at Franconia, he commences picking 
 up the pieces, and drawing his week's earnings from a side 
 pocket of his jacket. 
 
 " Eat your supper, Daddy ; never mind your money now.'
 
 A IfEIEND IS WOMAN. 859 
 
 Bays Franconia, laughing heartily: at which Bob regains 
 confidence and resumes his supper, keeping a watchful 
 eye upon iis old master the while. Every now and then he 
 will pauseT cant his ear, and shake his head, as if drinking 
 in the tenour of the conversation between Franconia and her 
 uncle. Having concluded, he pulls out his money and 
 spreads it upon the chest. " Old Bob work hard fo' dat !" 
 he says, with emphasis, spreading a five-dollar bill and two 
 dollars and fifty cents in silver into divisions. " Dah !" he 
 ejaculates, "dat old mas'r share, and dis is dis child's." 
 The old man looks proudly upon the coin, and feels he is 
 not so worthless, after all. " Now ! who say old Bob aint 
 werf nofin?" he concludes, getting up, putting his share 
 into his pocket, and then, as if unobserved, slipping the 
 balance into Marston's. This done, he goes to the window, 
 afi'ectsjto be looking out, and then resuming his seat upon 
 the chest, commences humming a familiar plantation tune, 
 as if his pious feelings had been superseded by the recol 
 lection of past scenes. 
 
 " "What, Daddy, singing songs ?" interrupts Franconia, 
 looking at him enquiringly. He stops as suddenly as he 
 commenced, exchanges an expressive look, and fain would 
 question her sincerity. 
 
 " Didn't mean 'um, missus," he returns, after a moment's 
 hesitation, " didn't mean 'um. Was thinkin 'bout somefin 
 back'ards ; down old plantation times." 
 
 " You had better forget them times, Bob." 
 
 " Buckra won't sell dis old nigger, will he, Miss Fran- 
 kone ?" he enquires, resuming his wonted simplicity. 
 
 " Sell you, Bob ? You're a funny old man. Don't think 
 your old half- worn-out bones are going to save you. Money's 
 the word : they'll sell anything that will produce it, dried 
 up of age are no exceptions. Keep out of Elder Pember- 
 ton Praiseworthy 's way: whenever you hear him singing, 'I 
 know that my Redeemer liveth, and that .he shall come,' 
 as he always does, run ! He lives on the sale of infirmity, 
 and your old age would be a capital thing for the exercise 
 of his genius. He will put you through a course of regene 
 ration, take the wrinkles smooth out of your face, dye 
 those old grey whiskers, and get a profit for his magic 
 power of transposing the age of negro property," she
 
 360 A FBIEITD 18 WOMAN. 
 
 replied, gravely, while Bob stares at her as if doubting his 
 own security. 
 
 " Why, missus !" he interposes, his face glowing with 
 astonishment; "Buekra don't be so smart daF he make 
 old nigger young, be he ?" 
 
 " Traders can do anything with niggers that have got 
 money in them, as they say. Our distinguished people 
 are sensitive of the crime, but excuse themselves with 
 apologies they cannot make cover the shame." 
 
 " Franke !" interrupts Marston, " spare the negro's 
 feelings, it may have a bad effect." He touches her on the 
 arm, and knits his brows in caution. 
 
 "How strange, to think that bad influence could come 
 of such an inoffensive old man ! Truth, I know and feel, is 
 powerfully painful when brought home to the doors of our 
 best people, it cuts deep when told in broad letters ; but 
 they make the matter worse by attempting to enshrine the 
 stains with their chivalry. We are a wondrous people, 
 uncle, and the world is just finding it out, to our shame. 
 We may find it out ourselves, by and by ; perhaps pay the 
 penalty with sorrow. We look upon negroes as if they 
 were dropped down from some unaccountable origin, 
 intended to raise the world's cotton, rice, and sugar, but 
 never to get above the menial sphere we have conditioned 
 for them. Uncle, there is a mistake somewhere, a mistake 
 sadly at variance with our democratic professions. Demo 
 cracy needs to reclaim its all-claiming principles of right 
 and justice for the down-trodden. And yet, while the negro 
 generously submits to serve us, we look upon him as an 
 auspicious innovator, who never could have been born to 
 enjoy manhood, and was subjected to bear a black face 
 because God had marked him for servitude. Did God 
 found an aristocracy of colour, or make men to be governed 
 by their distinctive qualifications of colour relationship ?" 
 says Franconia, her face resuming a flush of agitation. 
 Touching Marston on the arm with the fore-finger of her 
 right hand, and giving a glance at Bob, who listens atten 
 tively to the theme of conversation, she continues : " Say 
 no more of bad influence coming of slaves, when the 
 corruptest examples are set by those who hold them as 
 such, who crush their hopes, blot out their mental
 
 A FEIEND IS WOMA1T. 
 
 361 
 
 faculties, and turn their bodies into licentious merchandise 
 that they may profit by its degradation ! Show me the 
 humblest slave on your plantation, and, in comparison 
 with the slave-dealer, I will prove him a nobleman of God's 
 kind, of God's image : his simple nature will be his clean 
 passport into heaven. The Father of Mercy will receive 
 him there ; he will forgive the crimes enforced upon him by 
 man ; and that dark body on earth will be recompensed in a 
 Avorld of light, it will shine with the brighter spirits of 
 that realm of justice and love. Earth may bring the slave- 
 trader bounties ; but heaven will reject the foul offering." 
 The good woman unfolds the tender emotions of her heart, 
 as only woman can. 
 
 Bob listens, as if taking a deep interest in the force and 
 earnestness of young missus's language. He is swayed by 
 her pathos, and at length interposes his word. 
 
 " Nigger ain't so good as white man (he shakes his head, 
 philosophically). "White man sharp ; puzzle nigger to find 
 out what 'e don, know ven 'e mind t'." Thus saying, he 
 takes a small hymn-book from his pocket, and, Franconia 
 setting the light beside him, commences reading to himself 
 by its dim glare. 
 
 " Well ! now, uncle, it's getting late, and I've a good way 
 to go, and the night's stormy ; so I must prepare for home." 
 Franconia gets up, and evinces signs of withdrawing. She 
 walks across the little chamber three or four times, looks 
 out of the window, strains her sight into the gloomy 
 prospect, and then, as if reluctant to leave her uncle, 
 again takes a seat by his side. Gently laying her left hand 
 upon his shoulder, she makes an effort at pleasantry, tells 
 him to keep up his resolution to be of good cheer. 
 
 " Eemember, uncle," she says, calmly, " they tell us it is 
 no disgrace to be poor, no shame to work to live ; and yet 
 poor people are treated as criminals. For my own part, I 
 would rather be poor and happy than rich with a base 
 husband ; I have lived in New England, know how to 
 appreciate its domestic happiness. It was there Puritanism 
 founded true American liberty. Puritanism yet lives, and 
 may be driven to action ; but we must resign ourselves to 
 the will of an all-wise Providence." Thus concluding, she 
 makes another attempt to withdraw. 
 
 " You must not leave me yet !" says Marston, grasping
 
 362 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 
 
 her hand firmly in his. " ITranke, I cannot part with you 
 until I have disclosed what I have been summoning resolu 
 tion to suppress. I know your attachment, Franconia; you 
 have been more than dear to me. You have known my 
 feelings, what they have already had to undergo." He 
 pauses. 
 
 " Speak it, uncle, speak it ! Keep nothing from me, nor 
 make secrets in fear of my feelings. Speak out, I may re 
 lieve you !" she interrupts, nervously : and again encircling 
 her arm round his neck, waits his reply , in breathless sus- 
 
 He falters for a moment, and then endeavours to regain 
 his usual coolness. "To-morrow, Franconia," he half 
 mutters out, " to-morrow, you may find me not so well 
 situated, (here tears are seen trickling down his cheeks) and 
 in a place where it will not become your delicate nature 
 to visit me." 
 
 "Nay, uncle!" she stops him there; "I will visit you 
 wherever you may be in a castle or a prison." 
 
 The word prison has touched the tender chord upon 
 which all his troubles are strung. He sobs audibly ; but 
 they are only sobs of regret, for which there is no recom 
 pense in this late hour. " And would you follow me to a 
 prison, Franconia ?" he enquires, throwing his arms about 
 her neck, kissing her pure cheek with the fondness of a 
 father. 
 
 " Tea, and share your sorrows within its cold walls. Do 
 not yield to melancholy, uncle, you have friends left : if 
 not, heaven will prepare a place of rest for you ; heaven 
 shields the unfortunate at last," rejoins the good woman, the 
 pearly tears brightening in mutual sympathy. 
 
 " To-morrow, my child, you will find me the unhappy 
 tenant of those walls where man's discomfiture is complete." 
 " Nay, uncle, nay ! you are only allowing your melan 
 choly forebodings to get the better of you. Such men as 
 Graspum .men who have stripped families of their all 
 might take away your property, and leave you as they have 
 left my poor parents ; but no one would be so heartless as to 
 drive you to the extreme of imprisonment. It is a foolish 
 result at best." Franconia' s voice falters ; she looks more 
 and more intently in her uncle's face, struggles to suppress 
 her rising emotions. She knows his frankness, she feels the
 
 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 363 
 
 pain of his position ; but, though the dreadful extreme seems 
 scarcely possible, there is that in his face conveying strong 
 evidence of the truth of his remark. 
 
 " Do not weep, Franconia ; spare your tears for a more 
 worthy object : such trials have been borne by better men 
 than I. I am but the merchandise of rny creditors. 
 There is, however, one thing which haunts me to grief; 
 could I have saved my children, the pain of my position 
 had been slight indeed." 
 
 " Speak not of them, imcle," Franconia interrupts, " you 
 cannot feel the bitterness of their lot more than myself. I 
 have saved a mother, but have failed to execute my plan of 
 saving them ; and my heart throbs with pain when I think 
 that now it is beyond my power. Let me not attempt to 
 again excite in your bosom feelings which must ever be 
 harassing, for the evil only can work its destruction. To 
 clip the poisoning branches and not uproot the succouring 
 trunk, is like casting pearls into the waste of time. My 
 heart will ever be with the destinies of those children, my 
 feelings bound in unison with theirs ; our hopes are the same, 
 and if fortune should smile on me in times to come I will 
 keep my word I will snatch them from the devouring ele 
 ment of slavery." 
 
 " Stop, my child!" speaks Marston, earnestly: " Remember 
 you can do little against the strong arm of the law, and still 
 stronger arm of public opinion. Lay aside your hopes of 
 rescuing those children, Franconia, and remember that while 
 I am in prison I am the property of my creditors, subject to 
 their falsely conceived notions of my affairs," he continues. 
 " I cannot now make amends to the law of nature," 
 he adds, burying his face in his hand, weeping a child's 
 tears. 
 
 Franconia looks solicitously upon her uncle, as he sor 
 rows. She would dry her tears to save his throbbing heart. 
 Her noble generosity and disinterestedness have carried her 
 through many trials since her marriage, but it fails to 
 nerve her longer. Her's is a single-hearted sincerity, dis 
 pensing its goodness for the benefit of the needy ; she 
 suppresses her own troubles that she may administer con 
 solation to others. "The affection that refuses to follow 
 misfortune to its lowest step is weak indeed. If you go 
 24
 
 36-4 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 
 
 to prison, Franconia will follow you there," she says, with 
 touching pathos, her musical voice adding strength to the 
 resolution. Blended with that soft angelic expression her 
 eyes give forth, her calm dignity and inspiring nobleness 
 show how firm is that principle of her nature never to 
 abandon her old friend. 
 
 The old negro, who had seemed absorbed in his sym 
 pathetic reflections, gazes steadfastly at his old master, until 
 his emotions spring forth in kindest solicitude. Resistance 
 is beyond his power. " Neber mind, old mas' r," (he speaks 
 in a devoted tone) " dar's better days comin, bof fo' old 
 Bob and mas'r. Tink 'urn sees de day when de old planta 
 tion jus so 't was wid mas'r and da' old folks." Concluding 
 in a subdued voice, he approaches Franconia, and seats 
 himself, book in hand, on the floor at her feet. Moved by 
 his earnestness, she lays her hand playfully upon his 
 head, saying : " Here is our truest friend, uncle !" 
 
 " My own heart lubs Miss Frankoue more den eber," he 
 whispers in return. How pure, ho\v holy, is the simple 
 recompense ! It is nature's only offering, all the slave can 
 give ; and he gives it in the bounty of his soul. 
 
 Marston's grief having subside'd, he attempts to soothe 
 Franconia's feelings, by affecting an air of indifference. 
 " What need I care, after all? my resolution should be above 
 it," he says, thrusting his right hand into his breast pocket, 
 and drawing out a folded paper, which he throws upon 
 the little table, and says, " There, Franconia, my child ! 
 that contains the climax of my unlamented misfortunes ; 
 read it : it will show you where my next abode will be- I 
 may be at peace there ; and there is consolation at being at 
 peace, even in a cell." He passes the paper into her 
 hand. 
 
 With an expression of surprise she opens it, and glances 
 over its contents ; then reads it word by word. " Do they 
 expect to get something from nothing?" she says, sar 
 castically. " It is one of those soothsayers so valuable to 
 men whose feelings are only with money to men who 
 forget they cannot carry money to the graves ; and that 
 no tribute is demanded on either road leading to the kst 
 abode of man." 
 
 " Stop there, my child ! stop !" interrupts Marston. " I
 
 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 365 
 
 have given them all, 'tis true; but suspicion is my perse 
 cutor suspicion, and trying to be a father to my own 
 children !" 
 
 " It is, indeed, a misfortune to be a father under such, 
 circumstances, in such an atmosphere !" the good woman 
 exclaims, clasping her hands and looking upward, as if im 
 ploring the forgiveness of Heaven. Tremblingly she held 
 the paper in her hand, until it fell upon the floor, as she, 
 overcome, swooned in her uncle's arms. 
 
 She swooned ! yes, she swooned. That friend upon 
 whom her affections had been concentrated was a prisoner. 
 The paper was a bail writ, demanding the body of the 
 accused. The officer serving had been kind enough to allow 
 Marston his parole of honour until the next morning. He 
 granted this in accordance with Marston's request, that by 
 the lenity he might see Daddy Bob and TTranconia once 
 more. 
 
 Lifting Franconia in his arms, her hair falling loosely 
 down, Marston lays her gently on the cot, and commences 
 bathing her temples. He has nothing but water to bathe 
 them with, nothing but poverty's liquid. The old negro, 
 frightened at the sudden change that has come over his 
 young missus, falls to rubbing and kissing her hands, he has 
 no other aid to lend. Marston has drawn his chair beside 
 her, sits down upon it, unbuttons her stomacher, and con 
 tinues bathing and chafing her temples. How gently 
 heaves that bosom so full of fondness, how marble- 
 like those features, how pallid but touchingly beautiful 
 that face ! Love, affection," and tenderness, there repose 
 so calmly ! All that once gave out so much hope, so much 
 joy, now withers before the blighting sting of misfortune. 
 " Poor child, how fondly she loves me ! " says Marston, placing 
 his right arm under her head, and raising it gently. The motion 
 quickens her senses she speaks ; he kisses her pallid cheek 
 kisses and kisses it. " Is it you, uncle 1 " she whispers. She 
 has opened her eyes, stares at Marston, then wildly along the 
 ceiling. " Yes, I'm" in uncle's arms ; how good ! " she continues, 
 as if fatigued. Reclining back on the pillow, she again rests 
 her head upon his arm. "I am at the mansion how pleas 
 ant ; let me rest, uncle ; let me rest. Send aunt Rachel to 
 me." She raises her right hand and lays her arms about Mar
 
 366 A FRIEND IS WOMAN. 
 
 ston's neck, as anxiously he leans over her. How dear are the 
 associations of that old mansion ! how sweet the thought of 
 home ! how uppermost in her wandering mind the remembrance 
 of those happy days !
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MARSTON IN PRISON. 
 
 WHILE Franconia revives, let us beg the reader's indulgence 
 for not recounting the details thereof. The night continues 
 dark aud stormy, but she must return to her own home, she 
 must soothe the excited feelings of a dissolute and disregard 
 ing husband, who, no doubt, is enjoying his night orgies, while 
 she is administering consolation to the downcast. " Ah ! 
 uncle," she says, about to take leave of him for the night, 
 " how with spirit the force of hope fortifies us ; and yet how 
 seldom are our expectations realised through what we look 
 forward to ! Tou now see the value of virtue ; but when 
 seen through necessity, how vain the repentance. Never 
 theless, let us profit by the lesson before us ; let us hope the 
 issue may yet be favourable !" Bob will see his young 
 missus safe home he will be her guide and protector. So, 
 preparing his cap, he buttons his jacket, laughs and grins with 
 joy, goes to the door, then to the fire-place, and to the door 
 again, where, keeping his left hand on the latch, and his right 
 holding the casement, he bows and scrapes, for " Missus 
 comin." Franconia arranges her dress as best she can, ad 
 justs her bonnet, embraces Marston, imprints a fond kiss on 
 his cheek, reluctantly relinquishes his hand, whispers a last 
 word of consolation, and bids him good night, a gentle good 
 night in sorrow. 
 
 She has gone, and the old slave is her guide, her human 
 watch-dog. Slowly Marston paces the silent chamber alone, 
 giving vent to his pent-up emotions. "What may to-morrow 
 bring forth ? runs through his wearied mind. It is but the 
 sudden downfall of life, so inseparable from the planter who 
 rests his ho'pes on the abundance of his human property. 
 But the slave returns, and relieves him of his musings. He 
 has seen his young missus safe to her door ; he has received 
 her kind word, and her good, good night ! Entering the 
 chamber with a smile, he sets about clearing away the little 
 things, and, when done, draws his seat close to Marston, at
 
 368 MARSTON IN PRISON. 
 
 the fire-place. As if quite at home beside his old master, 
 he eyes Marston intently for some time, seems studying his 
 thoughts and fears. At length the old slave commences dis 
 closing his feelings. His well-worn bones are not worth a 
 large sum ; nor are the merits of his worthy age saleable ; 
 no ! there is nothing left but his feelings, those genuine 
 virtues so happily illustrated. Daddy Bob will stand by mas'r, 
 as he expresses it, in power or in prison. Kindness has 
 excited all that vanity in Bob so peculiar to the iiegro, and 
 by which he prides himself in the prime value of his person. 
 There he sits Marston's faithful friend, contemplating his 
 silence with a steady gaze, and then, giving his jet-black face 
 a double degree of seriousness, shrugs his shoulders, signifi 
 cantly nods his head, and intimates that it will soon be time 
 to retire, by commencing to unboot master. 
 
 " You seem in a hurry to get rid of me, Daddy ! Want to 
 get your own cranium into a pine-knot sleep, eh?" says 
 Marston, with an encouraging smile, pulling the old slave's 
 whiskers in a playful manner. 
 
 " No, Boss ; 'tant dat," returns Bob, keeping on tugging 
 at Marston's boots until he has got them from his feet, and 
 safely stowed away in a corner. A gentle hint that he is all 
 ready to relieve Marston of his upper garments brings him 
 to his feet, when Bob commences upon him in right good 
 earnest, and soon has him stowed away between the sheets. 
 " Bob neber likes to hurry old Boss, but den 'e kno' what's 
 on old Mas'r's feelins, an 'e kno' dat sleep make 'um forget 
 'urn !" rejoins Bob, in a half whisper that caught Marston's 
 ear, as he patted and fussed about his pillow, in order to 
 make him as comfortable as circumstances would admit. 
 After this he extinguishes the light, and, accustomed to a slave's 
 bed, lumbers himself down on the floor beside his master's cot. 
 Thus, watchfully, he spends the night. 
 
 When morning dawned, Bob was in the full enjoyment 
 of what the negro so pertinently calls a long and strong 
 sleep. He cannot resist its soothing powers, nor will master 
 disturb him in its enjoyment. Before breakfast-tirne arrives, 
 however, he arouses with a loud guffiiw, looks round the room 
 vacantly, as if he were doubting the presence of things about 
 him. Rising to his knees, he rubs his eyes languidly, yawns, 
 and stretches his arms, scratches his head, and suddenly gets 
 a glimpse of old master, who is already dressed, and sits by
 
 MARSTON IN PRISON. dtw 
 
 the window, his attention intently set upon some object with 
 out. The old slave recognises the same chamber from which 
 he guided Franconia on the night before, and, after saluting 
 mas'r, sets about arranging the domestic affairs of the apart 
 ment, and preparing the breakfast table, the breakfast being 
 cooked at Aunt Beckie's cabin, in the yard. Aunt Beckie 
 had the distinguished satisfaction of knowing Marston in 
 his better days, and now esteems it an honour to serve him, 
 even in his poverty. Always happy to inform her friends 
 that she was brought up a first-rate pastry-cook, she now 
 adds, with great satisfaction, that she pays her owner, the 
 very Severend Mr. Thomas Tippletony, the ever-pious rector 
 of St. Michael's, no end of money for her time, and makes a 
 good profit at her business beside. Notwithstanding ?he 
 has a large family of bright children to maintain in a respec 
 table way, she hopes for a continuance of their patronage, 
 and will give the best terms her limited means admit. She 
 knows how very necessary it is for a southern gentleman 
 who would be anybody to keep up appearances, and, with 
 little means, to make a great display : hence she is very easy 
 in matters of payment. In Marston's case, she is extremely 
 proud to render him service, to " do for him" as far as 
 she can, and wait a change for the better concerning any 
 balance outstanding. 
 
 Bob fetches the breakfast of coffee, fritters, homony, and 
 bacon, a very good breakfast it is, considering the circum 
 stances, and spreads the little rustic board with an air of 
 comfort and neatness complimentary to the old slave's taste. 
 And, withal, the old man cannot forego the inherent vanity 
 of his nature, for he is, unconsciously, performing all the 
 ceremonies of attendance he has seen Dandy and his satel 
 lites go through at the plantation mansion. He fusses and 
 grins, and praises and laughs, as he sets the dishes down 
 one by one, keeping a watchful eye on mas'r, as if to detect 
 an approval in his countenance. " Reckon 'ow dis old nig 
 ger can fix old Boss up aristocratic breakfast like Dandy. 
 Now, Boss da'h he is !" he says, whisking round the table, 
 setting the cups just so, and spreading himself with exulta 
 tion. " Want to see master smile laugh some like 'e used 
 down on da'h old plantation ! " he ejaculates, emphatically, 
 placing a chair at Marston's plate. This done, he accompa 
 nies his best bow with a scrape of his right foot, spreads his
 
 370 MARSTON IN PRISON. 
 
 hands, the gesture being the signal of readiness. Marstou 
 takes his chair, as Bob affects the compound dignity of the 
 very best trained nigger, doing the distinguished in waiting. 
 
 " A little less ceremony, my old faithful ! the small follies 
 of etiquette ill become such a place as this. We must suc 
 cumb to circumstances : come, sit down, Bob ; draw your 
 bench to the chest, and there eat your share, while I wait on 
 myself," says Marstou, touching Bob on the arm. The words 
 were no sooner uttered, than Bob's countenance changed 
 from the playful to the serious ; he could see nothing 
 but dignity in master, no matter in what sphere he might be 
 placed. His simple nature recoils at the idea of dispensing 
 with the attention due from slave to master. Master's fallen 
 fortunes, and the cheerless character of the chamber, are 
 nothing to Daddy master must keep up his dignity. 
 
 You need'nt look so serious, Daddy ; it only gives an 
 extra shade to your face, already black enough for any im 
 mediate purpose !" says Marston, turning round and smiling 
 at the old slave's discomfiture. To make amends, master 
 takes a plate from the table, and gives Bob a share of his 
 homony and bacon. This is very pleasing to the old slave, 
 who regains his wonted earnestness, takes the plate politely 
 from his master's hand, retires with it to the chest, and keeps 
 up a regular fire of chit-chat while dispensing its contents. 
 In this humble apartment, master and slave the former once 
 opulent, and the latter still warm with attachment for his 
 friend are happily companioned. They finish their break 
 fast, a long pause intervenes. " I would I were beyond the 
 bounds of this our south," says Marston, breaking the silence, 
 as he draws his chair and seats himself by the window, where 
 he can look out upon the dingy little houses in the lane. 
 
 The unhappy man feels the burden of a misspent life ; he 
 cannot recall the past, nor make amends for its errors. But, 
 withal, it is some relief that he can disclose his feelings to 
 the old man, his slave. 
 
 " Mas'r," interrupts the old slave, looking complacently 
 in his face, " Bob '11 foller ye, and be de same old friend. 
 I will walk behind Miss Frankone." His simple nature 
 seems warming into fervency. 
 
 " Ah ! old man," returns Marston, " if there be a wish 
 (you may go before me, though) I have on earth, it is that 
 when I die our graves may be side by side, with an epitaph
 
 MARSTON IN PRISON. 371 
 
 to denote master, friend, and faithful servant lie here." 
 He takes the old man by the hand again, as the tears drop 
 from his cheeks. " A prison is but a grave to the man of 
 honourable feelings," he concludes. Thus disclosing his 
 feelings, a rap at the door announces a messenger. It is 
 nine o'clock, and immediately the sheriff, a gentlemanly- 
 looking man, wearing the insignia of office on his hat, walks 
 in, and politely intimates that, painful as may be the duty, 
 he must request his company to the county gaol, thab place 
 so accommodatingly prepared for the reception of unfortu 
 nates. . 
 
 " Sorry for your misfortunes, sir ! but we'll try to make 
 you as comfortable as we can in our place." The servitor 
 of the law seems to have some sympathy in him. " I have 
 my duty to perform, you know, sir; nevertheless, I have my 
 opinion about imprisoning honest men for debt : it's a poor 
 satisfaction, sir. I'm only an officer, you see, sir, not a 
 law-maker never want to be, sir. I very much dislike to 
 execute these kind of writs," says the man of the law, as, 
 with an expression of commiseration, he glances round the 
 room, and then at Daddy, who has made preparations for a 
 sudden dodge, should such an expedient be found neces 
 sary. 
 
 " Nay, sheriff, think nothing of it ; it's but a thing of 
 common life, it may befall us all. I can be no exception to 
 the rule, and may console myself with the knowledge of 
 companionship," replies Marston, as coolly as if he were 
 preparing for a journey of pleasure. 
 
 How true it is, that, concealed beneath the smallest 
 things, there is a consolation which necessity may bring out : 
 how Providence has suited it to our misfortunes ! 
 
 " There are a few things here a very few I should like to 
 take to my cell; perhaps I can send for them," he remarks, 
 looking at the officer, enquiringly. 
 
 " My name is Martin Captain Martin, they call me," 
 returns that functionary, politely. " If you accept my word 
 of honour, I pledge it they are taken care of, and sent to 
 your apartments." 
 
 "You mean my new lodging-house, or my new grave, I 
 suppose," interrupted Marston, jocosely, pointing out to 
 Daddy the few articles of bedding, chairs, and a window- 
 curtain he desired removed. Daddy has been pensively
 
 372 MARSTON IN PRISON. 
 
 standing by the fire-place the while, contemplating the 
 scene. 
 
 Marston soon announces his readiness to proceed ; and, 
 followed by the old slave, the officer leads the way down the 
 ricketty old stairs to the street. "I's gwine t'see whar dey 
 takes old mas'r, any how, reckon I is," says the old slave, 
 giving his head a significant turn. 
 
 " Now, sir," interrupts the officer, as they arrive at the 
 bottom of the stairs, "perhaps you have a delicacy about 
 going through the street with a sheriff ; many men have : 
 therefore I shall confide in your honour, sir, and shall give 
 you the privilege of proceeding to the gaol as best suits 
 your feelings. I never allow myself to follow the will of 
 creditors ; if I did, my duties would be turned into a system 
 of tyranny, to gratify their feelings only. ISow, you may 
 take a carriage, or walk ; only meet me at the prison gate." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks !" returns Marston, grateful for the 
 officer's kindness, "my crime is generosity; you need not 
 fear me. My old faithful here will guide me along." The 
 officer bows assent, and with a respectful wave of the hand 
 they separate to pursue different routes. 
 
 Marston walks slowly along, Bob keeping pace close 
 behind. He passes many of his old acquaintances, who, in 
 better times, would have recognised him with a cordial em 
 brace ; at present they have scarcely a nod to spare. 
 Marston, however, is firm in his resolution, looks not on 
 one side nor the other, and reaches the prison-gate in good 
 time. The officer has reached it in advance, and waits him 
 there. They pause a few moments as Marston scans the 
 frowning wall that encloses the gloomy-looking old prison. 
 "I am ready to go in," says Marston; and just as they are 
 about to enter the arched gate, the old slave touches him on 
 the arm, and says, " Mas'r, dat's no place fo'h Bob. Can't 
 stand seein' on ye locked up wid sich folks as in dah!" So 
 licitously he looks in his master's face. The man of trouble 
 grasps firmly the old slave's hand, holds it in silence for 
 some minutes the officer, moved by the touching scene, 
 turns his head away as tears course down his cheeks. He 
 has no words to speak the emotions of his heart ; he shakes 
 the old man's hand affectionately, attempts to whisper a 
 word in his ear, but is too deeply affected. 
 
 " Good by, mas'r : may God bless 'um ! Ther's a place
 
 MARSTON IN PRISON. 373 
 
 fo'h old mas'r yet. I'll com t' see mas'r every night," says 
 the old man, his words flowing from the bounty of his 
 heart. He turns away reluctantly, draws his hand from 
 Marston's, heaves a sigh, and repairs to his labour. How 
 precious was that labour of love, wherein the old slave toils 
 that he may share the proceeds with his master ! 
 
 As Marston and the sheriff disappear through the gate, 
 and are about to ascend the large stone steps leading to the 
 portal in which is situated the inner iron gate opening into 
 the debtors' ward, the sheriff made a halt, and, placing his 
 arm in a friendly manner through Marston's, enquires, 
 " Anything I can do for you ? If there is, just name it. 
 Pardon my remark, sir, but you will, in all probability, take 
 the benefit of the act ; and, as no person seems willing to 
 sign your bail, I may do something to relieve your wants, 
 in my humble way." Marston shakes his head ; the kind 
 ness impedes an expression of his feelings. " A word of 
 advice from me, however, may not be without its effect, and 
 I will give it' you ; it is this : Tour earnestness to save 
 those two children, and the singular manner in which those 
 slave drudges of Graspum produced the documentary testi 
 mony showing them property, has created wondrous suspi 
 cion about your affairs. I will here say, Grraspum's no 
 friend of ydurs ; in fact, he's a friend to nobody but him 
 self; and even now, when questioned on the manner of 
 possessing all your real estate, he gives out insinuations, 
 which, instead of exonerating you, create a still worse im 
 pression against you. His conversation on the matter 
 leaves the inference with your creditors that you have still 
 more property secreted. Hence, mark me ! it behoves 
 you to keep close lips. Don't let your right hand know 
 what your left does," continues the officer, in a tone of 
 friendliness. They ascend to the iron gate, look through 
 the grating. The officer, giving a whistle, rings the bell by 
 touching a spring in the right-hand wall. " My lot at last!" 
 exclaims Marston. " Hosv many poo? unfortunates have 
 passed this threshold how many times the emotions of the 
 heart have burst forth on this spot how many have here 
 found a gloomy rest from their iniportuners how many 
 have here \vhiled away precious time in a gloomy cell, pro 
 vided for the punishment of poverty !" The disowned man, 
 for such he is, struggles to retain his resolution ; fain would
 
 374 MARSTON IN PRISON. 
 
 he, knowing the price of that resolution, repress those sen 
 sations threatening to overwhelm him. 
 
 The brusque gaoler appears at the iron gate ; stands his 
 burly figure in the portal ; nods recognition to the officer ; 
 swings back the iron frame, as a number of motley prisoners 
 gather into a semicircle in the passage. " Gro back, pri 
 soners; don't stare so at every new comer," says the gaoler, 
 clearing the way with his hands extended. 
 
 One or two of the locked-up recognise Marston. They 
 lisp strange remarks, drawn forth by his appearance in 
 charge of an officer. " Big as well as little fish bring up 
 here," ejaculates one. 
 
 " Where are his worshippers and his hospitable friends ?' 
 whispers another. 
 
 "There's not much hospitality for poverty," rejoins a 
 third, mutteringly. " Southern hospitality is unsound, 
 shallow, and flimsy ; a little dazzling of observances to cover 
 very bad facts. You are sure to find a people who main 
 tain the grossest errors in their political system laying the 
 greatest claims to benevolence and principle things to 
 which they never had a right. The phantom of hospitality 
 draws the curtain over many a vice it is a well-told no 
 thingness ornamenting the beggared system of y/mr slavery ; 
 that's my honest opinion," says a third, in a gruff voice, 
 which indicates that he has no very choice opinion of such 
 generosity. " If they want a specimen of true hospitality, 
 they must go to New England ; there the poor man's offer' 
 ing stocks the garden of liberty, happiness, and justice ; and 
 from them spring the living good of all," he concludes ; and 
 folding his arms with an air of independence, walks up the 
 long passage running at right angles with the entrance 
 portal, and disappears in a cell on the left. 
 
 " I knew him when he was great on the turf. He was 
 very distinguished then." " He'll be extinguished here," 
 insinuates another, as he protrudes his eager face over the 
 shoulders of those who are again crowding round the office- 
 door, Marston and the officer having entered following the 
 gaoler. 
 
 The sheriff passes the committimus to the man of keys ; 
 that functionary takes his seat at a small desk, while Marston 
 stands by its side, watching the process of his prison recep 
 tion, in silence. The gaoler reads the commitment, dravrs
 
 MARSTON IN PRISON. 375 
 
 a book deliberately from off a side window, spreads it open 
 on his desk, and commences humming an air. " Pootty 
 smart sums, eh!" he says, looking up at the sheriff, as he 
 holds a quill in his left hand, and feels with the fingers of 
 his right for a knife, which, he observes, he always keeps in 
 his right vest pocket. " We have a poor debtor's calendar 
 for registering these things. I do these things different from 
 other gaolers, and it loses me nothin'. I goes on the true 
 principle, that 'tant right to put criminals and debtors 
 together ; and if the state hasn't made provision for keeping 
 them in different cells, I makes a difference on the books, 
 and that's somethin'. Helps the feelins over the smarting 
 point," says the benevolent keeper of all such troublesome 
 persons as won't pay their debts ; as if the monstrous con 
 centration of his amiability, in keeping separate books for 
 the criminal and poverty-stricken gentlemen of his esta 
 blishment, must be duly appreciated. Marston, particularly, 
 is requested to take the initiative, he being the most aristo 
 cratic fish the gaoler has caught in a long time. But the 
 man has made his pen, and now he registers Marston's 
 name among the state's forlorn gentlemen, commonly called 
 poor debtors. They always confess themselves in dependent 
 circumstances. Endorsing the commitment, he returns it 
 to the sheriff, who will keep the original carefully filed away 
 in his own well-stocked department. The sheriff will bid 
 his prisoner good morning ! having reminded the gaoler what 
 good care it was desirable to take of his guest ; and, ex 
 tending his hand and shaking that of Marston warmly, takes 
 his departure, whilst our gaoler leads Marston into an 
 almost empty cell, where he hopes he will find things comforta 
 ble, and leaves him to contemplate upon the fallen fruit of pov 
 erty. " Come to this, at last ! " said Marston, entering the 
 cavern-like place.
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOB 
 ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 
 
 READEB ! be patient with us, for our task is complex and 
 tedious. "We have but one great object in view that of 
 showing a large number of persons in the south, now held 
 as slaves, who are by the laws of the land, as well as the 
 laws of nature, entitled to their freedom. These people, for 
 whom, in the name of justice and every offspring of human 
 right, we plead, were consigned to the bondage they now 
 endure through the unrighteous act of one whose name 
 (instead of being execrated by a nation jealous of its honour), 
 a singular species of southern historian has attempted to 
 enshrine with fame. Posterity, ignorant of-his character, will 
 find Ms name clothed with a paragon's armour, while 
 respecting the writer who so cleverly with a pen obliterated 
 his crimes. We have only feelings of pity for the historian 
 who discards truth thus to pollute paper with his kindness ; 
 such debts due to friendship are badly paid at the shrine of 
 falsehood. No such debts do we owe ; we shall perform our 
 duty fearlessly, avoiding dramatic effect, or aught else that 
 may tend to improperly excite the feelings of the benevolent. 
 No one better knows the defects of our social system 
 no one feels more forcibly that much to be lamented fact 
 of there being no human law extant not liable to be evaded 
 or weakened by the intrigues of designing men ; we know 
 of no power reposed in man the administration of which is 
 not susceptible of abuse, or being turned to means of 
 oppression : how much more exposed, then, must all these 
 functions be where slavery in its popular sway rides tri 
 umphant over the common law of the land. Divine laws 
 are with impunity disregarded and abused by anointed 
 teachers of divinity. Peculation, in sumptuous garb, and 
 with modern appliances, finds itself modestly perhaps 
 unconsciously gathering dross at the sacred altar. How 
 saint-like in semblance, and how unconscious of wrong, are
 
 IBBESPONSIBILITY OP VENDEES OF HUMAN PBOPEBTY. 377 
 
 ye bishops (holy ones, scarce of earth, in holy lawn) in 
 that land of freedom where the slave's chains fall ere his 
 foot pads its soil ! how calmly resigned the freemen who yield 
 to the necessity of making strong the altar with the sword 
 of state ! How, in the fulness of an expansive soul, these 
 little ones, in lawn so white, spurn the unsanctified spoiler 
 themselves neck-deep in the very coffers of covetousness 
 the while ! How to their Christian spirit it seems ordained 
 they should see a people's ekeinga serve their rolling in 
 wealth and luxury ! and, yet, let no man question their 
 walking in the ways of a meek and lowly Saviour that 
 Redeemer of mankind whose seamless garb nomanpurchaseth 
 with the rights of his fellow. Complacently innocent of 
 themselves, they would have us join their flock and follow 
 them, their pious eyes seeing only heavenly objects to be 
 gained, and their pure hearts beating in heavy throbs for 
 the wicked turmoil of our common world. Pardon us, 
 brother of the flesh, say they, in saintly whispers, it is all 
 for the Church and Christ. Boldly fortified with sancti 
 mony, they hurl back the shafts of reform, and ask to live 
 on sumptuously, as the only sought recompense for their 
 Christian love. Pious infallibility ! how blind, to see not 
 the crime ! 
 
 Reader ! excuse the diversion, and accompany us while 
 we retrace our steps to where we left the loquacious Mr. 
 M'Fadden, recovered from the fear of death, which had 
 been produced by whiskey in draughts too strong. In 
 company with a numerous party, he is just returning from 
 an unsuccessful search for his lost preacher. They have 
 scoured the lawns, delved the morasses, penetrated thick 
 jungles of brakes, driven the cypress swamps, and sent the 
 hounds through places seemingly impossible for human being 
 to seclude himself, and where only the veteran rattlesnake 
 would seek to lay his viperous head. No preacher have 
 they found. They utter vile imprecations on his head, pit 
 him " a common nigger," declare he has just learned 
 enough, in his own crooked way, to be dubious property 
 good, if a man can keep him at minister business. 
 
 Mine host of the Inn feels assured, if he be hiding 
 among the swamp jungle, the snakes and alligators will 
 certainly drive him out : an indisputable fact this, inasmuch 
 as alligators and snakes hate niggers. M'Fadden affirms
 
 878 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ABE NOT 
 
 solemnly, that the day he bought that clergyman was 
 one of the unlucky days of his life ; and he positively regrets 
 ever having been a politician, or troubling his head about 
 the southern-rights question. The party gather round the 
 front stoop, and are what is termed in southern parlance 
 " tuckered out." They are equally well satisfied of having 
 done their duty to the state and a good cause. Dogs, 
 their tails drooping, sneak to their kennels, horses reek 
 with foam, the human dogs will " liquor" long and strong. 
 
 " Tisn't such prime stock, after all !" says M'Fadden, 
 entering the veranda, reeking with mud and perspiration : 
 " after a third attempt we had as well give it up." He 
 shakes his head, and then strikes his whip on the floor. 
 I'll stand shy about buying a preacher, another time," he 
 continues ; like a man, much against his will, forced to give 
 up a prize. 
 
 The crackers and wire-grass men (rude sons of the sand 
 hills), take the matter more philosophically, probably 
 under the impression that to keep quiet will be to " bring 
 the nigger out" where he may be caught and the reward 
 secured. Two hundred dollars is a sum for which they 
 would not scruple to sacrifice life ; but they have three 
 gods whiskey, ignorance, and idleness, any one of which 
 can easily gain a mastery over their faculties. 
 
 Mr. M'l'adden requests that his friends will all come into 
 the bar-room all jolly fellows ; w-hich, when done, he orders 
 mine host to supply as much " good strong stuff" as will 
 warm up their spirits. He, however, will first take a glass 
 himself, that he may drink all their very good healths. 
 This compliment paid, he finds himself pacing up and down, 
 and across the room, now and then casting suspicious 
 glances at the notice of reward, as if questioning the policy of 
 offering so large an amount. But sundown is close upon them, 
 and as the bar- room begins to fill up again, each new-comer 
 anxiously enquires the result of the last search, which only 
 serves to increase the disappointed gentleman's excitement. 
 The affair has been unnecessarily expensive, for, in addition 
 to the loss of his preacher, the price of whom is no very 
 inconsiderable sum, he finds a vexatious bill running up 
 against him at the bar. The friendship of those who have 
 sympathised with him, and have joined him in the exhila 
 rating sport of man-hunting, must be repaid with swimming
 
 RESPONSIBLE FOR ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 379 
 
 drinks. Somewhat celebrated for economy, his friends are 
 
 surprised to find him, on this occasion, rather inclined to 
 
 extend the latitude of his liberality. His keen eye, however, 
 
 soon detects, to his sudden surprise, that the hunters are 
 
 not alone enjoying his liberality, but that every new comer, 
 
 finding the drinks provided at M'Fadden's expense, has no 
 
 objection to join in drinking his health ; to which he would 
 
 have no sort of an objection, but for the cost. Like all 
 
 men suffering from the effect of sudden loss, he begins to 
 
 consider the means of economising by which he may repay 
 
 the loss of the preacher. "I say, Squire!" he ejaculates, 
 
 suddenly stopping short in one of his walks, and beckoning 
 
 mine host aside, " That won't do, it won't! It's a coming 
 
 too tough, I tell you!" he says, shaking his head, and 
 
 touching mine host significantly on the arm. " A fellow 
 
 what's lost his property in this shape don't feel like 
 
 drinkin everybody on whiskey what costs as much as your 
 
 'bright eye.' You see, every feller what's comin in's 
 
 ' takin' at my expense, and claiming friendship on the 
 
 strength on't. It don't pay, Squire ! just stop it, won't 
 
 ye?" 
 
 Mine host immediately directs the bar-keeper, with a sign 
 and a whisper : " No more drinks at M'Fadden's score, 
 'cept to two or three o' the most harristocratic." He must 
 not announce the discontinuance openly ; it will insult the 
 feelings of the friendly people, many of whom anticipate a 
 feast of drinks commensurate with their services and 
 Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden's distinguished position in political 
 life. Were they, the magnanimous people, informed of this 
 sudden shutting off of their supplies, the man who had just 
 enjoyed their nattering encomiums would suddenly find 
 himself plentifully showered with epithets a tyrant slave- 
 dealer could scarcely endure. 
 
 Calling mine host into a little room opening from the bar, 
 he takes him by the arm, intimates his desire to have a 
 consultation on the state of his affairs, and the probable 
 whereabouts of his divine: "You see, this is all the 
 thanks I get for my kindness (he spreads his hands and 
 shrugs his shoulders,) A northern man may do what he 
 pleases for southern rights, and it's just the same ; he never 
 gets any thanks for it. These sort o' fellers isn't to be 
 sneered at when a body wants to carry a political end," he 
 25
 
 380 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ARE NOT 
 
 adds, touching mine host modestly on the shoulder, and 
 giving him a quizzing look, " but ye can't make 'urn behave 
 mannerly towards respectable people, such as you and me 
 is. But 'twould'nt do to give 'urn edukation, for they'd 
 just spile society they would! Ain't my ideas logical, 
 now, squire ?" Mr. M'Fadden's mind seems soaring away 
 among the generalities of state. 
 
 "Well !" returns mine host, prefacing the importance of 
 his opinion with an imprecation, " I'm fixed a'tween two 
 fires ; so I can't say what would be square policy in affairs 
 of state. One has feelina different on these things : I 
 depends a deal on what our big folks say iu the way of 
 setting examples. And, too, what can you. expect when 
 this sort a ruff-scuff forms the means of raising their 
 political .positions ; but, they are customers of mine, have 
 made my success in tavern-keeping !" he concludes, in an 
 earnest whisper. 
 
 "ISTow, squire!" M'Fadden places his hand in mine host's 
 arm, and looks at him seriously : " What 'bout that ar' 
 nigger preacher gittin off so ? No way t' find it out, eh ! 
 squire ?" MTadden enquires, with great seriousness. 
 
 " Can't tell how on earth the critter did the thing ; looked 
 like peaceable property when he went to be locked up, did !" 
 
 " I think somebody's responsible for him, squire ?" inter 
 rupts M'Eadden, watching the changes of the other's coun 
 tenance : " seerns how I heard ye say ye'd take the risk " 
 
 "No, no, no!" rejoins the other, quickly ; "that never 
 will do. I never receipt for nigger property, never hold 
 myself responsible to the customers, and never run any risks 
 about their niggers. You forget, my friend, that whatever 
 shadow of a claim you had on me by law was invalidated by 
 your own act." 
 
 "My own act?" interrupts the disappointed man. "How 
 by my own act? explain yourself!" suddenly allowing his 
 feelings to become excited. 
 
 " Sending for him to come to your bedside and pray for 
 you. It was when you thought Mr. Jones, the gentleman 
 with the horns, stood over you with a warrant in his hand," 
 mine host whispers in his ear, shrugging his shoulders, and 
 giving his face a quizzical expression. " You appreciated 
 the mental of the property then ; but now you view it as a 
 decided defect."
 
 RESPONSIBLE FOB ITS MENTAL CAPBICES. 381 
 
 The disappointed gentleman remains silent for a few 
 moments. He is deeply impressed with the anomaly of his 
 case, but has not the slightest objection to fasten the respon 
 sibility on somebody, never for a moment supposing the law 
 would interpose against the exercise of his very best incli 
 nations. He hopes God will bless him, says it is always his 
 luck ; yet he cannot relinquish the idea of somebody being 
 responsible. He will know more about the preaching rascal's 
 departure. Turning to mine host of the inn : " But, you 
 must have a clue to him, somewhere ?" he says, enquiringly. 
 
 " There's my woman ; can see if she knows anything 
 about the nigger !" returns mine host, complacently. Ellen 
 Juvarna is brought into the presence of the injured man, 
 who interrogates her with great care ; but all her disclosures 
 only tend to throw a greater degree of mystery over the 
 whole affair. At this, Mr. M'Padden declares that the 
 policy he has always maintained with reference to education 
 is proved true with the preacher's running away. Nigger 
 property should never be perverted by learning ; though, 
 if you could separate the nigger from the preaching part of 
 the property, it might do some good, for preaching was at 
 times a good article to distribute among certain slaves 
 " what had keen instincts." At times, nevertheless, it 
 would make them run away. Ellen knew Harry as a good 
 slave, a good man, a good Christian, sound in his probity, 
 not at all inclined to be roguish, as most niggers are 
 a little given to drink, but never bad-tempered. Her honest 
 opinion is that such a pattern of worthy nature and moral 
 firmness would not disgrace itself by running away, unless 
 induced by white " Buckra." She thinks she heard a lum 
 bering and shuffling somewhere about the pen, shortly after 
 midnight. It might have been wolves, however. To all this 
 Mr. M'Eadden listens with marked attention. Now and 
 then he interposes a word, to gratify some new idea swelling 
 his brain. There is nothing satisfactory yet : he turns the 
 matter over and over in his mind, looks Ellen steadfastly in 
 the face, and watches the movement of every muscle. "Ah !" 
 he sighs, " nothing new developing." He dismissed the 
 wench, and turns to mine host of the inn. " Now, squire, 
 (one minute mine host is squire, and the next Mr. Jones) 
 tell ye what 'tis ; thar's roguery goin on somewhere among 
 them ar' fellers them sharpers in the city, I means ! (he
 
 332 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ARE NOT 
 
 shakes his head knowingly, and buttons his light sack-coat 
 round him). That's a good gal, isn't she?" he enquires, 
 drawing his chair somewhat closer, his hard face assuming 
 great seriousness. 
 
 Mine host gives an affirmative nod, and says, " Nothin 
 shorter ! Can take her word on a turn of life or death. Tip 
 top gal, that ! Paid a price for her what u'd make ye wink, 
 I reckon." 
 
 " That's just what I wanted to know," he interrupts, 
 suddenly grasping the hand of his friend. " Te see how I'se 
 a little of a philosopher, a tall politician, and a major in the 
 brigade down our district, I didn't get my law akermin for 
 nothin ; and now I jist discovers how somebody I mean 
 some white somebody has had a hand in helpin that ar' 
 nig' preacher to run off. Cus'd critters ! never know nothing 
 till some white nigger fills their heads with roguery." 
 
 " Say, my worthy MTadden," interrupts the publican, 
 rising suddenly from his seat, as if some new discovery had 
 just broke forth in his mind, " war'nt that boy sold under a 
 warrant ?" 
 
 " Warranted warranted warranted sound in every par 
 ticular ? That he was. Just think of this, squire ; you're 
 a knowin one. It takes you ! I never thought on't afore, 
 and have had all my nervousness for nothin. Warranted 
 sound in every particular, means " 
 
 " A moment !" mine host interposes, suddenly : " there's 
 a keen point of law there ; but it might be twisted to some 
 account, if a body only had the right sort of a lawyer to 
 twist it," 
 
 The perplexed man rejoins by hoping he may not be in 
 terrupted just at this moment. He is just getting the 
 point of it straight in his mind. " You see," he says, " the 
 thing begun to dissolve itself in my philosophy, and by that 
 I discovered the pint the whole thing stands on. Its 
 entirely metaphysical, though," he says, with a significant 
 shake of the head. He laughs at his discovery ; his father, 
 long since, told him he was exceedingly clever. Quite a 
 match for the publican in all matters requiring a compre 
 hensive mind, he declares there are few lawyers his equal at 
 penetrating into points. " He warranted him in every par 
 ticular," he mutters, as mine host, watching his seriousness, 
 endeavours to suppress a smile. M'Faddeu makes a most
 
 BESPONSIBLE FOB ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 383 
 
 learned motion of the fore finger of the right hand, which he 
 presses firmly into the palm of his left, while contracting his 
 brows. He will soon essay forth the point of logic he wishes 
 to enforce. The property being a certain man endowed with 
 preaching propensities, soundness means the qualities of the 
 man, mental as well as physical; and running away being an 
 unsound quality, the auctioneer is responsible for all such 
 contingencies. I have him there, I have !" he holds up 
 his hands exultingly, as he exclaims the words ; his face 
 brightens with animation. Thrusting his hands into his 
 trowsers pockets he paces the room for several minutes, at a 
 rapid pace, as if his mind had been relieved of some deep 
 study. " I will go directly into the city, and there see what 
 I can do with the chap I bought that feller of. I think 
 when I put the law points to him, he'll shell out." 
 
 Making some preliminary arrangements with Jones of 
 the tavern, he orders a horse to the door immediately, and 
 in a few minutes more is hastening on his way to the city. 
 
 Arriving about noon-day, he makes his way through its 
 busy thoroughfares, and is soon in the presence of the 
 auctioneer. There, in wondrous dignity, sits the seller of 
 bodies and souls, his cushioned arm-chair presenting an air 
 of opulence. How coolly that pomp of his profession sits 
 on the hard mask of his iron features, beneath which lurks 
 a contempt of shame! He is an important item in the poli 
 tical hemisphere of the state, has an honourable position in 
 society (for he is high above the minion traders), joined the 
 Episcopal church not many months ago, and cautions Mr. 
 MTaddeii against the immorality of using profane lan 
 guage, which that aggrieved individual allows to escape his 
 lips ere he enters the door. 
 
 The office of our man of fame and fortune is thirty feet 
 long by twenty wide, and sixteen high. Its walls are bril 
 liantly papered, and painted with landscape designs ; and 
 from the centre of the ceiling hangs a large chandelier, with 
 ground-glass globes, on which eagles of liberty are inscribed. 
 Fine black-walnut desks, in chaste carving, stand along 
 its sides, at which genteelly-dressed clerks are exhibiting 
 great attention to business. An oil-cloth, with large flowers 
 painted on its surface, spreads the floor, while an air of 
 neatness reigns throughout the establishment singularly at 
 variance with the outer mart, where Mr. Forshou sells his
 
 384 VEHDEKS OF HUMAJT PKOPE11TY ABE NOT 
 
 men, women, and little children. But its walls are hung 
 with badly-executed engravings, in frames of gilt. Of the 
 distinguished vender's taste a correct estimation may be 
 drawn when we inform the reader that many of these 
 engravings represented uude females and celebrated race 
 horses. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ! I didn't mean it," Mr. M'Eadden says, 
 in reply to the gentleman's caution, approaching him as he 
 sits in his elegant chair, a few feet from the street door, 
 luxuriantly enjoying a choice regalia. " It's the little point 
 of a very nasty habit that hangs upon me yet. I does 
 let out the swear once in a while, ye see ; but it's only when 
 I gets a crook in my mind what won't come straight." 
 Thus M'Eadden introduces himself, surprised to find the 
 few very consistent oaths he has made use of not compatible 
 with the man-seller's pious business habits. He will be 
 cautious the next time ; he will not permit such foul breath 
 to escape and wound the gentleman's very tender feelings. 
 
 Mr. Lawrence M'Eadden addresses him as squire, and 
 with studious words informs him of the nigger preacher 
 property he sold him having actually run away ! " Ye war 
 ranted him, ye know, squire !" he says, discovering the object 
 of his visit, then drawing a chair, and seating himself in 
 close proximity. 
 
 " Can't help that quality we never warrant !" coolly re 
 turns the other, turning politely in his arm-chair, which 
 works in a socket, and directing a clerk at one of the desks 
 to add six months' interest to the item of three wenches sold 
 at ten o'clock. 
 
 " Don't talk that ar way, squire ! I trades a deal in your 
 line, and a heap o' times, with you. Now we'll talk over the 
 legal points." 
 
 " Make them short, if you please !" 
 
 " Well ! ye warranted the nigger in every particular. 
 There 's the advertisement ; and there 's no getting over 
 that ! Te must do the clean thing no possumiu squire, 
 or there '11 be a long lawsuit what takes the tin. Honour's 
 the word in our trade." He watches the changes that are 
 fast coming over the vender's countenance, folds his arms, 
 places his right foot over his left knee, and awaits a reply. 
 Interrupting the vender just as he is about to give his 
 opinion he draws from his pocket a copy of the paper con-
 
 RESPONSIBLE FOR ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 385 
 
 tainmg the advertisement, and places it in his hand : " If 
 ye'll be good enough to squint at it, ye'll see the hang o* 
 my ideas," he says. 
 
 '* My friend," returns the vender, curtly, having glanced 
 over the paper, " save me and yourself any further annoy 
 ance. I could have told you how far the property was 
 warranted, before I read the paper ; and I remember making 
 some very particular remarks when selling that item in the 
 invoice. A nigger's intelligence is often a mere item of con 
 sideration in the amount he brings under the hammer ; but 
 we never warrant the exercise or extension of it. Po'h, 
 man ! we might just as well attempt to warrant a nigger's 
 stealing, lying, cunning, and all such ' cheating master' pro 
 pensities. Some of them are considered qualities of much 
 value especially by poor planters. Warrant nigger pro 
 perty not to run away, eh ! Oh ! nothing could be worse in 
 our business." 
 
 " A minute, squire !" interrupts the appealing Mr. 
 M'Fadden, just as the other is about to add a suspending 
 clause to his remarks. " If warrantin nigger proper sound 
 in all partiklers is'ut warrantin it not to run away, I'm no 
 deacon ! When a nigger's got run-away in him he ain't 
 sound property, no way ye can fix it. Te may turn all the 
 law and philosophy yer mind to over in yer head, but it 
 won't cum common sense to me, that ye warrant a nigger's 
 body part, and let the head part go unwarranted. When ye 
 sells a critter like that, ye sells all his deviltry; and when ye 
 warrants one ye warrants t'other ; that's the square rule o' 
 my law and philosophy !" 
 
 The vender puffs his weed very coolly the while ; and then, 
 calling a negro servant, orders a chair upon which to com 
 fortably place his feet. " Are you through, my friend ?" he 
 enquires, laconically ; and being answered in the affirmative, 
 proceeds " I fear your philosophy is common philosophy 
 not the philosophy upon which nigger law is founded. You 
 don't comprehend, my valued friend, that when we insert 
 that negro property will be warranted, we don't include the 
 thinking part; and, of course, running away belongs to 
 that !" he would inform all those curious on such matters. 
 Having given this opinion for the benefit of M'Fadden, 
 and the rest of mankind interested in slavery, he rises 
 from his seat, elongates himself into a consequential posi- 
 
 c c
 
 386 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ARE NOT 
 
 tion, and stands biting bis lips, and dangling his watch chain 
 with the fingers of his left hand. 
 
 " Take ye up, there," the other suddenly interrupts, as if 
 he has drawn the point from his antagonist, and is prepared 
 to sustain the principle, having brought to his aid new ideas 
 from the deepest recesses of his logical mind. Grasping the 
 vender firmly by the arm, he looks him in the face, and 
 reminds him that the runaway part of niggers belongs to 
 the heels, and not to the head. 
 
 The vender exhibits some discomfiture, and, at the same 
 time, a decided unwillingness to become a disciple of such 
 philosophy. Nor is he pleased with the familiarity of his 
 importuning customer, whose arm he rejects with a repulsive 
 air. 
 
 There has evidently become a very nice and serious ques 
 tion, of which Mr. MTadden is inclined to take a common- 
 sense view. His opponent, however, will not deviate from 
 the strictest usages of business. Business mentioned the 
 mental qualities of the property, but warranted only the 
 physical, hence the curious perplexity. 
 
 While the point stands thus nicely poised between their 
 logic, Eomescos rushes into the office, and, as if to surprise 
 M'Padden, extends his hand, smiling and looking in his 
 face gratefully, as if the very soul of friendship incited him. 
 "Mighty glad to see ye, old Buck!" he ejaculates, "feared 
 ye war goin to kick out." 
 
 The appalled man stands for a few seconds as unmoved as 
 a statue ; and then, turning with a half-subdued smile, takes 
 the hand of the other, coldly. 
 
 " Friends again ! ain't we, old boy?" breaks forth from 
 Romescos, who continues shaking his hand, at the same 
 time turning his head and giving a significant wink to a 
 clerk at one of the desks. " Politics makes bad friends now 
 and then, but I always thought well of you, Mack ! Now, 
 neighbour, I'll make a bargain with you ; we'll live as good 
 folks ought to after this," B-omescos continues, laconically. 
 His advance is so strange that the other is at a loss to com 
 prehend its purport. He casts doubting glances at his wily 
 antagonist, seems considering how to appreciate the quality 
 of such an unexpected expression of friendship, and is half 
 inclined to demand an earnest of its sincerity. At the same 
 time, and as the matter now stands, he would fain give his
 
 BESPONSIBLE FOB ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 387 
 
 considerate friend wide space, and remain within a proper 
 range of etiquette until his eyes behold the substantial. He 
 draws aside from Romescos, who says tremblingly : " Losing 
 that preacher, neighbour, was a hard case warn't it ? You 
 wouldn't a' catched this individual buyin' preachers know 
 too much about 'em, I reckon ! It's no use frettin, though ; 
 the two hundred dollars '11 bring him. This child wouldn't 
 want a profitabler day's work for his hound dogs." 
 Eomescos winks at the vender, and makes grimaces over 
 M'Fadden's shoulder, as that gentleman turns and grumbles 
 out, " He warranted him in every partikler ; and running 
 away is one of a nigger's partiklers ?" 
 
 " My pertinacious friend !" exclaims the vender, turning 
 suddenly towards his dissatisfied customer, seeing you are 
 not disposed to comprehend the necessities of my business, 
 nor to respect my position, I will have nothing further to 
 say to you upon the subject not another word, now !" The 
 dignified gentleman expresses himself in peremptory tones. 
 It is only the obtuseness of his innate character becoming 
 unnecessarily excited. 
 
 Eomescos interposes a word or two, by way of keeping 
 up the zest ; for so he calls it. Things are getting crooked, 
 according to his notion of the dispute, but fightin' won't 
 bring back the lost. " 'Spose ye leaves the settlin on't to 
 me ? There's nothing like friendship in trade ; and seeing 
 how I am up in such matters, p'raps I can smooth it 
 down." 
 
 " There's not much friendship about a loss of this kind ; 
 and he was warranted sound in every particular !" returns 
 the invincible man, shaking his head, and affecting great 
 seriousness of countenance. 
 
 " Stop that harpin, I say !" the vender demands, drawing 
 himself into a pugnacious attitude ; " your insinuations 
 against my honour aggravate me more and more." 
 
 " Well ! just as you say about it," is the cool rejoinder. 
 " But you '11 have to settle the case afore lawyer Sprouts, 
 you will !" Stupidly inclined to dog his opinions, the 
 sensitive gentleman, claiming to be much better versed in 
 the mode of selling human things, becomes fearfully en 
 raged. MTadden contends purely upon contingencies 
 which may arise in the mental and physical complications
 
 OOO VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPERTY ARE NOT 
 
 of property in man; and this the gentleman man-seller 
 cannot bear the reiteration of. 
 
 Itomescos thinks it is at best but a perplexin snarl, 
 requiring gentlemen to keep very cool. To him they are 
 both honourable men, who should not quarrel over the 
 very small item of one preacher. " This warrantin' niggers' 
 heads never amounts to anything, it's just like warrantin' 
 their heels ; and when one gets bad, isn't t'other sure to 
 be rnoviu ? Them's my sentiments, gratis !" Stepping a 
 few feet behind M'Fadden, ilomescos rubs his hands in 
 great anxiety, makes curious signs to the clerks at the desk, 
 and charges his mouth with a fresh cut of tobacco. 
 
 " Nobody bespoke your opinion," says the disconsolate 
 M'Fadden, turning quickly, in consequence of a sign he 
 detected one of the clerks making, and catching Romescos 
 bestowing a grimace of no very complimentary character, 
 " Your presence and your opinion are, in my estimation, 
 things that may easily be dispensed with." 
 
 "I say!" interrupts Bomescos, his right hand in a 
 threatening attitude, " not quite so fast he drawls his 
 words a gentleman don't stand an insult o' that sort. 
 Just draw them ar' words back, like a yard of tape, or 
 this individual '11 do a small amount of bruising 011 that 
 ar' profile, (he draws his hand backward and forward 
 across M'Fadden's face). 'Twon't do to go tb church 
 on Sundays with a broken phiz ?" His face reddens with 
 anger, as he works his head into a daring attitude, grates 
 his teeth, again draws his fist across M'Fadden's face ; and 
 at length rubs his nasal organ. 
 
 " I understand you too well !" replies M'Fadden, with 
 a curt twist of his head. " A man of your cloth can't in 
 sult* a gentleman like me ; you're lawless !" He moves 
 towards the door, stepping sideways, watching liornescos 
 over his left shoulder. 
 
 " 1 say ! Ilomescos takes his man by the arm Come 
 hack here, and make a gentleman's apology !" He lets go 
 M'Fadden's arm and seizes him by the collar violently, his 
 face in a blaze of excitement. 
 
 "Nigger killer!" ejaculates M'Fadden, " let go there !" 
 He gives his angry antagonist a determined leok, as be, 
 for a moment, looses his hold. He pauses, as if contem 
 plating his next move.
 
 EESPONSIBLE FOE ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 389 
 
 The very amiable and gentlemanly man-vender thinka it 
 time he interposed for the purpose of reconciling matters. 
 " Gentlemen ! gentlemen ! respect me, if you do not respect 
 yourselves. My office is no place for such disgraceful broils 
 as these; you must go elsewhere." The modest gentleman, 
 whose very distinguished family connexions have done much 
 to promote his interests, would have it particularly under 
 stood that his ofiice is an important place, used only for the 
 very distinguished business of selling men, women, and little 
 children. But E/omescos is not so easily satisfied. He 
 pushes the amiable gentleman aside, calls Mr. Lawrence 
 M'Fadden a tyrant what kills niggers by the detestably 
 mean process of starving them to death. " A pretty feller 
 he is to talk about nigger killin ! And just think what 
 our state has come to when such fellers as him can make 
 votes for the next election!" says Bomescos, addressing 
 himself to the vender. " The Irish influence is fast destroy 
 ing the political morality of the country." 
 
 Turning to Mr. M'Fadden, who seems preparing for a 
 display of his combativeness, he adds, " Te sec, Mack, ye 
 will lie, and lie crooked too ! and ye will steal, and steal 
 dishonourably ; and I can lick a dozen on ye quicker nor 
 chain lightuiu ? I can send the hoi batch on ye rubbish 
 as it is to take supper t'other side of sundown." To 
 be equal with his adversary, Bomescos is evidently preparing 
 himself for the reception of something more than words. 
 Twice or thrice he is seen to pass his right hand into the 
 left breast pocket of his sack, where commonly his shining 
 steel is secreted. In another moment he turns suddenly 
 towards the vender, pushes him aside with his left hand, and 
 brings his right in close proximity with Mr. M'Fadden's 
 left listener. That individual exhibits signs of renewed 
 courage, to which he adds the significant warning : " Not 
 quite so close, if you please !" 
 
 " As close as I sees fit !" returns the other, with a sardonic 
 grin. " Why don't you resent it ? a gentleman would !" 
 
 Following the word, Mr. M'Fadden makes a pass at his 
 antagonist, which, he says, is only with the intention of 
 keeping him at a respectful distance. Scarcely has hia 
 arm passed when Bomescos cries out, " There ! he has 
 struck me! He has struck me again!" and deals M'Fadden 
 a blow with his clenched fist that fells him lumbering to the
 
 390 VENDERS OF HUMAN PROPEKTT AI1E NOT 
 
 floor. Simultaneously Homescos falls upon his prostrate 
 victim, and a desperate struggle ensues. 
 
 The vender, whose sacred premises are thus disgraced, 
 runs out to call the police, while the clerks make an 
 ineffectual attempt to separate the combatants. Not a 
 policeman is to be found. At night they may be seen, 
 swarming the city, guarding the fears of a white populace 
 ever sensitive of black rebellion. 
 
 Like an infuriated tiger, Romescos, nimble as a catamount, 
 is fast destroying every vestige of outline in his antagonist's 
 face, drenching it with blood, and adding ghastliuess by the 
 strangulation he is endeavouring to effect. 
 
 " Try try trying to kill me eh ? You you mad 
 brute!" gutters out the struggling man, his eyes starting 
 from the sockets like balls of fire, while gore and saliva 
 foam from his mouth and nostrils as if his struggles are in 
 death. 
 
 " Kill ye kill ye ?" Romescos rejoins, the shaggy red 
 hair falling in tufts about his face, now burning \vith 
 desperation : " it would be killin' only a wretch whose 
 death society calls for." 
 
 At this, the struggling man, like one borne to energy by 
 the last throes of despair, gives a desperate spring, succeeds 
 in turning his antagonist, grasps him by the throat with 
 his left hand, and from his pocket fires a pistol with his 
 right. The report alarms.; the shrill whistle calls to the 
 rescue ; but the ball has only taken effect in the flesh of 
 Romescos's right arm. Quick to the moment, his arm 
 dripping with gore from the wound, he draws his glittering 
 dirk, and plunges it, with unerring aim, into the breast of 
 his antagonist. The wounded man starts convulsively, as 
 the other coolly draws back the weapon, the blood gushing 
 forth in a livid stream. "Is not that in self-defence?" 
 exclaims the bloody votary, turning his haggard and 
 enraged face to receive the approval of the bystanders. 
 The dying man, writhing under the grasp of his murderer, 
 utters a piercing shriek. " Murdered ! I'm dying ! Oh, 
 heaven ! is this my last last last ? Forgive me, Lord, 
 forgive me !" he gurgles; and making another convulsive 
 effort, wrings his body from under the perpetrator of the 
 foul deed. How tenacious of life is the dying man ! He 
 grasps the leg of a desk, raises himself to his feet, and,
 
 RESPONSIBLE FOR ITS MENTAL CAPRICES. 391 
 
 as if goaded with the thoughts of hell, in his last struggles 
 staggers to the door, discharges a second shot, vaults, as it 
 were, into the street, and falls prostrate upon the pavement, 
 surrounded by a crowd of eager lookers-on. He is dead ! 
 The career of Mr. M'Fadden is ended ; his spirit is sum 
 moned for trial before a just God. 
 
 The murderer (perhaps we abuse the word, and should 
 apply the more southern term of tenconterisf), sits in a 
 chair, calling for water, as a few among the crowd prepare to 
 carry the dead body into Graspum's slave-pen, a few 
 squares below. 
 
 Southern sensibility may call these scenes by whatever 
 name it will ; we have no desire to change the appropriate 
 ness, nor to lessen the moral tenor of southern society. 
 It nurtures a frail democracy, and from its bastard offspring 
 we have a tyrant dying by the hand of a tyrant, and the 
 spoils of tyranny serving the good growth of the Christian 
 church. Money constructs opinions, pious as well as 
 political, and even changes the feelings of good men, who 
 invoke heaven's aid against the bondage of the souls of men. 
 
 Eomescos will not flee to escape the terrible award of 
 earthly justice. Nay, that, in our atmosphere of probity, 
 would be dishonourable ; nor would it aid the purpose he 
 seeks to gain.
 
 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIII. 
 
 A COMMON INCIDENT SHOKTLY TOLD. 
 
 THE dead body of Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden, whose heart 
 was strong with love of southern democracy, lies upon 
 two pine-boards, ghastly and unshrouded, in a wretched 
 slave-pen. Romescos, surrounded by admiring friends, has 
 found his way to the gaol, where, as is the custom, he has 
 delivered himself up to its keeper. He has spent a good 
 night in that ancient establishment, and on the following 
 morning finds his friends vastly increased. They have viewed 
 him as rather desperate now and then ; but, knowing he 
 is brave withal, have " come to the rescue" on the present 
 occasion. These frequent visits he receives with wonderful 
 coolness and deference, their meats and drinks (so amply 
 furnished to make his stay comfortable) being a great God 
 send to the gaoler, who, while they last, will spread a 
 princely table. 
 
 Brien Moon, Esq. better known as the good-natured 
 coroner has placed a negro watchman over the body of 
 the deceased, on which he proposes to hold one of those 
 curious ceremonies called inquests. Brien Moon, Esq. is 
 particularly fond of the ludicrous, is ever ready to appreciate 
 a good joke, and well known for his happy mode of disposing 
 of dead dogs and cats, which, with anonymous letters, 
 are in great numbers entrusted to his care by certain 
 waggish gentlemen, \vho desire he will " hold an inquest 
 over the deceased, and not forget the fees." It is said 
 the aristocracy, however, look upon the charge with con 
 tempt that Brien Moon, Esq. makes a small per centage 
 by selling those canine remains to the governor of the 
 workhouse, which very humane gentleman pays from his own 
 pocket the means of transferring them into giblet-pies for 
 the inmates. It may be all scandal about Mr. Moon making 
 so large an amount from his office ; but it is nevertheless 
 true that sad disclosures have of late been made concerning 
 the internal affairs of the workhouse.
 
 A COMMON INCIDENT SHOETLT TOLD. 393 
 
 The hour of twelve has arrived ; and since eight in the 
 morning Mr. Moon's time has been consumed in preli 
 minaries necessary to the organisation of a coroner's jury. 
 The reader we know will excuse our not entering into the 
 minutiae of the organisation. Eleven jurors have answered 
 the summons, but a twelfth seems difficult to procure. 
 John, the good Coroner's negro servant, has provided 
 a sufficiency of brandy and cigars, which, since the hour of 
 eleven, have been discussed without stint. The only objec 
 tion our worthy disposer of the dead has to this is, that 
 some of his jurors, becoming very mellow, may turn the 
 inquest into a farce, with himself playing the low-comedy 
 part. The dead body, which lies covered with a sheet, is fast 
 becoming enveloped in smoke, while no one seems to 
 have a passing thought for it. Colonel Tom Edon, who, 
 they say, is not colonel of any regiment, but has merely 
 received the title from the known fact of his being a hog- 
 driver, which honourable profession ia distinguished by its 
 colonels proceeding to market mounted, while the captains 
 walk, merely wonders how much bad whiskey the dead 'un 
 consumed while he lived. 
 
 "This won't do I" exclaims Brien Moon, Esq., and pro 
 ceeds to the door in the hope of catching something to 
 make his mournful number complete. He happens upon 
 Mr. Jonas Academy, an honest cracker, from Christ's 
 parish, who visits the city on a little business. Jonas is 
 a person of great originality, is enclosed in loosely- 
 setting homespun, has a woe-begone countenance, and 
 wears a large-brimmed felt hat. He is just the person 
 to make the number complete, and is led in, unconscious of 
 the object for which he finds himself a captive. Mr. Brien 
 Moon now becomes wondrous grave, mounts a barrel at 
 the head of the corpse, orders the negro to uncover the 
 body, and hopes gentlemen will take seats on the benches 
 he has provided for them, while he proceeds to administer 
 the oath. Three or four yet retain their cigars : he hopes 
 gentlemen will suspend their smoking during the inquest. 
 Suddenly it is found that seven out of the twelve cau 
 neither read nor write; and Mr. Jonas Academy makes 
 known the sad fact that he does not comprehend the nature 
 of an oath, never having taken such an article in his life. 
 Five of the gentlemen, who can read and write, are from
 
 394 A. COMMON INCIDENT SHORTLY TOLD. 
 
 New England ; while Mr. Jonas Academy declares poor 
 folks in Christ's parish are not fools, troubled with reading 
 and writing knowledge. He has been told they have a thing 
 called a college at Columbia ; but only haristocrats get any 
 good of it. In answer to a question from Mr. Moon, he 
 is happy to state that their parish is not pestered with a 
 schoolmaster. " Tes, they killed the one we had more nor 
 two years ago, thank Grod ! Han't bin trubl'd with one 
 o' the critters since," he adds, with unmoved nerves. The 
 Coroner suggests that in a matter of expediency like the 
 present it may be well to explain the nature of an oath ; 
 and, seeing that a man may not read and write, and yet 
 comprehend its sacredness, perhaps it would be as well to 
 forego the letter of the law. " Six used to do for this sort 
 of a jury, but now law must have twelve," says Mr. Moon. 
 Numerous voices assent to this, and Mr. Moon commences 
 what he calls " an halucidation of the nature of an oath." 
 The jurors receive this with great satisfaction, take the oath 
 according to his directions, and after listening to the state 
 ment of two competent witnesses, who know but very 
 little about the affair, are ready to render a verdict, " that 
 M'Fadden, the deceased, came to his death by a stab in the 
 left breast, inflicted by a sharp instrument in the hand or 
 hands of Anthony Romescos, during an affray commonly 
 called a rencontre, regarding which there are many exte 
 nuating circumstances." To this verdict Mr. Moon 
 forthwith bows assent, directs the removal of the body, and 
 invites the gentlemen jurors to join him in another drink, 
 which he does in compliment to their distinguished services. 
 The dead body will be removed to the receiving vault, and 
 Mr. Moon dismisses his jurors with many bows and thanks ; 
 and nothing more.
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 THE CHILDBEN AEE IMPEOVING. 
 
 TIIKEE years have rolled round, and wrought great changes 
 in the aspect of affairs. M'Fadden was buried on his plan 
 tation, Eomescos was bailed by Graspum, and took his trial 
 at the 'sessions for manslaughter. It was scarcely worth 
 while to trouble a respectable jury with the paltry case 
 and then, they were so frequent ! We need scarcely tell the 
 reader that he was honourably acquitted, and borne from 
 the court amid great rejoicing. His crime was only that of 
 murder in self-defence ; and, as two tyrants had met, the 
 successful had the advantage of public opinion, which in the 
 slave world soars high above law. Eomescos being again 
 on the world, making his cleverness known, we must beg 
 the reader's indulgence, and request him to accompany us 
 while we return to the children. 
 
 Annette and Nicholas are, and have been since the sale, 
 the property of Grraspum. They develope in size and 
 beauty two qualities very essential in the man-market of 
 our democratic world, the South. Those beautiful features, 
 intelligence, and reserve, are much admired as merchandise; 
 for southern souls are not lifted above this grade of estimat 
 ing coloured worth. Annette's cherub face, soft blue eyes, 
 clear complexion, and light auburn hair, add to the sweet 
 ness of a countenance that education and care might make 
 brilliant ; an<l yet, though reared on Marston's plantation, 
 with unrestricted indulgence, her childish heart seems an 
 outpouring of native goodness. She speaks of her mother 
 with the affection of one of maturer years ; she grieves for 
 her return, wonders why she is left alone, remembers how 
 kind that mother spoke to her when she said good by, at 
 the cell door. How sweet is the remembrance of a mother ! 
 how it lingers, sparkling as a dewdrop, in a child's memory. 
 Annette feels the affliction, but is too young to divine the 
 cause thereof. She recalls the many happy plantation 
 scenes ; they are bright to her yet ! She prattles about
 
 306 THE CHILDREN ABE IMPROVING. 
 
 Daddy Bob, Harry, Aunt Each el, and old Sue, now and 
 then adding a solicitous question about Marston. But she 
 does not realise that he is her father ; no, it was not her lot 
 to bestow a daughter's affection upon him, and she is yet too 
 young to comprehend the poison of slave power. Her child 
 like simplicity affords a touching contrast to that melancholy 
 injustice by which a fair creature with hopes and virtues 
 after God's moulding, pure and holy, is made mere mer 
 chandise for the slave-market. 
 
 Annette has learned to look upon Nicholas as a brother ; 
 but, like herself, he is kept from those of his own colour by 
 some, to him, unintelligible agency. Strange reflections 
 flit through her youthful imagination, as she embraces him 
 with a sister's fondness. How oft she lays her little head 
 upon his shoulder, encircles his neck with her fair arm, and 
 braids his raven hair with her tiny fingers ! She little thinks 
 how fatal are those charms she bears bloomingly into 
 womanhood. 
 
 But, if they alike increase in beauty as they increase in 
 age, their dispositions are as unlike as two opposites can be 
 moulded. Nicholas has inherited that petulant will, un 
 bending determination, and lurking love of avenging wrong, 
 so peculiar to the Indian race. To restlessness he adds 
 distrust of those around him ; and when displeased, is not 
 easily reconciled. He is, however, tractable, and early 
 evinced an aptitude for mechanical pursuits that would have 
 done credit to maturer years. Both have been at service, 
 and during the period have created no small degree of admi 
 ration Annette for her promising personal appearance, 
 Nicholas for his precocious display of talent. Both 
 have earned their living ; and now Nicholas is Arrived at an 
 age when his genius attracts purchasers. 
 
 Conspicuous among those who have been keeping an eye 
 on the little fellow, is Mr. Jonathan Grabguy, a master- 
 builder, largely engaged in rearing dwellings. His father 
 was a builder, and his mother used to help the workmen to 
 make Venetian blinds. Fortune showered her smiles upon 
 their energies, and brought them negro property in great 
 abundance. Of this property they made much ; the father 
 of the present Mr. Grabguy (who became a distinguished 
 mayor of the city) viewing it peculiarly profitable to use up 
 his niggers in five years. To this end he forced them to
 
 THE CHILDBEN ABE IMPBOVIKG. 397 
 
 incessant toil, belabouring them with a weapon of raw hide, 
 to which he gave the singular cognomen of "hell-fire." 
 "When extra punishment was according to his policy-T- 
 necessary to bring out the " digs," he would lock them up 
 in his cage (a sort of grated sentry-box, large enough to 
 retain the body in an upright position), and when the 
 duration of this punishment was satisfactory to his feelings, 
 he would administer a counter quantity of stings with his 
 " hell-fire" wattle. Indeed, the elder Mr. Grabguy, who 
 afterwards became " His "Worship the Mayor," was a 
 wonderful disciplinarian, which very valuable traits of 
 character his son retains in all their purity. His acts 
 deserve more specific notice than we are at present able to 
 give them, inasmuch as by them the safety of a state is 
 frequently endangered, as we shall show in the climax. 
 
 Our present Mr. Grabguy is a small man, somewhat 
 slender of person, about five feet seven inches high, who 
 usually dresses in the habiliments of a working man, and is 
 remarkable for his quickness. His features are dark and 
 undefinable, marked with that thoughtfulness which applies 
 only to the getting of wordly goods. His face is narrow 
 and careworn, with piercing brown eyes, high cheek bones, 
 projecting nose and chin, low forehead, arid greyish hair, 
 which he parts in the centre. These form the strongest 
 index to his stubborn character ; nevertheless he hopes, ere 
 long, to reach the same distinguished position held by his 
 venerable father, who, peace to his ashes ! is dead. 
 
 : ' Now, good neighbour Graspum," says our Mr. Grabguy, 
 as he stands in Graspum's warehouse examining a few prime 
 fellows, " I've got a small amount to invest in stock, but I 
 wants somethin' choice say two or three prime uns, handy 
 at tools. I wants somethin' what '11 make mechanics. Then 
 I wants to buy," he continues, deliberately, " a few smart 
 young uns, what have heads with somethin' in 'um, that ye 
 can bring up to larn things. White mechanics, you see, are 
 so independent now-a-days, that you can't keep 'um under 
 as you can niggers. 
 
 "I've bin thinkin' 'bout tryin' an experiment with nigger 
 'prentices ; and, if it goes, we can dispense with white me 
 chanics entirely. My word for it, they're only a great 
 nuisance at best. When you put 'um to work with niggera 
 they don't feel right, and they have notions that our society
 
 398 THE CHILDBEN ABE IMPEOTIHG. 
 
 don't respect 'um because they must mix with the black 
 rascals in following their trades ; and this works its way 
 into their feelings so, that the best on 'um from the north 
 soon give themselves up to the worst dissipation. Ah ! our 
 white mechanics are poor wretches ; there isn't twenty in 
 the city you can depend on to keep sober two days." 
 
 " Well, sir," interrupts Grasp um, with an air of great im 
 portance, as, with serious countenance, he stands watching 
 every change in Mr. Grabguy's face, at intervals taking a cur 
 sory survey of his merchandise, "can suit you to most anything 
 in the line. You understand my mode of trade, perfectly ?" 
 He touches Mr. Grabguy on the arm, significantly, and waits 
 the reply, which that gentleman makes with a bow. " "Well, 
 if you do," he continues, "you know the means and markets 
 I have at my command. Can sell you young uns of any 
 age, prime uns of various qualities from field hands down 
 to watch-makers, clergymen !" He always keeps a good 
 supply on hand, and has the very best means of supply. So 
 Mr. Grabguy makes a purchase of three prime men, whom 
 he intends to transform into first-rate mechanics. He 
 declares he will not be troubled hereafter with those very 
 miserable white workmen he is constrained to import from 
 the north. They are foolish enough to think they are just as 
 good as any body, and can be gentlemen in their profession. 
 They, poor fools ! mistake the south in their love of happy 
 New England and its society, as they call it. 
 
 Having completed his bargain, he hesitates, as if there is 
 something more he would like to have, "Graspum !" he says, 
 " What for trade ? can we strike for that imp o' yours at 
 Mrs. Tuttlewill's ?" Without waiting for Graspum's reply, 
 he adds " That chap 's goin to make a tall bit of property 
 one of these days !" 
 
 " Ought to," rejoins Graspum, stoically ; "he's got right 
 good stock in him." The man of business gives his head a 
 knowing shake, and takes a fresh quid of tobacco. " Give 
 that ' sprout ' a chance in the world, and -he'll show his 
 hand!" he adds. 
 
 " That's what I wants," intimates our tradesman. He 
 has had his eye on the fellow, and knows he's got a head 
 what '11 make the very best kind of a workman. But it will 
 be necessary to take the stubborn out without injuring the 
 " larning " part. Mr. Grabguy, with great unconcern, merely
 
 THE CHILDREN ARE IMPROVING. 
 
 suggests these trifling matters for the better regulating of Mr. 
 Graspum's price. 
 
 " Can do thab easy enough, if you oiily study the 
 difference between a nigger's hide and head. Can jmt 
 welts on pretty strong, if you understand the difference 
 a 'tween the too," intimates our man of business, as he 
 places his thumbs in his vest, and commences humming a 
 tune. Then he stops suddenly, and working his face into 
 a very learned contortion, continues " Te see, Gfrabguy, 
 a man has to study the human natur of a nigger just the 
 same as he would a mule or a machine. In truth, 
 Grabguy, niggers are more like mules nor anything else, 
 'cause the brute '11 do everything but what ye wants him 
 to do, afore he's subdued. You must break them when 
 they are young. About ten or a dozen welts, sir, well 
 laid on when ye first begin, and every time he don't toe 
 the mark, will, in the course of a year, make him as 
 submissive as a spaniel it will ! The virtue of submission 
 is in the lash, it supples like seeds." 
 
 "About the stock, Graspum : I don't quite agree with you 
 about that, I never believed in blood, ye know. As far as 
 this imp goes, I have my doubts about the blood doin on 
 him much good ; seein' how it kind o' comes across my 
 mind that there's some Ingin in him. Now, if my phi 
 losophy serves me right, Ingin blood makes slave property 
 want to run away (the speaker spreads himself with great 
 nonchalance), the very worst fault." 
 
 " Poh ! poh! isn't a bit o' that about him. That imp 'a 
 from Marston's estate, can't scare up nothin so promisin' 
 in the way of likely colour," Graspum interposes, with great 
 assurance of manner. "You didn't see the gal did you ?" 
 he concludes. 
 
 " I reckon I've taken a squint at both on 'em ! Pretty fine 
 and likely. From the same bankrupt concern, I s'pose ?" 
 Mr. Grabguy looks quite serious, and waits for a reply. 
 
 "Yes nothing less," Graspum replies, measuredly. "But 
 won't it make your eye water, neighbour Grabguy, one of 
 these days ! Bring a tall price among some of our young bucks, 
 eh.!" He gives neighbour Grabguy a significant touch on 
 the arm, and that gentleman turns his head and smiles. 
 How quaintly modest ! 
 
 "By the by, talking of Marston, what has become of
 
 400 THE CHILDEEH AEE 
 
 him ? His affairs seem to Have died out in the general 
 levity which the number of such cases occasion. But I 
 tell you what it is, Graspum, (he whispers, accompanying 
 the word with an insinuating look), report implicates you 
 in that affair." 
 
 " Me ? Me ? Me, Sir ? God bless you ! why, you really 
 startle me. My honour is above the world's scandal. Ah ! 
 if you only knew what I've done for that man, Marston ; 
 that cussed nephew of his came within a feather of effecting 
 my ruin. And there he lies, stubborn as a door-plate, 
 sweating out his obstinacy in gaol. Lord bless your soul, 
 I'm not to blame, you know ! I have done a world of things 
 for him ; but he won't be advised." 
 
 "His creditors think he has more money, and money 
 being the upshot of all his troubles, interposes the point of 
 difficulty in the present instance. I tell them he has no 
 more money, but I know not why they doubt the fact the 
 more, and refuse to release him, on the ground of my pur 
 chasing their claims at some ulterior period, as I did those 
 two fifas when the right of freedom was being contested in 
 the children. But, you see, Grabguy, I'm a man of 
 standing ; and no money would tempt me to have any 
 thing to do with another such case. It was by a mere 
 quirk of law, and the friendship of so many eminent lawyers, 
 that I secured that fifteen hundred dollars from M'Carstrow 
 for the gal what disappeared so mysteriously." 
 
 " Graspum !" interrupts Mr. Grabguy, suddenly, accom 
 panying his remark with a laugh, " you're n good bit of a 
 lawyer when it comes to the cross-grained. You tell it all 
 on one side, as lawyers do. I know the risk you run in 
 buying the fifas on which those children were attached!" 
 Mr. Grabguy smiles, doubtingly, and shakes his head. 
 
 "There are liabilities in everything," Graspum drawls 
 out, measuredly. " Pardon me, my friend, you never should 
 found opinion on suspicion. More than a dozen times have 
 I solicited Marston to file his schedule, and take the benefit 
 of the act. However, with all my advice and kindness 
 to him, he will not move a finger towards his own release. 
 Like all our high-minded Southerners, he is ready to 
 maintain a sort of compound between dignity and dis 
 tress, with which he will gratify his feelings. It's all 
 pride, sir pride ! you may depend upon it. (Graspum
 
 THE CHILDEEN ABE IMPROVING. 401 
 
 lays his hands together, and affects wondrous charity). 
 I pity such men from the very bottom of ray heart, be 
 cause it always makes me feel bad when I think what 
 they have been. Creditors, sir, are very unrelenting ; and 
 seldom think that an honourable man would suffer the 
 miseries of a prison rather than undergo the pain of being 
 arraigned before an open court, for the exposition of his 
 poverty. Sensitiveness often founds the charge of wrong. 
 The thing is much misunderstood ; I know it, sir ! Yes, 
 sir! My own feelings make me the best judge," con 
 tinues Graspum, with a most serious countenance. He 
 feels he is a man of wonderful parts, much abused by 
 public opinion, and, though always trying to promote 
 public good, never credited for his many kind acts. 
 
 Turning his head aside to relieve himself of a smile, 
 Mr. Grabguy admits that he is quite an abused man ; 
 and, setting aside small matters, thinks it well to be 
 guided by the good motto : ' retire from business with 
 plenty of money' It may not subdue tongues, but it will 
 soften whispers. Money, Mr. Grrabguy intimates, upon the 
 strength of his venerable father's experience, is a curious 
 medium of overcoming the ditchwork of society. In fact, 
 he assures Graspum, that with plenty of shiners you may 
 be just such a man as you please ; everybody will forget 
 that you ever bought or sold a nigger, and ten chances to 
 one if you do not find yourself sloped off into Congress, 
 before you have had time to study the process of getting 
 there. But, enough of this, Grraspum ; let us turn to trade 
 matters. What's the lowest shot ye'll take for that mellow 
 mixture of Ingin and aristocracy. Send up and bring him 
 down: let us hear the lowest dodge you'll let him 
 slide at." 
 
 Mr. Grabguy evinces an off-handedness in trade that is 
 quite equal to Graspum's keen tact. But Graspum has 
 the faculty of preserving a disinterested appearance sin 
 gularly at variance with his object. 
 
 A messenger is despatched, receipt in hand, for the boy 
 Nicholas. Mrs.Tuttlewell,a brusque body of some sixty years, 
 and with thirteen in a family, having had three husbands 
 (all gentlemen of the highest standing, and connected with 
 first families), keeps a stylish boarding-house, exclusively for 
 the aristocracy, common people not being competent to her 
 
 D D
 
 402 THE CHILDSEff ABE IMPROVING. 
 
 style of living; and as nobody could ever say one word 
 against the Tuttlewell family, the present head of the Tut- 
 tlewell house has become very fashionably distinguished. 
 The messenger's arrival is made known to Mrs. Tuttlewell, 
 who must duly consider the nature of the immediate demand. 
 She had reason to expect the services of the children would 
 have been at her command for some years to come. However, 
 she must make the very best of it ; they are Grraspum's pro 
 perty, and he can do what he pleases with them. She 
 suggests, with great politeness, that the messenger take a 
 seat in the lower veranda. Her house is located in a most 
 fashionable street, and none knew better than good lady 
 Tuttlewell herself the value of living up to a fashionable 
 nicety ; for, where slavery exists, it is a trade to live. 
 
 Both children have been " waiting on table," and, on hear 
 ing the summons, repair to their cabin in the yard. Mrs. 
 Tuttlewell, reconsidering her former decision, thinks the 
 messenger better follow them, seeing that he is a nigger with 
 kindly looks. " Uncle !" says Annette, looking up at the 
 old Negro, as he joins them : " Don't you want me too ?" 
 
 "No," returns the man, coolly, shaking his head. 
 
 " I think they must be going to take us back to the old 
 plantation, where Daddy Bob used to sing so. Then I shall 
 see mother how I do want to see her !" she exclaims, her 
 little heart bounding with ecstasy. Three years or more 
 have passed since she prattled on her mother's knee. 
 
 The negro recognises the child's simplicity. " I on'e wants 
 dat child ; but da'h an't gwine t' lef ye out on da planta 
 tion, nohow !" he says. 
 
 " Not going to take us home !" she says, with a sigh. 
 Nicholas moodily submits himself to be prepared, as Annette, 
 more vivacious, keeps interposing with various enquiries. 
 She would like to know where they are going to take little 
 Nicholas ; and when they will let her go and see Daddy 
 Bob and mother ? " Now, you can take me ; I know you 
 can !" she says, looking up at the messenger, and taking his 
 hand pertly. 
 
 " No can't, little 'un ! Mus' lef 'um fo'h nuder time. 
 You isn't broder and sister is ye?" 
 
 " No ! " quickly replies the little girl, swinging his hand play 
 fully ; " but I want to go where he goes ; I want to see mother 
 when he does."
 
 THE CHILDREN ARE IMPROVING. 403 
 
 " Well, den, little 'un (the negro sees he cannot overcome 
 the child's simplicity by any other means), dis child will_ 
 come fo'h 'um to-morrow dat I will !" 
 
 "And you'll bring Nicholas back won't you?" she 
 enquires, grasping the messenger more firmly by the hand. 
 
 "Sartin! no mistake 'bout dat, little 'uman." At this 
 she takes Nicholas by the hand, and retires to their little 
 room in the cabin. Here, like one of older years, she 
 washes him, and dresses him, and fusses over him. 
 
 He is merely a child for sale ; so she combs his little 
 locks, puts on his new osnaburgs, arranges his nice white 
 collar about his neck, and makes him look so prim. And 
 then she ties a piece of black ribbon about his neck, giving 
 him the bright appearance of a school-boy on examination- 
 day. The little girl's feelings seem as much elated as 
 would be a mother's at the prospect of her child gaining 
 a medal of distinction. 
 
 " Now, Nicholas !" she whispers, with touching simplicity, 
 aa she views him from head to foot with a smile of exultation 
 on her face, "your mother never dressed you so neat. But I 
 like you more and more, Nicholas, because both our mothers 
 are gone ; and maybe we shall never see 'um again." And 
 she kisses him fondly, tells him not to stay long, to tell her 
 all he has seen and heard about mother, when he returns. 
 
 " I don't know, 'Nette, but 'pears to me we ain't like 
 other children they don't have to be sold so often ; and I 
 don't seem to have any father." 
 
 " Neither do I ; but Mrs. Tuttlewell says I mustn't 
 mind that, because there's thousands just like us. And 
 then she says we ain't the same kind o' white folks that she 
 is ; she says we are white, but niggers for all that. I don't 
 know how it is ! I'm not like black folks, because I'm just 
 as white as any white folks," she rejoins, placing her little 
 arms round his neck and smoothing his hair with her left 
 hand. 
 
 " I'll grow up, oneo' these days." 
 
 "And so will I," she speaks, boldly. 
 
 " And I'm goin' to know where my mother's gone, and 
 why I ain't as good as other folks' white children," he 
 rejoins sullenly, shaking his head, and muttering away to 
 himself. It is quite evident that the many singular stages 
 through which he is passing, serve only to increase the
 
 404i THE CHILDREN ABE IMPEOYTtfG. 
 
 stubborness of his nature. The only black distinguishable 
 in his features are his eyes and hair ; and, as he looks in the 
 glass to confirm what he has said, Annette takes him by the 
 hand, tells him he must not mind, now ; that if he is good 
 he shall see Franconia, and mother, too, one of these days. 
 He must not be pettish, she remarks, holding him by the 
 hand like a sister whose heart glows with hope for a 
 brother's welfare. She gives him in charge of the messenger, 
 saying, "Good by!" as she imprints a kiss on his cheek, 
 its olive hues changing into deep crimson. 
 
 The negro answers her adieu with " Good by, little dear ! 
 God bless 'um !" Nay, the native goodness of his heart 
 will not permit him to leave her thus. He turns round, 
 takes her in his arms, kisses and kisses her fair cheek. It 
 is the truth of an honest soul, expressed with tears glistening 
 in his eyes. Again taking Nicholas by the hand, he 
 hastens through the passage of Mrs. TuttlewelPs house 
 where, on emerging into the street, he is accosted by that 
 very fashionable lady, who desires to know if he has 
 got the boy "all right!" Being answered in the affir 
 mative, she gives a very dignified " Glad of it," and 
 desires her compliments to Mr. Graspum, who she 
 hopes will extend the same special regards to his 
 family, and retires to the quietude of her richly-furnished 
 parlour. 
 
 The gentleman dealer and his customer are waiting in 
 the man shambles, while the negro messenger with his boy 
 article of trade plod their way along through the busy 
 
 streets. The negro looks on his charge with a smile of 
 
 congratulation. " Mas'r '11 laugh all over 'e clothes when he 
 
 sees ye dat he will !" he says, with an air of exultation. 
 " I'd like to know where I'm goin' to afore I go much* 
 
 further," returns the boy, curtly, as he walks along, 
 
 every few minutes asking unanswerable questions of the 
 
 negro. 
 
 " Lor, child !" returns the negro, with a significant 
 
 smile, " take ye down to old massa what own <'um ! 
 
 Fo'h true !" 
 
 " Own me !" mutters the child, surlily. " How can 
 
 they own me without owning my mother ? and I've no 
 
 father." 
 
 "White man great 'losipher; he know so much, dat
 
 THE CHILDBEJf ABB IMPBOYING. 405 
 
 nigger don't know nofin," is the singularly significant 
 answer. 
 
 " But God didn't make me for a nigger, did he ?" 
 
 " Don 1 know how dat is, child. 'Pears like old mas'r 
 tink da' ain't no God ; and what he sees in yander good 
 book lef 'um do just as 'e mind to wid nigger. Sometimes 
 Buckra sell nigger by de pound, just like 'e sell pig ; and 
 den 'e say 't was wid de Lord's will." 
 
 " If mas'r Lord be what Buckra say he be, dis child don' 
 want t' be 'quainted wid 'um," he coolly dilates, as if he 
 foresees the mournful result of the child's bright 
 endowments. 
 
 The negro tries to quiet the child's apprehensions by 
 telling him he thinks " Buckra, what's waiting down in da'h 
 office, gwine t' buy 'um of old mas'r. Know dat Buckra ! 
 he sharp feller. Get e' eye on ye, and make up 'e mind 
 what 'e gwine to give fo'h 'um, quicker!" says the negro. 
 
 Graspum has invited his customer, Mr. Grabguy, into his 
 more comfortable counting-room, where, as Nicholas is led 
 in, they may be found discussing the rights of the south, as 
 guaranteed by the federal constitution. The south claim 
 rights independent of the north ; and those rights are to 
 secede from the wrongs of the north whenever she takes 
 into her head the very simple notion of carrying them out. 
 Graspum, a man of great experience, whose keen sense of 
 justice is made keener by his sense of practical injustice, 
 thinks the democracy of the south was never fully under 
 stood, and that the most sure way of developing its great 
 principles is by hanging every northerner, whose abolition 
 mania is fast absorbing the liberties of the country at large. 
 
 "That's the feller!" says Mr. Grabguy, as the negro 
 leads Nicholas into his presence, and orders him to keep 
 his hands down while the gentleman looks at him. " Stub 
 born sticks out some, though, I reckon," Mr. Grabguy adds, 
 rather enthusiastically. " Absalom ! Isaac ! Joe ! eh ? 
 what's your name ?" 
 
 " He's a trump !" interposes Graspum, rubbing his hands 
 together, and giving his head a significant shake. 
 
 " Nicholas, they call me, master," answers the boy, 
 pettishly. 
 
 Mr. Grabguy takes him by the arms, feels his muscle 
 with great care and caution, tries the elasticity of his body
 
 406 THE CHILDREN ARE IMPROVING. 
 
 by lifting him from the floor by his two ears. This ig too 
 much, which the child announces with loud screams. " Stuff! 
 out and out," says Mr. Grabguy, patting him on the back, 
 in a kind sort of way. At the same time he gives a look of 
 satisfaction at Graspum. 
 
 " Everything a man wants, in that yaller skin," returns 
 that methodical tradesman, with a gracious nod. 
 
 " Black lightnin' eyes long wiry black hair, a skin full 
 of Ingin devil, and a face full of stubborn," Mr. Grrabguy 
 discourses, as he contemplates the article before him. 
 
 " "Well, now, about the lowest figure for him ?' ' he con 
 tinues, again looking at Graspum, and waiting his reply. 
 That gentleman, drawing his right hand across his mouth, 
 relieves it of the virtueless deposit, and supplies it with a 
 fresh quid. 
 
 " Sit down, neighbour Grabguy," he says, placing a chair 
 beside him. They both sit down ; the negro attendant 
 stands a few feet behind them : the boy may walk a line 
 backward and forward. " Say the word ! You know I'll 
 have a deal o' trouble afore breaking the feller in," Grabguy 
 exclaims, impatiently. 
 
 Graspum is invoking his philosophy. He will gauge the 
 point of value according to the coming prospect and Mr. 
 Grabguy's wants. " "Well, now, seeing it's you, and taking 
 the large amount of negro property I have sold to your 
 distinguished father into consideration I hope to sell forty 
 thousand niggers yet, before I die he should bring six 
 hundred." Graspum lays his left hand modestly on Mr. 
 Grabguy's right arm, as that gentleman rather starts with 
 surprise. " Take the extraordinary qualities into conside 
 ration, my friend ; he's got a head what's worth two 
 hundred dollars more nor a common nigger, that is, if you 
 be going to turn it into knowledge profit. But that wasn't 
 just what I was going to say (Graspum becomes profound, 
 as he spreads himself back in his chair). I was going to 
 say, I'd let you you mustn't whisper it, though have him 
 for five hundred and twenty ; and he's as cheap at that as 
 bull-dogs at five dollars." 
 
 Grabguy shakes his head : he thinks the price rather 
 beyond his mark. He, however, has no objection to chalking 
 on the figure ; and as both are good democrats, they will 
 split the difference.
 
 THE CHILDBEN AEE IMPROVING. 407 
 
 Graspum, smiling, touches his customer significantly with 
 his elbow. " I never do business after that model," he says. 
 
 " Speaking of bull-dogs, why, Lord bless your soul, bam 
 Beals and me traded t'other day : I gin him a young five- 
 year old nigger for his hound, and two hundred dollars 
 to boot. Can't go five hundred and twenty for that imp, 
 nohow ! Could o' got a prime nigger for that, two years ago." 
 
 " Wouldn't lower a fraction ! He's extraordinary prime, 
 and'll increase fifty dollars a year every year for ten years 
 or more." 
 
 Mr. Grabguy can't help that : he is merely in search of 
 an article capable of being turned into a mechanic, or 
 professional man, anything to suib the exigencies of a free 
 country, in which such things are sold. And as it will 
 require much time to get the article to a point where it'll 
 bo sure to turn the pennies back, perhaps he'd as well let 
 it alone : so he turns the matter over in his head. And 
 yet, there is a certain something about the "young imp" 
 that really fascinates him ; his keen eye, and deep sense of 
 nigger natur' value, detect the wonderful promise the 
 article holds forth. 
 
 " Not one cent lower would I take for that chap. In fact, 
 I almost feel like recanting now," says Graspum, by way of . 
 breaking the monotony. 
 
 " Well, I'll bid you good day," says the other, in return, 
 affecting preparation to leave. He puts out his hand to 
 Graspum, and with a serious look desires to know if that 
 be the lowest figure. 
 
 " Fact ! Don't care 'bout selling at that. Couldn't 
 have a better investment than to keep him !" 
 
 Mr. Grabguy considers and reconsiders the matter over 
 in his mind ; paces up and down the floor several times, 
 commences humming a tune, steps to the door, looks up and 
 down the street, and says, " Well, I'll be moving homeward, 
 I will." 
 
 " Like yer custom, that I do ; but then, knowing what 
 I can do with the fellow, I feels stiff about letting him go," 
 interposes Graspum, with great indifference, following to 
 the door, with hands extended. 
 
 This is rather too insinuating for Mr. Grabguy. Never 
 did piece of property loom up so brightly, so physically 
 and intellectually valuable. He will return to the table
 
 408 THE CHILDREN ARE IMPROVING. 
 
 Taking his seat again, he draws forth a piece of paper, and 
 with his pencil commences figuring upon it. He wants to 
 get at the cost of free and slave labour, and the relative 
 advantages of the one over the other. After a deal of 
 multiplying and subtracting, he sives it up in despair. The 
 fine proportions of the youth before him distract his very 
 brain with contemplation. He won't bother another minute ; 
 figures are only confusions : so far as using them to com 
 pute the relative value of free and slave labour, they are 
 enough to make one's head ache. " Would ye like to go 
 with me, boy ? Give ye enough to eat, but make ye toe 
 the mark!" He looks at Nicholas, and waits a reply. 
 
 " Don't matter !" is the boy's answer. " Seems as if 
 nobody cared for me; and so I don't care for nobody." 
 
 "That's enough," he interrupts, turning to Graspum: 
 " there's a showing of grit in that, eh ?" 
 
 " Soon take it out," rejoins that methodical gentleman. 
 " Anyhow, I've a mind to try the fellow, Graspum. I feel 
 the risk I run ; but I don't mind it's neck or nothin here 
 in the south ! Te'll take a long note, s'pose ? Good, ye 
 know!" 
 
 Graspum motions his head and works his lips, half 
 affirmatively. 
 
 " Good as old gold, ye knows that," insinuates Mr. 
 Grabguy. 
 
 " Yes, but notes aint cash ; and our banks are shut 
 down as tight as steel traps. At all events make it bank 
 able, and add the interest for six months. It's against my 
 rules of business, though," returns Graspum, with great 
 financial emphasis. 
 
 After considerably more very nice exhibitions of business 
 tact, it is agreed that Mr. Grabguy takes the " imp" at five 
 hundred and twenty dollars, for which Graspum accepts 
 his note at six months, with interest. Mr. Grabguy's paper 
 is good, and Graspum considers it equal to cash, less the 
 interest. The "imp" is now left in charge of the negro, 
 while the two gentlemen retire to the private counting- 
 room, where they will settle the preliminaries. 
 
 A grave-looking gentleman at a large desk is ordered to 
 make the entry of sale ; as the initiate of which he takes a 
 ponderous ledger from the case, and, with great coolness, 
 opens its large leaves. " Nicholas, I think his name is?"
 
 THE CHILDREN ABE IMPROVING. 409 
 
 he ejaculates, turning to Grraspum, who, unconcernedly, has 
 resumed his seat in the great arm-chair. 
 
 " Yes ; but I suppose it must be Nicholas Grabguy, now," 
 returns Graspum, bowing to his book-keeper, and then 
 turning to Mr. Grrabguy. 
 
 " One minute, if you please !" rejoins that gentlemen, as 
 the sedate book-keeper turns to his page of N's in the 
 index. Mr. Grabguy will consider that very important point 
 for a few seconds. 
 
 " Better drop the Marston, as things are. A good many 
 high feeling connections of that family remain ; and to 
 continue the name might be to give pain." This, Grraspum 
 says, he only puts out as a suggestion. 
 
 " Enter him as you say, gentlemen," interposes the clerk, 
 who will mend his pen while waiting their pleasure. 
 
 Mr. Grabguy runs his right hand several times across his 
 forehead, and after a breathless pause, thinks it as well not 
 to connect his distinguished name with that of the nigger, 
 not just at this moment ! Being his property, and associ 
 ating with his business and people, that will naturally 
 follow. " Just enter him, and make out the bill of sale 
 describing him as the boy Nicholas," he adds. 
 
 " Boy Nicholas !" reiterates the book-keeper, and straight 
 way enters his name, amount fetched, to whom sold, and 
 general description, on his files. In a few minutes more 
 Grraspum, in his chair of state, is regretting having sold so 
 quickj Mr. Grabguy is handed his bill of sale, duly made 
 out. At the same time, that sedate official places the note 
 for the amount into Graspum's hands. Graspum examines 
 it minutely, while Mr. Grabguy surveys the bill of sale. 
 " Mr. Benson, my clerk here, does these things up according 
 to legal tenour ; he, let me inform you, was brought up at 
 the law business, and was rather celebrated once ; but the 
 profession won't pay a man of his ability," remarks Graspum, 
 with an " all right !" as he lays the note of hand down for 
 Mr. Grabguy 's signature. 
 
 Mr. Benson smiles in reply, and adjusts the very stiffly 
 starched corners of his ponderous shirt collar, which he 
 desires to keep well closed around his chin. " An honourable 
 man, that's true, sir, can't live honestly by the law, now- 
 a-days," he concludes, with measured sedateness. He will
 
 4(10 THE CHILDREN ABE IMPROVING. 
 
 now get his bill-book, in which to make a record of the 
 piece of paper taken in exchange for the human ' imp.' 
 
 " Clap your name across the face!" demands Graspum; 
 and Grabguy seizes a pen, and quickly consummates the 
 bargain by inscribing his name, passing it to Mr. Benson, 
 and, in return, receiving the bill of sale, which he places in 
 his breast pocket. He will not trouble Mr. Benson any 
 further; but, if he will supply a small piece of paper, 
 Mr. Grabguy will very kindly give the imp an order, and 
 send him to his workshop. 
 
 "Will the gentleman be kind enough to help himself," 
 says Mr. Benson, passing a quire upon the table at which 
 Mr. Grabguy sits. 
 
 "I'll trim that chap into a first-rate mechanic," says 
 Mr. Grabguy, as he writes, " I have bought the bearer, 
 Nicholas, a promising chap, as you will see. Take him 
 into the shop and set him at something, if it is only 
 turning the grindstone ; as I hav'nt made up my mind 
 exactly about what branch to set him at. He's got temper 
 you'll see that in a minute, and will want some breakin in, 
 if I don't calklate 'rong." This Mr. Grabguy envelopes, 
 and directs to his master mechanic. When all things are 
 arranged to his satisfaction, Nicholas is again brought into 
 his presence, receives an admonition, is told what he may 
 expect if he displays his bad temper, is presented with the 
 note, and despatched, with sundry directions, to seek his 
 way alone, to his late purchaser's workshop. 
 
 " Come, boy ! ain't you going to say ' good-by' to me 
 'afore you go ? I hav'nt been a bad master to you," says 
 Graspum, putting out his hand. 
 
 "Yes, master," mutters the child, turning about ere he 
 reaches the door. He advances towards Graspum, puts 
 out his little hand ; and in saying " good by, master," there 
 is so much childish simplicity in his manner that it touches 
 the tender chord embalmed within that iron frame. " Be 
 a good little fellow !" he says, his emotions rising. How 
 strong are the workings of nature when brought in contact 
 with unnatural laws ! The monster who has made the child 
 wretched who has for ever blasted its hopes, shakes it by 
 the hand, and says " good by, little 'un !" as it leaves the 
 door to seek the home of a new purchaser. How strange
 
 THE CHILDREN ARE IMPROVING. 411 
 
 the thoughts invading that child's mind, as, a slave for life, it 
 plods its way through the bnsy thoroughfares ! Forcibly the 
 happy incidents of the past are recalled ; they are touching rec- 
 lections sweets in the dark void of a slave's life ; but to him 
 no way-marks, to measure the happy home embalmed therein, 
 are left. 
 
 27
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WORKINGS OF THS SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 DEMOCRACY ! thy trumpet voice for liberty is ever ringing 
 in our ears ; but thy strange workings defame thcc. Thou 
 art rampant in love of the " popular cause," crushing of that 
 which secures liberty to all ; and, whilst thou art great at 
 demolishing structures, building firm foundations seems 
 beyond thee, for thereto thou forgetteth to lay the corner 
 stone well on the solid rock of principle. And, too, we love 
 thee when thou art moved and governed by justice ; we hate 
 thee when thou showest thyself a sycophant to make a mad 
 mob serve a pestilential ambition. Like a young giant thou 
 graspest power ; but, when in thy hands, it becomes a 
 means of serving the baser ends of factious demagogues. 
 Hypocrite ! "With breath of poison thou hast sung thy songs 
 to liberty while making it a stepping-stone to injustice ; 
 nor hast thou ever ceased to wage a tyrant's war against the 
 rights of man. Thou wearest false robes ; thou blasphemest 
 against heaven, that thy strength in wrong may be secure 
 yea, we fear thy end is fast coming badly, for thou art the 
 bastard offspring of .Republicanism so purely planted in our 
 land. Clamour and the lash arc thy sceptres, and, like a 
 viper seeking its prey, thou charmest with one and goadeth 
 men's souls with the other. Having worked thy way 
 through our simple narrative, show us what thou hast done. 
 A father hast thou driven within the humid wall of a prison, 
 because he would repent and acknowledge his child. Bolts 
 and bars, in such cases, are democracy's safeguards ; but thou 
 hast bound with heavy chains the being who would rise in 
 the world, and go forth healing'the sick and preaching God's 
 word. Even hast thou turned the hearts of men into stone, 
 and made them weep at the wrong thou gavest them power 
 to inflict. That bond which G-od gave to man, and 
 charged him to keep sacred, thou hast sundered for the 
 sake of gold, thereby levelling man with the brutes of the 
 field. Thou hast sent two beautiful children to linger in the
 
 We left the stolen clergyman on the 
 banks of the Mississippi, where, hav 
 ing purchased his time of his owner, 
 he is not only a very profitable in 
 vestment, but of great service to the f. 
 neighboring plantations. Mr. Rose- 
 brook succeeded in purchasing Harry 
 for fourteen hundred dollars, and re 
 turned with him to his plantation. 
 
 
 ROSEBROOK RETURNS WITH HARRY FROM MAJOR WILEY'S.
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 413 
 
 wickedness of slavery, to die stained with its infamy ! Thou 
 hast robbed many a fair one of her virtue, stolen many a 
 charm ; but thy foulest crime is, that thou drivest mothers 
 and fathers from the land of their birth to seek shelter on 
 foreign soil. Would to God thou could'st see thyself as 
 thou art, make thy teachings known in truth and justice, 
 cease to mock thyself in the eyes of foreign tyrants, 
 nor longer serve despots who would make thee the shield of 
 their ill-gotten power ! 
 
 Within those malarious prison walls, where fast decays a 
 father who sought to save from slavery's death the offspring 
 he loved, will be found a poor, dejected negro, sitting at the 
 bedside of the oppressed man, administering to his wants. 
 His friendship is true unto death, the oppressed man is hia 
 angel, he will serve him at the sacrifice of life and liberty. 
 He is your true republican, the friend of the oppressed! 
 Your lessons of democracy, so swelling, so boastfully 
 arrayed for a world's good, have no place in his soul, 
 goodness alone directs his examples of republicanism. But 
 we milst not be over venturous in calling democracy to 
 account, lest we offend the gods of power and progress. 
 We will, to save ourselves, return to our narrative. 
 
 Marston, yet in gaol, stubbornly refuses to take the 
 benefit of the act, commonly called the poor debtor's act. 
 He has a faithful friend in Daddy Bob, who has kept 
 his ownership concealed, and, with the assistance of Fran- 
 conia, still relieves his necessities. Humour, however, 
 strongly whispers that Colonel M'Carstrow is fast gambling 
 away his property, keeping the worst of company, and 
 leading the life of a debauchee, which sorely grieves his 
 noble-hearted wife. In fact, Mrs. Templeton, who is 
 chief gossip-monger of the city, declares that he is more 
 than ruined, and that his once beautiful wife must seek 
 support at something. 
 
 An honest jury of twelve free and enlightened citizens, 
 before the honourable court of Sessions, have declared 
 Romescos honourably acquitted of the charge of murder, 
 the fatal blow being given in commendable self-defence. 
 
 The reader will remember that in a former chapter we 
 left the stolen clergyman (no thanks to his white face and 
 whiter necked brethren of the profession), on the banks of 
 the Mississippi, where, having purchased his time of hia
 
 414 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 owner, lie is not only a very profitable investment to that 
 gentleman, but of great service on the neighbouring plan 
 tations. Earnest in doing good for his fellow bondmen, his 
 efforts have enlisted for him the sympathy of a generous- 
 hearted young lady, the daughter of a neighbouring 
 planter. Many #mes had he recounted Mrs. Rosebrook's 
 friendship for him to her, and by its influence succeeded 
 in opening the desired communication. Mrs. Rosebrook 
 had received and promptly answered all his fair friend's 
 letters : the answers contained good news for Harry ; she 
 knew him well, and would at once set about inducing her 
 husband to purchase him. But here again his profession 
 interposed a difficulty, inasmuch as its enhancing the value 
 of the property to so great an extent would make his master 
 reluctant to part with him. However, as nothing could be 
 more expressive of domestic attachment than the manner in 
 which the Rosebrooks studied each other's feelings for the 
 purpose of giving a more complete happiness, our good lady 
 had but to make known her wish, and the deacon stood ready 
 to execute it. In the present case he was but too glad 
 of the opportunity of gratifying her feelings, having had 
 the purchase of a clergyman in contemplation for some 
 months back. He sought Harry out, and, after bartering 
 (the planter setting forth what a deal of money he had made 
 by his clergyman) succeeded in purchasing him for four 
 teen hundred dollars, the gentleman producing legalised 
 papers of his purchase, and giving the same. As for his 
 running away, there is no evidence to prove that ; nor will 
 Harry's pious word be taken in law to disclose the kid 
 napping. M'Fadden is dead, his estate has long since been 
 administered upon ; Eomescos murdered the proof, and 
 swept away the dangerous contingency. 
 
 Here, then, we find Harry- we must pass over the 
 incidents of his return back in the old district about to 
 administer the Gospel to the negroes on the Rosebrook 
 estates. He is the same good, generous-hearted black 
 man he was years ago. But he has worked hard, paid his 
 master a deal of money for his time, and laid up but little 
 for himself. His clothes, teo, are somewhat shabby, which, 
 in the estimation of the Rosebrook negroes who are 
 notoriously aristocratic in their notions is some detriment 
 to his ministerial character. At the same time, they are
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 415 
 
 not quite sure that Harry Marston, as he must now be 
 called, will preach to please their peculiar mode of thinking. 
 Master and missus have given them an interest in their 
 labour ; aud, having laid by a little money in missus's 
 sa7ings bank, they are all looking forward to the time when 
 they will have gained their freedom, according to the pro 
 mises held out. With these incitements of renewed energy 
 they work cheerfully, take a deep interest in the amount of 
 crop produced, and have a worthy regard for their own 
 moral condition. Ajid as they will now pay tribute for the 
 support of a minister of the Grospel, his respectability is a 
 particular object of their watchfulness. Thus, Harry's first 
 appearance on the plantation, shabbily dressed, is viewed 
 with distrust. Uncle Bradshaw, and old Bill, the coachman, 
 and Aunt Sophy, and Sophy's two gals, and their husbands, 
 are heard in serious conclave to say that " It won't do!" 
 A clergy gentleman, with no better clothes than that new 
 comer wears, can't preach good and strong, nohow ! Dad 
 Daniel is heard to say. Bradshaw shakes his white head, 
 and says he's goin' to have a short talk with master about 
 it. Something must be done to reconcile the matter. 
 
 Franconia and good Mrs. Eosebrook are not so exacting : 
 the latter has received him with a warm welcome, while the 
 former, her heart bounding with joy on hearing of his 
 return, hastened into his presence, and with the affection of 
 a child shook, aud shook, and shook his hand, as he fell on 
 his knees and kissed hers. " Poor Harry !" she says, " how 
 I have longed to see you, and your poor wife and children!" 
 
 " Ah, Franconia, my young missus, it is for them my soul 
 fears." 
 
 " But we have found out where they are," she interrupts. 
 
 ""Where they are!" he reiterates. 
 
 " Indeed we have !" Franconia makes a significant motion 
 with her head. 
 
 " It's true, Harry ; and we'll see what can be done to get 
 them back, one of these days," adds Mrs. Eosebrook, her 
 soul-glowing eyes affirming the truth of her assertion. 
 They have come out to spend the day at the plantation, and 
 a happy day it is for those whose hearts they gladden with 
 their kind words. How happy would be our south how 
 desolate the mania for abolition if such a comity of good 
 feeling between master and slaves existed on every planta-
 
 416 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 tion ! And there is nothing to hinder such happy results 
 of kindness. 
 
 " When that day comes, missus, that day my good old 
 woman and me will be together again, how happy I shall be ! 
 Seems as if the regaining that one object would complete my 
 earthly desires. And my children, how much I have felt 
 for them, and how little I have said!" returns Harry, as, 
 seated in the veranda of the plantation mansion, the two 
 ladies near him are watching his rising emotions. 
 
 " Never mind, Harry," rejoins Franeonia ; " it will all be 
 well, one of these days. You, as well as uncle, must bear 
 with trouble. It is a world of trouble and trial." She 
 draws her chair nearer him, and listens to his narrative of 
 being carried off, his endeavours to please his strange 
 master down in Mississippi, the curious manner in \vhich 
 his name was changed, the sum he was compelled to pay 
 for his time, and the good he effected while pursuing the 
 object of his mission on the neighbouring plantations. 
 Hope carried him through every trial, hope prepared his 
 heart for the time of his delivery, hope filled his soul 
 with gratitude to his Maker, and hope, which ever held 
 its light of freedom before him, inspired him with that 
 prayer he so thankfully bestowed ou the head of his bene 
 factor, whose presence was as the light of love borne to him 
 on angels' wiugs. 
 
 Moved to tears by his recital of past struggles, and the 
 expression of natural goodness exhibited in the resignation 
 with which he bore them, ever praying and trusting to Him 
 who guides our course in life, Eranconia in turn commenced 
 relating the misfortunes that had befallen her uncle. She 
 tells him how her uncle has been reduced to poverty through 
 Lorenzo's folly, and Graspum, the negro dealer's undis- 
 coverable mode of ensnaring the unwary* He has been 
 importuned, harassed, subjected to every degradation and 
 shame, scouted by society for attempting to save those 
 beautiful children, Annette and Nicholas, from the snares of 
 slavery. And he now welters in a debtor's prison, with few 
 save his old faithful Daddy Bob for friends. 
 
 "Master, and my old companion, Daddy Bob I" exclaims 
 Harry, interrupting her at the moment. 
 
 " Yes : Daddy takes care of him in his prison cell." 
 
 " How often old Bob'a expressive face has looked upon
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 417 
 
 me in my dreams ! how often he has occupied my thoughts 
 by day!" 
 
 " Goodness belongs to him by nature." 
 
 " And master is in prison ; but Daddy is still his friend 
 and faithful ! Well, my heart sorrows for master : I know 
 his proud heart bleeds under the burden," he says, shaking 
 his head sorrowfully. There is more sympathy concealed 
 beneath that black exterior than words can express. He 
 will go and see master ; he will comfort him within his 
 prison walls; he will rejoin Daddy Bob, and be master's 
 friend once more. Mrs. Roseforook, he is sure, will grant 
 him any privilege in her power. That good lady is forthwith 
 solicited, and grants Harry permission to go into the city 
 any day it suits his convenience except Sunday, when his 
 services are required for the good of the people on the plan 
 tation. Harry is delighted with this token of her goodness, 
 and appoints a day when he will meet Miss Franconia, as 
 he yet calls her, and go see old master and Daddy. How 
 glowing is that honest heart, as it warms with ecstasy 
 at the thought of seeing " old master," even though he be 
 degraded within prison walls ! 
 
 While this conversation is going on in the veranda, 
 Bundry agedmembers of negro families aunties and mammies 
 are passing backwards and forwards in front of the house, 
 casting curious glances at the affection exhibited for the 
 new preacher by " Miss Franconia." The effect is a 
 sort of reconciliation of the highly aristocratic objections 
 they at first interposed against his reception. " Mus' be 
 somebody bigger dan common nigger preacher ; wudn't 
 cotch Miss Erankone spoken wid 'urn if 'um warn't," says 
 Dad Timothy's Jane, who is Uncle Absalom's wife, and, in 
 addition to having six coal-black children, as fat and sleek 
 as beavers, is the wise woman of the cabins, around whom 
 all the old veteran mammies gather for explanations upon 
 most important subjects. In this instance she is surrounded 
 by six or seven grave worthies, whose comical faces add 
 great piquancy to the conclave. Grrandinumrna Dorothy, who 
 declares that she is grandmother to she don't know how 
 much little growing-up property, will venture every grey 
 hair in her head which is as white as the snows of 
 Nova Scotia that he knows a deal o' things about the 
 gospel, or he wouldn't have missus for such a close acquaint- 
 
 ' E E
 
 418 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 ance. " But his shirt ain't just da'h fashon fo'h a 'speet- 
 able minister ob de gospel," she concludes, with profound 
 wisdom evinced in her measured nod. 
 
 Aunt Betsy, than whose face none is blacker, or more 
 comically moulded, will say her word ; but she is very pro 
 found withal. " Reckon how tain't de clo' what make e' de 
 preacher tink good (Aunty's lip hangs seriously low the 
 while). Lef missus send some calico fum town, and dis 
 old woman son fix 'uin into shirt fo'h him," she says, with 
 great assurance of her sincerity. 
 
 Harry Mister Harry, as he is to be called by the people 
 finds himself comfortably at home ; the only drawback, if 
 such it may be called, existing in the unwillingness ex 
 hibited on the part of one of the overseers to his being 
 provided with apartments in the basement of the house 
 instead of one of the cabins. This, however, is, by a few 
 conciliatory words from Mrs. Rosebrook, settled to the 
 satisfaction of all. Harry has supper provided for him in 
 one of the little rooms downstairs, which he is to make his 
 Study, and into which he retires for the night. 
 
 "When daylight has departed, and the very air seems 
 hanging in stillness over the plantation, a great whispering 
 is heard in Dad Daniel's cabin the-head quarters, where 
 grave matters of state, or questions affecting the moral or 
 physical interests of the plantation, are discussed, and Dad 
 Daniel's opinion held as most learned the importance of 
 which over the other cabins is denoted by three windows, 
 one just above the door being usually filled with moss or an 
 old black hat. Singular enough, on approaching the cabin 
 it is discovered that Daniel has convoked a senate of his 
 sable brethren, to whom he is proposing a measure of great 
 importance. " Da'h new precher, gemen ! is one ob yer own 
 colur no more Buckra what on'e gib dat one sarnion, 
 tank God fo'h dat ! and dat colour geman, my children, ye 
 must look up to fo'h de word from de good book. Now, my 
 bredren, 'tis posin' on ye dat ye make dat geman 'spectable. 
 I poses den, dat we, bredren, puts in a mite apiece, and gib 
 dat ar' geman new suit ob fus' bes'clof, so 'e preach fresh and 
 clean," Dad Daniel is heard to say. And this proposition is 
 carried out on the following morning, when Daddy Daniel-his 
 white wool so cleanly washed, and his face glowing with great 
 good-nature accompanied by a conclave of his sable compa-
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 419 
 
 nions, presents himself in the front veranda, and demands to 
 see "missus." That all-conciliating personage is ever ready to 
 receive deputations, and on making her appearance, and 
 receiving the usual salutations from her people, receives 
 from the hand of that venerable prime minister, Daddy 
 Daniel, a purse containing twelve dollars and fifty cents. It 
 is the amount of a voluntary contribution a gift for the 
 new preacher. "Missus" is requested, after adding her 
 portion, to expend it in a suit of best black for the new 
 comer, whom they would like to see, and say " how de, to." 
 
 Missus receives this noble expression of their gratitude 
 with thanks and kind words. Harry is summoned to the 
 veranda, where, on making his appearance, he is intro 
 duced to Dad Daniel, who, in return, escorts him down 
 on the piazza where numbers of the people have 
 assembled to receive him. Here, with wondrous cere 
 mony, Dad Daniel doing the polite rather strong, he is 
 introduced to all the important people of the planta 
 tion. And such a shaking of hands, earnest congratulations, 
 happy " how des," bows, and joyous laughs, as follow, 
 place the scene so expressive of happiness beyond the 
 power of pen to describe. Then he is led away, followed by 
 a train of curious faces, to see Dad Daniel's neatly-arranged 
 cabin ; after which he will see plantation church, and suc 
 cessively the people's cabins. To-morrow evening, at early 
 dusk, it is said, accordingto invitation and arrangement, he will 
 sup on the green with his sable brethren, old and young, and 
 spice up the evening's entertainment with an exhortation; 
 Dad Daniel, as is his custom, performing the duties of 
 deacon. 
 
 Let us pass over this scene, and Harry having ingratiated 
 himself with the plantation people, who are ready to give 
 him their distinguished consideration ask the reader to 
 follow us through the description of another, which took 
 place a few days after. 
 
 Our clergyman has delivered to his sable flock his first 
 sermon, which Dad Daniel and his compatriots pronounce 
 great and good, just what a sermon should be. Such 
 pathos they never heard before ; the enthusiasm and 
 fervency with which it was delivered inspires delight ; they 
 want no more earnestness of soul than the fervency with 
 which his gesticulations accompanied the words ; and now
 
 420 WOBKINOS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 lie has obtained a furlough that he may go into the city and 
 console his old master. A thrill of commiseration seizes 
 him as he contemplates his once joyous master now in 
 prison ; but, misgivings being useless, onward he goes. And 
 he will see old Bob, recall the happy incidents of the past, 
 when time went smoothly on. 
 
 He reaches the city, having tarried a while at missus's 
 villa, and seeks M'Carstrow's residence, at the door of which 
 he is met by Eranconia, who receives him gratefully, and 
 orders a servant to show him into the recess of the hall, 
 where he will wait until such time as she is ready to accom 
 pany him to the county prison. M'Carstrow has recently 
 removed into plainer tenements: some whisper that necessity 
 compelled it, and that the "large shot" gamblers have 
 shorn him down to the lowest imaginable scale of living 
 Be this as it may, certain it is that he has not looked within 
 the doors of his own house for more than a week : report 
 Bays he is enjoying himself in a fashionable house, to the 
 inmates of which he is familiarly known. He certainly 
 leads his beautiful wife anything but a pleasant or happy 
 life. Soon Franconia is ready, and onward wending her 
 way for the gaol, closely followed by Harry. She would 
 has'e no objection to his walking by her side, but custom 
 (intolerant interposer) will not permit it. They pass through 
 busy thoroughfares and narrow streets into the suburbs, 
 and have reached the prison outer gate, on the right hand 
 of which, and just above a brass knob, are the significant 
 words, " King the bell." 
 
 "What a place to put master in!" says Harry, in a half 
 whisper, turning to Eranconia, as he pulls the brass handle 
 and listens for the dull tinkling of the bell within. He 
 starts at the muffled summons, and sighs as he hears the 
 heavy tread of the officer, advancing through the corridor 
 to challenge his presence. The man advances, and has 
 reached the inner iron gate, situated in a narrow, vaulted 
 arch in the main building. A clanking and clicking sound is 
 heard, and the iron door swings back : a thick-set man, with 
 features of iron, advances to the stoop, down the steps, and 
 to the gate. " What's here now ?" he growls, rather than 
 speaks, looking sternly at the coloured man, as he thrusts 
 his left hand deep into his side pocket, while holding the 
 key of the inner door in his right.
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 421 
 
 " Visitor," returns Franconia, modestly. 
 
 "Who does the nigger want to see?" he enquires, with 
 pertinacity in keeping with his profession. 
 
 " His old master I" is the quick reply. 
 
 " You hoth ? I guess I know what it is, you want to 
 see Marston : he used to be a rice-planter, but 's now in 
 the debtor's ward for a swimming lot of debts. Well, 
 s'pose I must let you in : got a lot o' things, I s'pose ?" 
 he say s, 'looking wickedly through the bars as he springs 
 the bolts, and swings back the gate. " I beg yer 
 pardon a dozen times ! but I didn't recognise ye on the 
 outer side," continues the official, becoming suddenly 
 servile. " He makes a low bow as he recognises Franconia 
 motions his hand for them to walk ahead. They reach 
 the steps leading to the inner gate, and ascending, soon are 
 in the vaulted passage. 
 
 If they will allow him, the polite official will unlock the 
 grated door. Stepping before Franconia, who, as the 
 clanking of the locks grate on her ear, is seized with sensa 
 tions she cannot describe, he inserts the heavy key. She 
 turns to Harry, her face pallid as marble, and lays her 
 tremulous hand on his arm, as if to relieve the nervousness 
 with which she is seized. Click! click ! sounds forth : again 
 the door creaks on its hinges, and they are in the confines 
 of the prison. A narrow vaulted arch, its stone walls 
 moistened with pestilential malaria, leads into a small vesti 
 bule, on the right hand of which stretched a narrow aisle 
 lined on both sides with cells. Dnmp and pestiferous, a 
 hollow gloominess seems to pervade the place, as if it were 
 a pest-house for torturing the living. Even the air breathes 
 of disease, a stench, as of dead men buried in its vaults, 
 darts its poison deep into the system. It ia this, coupled 
 with the mind's discontent, that commits its ravages upon 
 the poor prisoner, that sends him pale and haggard to a 
 soon-forgotten grave. 
 
 " Last door on the right, you know, mum," says the 
 official : " boy will follow, lightly : whist I whist !" 
 
 " I know, to my sorrow," is her reply, delivered in a 
 whisper. Ah ! her emotions are too tender for prison walls ; 
 they are yielding tears from the fountain of her very soul. 
 
 " He's sick : walk softly, and don't think of the pri 
 soners. Knock at the door afore enterin'," says a staid-
 
 422 -WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 
 
 looking warden, emerging from a small door on the left hand 
 of the vestibule. 
 
 " Zist ! zist !" returns the other, pointing with the fore 
 finger of his right hand down the aisle, and, placing his 
 left, gently, on Franconia's shoulder, motioning her to 
 move on. 
 
 Slowly, her handkerchief to her face, she obeys the sign, 
 and is moving down the corridor, now encountering, anxious 
 eyes peering through the narrow grating of huge black 
 doors. And then a faint, dolorous sound strikes on their listen 
 ing ears. They pause for a moment, listen again ! It become? 
 clearer and clearer ; and they advance with anxious curiosity. 
 " It's Daddy Bob's voice," whispers Harry ; " but how distant 
 it sounds ! " 
 
 " Even that murmurs in his confinement," returns 
 Francouia. 
 
 " How, like a thing of life, it recalls the past the past 
 of happiness !" says Harry, as they reach the cell door, 
 and, tremulously, hesitate for a few moments. 
 
 " Listen again !" continues Harry. The sound having 
 ceased a moment or two, again commences, and the word 
 
 " There's a place for old mas'r yet, 
 And de Lord will see him dar," 
 
 are distinctly audible. " How the old man battles for his 
 good master !" returns Harry, as Franconia taps gently on 
 the door. The wooden trap over the grating is closed; 
 bolts hang carelessly from their staples ; and yet, though 
 the door is secured with a hook on the inside, disease and 
 death breathe their morbid fumes through the scarce 
 perceptible crevices. A whispering " Come in!" is heard 
 in reply to the tap upon the door, which slowly opens, 
 and the face of eld Bob, bathed in grief, protrudes round 
 the frame. " Oh, missus missus missus Grod give good 
 missus spirit!" he exclaims, seizing Franconia fervently 
 by the hand, and looking in her face imploringly. A foetid 
 stench pervaded the atmosphere of the gloomy cell ; it is 
 death spreading its humid malaria. " Good old master is 
 g g g gone !" mutters the negro, in half-choked 
 accents. 
 
 With a wild shriek, the noble woman rushes to the side 
 of his prison cot, seizes his blanched hand that hangs
 
 WORKINGS OF THE SLAVE SYSTEM. 423 
 
 carelessly over tlie iron frame, grasps his head frantically, 
 and draws it to her bosom, as the last gurgle of life bids 
 adieu to the prostrate body. He is dead ! 
 
 The old slave has watched over him, shared his sorrows 
 and his crust, has sung a last song to his departing spirit. 
 How truthful was that picture of the dying master and 
 his slave ! The old man, struggling against the infirmities 
 of age, had escaped the hands of the man-seller, served 
 his master with but one object his soul's love and 
 relieved his necessities, until death, ending his troubles, 
 left no more to relieve. Now, distracted between joy at 
 meeting Harry, and sorrow for the death of master, the 
 poor old man is lost in the confusion of his feelings. 
 After saluting Eranconia, he turned to Harry, threw his 
 arms around his neck, buried his head in his bosom, and wept 
 like a child. " Home home again, my Harry ! but too lato 
 to see mas'r," he says, as the fountains of his soul give 
 out their streams. 
 
 ""We must all go where master has gone," returns 
 Harry, as he, more calm, fondles the old man, and en 
 deavours to reconcile his feelings. " Sit there, my old friend 
 sit there ; and remember that Grod called master away. 
 I must go to his bed-side," whispers Harry, seating 
 the old man on a block of wood near the foot of the cot, 
 where he pours forth the earnest of his grief.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 AN ITEM IN THE COMMON CALENDAR. 
 
 THUS painfully has Marston paid his debtors. Around 
 his lifeless body may spring to life those sympathies 
 which were dead while he lived ; but deplorings fall useless 
 on dead men. There is one consideration, however, which 
 must always be taken into account ; it is, that while 
 sympathy for the living may cost something, sympathy 
 for the dead is cheap indeed, and always to be had. 
 How simply plain is the dead man's cell ! In this humid 
 space, ten by sixteen feet, and arched over-head, is a bucket of 
 water, with a tin cup at the side, a prison tub in one 
 corner, two wooden chairs, a little deal stand, (off which 
 the prisoner ate his meals), and his trunk of clothing. 
 The sheriff, insisting that it was his rule to make no 
 distinction of persons, allowed prison cot and prison matress ; 
 to which, by the kind permission of the warden, Franconia 
 added sheets and a coverlit. Upon this, in a corner at 
 the right, and opposite a spacious fire-place, in which are 
 two bricks supporting a small iron kettle, lies the once 
 opulent planter, now with eyes glassy and discoloured, a 
 ghastly corpse. His house once was famous for its princely 
 hospitality, the prison cot is not now his bequest : but ifc 
 ia all the world has left him on which to yield up his life. 
 " Oh, uncle ! uncle! uncle !" exclaims Franconia, who has 
 been bathing his contorted face with her tears, " would 
 that Grod had taken me too buried our troubles in one 
 grave ! There is no trouble in that world to which he has 
 gone: joy, virtue, and peace, reign triumphant there," she 
 speaks, sighing, as she raises her bosom from off the dead 
 man. Harry has touched her on the shoulder with his 
 left hand, and is holding the dead man's with his right : he 
 seems in deep contemplation. His mind is absorbed in 
 the melancholy scene ; but, though his affection is deep, he 
 has no tears to shed at this moment. No ; he will draw a
 
 AN ITEM IN THE COMMON CALENDAR. 425 
 
 chair for Franconia, and seat her near the head of the cot, 
 for the fountains of her grief have overflown. Discoloured 
 and contorted, what a ghastly picture the dead man's face 
 presents ! Glass y, and with vacant glare, those eyes, strange 
 in death, seem wildly staring upward from earth. How 
 unnatural those sunken cheeks those lips wet with the 
 excrement of black vomit that throat reddened with the 
 pestilential poison ! " Call a warden, Daddy !" says Harry ; 
 " he has died of black vomit, I think." And he lays the 
 dead body square upon the cot, turns the sheets from off 
 the shoulders, unbuttons the collar of its shirt. " How 
 changed ! I never would have known master ; but I can sea 
 something of him left yet." Harry remains some minutes 
 looking upon the face of the departed, as if tracing some 
 long lost feature. And then he takes his hands it's master's 
 hand, he says and places them gently to his sides, closes 
 his glassy eyes, wipes his mouth and nostrils, puts his ear 
 to the dead man's mouth, as if doubting the all-slayer's 
 possession of the body, and with his right hand parts the 
 matted hair from off the cold brow. AVhat a step between the 
 cares of the world and the peace of death ! Harry smooths, 
 and smooths, and smooths his forehead with his hand ; 
 until at length his feelings get the better of his resolution; 
 he will wipe the dewy tears from his eyes. Don't weep, 
 Miss Eranconia, don't weep! master is happy with Jesus, 
 happier than all the plantations and slaves of the world 
 could make him." he says, turning to her as she sits weeping, 
 her elbow resting on the cot, and her face buried in her 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Bad job this here !" exclaims the warden, as he comes 
 lumbering into the cell, his face flushed with anxiety. " This 
 yoller-fever beats everything : but he hasn't been well for 
 some time," he continues, advancing to the bed-side, looking 
 on the deceased for a few minutes, and then, as if it were a 
 part of his profession to look on dead men, says : " How 
 strange to die out so soon !" 
 
 " He was a good master," rejoins Harry. 
 
 ' He wasn't your master Was he ?" enquires the gaoler, 
 in graft' accents. 
 
 " Once he was." 
 
 " But, did you see him die, boy ?" 
 
 Thank God, I did not."
 
 426 AN ITEM IN TUB COMMON CALENDAR. 
 
 " And this stupid old nigger hadn't sense to call me !" 
 (be turns threateningly to Bob) : " "Well, must 'a drop'd 
 off like the snuff of a tallow candle !" 
 
 Daddy knew master was a poor man. now ; calling 
 would have availed nothing ; gaolers are bad friends of 
 poverty. 
 
 " Could you not have sent for me, good man?" enquires 
 Franconia, her weeping eyes turning upon the warden, who 
 says, by way of answering her question, " "We must have 
 him out o' here." 
 
 " I said mas'r was sicker den ye s'posed, yesterday ; nor ye 
 didn't notice 'um !" interposes Bob, giving a significant look 
 at the warden, and again at Eranconia. 
 
 " What a shame, in this our land of boasted hospitality ! 
 He died neglected in a prison cell !" 
 
 " Truth is, ma'am," interrupts the warden, who, suddenly 
 becoming conscious that it is polite to be courteous to ladies 
 wherever they may be met, uncovers, and holds his hat in 
 his hand, " we are sorely tried with black-vomit cases ; no 
 provision is made for them, and they die on our hands afore 
 we know it, just like sheep with the rot. It gives us a 
 great deal of trouble ; you may depend it does, ma'am ; and 
 not a cent extra pay do we get for it. For my own part, 
 I've become quite at home to dead men and prisoners. My 
 name is you have no doubt heard of me before John 
 Lafayette IFlewellen : my situation was once, madam, that of 
 a distinguished road contractor ; and then they run 
 me for the democratic senator from our district, and I lost 
 all my money without getting the office and here I am 
 now, pestered with sick men and dead prisoners. And the 
 very worst is that ye can't please nobody ; but if anything is 
 wanted, ma'am, just call for me : John Lafayette Elewellen's 
 my name, ma'am." The man of nerve, with curious in 
 difference, is about to turn away, to leave the mourning 
 party to themselves, merely remarking, as he takes his hand 
 from that of the corpse, that his limbs are becoming ffidgid, 
 fast. 
 
 "Stay a moment, warden," says Franconia, sobbing: 
 " "When was he seized with the fever?" 
 
 " Day afore yesterday, ma'am ; but he didn't complain 
 until yesterday. That he was in a dangerous way I'm sure 
 I'd no idea." The warden shrugs iiis shoulders, and
 
 AN ITEM IN THE COMMON CALENDAR. 427 
 
 spreads his hands. My eyes, ma'am, but he drank strongly 
 of late ! Perhaps that, combined with the fever, helped 
 slide him off?" 
 
 " Ah ! yes, it was something else it was grief! His 
 troubles were his destroyer." She wipes her eyes, and, 
 with a look of commiseration, turns from the man whose 
 business it is to look coldly upon unfortunate dead men. 
 
 " There was the things you sent him, ma'am ; and he got 
 his gaol allowance, and some gruel. The law wouldn't allow 
 ns to do more for him, no, ib wouldn't !" He shakes his head 
 in confirmation. 
 
 " I wanted old mas'r to let 'um bring doctor ; but he said 
 no ! he would meet de doctor what cured all diseases in 
 another world," interrupts old Bob, as he draws his seat 
 close to the foot of the cot, and, with his shining face 
 of grief, gazes on the pale features of hie beloved master. 
 
 " Let him lie as he is, till the coroner comes," says 
 the warden, retiring slowly, and drawing the heavy door 
 after him. 
 
 The humble picture was no less an expression of good 
 ness, than proof of the cruel severity of the law. The 
 news of death soon brought curious debtors into the long 
 aisle, while sorrow and sympathy might be read on every 
 face. BUG he was gone, and with him his wants and 
 grievances. A physician was called in, but he could not 
 recall life, and, after making a few very learned and unin 
 telligible remarks on the appearance of the body, took his 
 departure, saying that they must not grieve that it was 
 the way all flesh would go. He, no doubt, died of the black 
 vomit, hastened by the want of care," he concluded, as he 
 left the cell. 
 
 " Want of care !" rejoins Eranconia, again giving vent to 
 her feelings. How deeply did the arrow dart into the recesses 
 of her already wounded heart ! 
 
 Mr. Moon, the methodical coroner, was not long re 
 pairing to the spot. He felt, and felt, and felt the dead 
 man's limbs, asked a few questions, bared the cold breast, 
 ordered the body to be straightened a little, viewed it 
 from several angles, and said an inquest was unnecessary. 
 It would reveal no new facts, and, as so many were dying of 
 the same disease, could give no more relief to his friends. 
 Concerning his death, no one could doubt the cause being 
 28
 
 428 AN ITEM IN THE COMMON CALENDAR. 
 
 black vomit. With a frigid attempt at consolation for 
 Franconia, he will withdraw. He has not been long gone, 
 when the warden, a sheet over his left arm, again makes 
 his appearance ; he passes the sheet to Harry, with a re 
 quest that he will wind the dead debtor up in it. 
 
 Franco nia, sobbing, rises from her seat, opens a window 
 at the head of the cot (the dead will not escape through the 
 iron grating), and paces the floor, while Harry and Daddy 
 sponge the body, lay it carefully down, and fold it in the 
 winding-sheet. " Poor master, God has taken him ; but 
 how I shall miss him ! I've spent happy days wid *im in 
 dis place, 1 have !" says Bob, as they lay his head on the 
 hard pillow. He gazes upon him with affection, and says : 
 " Mas'r '11 want no more clothes." 
 
 And now night is fast drawing its dark mantle over the 
 scene, the refulgent shadows of the setting sun play 
 through the grated window into the gloomy cell : how like 
 a spirit of goodness sent from on high to lighten the sorrows 
 of the downcast, seems the light. A faint ray plays its soft 
 tints on that face now pallid in death ; how it inspires our 
 thoughts of heaven ! Franconia watches, and watches, as 
 fainter and fainter it fades away, like an angel sent for the 
 spirit taking its departure. " Farewell !" she whispers, as 
 darkness shuts out the last mellow glimmer : " Come 
 sombre night, and spread thy stillness !" 
 
 The warden, moved by the spark of generosity his soul 
 possesses, has brought some cologne, and silently places it 
 in Franconia's hands. She advances to the cot, seats her 
 self near the head of her dear departed, encircles his head 
 with her left arm, and with her white 'kerchief bathes his 
 face with the liquid, Harry holding the vessel in his hand, 
 at her request. A candle sheds its sickly light upon the 
 humid walls ; faintly it discloses the face of Daddy Bob, 
 immersed in tears, watching intently over the foot of the 
 cot. " Missus Frankone is alw's kind to mas'r !" 
 
 "I loved uncle because his heart was good," returns 
 Franconia. 
 
 " 'Tis dat, missus. How kindly old mas'r, long time ago, 
 used to say, ' Good niornin', Bob ! Daddy, mas'r lubs you ! " 
 
 How firmly the happy recollection of these kind words is 
 sealed in the old man's memory.
 
 MARSTON DIES IN THE DEBTOR'S CELL. 
 "Farewell I' she whispers, as darkness shuts out the last mellow glimmer.'"
 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH REGRETS ARE SHOWN OF LITTLE WORTH. 
 
 THE reader may remember, that we, in the early part of our 
 narrative, made some slight mention of the Uovero family, 
 of which Frauconia and Lorenzo were the only surviving 
 children. They, too, had been distinguished as belonging 
 to a class of opulent planters ; but, having been reduced to 
 poverty by the same nefarious process through which we 
 have traced Marston's decline, and which we shall more 
 fully disclose in the sequel, had gathered together the rem 
 nants of a once extensive property, and with the proceeds 
 migrated to a western province of Mexico, where, for many 
 years, though not with much success, Kovero pursued a 
 mining speculation. They lived in a humble manner; 
 Mrs. Jiovero, Marston's sister and of whom we have a 
 tvpe in the character of her daughter, Francouia discarded 
 all unnecessary appurtenances of living, and looked forward 
 to the time when they would be enabled to retrieve their 
 fortunes and return to their native district to spend the 
 future of their days on the old homestead. More than four 
 years, however, had passed since any tidings had been 
 received of them, by Franconia ; and it was strongly surmised 
 that they had fallen victims to the ravage incursions of 
 marauding parties, who were at that time devastating the 
 country, and scattering its defenceless inhabitants home 
 less over the western shores of central America. So strong 
 had this impression found place in Franconia' s mind that 
 she had given up all hopes of again meeting them. As for 
 M'Carstrow's friends, they had never taken any interest in 
 her welfare, viewing her marriage with the distinguished 
 colonel as a mere catch on the part of her parents, whose 
 only motive was to secure themselves the protection of a 
 name, and, perhaps, the means of sustaining themselves 
 above the rank disclosure of their real poverty. To keep 
 " above board " ia everything in the south ; and the family
 
 4:30 BEaBETS ABE SHOWN OP LITTLE WOBTH. 
 
 not distinguished soon finds itself vrell nigh extinguished. 
 Hence that ever tenacious clinging to pretensions, sounding 
 of important names, and maintenance of absurd fallacies, 
 all having for their end the drawing a curtain over that 
 real state of poverty there existing. Indeed, it was no 
 secret that even the M'Carstrow family (counting itself 
 among the very few really distinguished families of the 
 state, and notorious for the contempt in which they affected 
 to hold all common people), had mortgaged their plantation 
 and all its negroes for much more than their worth in 
 ordinary times. As for tradesmen's bills, there were any 
 quantity outstanding, without the shadow of a prospect of 
 their being paid, notwithstanding importuners had frequently 
 intimated that a place called the gaol was not far distant, 
 and that the squire's office was within a stone's throw of " the 
 corner." Colonel M'Carstrow, reports say, had some years 
 ago got a deal of money by an unexplainable hocus pocus, 
 but it was well nigh gone in gambling, and now he was 
 keeping brothel society and rioting away his life faster than 
 the race-horses he had formerly kept on the course 
 could run. 
 
 Hospitality hides itself when friends are needy ; and it 
 will be seen here that Franconia had few friends we moan 
 friends in need. The Hosebrook family formed an ex 
 ception. The good deacon, and his ever generous lady, had 
 remained Frauconia's firmest friends ; but so large and 
 complicated were the demands against Marston, and so 
 gross the charges of dishonour suspicion said he fraudu 
 lently made over his property to Graspum that they dared 
 not interpose for his relief; nor would Marston himself 
 have permitted it. The question now was, what was to be 
 done with the dead body ? 
 
 We left Franconia bathing its face, and smoothing the hair 
 across its temples with her hand. She cannot bury the 
 body from her own home : no ! M'Carstow will not per 
 mit that. She cannot consign it to the commissioners for the 
 better regulation of the "poor house," her feelings repulse 
 the thought. One thought lightens her cares ; she will straight 
 way proceed to Mrs. Rosebi-ook's villa, she will herself 
 be the bearer 9f the mournful intelligence; while Harry will 
 watch over the remains of the departed, until Daddy, who 
 must be her guide through the city, shall return. "I wilJ
 
 REGRETS ARE SHOWN OF LITTLE WORTH. 431 
 
 go to prepare the next resting-place for uncle," says Fran- 
 conia, as if nerving herself to carry out the resolution. 
 
 " AVith your permission, missus," returns Harry, touch 
 ing her on the arm, and pointing through the grated 
 window into the gloomy yard. " Years since before I 
 passed through a tribulation worse than death when we 
 were going to be sold in the market, I called my brothers 
 and sisters of the plantation together, and in that yard 
 invoked heaven to be merciful to its fallen. I was sold on 
 that day ; but heaven has been merciful to me ; heaven has 
 guided me through many weary pilgrimages, and brought 
 me here to-night ; and its protecting hand will yet restore 
 me my wife and little ones. Let us pray to-night ; let us 
 be grateful to Him who seeth the fallen iu his tribulation, 
 but prepareth a place for him in a better world. Let us 
 pray and hope," he continued : and they knelt at the side of 
 the humble cot on which lay the departed, while he 
 devoutly and fervently invoked the Griver of all Good to 
 forgive the oppressor, to guide the oppressed, to make man 
 feel there is a world beyond this, to strengthen the resolu 
 tion of that fair one who is thus sorely afflicted, to give the 
 old man who weeps at the feet of the departed new hope 
 for the world to come, and to receive that warm spirit 
 which has just left the cold body into his realms of bliss. 
 
 What of roughness there was in his manner is softened by 
 simplicity and truthfulness. The roughest lips may breathe 
 the purest prayer. At the conclusion, Pranconia and 
 DacMy leave for Mrs. Eosebrook's villa, while Harry, 
 remaining to watch over the remains, draws his chair to 
 the stand, and reads by the murky light. 
 
 " I won't be long ; take care of old mas'r," says Daddy, 
 as he leaves the cell, solicitously looking back into the 
 cavern-like place. 
 
 It is past ten when they reach the house of Mrs. Rose- 
 brook, the inmates of which have retired, and are sleeping. 
 Everything is quiet in and about the enclosure ; the luxu 
 riant foliage bespreading a lawn extending far away 
 to the westward, seems refreshing itself with dew that 
 sparkles beneath the starlight heavens, now arched like a 
 crystal mist hung with diamond lights. The distant watch 
 dog's bark re-echoes faintly over the broad lagoon, to the 
 east; a cricket's chirrup sounds beneath the woodbine
 
 432 REGRETS ABE SHOTTO or LITTLE WORTH. 
 
 arbour; a moody guardsman, mounted on his lean steed, 
 and armed for danger, paces his slow way along : he it is 
 that breaks the stillness while guarding the fears of a 
 watchful community, who know liberty, but crush with 
 steel the love thereof. 
 
 A rap soon brings to the door the trim figure of a 
 mulatto servant. He conveys the name of the visitor to 
 his "missus," who, surprised at the untimely hour Eran- 
 conia seeks her, loses no time in reaching the ante-room, 
 into which she has been conducted. 
 
 Daddy has taken his seat in the hall, and recognises 
 "missus" as she approaches; but as she puts out her 
 hand to salute him, she recognises trouble seated on his 
 countenance. " Toung missus in da'h," he says, pointing 
 to the ante-room while rubbing his eyes. 
 
 " But you must tell me what trouble has befallen you," 
 she returns, as quickly, in her dishabille, she drops his 
 hand and starts back. 
 
 "Missus know 'um all, missus da'h." Again he points, 
 and she hastens into the ante-room, when, grasping Frauconia 
 by the hand, she stares at her with breathless anxiety expressed 
 in her face. A pause ensues, in which both seem bewildered. 
 At length Franconia breaks the silence. " Uncle is gone !" 
 she exclaims, following the words with a flow of tears." 
 
 " rone !" reiterates the generous-hearbed woman, en 
 circling Eranconia's neck with her left arm, and drawing 
 her fondly to her bosom. 
 
 " Yes, dead !" she continues, sobbing audibly. There 
 is something touching in the words, something which 
 recalls the dearest associations of the past, and touches the 
 fountains of the heart. It is the soft tone in which they 
 are uttered, it gives new life to old images. So forcibly 
 are they called up, that the good woman has no power to 
 resist her violent emotions : gently she guides Franconia to 
 the sofa, seats her upon its soft cushion, and attempts to 
 console her wrecked spirit. 
 
 The men-servants are called up, told to be prepared for 
 orders. One of them recognises Daddy, and, inviting him 
 into the pantry, would give him food. Trouble lias 
 wasted the old man's appetite ; he thinks of master, but has 
 no will to eat. No ; he will see missus, and proceed back to 
 the prison, there join Harry, and watch over all that ia
 
 KEGRETS ARE SHOWN OF LITTLE WORTH. 433 
 
 mortal of master. He thanks Abraham for what he gave 
 him, declines the coat he would kindly lend him to keep 
 out the chill, seeks the presence of his mistress (she has 
 become more reconciled), says, " G-od bless 'um!" bids her 
 good night, and sallies forth. 
 
 Mrs. Jiosebrook listens to the recital of the melancholy 
 scene with astonishment and awe. " How death grapples 
 for us !" she exclaims, her soft, soul-beaming eyes glaring 
 with surprise. " How it cuts its way with edge unseen. 
 Be calm, be calm, Franconia ; you have nobly done your 
 part, nobly! Whatever the pecuniary misfortunes, 
 whatever the secret cause of his downfall, you have played 
 the woman to the very end. You have illustrated the purest 
 of true affection ; would it had repaid you better. Before 
 daylight negroes are, in consequence of their superstition, 
 unwilling to remove the dead at midnight -I will have the 
 body removed here, buried from my house." The good 
 woman did not disclose to Franconia that her husband was 
 from home, making an effort to purchase Harry's wife and 
 children from their present owner. But she will do all she 
 can, the best can do no more. 
 
 At the gaol a different scene is presented. Harry, alone 
 with the dead man, waits Daddy's return. Each tap of the 
 bell awakes a new hope, soon to be disappointed. The clock 
 strikes eleven: no Daddy returns. The gates are shut: 
 Harry must wile away the night, in this tomb-like abode, 
 with the dead. What stillness pervades the cell; how 
 mournfully calm in death sleeps the departed ! The watcher 
 has read himself to sleep ; his taper, like life on its way, 
 has nearly shed out its pale light ; the hot breath of summer 
 breathes balmy through the lattice bars ; mosquitoes sing 
 their torturous tunes while seeking for the dead man's 
 blood ; lizards, with diamond eyes, crawl upon the 
 wall, waiting their ration : but death, less inexorable than 
 creditors, sits pale king over all. The palace and the cell 
 are alike to him ; the sharp edge of his unseen sword spares 
 neither the king in his purple robe, nor the starving beggar 
 who seeks a crust at his palace gate, of all places the worst. 
 
 As morning dawns, and soft fleeting clouds tinge the 
 heavens with light, four negroes may be seen sitting at the 
 prison gate, a litter by their side, now and then casting 
 silent glances upward, as if contemplating the sombre wall
 
 434 REGRETS ARK SHOWN OF LITTTE WORTH. 
 
 that frowns above their heads, enclosing the prison. The 
 guard, armed to the teeth, have passed and repassed them, chal 
 lenged and received their answer, and as often examined their 
 passes. They the negroes have come for a dead man. 
 Guardmen get no fees of dead men, the law has no more de 
 mands to serve : they wish the boys much joy with their booty, 
 and pass on. 
 
 Six o'clock arrives ; the first bell rings ; locks, bolts, arid 
 bars clank in ungrateful medley ; rumbling voices are heard 
 within the hollow-sounding aisles ; whispers from above 
 chime ominously with the dull shuffle rumbling from beknv. 
 ' Seven more cases, how it rages !" grumbles a mono 
 tonous voice, and the gate opens at the warden's touch. 
 "Who's here?" he demands, with stern countenance un 
 changed, as he shrugs his formidable shoulders. " I see, 
 (he continues, quickly), you have come for the dead debtor. 
 Grlad of it, my good fellow ; this is the place to make dead 
 men of debtors. Brought an order, I s'pose?" Saying 
 "follow me," he turns about, hastens to the vestibule, 
 receives the order from the hand of Duncan, the chief 
 negro, reads it with grave attention, supposes it is all 
 straight, and is about to show him the cell where the body 
 lays, and which he is only too glad to release. " Hold a 
 moment!" Mr. Winterflint such is his name says. 
 Heaven knows he wants to get rid of the dead debtor ; but 
 the laws are so curious, creditors are so obdurate, and 
 sheriffs have such a crooked way of doing straight things, 
 that he is in the very bad position of not knowing what to 
 do. Some document from the sheriff may be necessary ; 
 perhaps the creditors must agree to the compromise. He 
 forgets that inexorable Death, as he is vulgarly styled, has 
 forced a compromise : creditors must now credit " by 
 decease" Upon this point, however, he must be satisfied 
 by his superior. He now wishes Mr. Brien Moon would 
 evince more exactness in holding inquests, and less anxiety 
 for the fees. Mr. Winterflint depends not on his own 
 decisions, where the laws relating to debtors are so absurdly 
 mystical. " Rest here, boy," he says ; " I won't be a 
 minute or two, must do the thing straight." He seeks 
 the presence of that extremely high functionary, the gaoler 
 (high indeed wherever slavery rules), who, having weighed
 
 REGRETS ARE SHOWK OP LITTLE WORTH. 435 
 
 the points with great legal impartiality, gives it as his most 
 distinguished opinion that no order of release from the high 
 sheriff is requisite to satisfy the creditors of his death : take 
 care of the order sent, and make a note of the niggers who 
 take him away," concludes that highly important gentleman, 
 as comfortably his head reclines on soft pillow. To this end 
 was Mr. Moon's certificate essential. 
 
 Mr. Wiuterfliut returns ; enquires who owns the hoys. 
 
 " Mas'r Kosebrook's niggers," Duncan replies, firmly ; 
 "but Missus send da order." 
 
 " Sure of that, now ? G-ood niggers them of Kosebrook's : 
 wouldn't a' gin it to nobody else's niggers. Follow me 
 zist, zist!" he says, crooking his finger at the other three, 
 and scowling, as Duncan relieves their timidity by ad 
 vancing. They move slowly and noiselessly up the aisle, 
 the humid atmosphere of which, pregnant with death, sickens 
 as it steals into the very blood. "In there zist ! make no 
 noise ; the dead debtor lies there," whispers the warden, 
 laying his left hand upon Duncan's shoulder, and, the fore 
 finger of his right extended, pointing toward the last cell 
 on the left. " Door's open ; not locked, I meant. Left it 
 unsecured last night. Rap afore ye go in, though." At 
 the methodical warden's bidding Duncan proceeds, his foot 
 falling lightly on the floor. Beaching the door, he places 
 his right hand on the swinging bolt, and for a few seconds 
 seems listening. He hears the muffled sound of a footfall 
 pacing the floor, and then a muttering as of voices in secret 
 communion, or dying echoes from the tomb. He has not 
 mistaken the cell ; its crevices give forth odours pergnant of 
 proof. Two successive raps bring Harry to the door : they 
 are admitted to the presence of the dead. One by one 
 Harry receives them by the hand, but he must needs be 
 told why Daddy is not with them. They know not. He ate 
 a morsel, and left late last night, says one of the negroes. 
 Harry is astonished at this singular intelligence : Daddy 
 Bob never before was known to commit an act of unfaith 
 fulness ; he was true to Marston in life, strange that he 
 should desert him in death. "Mas'r's death-bed wasn't 
 much at last," says Duncan, as they gather round the cot, 
 and, with curious faces, mingle their more curious remarks. 
 Harry draws back the white handkerchief which Franconia 
 had spread over the face of the corpse, as the negroes start
 
 436 REGRETS ARE SHOWN OF LITTLE WORTH. 
 
 back affrighted. As of nervous contortion, the ghastly face 
 presents an awful picture. Swollen, discoloured, and con 
 tracted, no one outline of that once cheerful countenance 
 can be traced. " Don't look much like Mas'r Marston used 
 to look ; times must a' changed mightily since he used to 
 look so happy at home," mutters Duncan, shaking his head, 
 and telling the others not to be "fear'd; dead men can't 
 hurt nobody." 
 
 " Died penniless ; but e' war good on e' own plantation," 
 rejoins another. "One ting be sartin 'bout nigger he know 
 how he die wen 'e time cum ; Mas'r don know how 'e gwine 
 to die!" 
 
 Having seen enough of the melancholy finale, they spread 
 the litter in the aisle, as the warden enters the cell to faci 
 litate the dead debtor's exit. Harry again covers the face, 
 and prepares to roll the body in a coverlit brought by Dnn- 
 can. " I kind of liked him he was so gentlemanly has 
 been with us so long, and did'nt seem like a prisoner. He 
 was very quiet, and always civil when spoken to," interposes 
 the warden, as, assisting the second shrouding, he presses 
 the hand of the corpse in his own. 
 
 Now he is ready ; they place his cold body on the litter ; 
 a few listless prisoners stand their sickly figures along the 
 passage, watch him slowly borne to the iron gate in the 
 arched vault. Death less inexorable than creditors has 
 signed his release, thrown back prison bolts and bars, wrested 
 him from the grasp of human laws, and now mocks at credi 
 tors, annuls^? /as, bids the dead debtor make his exit. Death 
 pays no gaol fees ; it makes that bequest to creditors ; but 
 it reserves the keys of heaven for another purpose. " One 
 ration less," says the warden, who, closing the grated door, 
 casts a lingering look after the humble procession, bearing 
 away the remains of our departed. 
 
 With Harry as the only follower, they proceed along, 
 through suburban streets, and soon reach the house of that 
 generous woman. A minister of the gospel awaits his coming ; 
 the good man's words are consoling, but he cannot remodel 
 the past for the advantage of the dead. Soon the body is placed 
 in a "ready-made coffin," and the good man oifers up the 
 last funeral rites ; he can do no more than invoke the great 
 protector to receive the departed into his bosom. 
 
 " How the troubles of this world rise up before me ! Oh 1
 
 BEGBETS ABE SHOWN OF LITTLE WOBTH. 437 
 
 uncle ! uncle ! how I could part with the world and bury 
 my troubles in the same grave !" exclaims Franconia, as, the 
 ceremony having ended, they bear the body away to its last 
 resting-place ; and, in a paroxysm of grief, she shrieks and 
 falls swooning to the floor. 
 
 In a neatly inclosed plat, a short distance from the Rose- 
 brook Villa, and near the bank of a meandering rivulet, 
 overhung with mourning willows and clustering vines, they 
 lay him to rest. The woi-ld gave the fallen man nothing but a 
 prison-cell wherein to stretch his dying body ; a woman gives 
 him a sequestered grave, and nature spreads it with her 
 loveliest offering. It is the last resting-place of the Hose- 
 brook family, which their negroes, partaking of that content 
 ment so characteristic of the family, have planted with 
 flowers they nurture with tenderest care. There is something 
 touching in the calm beauty of the spot ; something breath 
 ing of rural contentment. It is something to be buried in 
 a pretty grave to be mourned by a slave to be loved by 
 the untutored. How abject the slave, and yet how true his 
 affection ! how dear his requiem over a departed friend ! 
 " God bless master receive his spirit !" is heard mingling 
 with the music of the gentle breeze, as Harry, sitting at the 
 head of the grave, looks upward to heaven, -while earth 
 covers from sight the mortal relics of a once kind master. 
 , It has been a day of sadness at the villa a day of mourn 
 ing and tribulation. How different the scene in the city ! 
 There, men whisper strange regrets. Sympathy is let loose, 
 and is expanding itself to an unusual degree. Who was 
 there that did not know Marston's generous, gushing soul ! 
 "Who was there that would not have stretched forth the 
 helping hand, had they known his truly abject condition ! 
 "Who that was not, and had not been twenty times, on the 
 very brink of wresting him from the useless tyranny of his 
 obdurate creditors ! "Who that had not waited from day to 
 day, with purse-strings open, ready to pour forth the unmis- 
 takeable tokens of friendship ! How many were only re 
 strained from doing good from giving vent to the fountains 
 of their hospitality through fear of being contaminated 
 with that scandal rumour had thrown around his decline ! 
 Over his death hath sprung to life that curious fabric of 
 living generosity, so ready to bespread a grave with un- 
 needed bounties, so emblematic of how many false mourners
 
 438 REGRETS ARE SHOWN OF LITTLE WORTH. 
 
 hath the dead. But Graspum would have all such expres- 
 sious shrink beneath his glowing goodness. With honied 
 words he tells the tale of his own honesty : his business 
 intercourse with the deceased was in character most gene 
 rous. Many a good turn did Marston receive at his hands ; 
 long had he been his faithful and unwearied friend. Fierce 
 are the words with which he would execrate the tyrant 
 creditors ; yea, he would heap condign punishment on their 
 obdurate heads. Time after time did he tell them the fallen 
 man was penniless ; how strange, then, that they tortured 
 him to death within prison walls. He would sweep away 
 such vengeance, bury it with his curses, and make obsolete 
 such laws as give one man power to gratify his passion on 
 another. His burning, surging anger can find no relief; 
 nor can he tolerate such antiquated debtor laws : to him 
 they are the very essence of barbarism, tainting that enlight 
 ened civilisation so long implanted by the State, so well 
 maintained by the people. It is on those ennobling 
 virtues of state, he says, the cherished doctrines of our 
 democracy are founded. Graspum is, indeed, a well- 
 developed type of our modern democracy, the flimsy fabric 
 of which is well represented in the gasconade of the above 
 outpouring philanthropy. 
 
 And now, as again the crimson clouds of evening soften 
 into golden hues as the sun, like a fiery chariot, sinks be-^ 
 neath the western landscape, and still night spreads her 
 shadowy mantle down the distant hills, and over the broad 
 lagoon to the north two sable figures may be seen patting, 
 sodding, and bespreading with fresh-plucked flowers the 
 new grave. As the rippling brook gives out its silvery 
 music, and earth seems drinking of the misty dew, that, like 
 a bridal veil, spreads over its verdant hillocks, they whisper 
 their requiem of regret, and mould the grave so carefully. 
 " It's mas'r's last," says one, smoothing the cone with his 
 hands. 
 
 " We will plant the tree now," returns the other, bring 
 ing forward a young clustering pine, which he places at the 
 head of the grave, and on which he cuts the significant 
 epitaph " Good master lies here !" 
 
 Duncan and Harry have paid their last tribute. " He is 
 at peace with this world," says the latter, as, at the gate, he 
 turns to take a last look over the paling.
 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FOEQIVING. 
 
 LET us forget the scenes of the foregoing chapters, and 
 turn to something of pleasanter hme. In the meantime, 
 let us freely acknowledge that we live in a land our 
 democratic south, we mean where sumptuous living 
 and abject misery present their boldest outlines, 
 where the ignorance of the many is excused by the polished 
 education of a very few, where autocracy sways its lash 
 with bitterest absolutism, where menial life lies prostrate at 
 the feet of injustice, and despairingly appeals to heaven 
 for succour, where feasts and funerals rival each other, 
 and when pestilence, like a glutton, sends its victims to 
 the graveyard most, the ball-room glitters brightest with its 
 galaxy. Even here, where clamour cries aloud for popular 
 government, men's souls are most crushed not with legal 
 right, but by popular will! And yet, from out all this in 
 congruous substance, there seems a genial spirit working 
 itself upon the surface, and making good its influence ; and 
 it is to that influence we should award the credit due. That 
 genial spirit is the good master's protection ; we would it 
 were wider exercised for the good of all. But we must 
 return to our narrative. 
 
 The Rosebrook Villa has assumed its usual cheerfulness ; 
 but while pestilence makes sad havoc among the inhabitants 
 of the city, gaiety is equally rampant. In a word, even the 
 many funeral trains which pass along every day begin to 
 wear a sort of cheerfulness, in consequence of which, it 
 is rumoured, the aristocracy we mean those who have 
 money to spendhave made up their minds not to depart 
 for the springs yet awhile. As for Franconia, finding she 
 could no longer endure M'Carstrow's dissolute habits, and 
 having been told by that very distinguished gentleman, but 
 unamiable husband, that he despised the whole tribe of her 
 poor relations, she has retired to private boarding, where, 
 with the five dollars a week, he, in the outpouring of his
 
 440 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FORGIVING. 
 
 southern generosity, allows her, she subsists plainly but 
 comfortably. It is, indeed, a paltry pittance, which the 
 M'Carstrow family will excuse to the public with the great 
 ness of their name. 
 
 Harry has returned to the plantation, where the people 
 have smothered him in a new suit of black. Already has 
 he preached three sermons in it, which said sermons are de 
 clared wonderful proofs of his biblical knowledge. Even 
 Daddy Daniel, who expended fourteen picayunes in a new 
 pair of spectacles, with which to hear the new parson more 
 distinctly, pronounces the preaching prodigious. He is 
 vehement in his exultation, lavishes his praise without 
 stint; and as his black face glows with happiness, thanks 
 missus for her great goodness in thus providing for their 
 spiritual welfare. The Rosebrook " niggers " were always 
 extremely respectable and well ordered in their moral condi 
 tion ; but now they seem invested with a new impulse for 
 working out their own good ; and by the advice of missus, 
 whom every sable sou and daughter loves most dearly, 
 Daddy Daniel has arranged a system of evening praver 
 meetings, which will be held in the little church, twice a 
 week. And, too, there prevails a strong desire for an 
 evening gathering now and then, at which the young shiners 
 may be instructed how to grow. A curiously democratic 
 law, however, offers a fierce impediment to this ; and Daddy 
 Daniel shakes his head, and aunt Peggy makes a belligerent 
 muttering when told such gatherings cannot take place 
 without endangering the state's rights. It is, nevertheless, 
 decided that Kate, and Nan, and Dorothy, and Webster, 
 and Clay, and such like young folks, may go to " settings up " 
 and funerals, but strictly abstain from all fandangoes. Dad 
 Daniel and his brother deacons cannot countenance such 
 fiddling and dancing, such break-downs, and shoutings, and 
 whirlings, and flouncing and frilling, and gay ribboning, as 
 generally make up the evening's merriment at these fan 
 dangoes, so prevalent on neighbouring plantations about 
 Christmas time. " Da don' mount to no good !" Daniel 
 says, with a broad guffaw. " JSlgger what spect t' git hi' 
 way up in da world bes lef dem tings." And so one or 
 two more screws are to be worked up for the better regu 
 lation of the machinery of the plantation. As for Master 
 Bosebrook why, he wouldn't sell a nigger for a world of
 
 HOW "WE SHOULD ALL BE FOBGIYIKG. 441 
 
 money ; and he doesn't care how much they learn ; the 
 more the better, provided they learn on the sly. They are all 
 to be freed at a certain time, and although freedom is sweet, 
 without learning they might make bad use of it. But 
 master has had a noble object in view for some days past, 
 and which, after encountering many difficulties, he has 
 succeeded in carrying out to the great joy of all parties 
 concerned. 
 
 One day, as the people were all busily engaged on the 
 plantation, Bradshaw's familiar figure presents itself at the 
 house, and demands to see Harry. He has great good news, 
 but don't want to tell him " nofin" till he arrives at the 
 Villa. " Ah, good man (Bradshaw's face beams good tidings, 
 as he approaches Harry, and delivers a note) mas'r specs 
 ye down da' wid no time loss." Bradshaw rubs his hands, 
 and grins, and bows, his face seeming two shades blacker 
 than ever, but no less cheerful. 
 
 " Master wants me to preach somewhere, next Sunday, 
 I know he does," says Harry, reading the note, which re 
 quests him to come immediately into the city. He will 
 prepare to obey the summons, Dan and Sprat meanwhile 
 taking good care of the horse and carriage, while Bradshaw 
 makes a friendly visit to a few of the more distinguished 
 cabins, and says " how de " to venerable aunties, who 
 spread their best fare before him, and, with grave ceremony, 
 invite him in to refresh before taking his return journey into 
 the city ; and Maum Betsy packs up six of her real smart 
 made sweet cakes for the parson and Bradshaw to eat along 
 the road. Betsy is in a strange state of bewilderment to 
 know why master wants to take the new parson away just 
 now, when he's so happy, and is only satisfied when assured 
 that he will be safely returned to-morrow. A signal is 
 made for Dad Daniel, who hastens to the cabin in time to 
 see everything properly arranged for the parson's departure, 
 and say : " God bless 'um, good by!" 
 
 " Now, what can master want with me ?" enquires 
 Harry, as, on the road, they roll away towards the 
 city. 
 
 Bradshaw cracks his whip, and with a significant smile 
 looks Harry in the face, and returns: " Don' ax dis child 
 no mo' sich question. Old mas'r and me neber break
 
 442 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FOBGUVIJTO. 
 
 secret. Tell ye dis, do'h ! Old mas'r do good ting, 
 sartin." 
 
 " Tou know, but won't tell me, eh ?" rejoins Harry, 
 his manly face wearing a solicitous look. Bradshaw 
 shakes his' head, and adds a cunning wink in reply. 
 
 It is three o'clock when they arrive at the Villa, where, 
 without reserve, missus extends her hand, and gives him a 
 cordial welcome, tells him Franconia has been waiting to 
 see him with great patience, and has got a present for him. 
 Franconia comes rushing into the hall, and is so glad to see 
 him ; but her countenance wears an air of sadness, which 
 does not escape his notice she is not the beautiful creature 
 she was years ago, care has sadly worn upon those rounded 
 features. But master is there, and he looks happy and 
 cheerful ; and there is something about the house servants, 
 as they gather round him to have their say, which looks of 
 suspiciously good omen. He cannot divine what it is ; his 
 first suspicions being aroused by missus saying Franconia 
 had been waiting to see him. 
 
 " We must not call him Harry any longer it doesn't be 
 come his profession : now that he is Elder of my plantation 
 flock, he must, from this time, be called Elder!" says 
 Kosebrook, touching him on the arm with the right hand. 
 And the two ladies joined in, that it must be so. " Go into 
 the parlour, ladies ; I must say a word or two to the Elder," 
 continued Hosebrook, taking Harry by the arm, and pacing 
 through the hall into the conservatory at the back of the 
 house. Here, after ordering Harry to be seated, he recounts 
 his plan of emancipation, which, so far, has worked ad 
 mirably, and, at the time proposed, will, without doubt or 
 danger, produce the hoped-for result. " Tou, my good 
 man," he says, " can be a useful instrument in furthering 
 my ends ; I want you to be that instrument !" His negroes 
 have all an interest in their labour, which interest is pre 
 served for them in missus's savings-bank ; and at a given 
 time they are to have their freedom, but to remain on the 
 plantation if they choose, at a stipulated rate of wages. 
 Indeed, so strongly impressed with the goocP results of his 
 proposed system is llosebrook, that he long since scouted 
 that contemptible fallacy, which must have had its origin in 
 the very dregs of selfishness, that the two races can only
 
 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FOEGTYIITG. 443 
 
 live in proximity by one enslaving the other. Justice to 
 each other, he holds, will solve the problem of their living 
 together; but, between the oppressor and the oppressed, 
 a volcano that may at any day send forth its devouring 
 flame, smoulders. Eosebrook knows goodness always 
 deserves its reward ; and Harry assures him he never will 
 violate the trust. Having said thus much, he rises from 
 his chair, takes Harry by the arm, and leading him to the 
 door of the conservatory, points him to a passage leading 
 to the right, and says : " In there ! proceed into that 
 passage, enter a door, first door on the left, and then you 
 will find something you may consider your own." 
 
 Harry hesitated for a moment, watched master's coun 
 tenance doubtingly, as if questioning the singular command. 
 "Pear not! nobody will hurt you," continues Eose- 
 brook. 
 
 " Master never had a bad intention," thinks Harry ; " I 
 know he would not harm me ; and then missus is so good. 
 Slowly and nervously he proceeds, and on reaching the 
 door hears a familiar " come in " answering his nervous 
 rap. The door opened into a neat little room, with carpet 
 and chairs, a mahogany bureau and prints, all so neatly 
 arranged, and wearing such an air of cleanliness. No 
 sooner has he advanced beyond the threshold than the 
 emaciated figure of a black sister vaults into his arms, 
 crying, " Oh Harry ! Harry ! Harry ! my dear husband !" 
 She throws her arms about his neck, and kisses, and kisses 
 him, and buries her tears of joy in his bosom. How she 
 pours out her soul's love ! how, in rapturous embraces, 
 her black impulses give out the purest affection ! 
 
 " And you ! you ! you ! my own dear Jane ! Is it 
 you ? Has Grod commanded us to meet once more, to be 
 happy once more, to live as heaven hath ordained us to 
 live ?" he returns, as fervently and affectionately he holds her 
 in his arms, and returns her token of love. " Never ! never ! 
 I forget you, never ! By night and by day I have prayed 
 the protecting hand of Providence to guide you through 
 life's trials. Hw my heart has yearned to meet you in 
 heaven ! happy am I we have met once more on earth ; yea, 
 my soul leaps with joy. Forgive them, Father, forgive 
 them who separate us on earth, for heaven makes the 
 anointed!" And while thev embrace thus fondly, their 
 29
 
 444 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FORGIVING. 
 
 tears mingling with joy, children, recognising a returned 
 father as he entered the door, are clinging at his feet 
 beseechingly. He is their father; how like children they 
 love ! " Sam, Sue, and Beckie, too !" he says, as one by one 
 he takes them in his arms and kisses them. But there are 
 two more, sombre and strange. He had caught the fourth 
 in his arms, unconsciously. Ah, Jane!" he exclaims, turn 
 ing toward her, his face filled with grief and chagrin, " they 
 are not of me, Jane!" He still holds the little innocent by 
 the hand, as nervously he waits her reply. It is not guilt, 
 but shame, with which she returns an answer. 
 
 " It was not my sin, Harry ! It was him that forced 
 me to live with another, that lashed me when I refused, 
 and, bleeding, made me obey the will," she returns, looking 
 at him imploringly. Virtue is weaker than the lash ; none 
 feel it more than the slave. She loved Harry, she followed 
 him with her thoughts ; but it was the Christian that 
 reduced her to the level of the brute. Laying her coloured 
 hand upon his shoulder, she besought his forgiveness, as God 
 was forgiving. 
 
 " Why should I not forgive thee, Jane ? I would not 
 chide thee, for no sin is on thy garments. Injustice gave 
 master the right to sell thee, to make of thee what he 
 pleased. Heaven made thy soul purest, man thy body 
 an outcast for the unrighteous to feast upon. How could I 
 withhold forgiveness, Jane ? I will be a father to them, 
 a husband to thee ; for what thou hast been compelled to 
 do is right, in the land we live in." So saying, he again 
 embraces her, wipes the tears from her eyes, and comforts 
 her. How sweet is forgiveness ! It freshens like the dew 
 of morning on the drooping plant ; it strengthens the weary 
 spirit, it steals into the desponding soul, and wakes to life 
 new hopes of bliss, to the slave it is sweet indeed ! 
 
 " I will kiss them, too," he ejaculates, taking them in his 
 arms with the embrace of a fond father, which simple ex 
 pression of love they return with prattling. They know 
 not the trials of their parents ; how blessed to know 
 them not! 
 
 And now they gather the children around them, and 
 seat themselves on a little settee near the window, where 
 Harry, overjoyed at meeting his dear ones once more, 
 fondles them and listens to Jane, as with her left arm round
 
 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE FORGIVING*. 445 
 
 his neck she discloses the sad tale of her tribulation. Let 
 us beg the reader to excuse the recital ; there is nothing 
 fascinating in it, nor would we call forth the modest blushes 
 of our generous south. A few words of the woman's story, 
 however, we cannot omit ; and we trust the forgiving will 
 pardon their insertion. She tells Harry she was not separated 
 from her children ; but that Romescos, having well con 
 sidered her worth, sold her with her " young uns" to the 
 
 Rev. Peter , who had a small plantation down in 
 
 Christ's Parish. The reverend gentleman, being born and 
 educated to the degrading socialities of democratic states, 
 always says he is not to blame for " using" the rights the law 
 gives him; nor does he forget to express sundry regrets that he 
 cannot see as preachers at the north see. As for money, he 
 thinks preachers have just as good a right to get it as gentle 
 men of any other honourable profession. Now and then he 
 preaches to niggers ; and for telling them how they must 
 live in the fear of the Lord, be obedient to their master, and 
 pay for redemption by the sweat of their brows, he adds to 
 his pile of coin. But he is strongly of the opinion that 
 niggers are inferior "brutes" of the human species, and in 
 furtherance of this opinion (so popular in the whole south) 
 he expects them to live a week on a peck of corn. As for 
 Jane we must excuse the reverend gentleman, because of 
 his faith in southern principles he compelled her to live 
 with the man Absalom ere she had been two days on his 
 plantation, and by the same Absalom she had two children, 
 which materially increased the cash value of the Reverend 
 
 Peter 's slave property. Indeed, so well is the 
 
 reverend gentleman known for his foul play, that it has 
 been thrown up to him in open court by wicked planters 
 who never had the fear of Grod before their eyes that he 
 more than half starved his niggers, and charged them toll 
 for grinding their corn in his mill. Though the Reverend 
 Peter never failed to assure his friends and acquaint 
 ances of his generosity (a noble quality which had long been 
 worthily maintained by the ancient family to which he 
 belonged), the light of one generous act had never found 
 its way to the public. In truth, so elastically did his reve 
 rend conscientiousness expand when he learned the strange 
 motive which prompted Rosebrook to purchase Jane and 
 her little ones, that he sorely regretted he had not put two
 
 446 HOW WE SHOULD ALL BE 
 
 hundred dollars more on the price of the lot. Fortunately 
 Jane was much worn down by grief and toil, and was 
 viewed by the reverend gentleman as a piece of property he 
 would rather like to dispose of to the best advantage, lest 
 she should suddenly make a void in his dollars and cents by 
 sliding into some out of the way grave-yard. But Hose- 
 brook, duly appreciating the unchristian qualities of our 
 worthy one's generosity, kept his motive a profound secret 
 until the riegociation was completed. Now that it had 
 
 become known that the Reverend Peter (who 
 
 dresses in blackest black, most sanctimoniously cut, whitest 
 neckcloth wedded to his holy neck, and face so simply 
 serious) assures Rosebrook he has got good people, they 
 are valuably promising he will pray for them, that the 
 future may prosper their wayfaring. He cannot, however, 
 part with the good man without admonishing him how 
 dangerous it is to give uuto " niggers" the advantage of a 
 superior position. 
 
 Reader, let us hope the clergy of the south will take heed 
 lest by permitting their brethren to be sold and stolen in 
 this manner they bring the profession into contempt. 
 Let us hope the southern church will not much longer 
 continue to bring pure Christianity into disgrace by serving 
 ends so vile that heaven and earth frowns upon them ; for 
 false is the voice raised in sanctimony to heaven for power to 
 make a footstool of a fallen race !
 
 CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 CONTAINING VARIOUS MATTEBS. 
 
 G-REAT regularity prevails on the Eosebrook plantation, and 
 cheering are the prospects held out to those who toil 
 thereon. Mrs. Eosebrook has dressed Jane (Harry's wife) 
 in a nice new calico, which, with her feet encased in shining 
 calf- skin shoes, and her head done up in a bandana, with 
 spots of great brightness, shows her lean figure to good 
 advantage. Like a good wife, happy with her own dear 
 husband, she pours forth the emotions of a grateful heart, 
 and feels that the world not so bad after all has some 
 thing good in store for her. And then Harry looks even 
 better than he did on Master Marston's plantation ; and, 
 with their little ones sable types of their parents dressed 
 so neatly, they must be happy. And now that they are 
 duly installed at the plantation, where Harry pursues his 
 duties as father of the flock, and Jane lends her cheering 
 voice and helping hand to make comfort in the various cabins 
 complete and with Dad Daniel's assurance that the people 
 won't go astray we must leave them for a time, and beg 
 the reader's indulgence wbile following us through another 
 phase of the children's history. 
 
 A slave is but a slave an article subject to all the fluc 
 tuations of trade a mere item in the scale of traffic, and 
 reduced to serving the ends of avarice or licentiousness. 
 This is a consequence inseparable from his sale. It matters 
 not whether the blood of the noblest patriot course in 
 his veins, his hair be of flaxen brightness, his eyes of azure 
 blue,his skin of Norman whiteness, and his features classic, 
 he can be no more than a slave, and as such must yield to 
 the debasing influences of an institution that crushes and 
 curses wherever it exists. In proof of this, we find the 
 bright eyes of our little Annette, glowing with kindliest 
 love, failing to thaw the frozen souls of man-dealers. Nay, 
 bright eyes only lend their aid to the law that debases her 
 life. She has become valuable only as a finely and delicately
 
 448 VABIOTTS MATTEBS. 
 
 developed woman, whose appearance in the market will 
 produce sharp bidding, and a deal of dollars and cents. 
 Graspnm never lost an opportunity of trimming up 
 these nice pieces of female property, making the money 
 invested in them turn the largest premium, and satisfying 
 his customers that, so far as dealing in the brightest kind of 
 fancy stock was concerned, he is not a jot behind the most 
 careful selecter in the Charleston market. Major John 
 Bowling who is very distinguished, having descended from 
 the very ancient family of that name, and is liighly thought of 
 by the aristocracy has made the selection of such mer 
 chandise his particular branch of study for more than four 
 teen years. In consequence of the major's supposed taste, 
 his pen was hitherto most frequented by gentlemen and 
 connoisseur ; but now Graspum assures all respectable 
 people, gentlemen of acknowledged taste, and young men 
 who are cultivating their way up in the world, that his 
 selections are second to none ; of this he will produce suffi 
 cient proof, provided customers will make him a call and 
 look into the area of his fold. The fold itself is most unin 
 viting (it is, he assures us, owing to his determination to 
 carry out the faith of his plain democracy) ; nevertheless, it 
 contains the white, beautiful, and voluptuous, all for sale. 
 In fact the truth must be told Mr. Graspum assures the 
 world that he firmly believes there is a sort of human 
 nature extant he is troubled sometimes to know just where 
 the line breaks off which ne^er by any possibility could 
 have been intended for any thing but the other to traffic in 
 to turn into the most dollars and cents. In proof of this 
 principle he kept Annette until she had well nigh merged 
 into womanhood, or until such time as she became a choice 
 marketable article, with eyes worth so much ; nose, mouth, 
 so much ; pretty auburn hair, worth so much ; and line 
 rounded figure with all its fascinating appurtenances- 
 worth so much ; the whole amounting to so much ; to be 
 sold for so much, the nice little profit being chalked down 
 on the credit side of his formidable ledger, in which stands 
 recorded against his little soul (he knows will get to heaven) 
 the sale of ten thousand black souls, which will shine in 
 brightness when his is refused admittance to the portals 
 above. 
 v Having arrived at the point most marketable, he sells her
 
 VARIOUS MATTEBS. 449 
 
 to Mr. Q-urdoin Choicewest, who pays no less a sum than 
 sixteen hundred dollars in hard cash for the unyielding 
 beauty money advanced to him by his dear papa, who had 
 no objection to his having a pretty coloured girl, provided 
 Madam Choicewest most indulgent mother she was, too 
 
 gave her consent ; and she said she was willing, provided ; 
 
 and now, notwithstanding she was his own, insisted on the 
 preservation of her virtue, or death. Awful dilemma, this ! 
 To lash her will be useless ; and the few kicks she has 
 already received have not get begun to thaw her frozen 
 determination. Such an unyielding thing is quite useless 
 for the purpose for which young Choicewest purchased her. 
 What must be done with her ? The older Choicewest is 
 consulted, and gives it as his decided opinion that there is 
 one of two things the younger Choicewest must do with 
 this dear piece of property he has so unfortunately got on 
 his hands, he must sell her, or tie her up every day and 
 pump her with cold water, say fifteen minutes at a time. 
 Pumping niggers, the elder Mr. Choicewest remarks, with 
 the coolness of an Austrian diplomatist, has a wondrous 
 eifect upon them ; " it makes 'em give in when nothing else 
 will." He once had four prime fellows, who, in stubbornness, 
 seemed a match for Mr. Beelzebub himself. He lashed 
 them, and he burned them, and he clipped their ears ; and 
 then he stretched them on planks, thinking they would cry 
 " give in" afore the sockets of their joints were drawn out ; 
 but it was all to no purpose, they were as unyielding as 
 granite. 
 
 About that time there was a celebrated manager of ne 
 groes keeping the prison. This clever functionary had a 
 peculiar way of bringing the stubbornness out of them ; so he 
 consigned the four unbending rascals to his skill. And this 
 very valuable and very skilful gaol-keeper had a large window 
 in his establishment, with iron bars running perpendicular ; 
 to the inside of which he would strap the four stubborn 
 rascals, with their faces scientifically arranged between the 
 bars, to prevent the moving of a muscle. Thus caged, their 
 black heads bound to the grating, the scientific gaoler, who 
 was something of a humourist withal, would enjoy a nice 
 bit of fun at seeing the more favoured prisoners (with his 
 kind permission) exercise their dexterity in throwing peas 
 at the faces of the bounden. How he would laugh how
 
 450 VAEIOUS MATTERS. 
 
 the pea-punishing prisoners would enjoy it how the fast 
 bound niggers, foaming with rage and maddened to despe 
 ration, would bellow, as their very eyeballs darted fire and 
 blood ! What grand fun it was ! bull-baiting sank into a 
 mere shadow beside it. The former was measuredly passive, 
 because the bull only roared, and pitched, and tossed ; 
 whereas here the sport was made more exhilarating by ex 
 pressions of vengeance or implorings. And then, as a 
 change of pastime, the skilful gaoler would demand a cessa 
 tion of the pea hostilities, and enjoin the commencement of 
 the water war ; which said war was carried out by supplying 
 about a dozen prisoners with as many buckets, which they 
 would fill with great alacrity, and, in succession, throw the 
 contents with great force over the unyielding,from the outside. 
 The effect of this on naked men, bound with chains to iron 
 bars, may be imagined; but the older Choicewest declares it was 
 a cure. It brought steel out of the " rascals," and made them 
 as submissive as shoe-strings. Sometimes the jolly prisoners 
 would make the bath so strong, that the niggers would seem 
 completely drowned when released ; but then they'd soon 
 come to with a jolly good rolling, a little hartshorn applied 
 to their nostrils, and the like of that. About a dozen times 
 putting through the pea and water process cured them. 
 
 So says the very respectable Mr. Choicewest, with great 
 dignity of manners, as he seriously advises the younger 
 Choicewest to try a little quantity of the same sort on his 
 now useless female purchase. Lady Choicewest must, how 
 ever, be consulted on this point, as she is very particular 
 about the mode in which all females about her establish 
 ment are chastised. Indeed, Lady Choicewest is much 
 concerned about the only male heir of the family, to whom 
 she looks forward for very distinguished results to the family 
 name. The family (Lady Choicewest always assures those 
 whom she graciously condescends to admit into the fashion 
 able precincts of her small but very select circle), descended 
 from the very ancient and chivalric house of that name, 
 whose celebrated estate was in "Warwickshire, England ; and, 
 in proof of this, my Lady Choicewest invariably points to a 
 sad daub, illustrative of some incomprehensible object, sus 
 pended over the antique mantelpiece. With methodical 
 grace, and dignity which frowns with superlative contempt 
 upon every thing very vulgar- for she says " she sublimely de
 
 VABIOU8 MATTEBS. 451 
 
 tests them very low creatures what are never brought up to 
 manners at the north, and are worse than haystacks to lam 
 civility" my lady solicits a near inspection of this wonder 
 ful hieroglyphic, which she tells us is the family arms, an 
 ancient and choice bit of art she would not part with for the 
 world. If her friends evince any want of perception in 
 tracing the many deeds of valour it heralds, on behalf of the 
 noble family of which she is an undisputed descendant, my 
 lady will at once enter upon the task of instruction ; and 
 with the beautiful fore-finger of her right hand, always 
 jewelled with great brilliancy, will she satisfactorily enlighten 
 the stupid on the fame of the ancient Choicewest family, 
 thereon inscribed. With no ordinary design on the credu 
 lity of her friends, Lady Choicewest has several times 
 strongly intimated that she was not quite sure that one or 
 two of her ancestors in the male line of the family were not 
 reigning dukes as far down as the noble reign of the ignoble 
 Oliver Cromwell ! The question, nevertheless, is whether 
 the honour of the ancient Choicewest family descended from 
 Mr. or Mrs. Choicewest. The vulgar mass have been 
 known to say (smilingly) that Lady Choicewest's name was 
 Brown, the father of which very ancient family sold herrings 
 and small pigs at a little stand in the market : this, however, 
 was a very long time ago, and, as my lady is known to be 
 troubled with an exceedingly crooked memory, persons 
 better acquainted with her are more ready to accept the 
 oblivious excuse. 
 
 Taking all these things into consideration, my Lady 
 Choicewest is exceedingly cautious lest young G-ourdoin 
 Choicewest should do aught to dishonour the family name ; 
 and on this strange perplexity in winch her much indulged 
 son is placed being referred to her, she gives it as her most 
 decided opinion that the wench, if as obstinate as described, 
 had better be sold to the highest bidder the sooner the 
 better. My lady lays great emphasis on " the sooner the 
 better." That something will be lost she has not the slightest 
 doubt ; but then it were better to lose a little in the price 
 of the stubborn wretch, than to have her always creating 
 disturbance about the genteel premises. In furtherance of 
 this my lady's mandate Annette is sold to Mr. Blackmore 
 Blackett for the nice round sum of fifteen hundred dollars. 
 Gourdoin Choicewest hates to part with the beauty, grieves
 
 452 VAEIOUS MATTEBS. 
 
 and regrets, she is so charmingly fascinating. " Must let 
 her slide, though ; critter won't do at all as I wants her to," 
 he lisps, regretting the serious loss of the dollars. His 
 friend Blackraore Blackett, however, is a gentleman, and 
 therefore he would not deceive him in the wench : hence he 
 makes the reduction, because he finds her decidedly faulty. 
 Had Blackmore Blackett been a regular flesh trader, he would 
 not have scrupled to take him in. As it is, gentlemen must 
 always be gentlemen among themselves. Blackett, a gentle 
 man of fortune, who lives at his ease in the city, and has the 
 very finest taste for female beauty, was left, most unfortu 
 nately, a widower with four lovely daughters, any one of 
 which may be considered a belle not to be rung by gentlemen 
 of ordinary rank or vulgar pretension. In fact, the Blackett 
 girls are considered very fine specimens of beauty, are much 
 admired in society, and expect ere long, on the clear merit 
 of polish, to rank equal with the first aristocracy of the 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Blackmore Blackett esteems himself an extremely 
 lucky fellow in having so advantageously procured such a 
 nice piece of property, so suited to his taste. Her price, 
 when compared with her singularly valuable charms, is a mere 
 nothing ; and, too, all his fashionable friends will congra 
 tulate him upon his good fortune. But as disappointments 
 will come, so Mr. Blackmore Blackett finds he has got some 
 thing not quite so valuable as anticipated ; however, being 
 something of a philosopher, he will improve upon the course 
 pursued by the younger Choicewest : he makes his first ad 
 vances with great caution ; whispers words of tenderness in 
 her ear; tells her his happy jewel for life she must be. Kemem- 
 bering her mother, she turns a deaf ear to Mr. Blackett's 
 pleadings. The very cabin which he has provided for her in 
 the yard reminds her of that familiar domicile on Marston's 
 plantation. Neither by soft pleadings, nor threatenings of 
 sale to plantation life, nor terrors of the lash, can he soften 
 the creature's sympathies, so that the flesh may succumb. 
 When he whispered soft words and made fascinating pro 
 mises, she would shake her head and move from him ; when 
 he threatened, she would plead her abject position ; when 
 he resorted to force, she would struggle with him, making 
 the issue her virtue or death. Once she paid the penalty of 
 her struggles with a broken wrist, which she shows us more
 
 VARIOUS MATTERS. 453 
 
 in sorrow than anger. Annette is beautiful but delicate ; 
 has soft eyes beaming with the fulness of a great soul ; but 
 they were sold, once, now, sympathy for her is dead. The 
 law gives her no protection for her virtue ; the ruffian may 
 violate it, and Heaven only can shelter it with forgiveness. 
 As for Blackett, he has no forgiveness in his temperament, 
 passion soars highest with him ; he would slay with violent 
 hands the minion who dared oppose its triumph. 
 
 About this time, Mi'. Blackett, much to his surprise, finds 
 a storm of mischief brewing' about his domestic domain. 
 The Miss Blacketts, dashing beauties, have had it come 
 to their ears over and over again that all the young men 
 about the city say Annette Mazatlin (as she is now called) 
 is far more beautiful than any one of the Blacketts. This 
 is quite enough to kindle the elements of a female war. 
 In the south nothing can spread the war of jealousy and 
 vanity with such undying rage as comparing slave beauty 
 with that of the more favoured of the sexes. A firman of 
 the strongest kind is now issued from the portfolio of the 
 Miss Blacketts, forbidding the wretched girl entering the 
 house ; and storms of abuse are plentifully and very cheaply 
 lavished on her hea v d, ere she puts it outside the cabin. She 
 was a nasty, impudent hussy ; the very worst of ail kind of 
 creatures to have about a respectable mansion, enough to 
 shock respectable people ! The worst of it was, that the 
 miserable white nigger thought she was handsome, and a 
 lot of young, silly-headed men flattered her vanity by telling 
 the fool she was prettier than the Blacketts themselves, 
 so said the very accomplished Miss Blacketts. And if ever 
 domicile was becoming too warm for man to live in, in con 
 sequence of female indignation, that one was Mr. Blackmore 
 Blackett's. It was not so much that the father had 
 purchased this beautiful creature to serve fiendish purposes. 
 Oh no ! that was a thing of every-day occurrence, 
 something excusable in any respectable man's family. It 
 was beauty rivalling, fierce and jealous of its compliments. 
 Again, the wretch found incorrigible, and useless for the 
 purpose purchased is sold. Poor, luckless maiden ! she 
 might add, as she passed through the hands of so many 
 purchasers. This time, however, she is less valuable from 
 having fractured her left wrist, deformity being always 
 taken into account wh. such property is up at the flesh
 
 454 YABIOUS MATTEES. 
 
 shambles. But Mr. Blackmore Blackett has a delicacy 
 about putting her up under the hammer just now, inasmuch, 
 as he could not say she was sold for no fault; while th< 
 disfigured wrist might lead to suspicious remarks concerning 
 his treatment of her. Another extremely unfortunate 
 circumstance was its getting all about the city that she was 
 a cold, soulless thing, who declared that sooner than yield 
 to be the abject wretch men sought to make her, she would 
 die that only death. She had but one life, and it were better 
 to yield that up virtuously than die degraded. Graspum, then, 
 is the only safe channel in which to dispose of the like. That 
 functionary assures Mr. Blackmore Blackett that the girl is 
 beautiful, delicate, and an exceedingly sweet creature yet ! 
 but that during the four months she has depreciated more 
 than fifty per cent in value. His remarks may be consi 
 dered out of place, but they are none the less true, 
 for it is ascertained, on private examination, that sundry 
 stripes have been laid about her bare loins. Gurdoin 
 Choicewest declared to his mother that he never for once 
 had laid violent hands on the obstinate wench ; Mr. 
 Blackmore Blackett stood ready to lay his hand on the Bible, 
 and lift his eyes to heaven for proof of his innocence ; but 
 a record of the infliction, indelible of blood, remained there 
 to tell its sad tale, to shame, if shame had aught in 
 slavery whereon to make itself known. Notwithstanding 
 this bold denial, it is found that Mr. Blackmore Blackett 
 did on two occasions strip her and secure her hands and 
 feet to the bed-post, where he put on " about six at a time," 
 remarkably " gently." He admired her symmetrical forn^her 
 fine, white, soft, smooth skin her voluptuous limbs, so 
 beautifully and delicately developed ; and then there was so 
 much gushing sweetness, mingled with grief, in her face, as 
 she cast her soft glances upon him, and implored him to end 
 her existence, or save her such shame ! Such, he says, 
 laconically, completely disarmed him, and he only switched 
 her a few times. 
 
 " She's not worth a dot more than a thousand dollars. 
 I couldn't give it for her, because I couldn't make it out on 
 her. The fact is, she'll get a bad name by passing through 
 BO many hands a deuced bad name !" says Graspum, whose 
 commercial language is politically cold. " And then there's 
 her broken wrist doubtful ! doifttful ! doubtful ! what I
 
 VARIOUS MATTEB8. 465 
 
 can do with her. For a plantation she isn't worth seven 
 coppers, and sempstresses and housemaids of her kind are 
 looked on suspiciously. It's only with great nicety of skill 
 ye can work such property to advantage," he continues, 
 viewing her in one of Mr. Blackmore Blackett' s ante-rooms. 
 
 The upshot of the matter is, that Mr. Blackmore Blackett 
 accepts the offer, and Graspum, having again taken the 
 damaged property under his charge, sends it back to his pen. 
 As an offset for the broken wrist, she has three new dresses, 
 two of which were presented by the younger Choicewest, 
 and one by the .generous Blackmore Blackett. 
 
 Poor Annette ! she leaves for her home in the slave-pen, 
 sad at heart, and in tears. " My mother ! Oh, that I had a 
 mother to love me, to say Annette so kindly, to share 
 with me my heart's bitter anguish. How I could love 
 Nicholas, now that there is no mother to love me !" she 
 mutters as she sobs, wending her way to that place of 
 earthly torment. How different are the feelings of the 
 oppressor. He drinks a social glass of wine with his friend 
 Blackett, lights his cigar most fashionably, bids him a polite 
 good morning, and intimates that a cheque for the amount 
 of the purchase will be ready any time he may be pleased 
 to call. And now he wends his way homeward, little 
 imagining what ood fortune awaits him at the pen to which 
 he has despatched his purchase. 
 
 Annette has reached the pen, in which she sits, pensively, 
 holding her bonnet by the strings, the heavy folds of her 
 light auburn hair hanging dishevelled over her shoulders. 
 Melancholy indeed she is, for she has passed an ordeal of 
 unholy brutality. Near her sits one Pringle Blowers, a man of 
 coarse habits, who resides on his rice-plantation, a few miles 
 from the city, into which he frequently comes, much to the 
 annoyance of quietly disposed citizens and guardsmen, who 
 are not unfrequently called upon to preserve the peace he 
 threatens to disturb. Dearly does he love his legitimate 
 brandy, and dearly does it make him pay for the insane 
 frolics it incites him to perpetrate, to the profit of certain 
 saloons, and danger of persons. Madman under the 
 influence of his favourite drink, a strange pride besets his 
 faculties, which is only appeased with the demolition of 
 glass and men's faces. For this strange amusement he has 
 become famous and feared ; and as the light of his own
 
 456 VAEIOtIS MATTEBS. 
 
 besotted countenance makes its appearance, citizens generally 
 are not inclined to interpose any obstacle to the exercise ol 
 his belligerent propensities. 
 
 Here he sits, viewing Annette with excited scrutiny. 
 Never before has he seen anything so pretty, so bright, so 
 fascinating all clothed with a halo of modesty for sale 
 in the market. The nigger is completely absorbed in the 
 beauty, he mutters to himself: and yet she must be a nigger 
 or she would not be here. That she is an article of sale, 
 then, there can be no doubt. " Van, yer the nicest gal I've 
 seen! Reckon how Grasp, paid a tall shot for ye, eh ?" he 
 says, in the exuberance of his fascinated soul. He will draw 
 nearer to her, toss her undulating hair, playfully, and with 
 seeming unconsciousness draw his brawny hand across her 
 bosom. "Didn't mean it!" he exclaims, contorting his 
 broad red face, as she puts out her hand, presses him from 
 her, and disdains his second attempt. " Pluck, I reckon ! 
 needn't put on mouths, though, when a feller's only 
 quizzin." He shrugs his great round shoulders, and rolla 
 his wicked eyes. 
 
 " I am not for you, man !" she interrupts : " I would scorn 
 you, were I not enslaved," she continues, a curl of contempt 
 on her lip, as her very soul kindles with grief. Rising 
 quickly from his side she walked across the^pen, and seated 
 herself on the opposite side. Here she casts a frowning 
 look upon him, as if loathing his very presence. This, Mr. 
 Pringle Blowers don't altogether like : slaves have no right 
 to look loathingly on white people. His flushed face glows 
 red with excitement ; he runs his brawny fingers through 
 the tufted mats of short curly hair that stand almost erect 
 on his head, draws his capacious jaws into a singular angle, 
 and makes a hideous grimace. 
 
 The terrified girl has no answer to make ; she is a forlorn 
 outcast of democracy's rule. He takes the black ribbon 
 from round his neck, bares his bosom more broadly than 
 before, throws the plaid sack in which he is dressed from 
 off him, and leaping as it were across the room, seizes 
 her in his arms. " Kisses are cheap, I reckon, and a feller 
 what don't have enough on 'em 's a fool," he ejaculates, as 
 with a desperate struggle she bounds from his grasp, seizes 
 th'3 knife from a negro's hand as she passes him, and is 
 about to plunge the shining steel into her breast. " Oh,
 
 VARIOUS MATTERS. 457 
 
 mother, mother ! what have I done ? is not God my 
 Saviour ? has he forsaken me ? left me a prey to those 
 who seek my life ?" 
 
 " I settle those things," said a voice in the reai-, and im 
 mediately a hand grasped her arm, and the knife fell 
 carelessly upon the floor. It was G-raspum ; the sudden sur 
 prise overcame her; she sank back in his arms, and swooned. 
 " She swoons, how limber, how lifeless she seems !" says 
 Graspum, as with great coolness he calls a negro attendant, 
 orders him to remove her to the grass plat, and bathe her 
 well with cold water. " A good dowsing of water is the 
 cure for fainting niggers," he concludes. 
 
 The black man takes her in his arms, and with great kind 
 ness, lays her on the plat, bathes her temples, loosens her 
 dress, and with his rough hand manipulates her arms. How 
 soft and silky they seem to his touch ! " Him hard to slave 
 ye, miss," he says, laying his hand upon her temples, gently, 
 as witb commiseration he looks intently on her pallid 
 features. 
 
 " Now, Blowers," says Graspum, as soon as they are by 
 themselves, " what in the name of the Gentiles have you 
 been up to ?" 
 
 " Wai can't say its nothin, a' cos that wouldn't do. 
 But, ye see, the critter made my mouth water so ; there was 
 no standin on't ! And I wanted to be civil, and she 
 wouldn't, and I went t' fumlin with her hair what 
 looked so inviting, as there was 'no resistin on't, and she 
 looked just as sassy as sixty ; and to stun the whole, when 
 i only wanted to kiss them ar' temptin lips, the fool was 
 goin to kill herself. It wasn't how 1 cared two 
 buttons about it ; but then the feelin just came over me at 
 the time," he answers, shaking his huge sides, giving 
 Graspum a significant wmk, and laughing heartily. 
 
 " Never at a loss, I see !" returns the other, nodding his 
 head, pertinently : " If I didn't know ye, Blowers, that might 
 go down without sticking." 
 
 "Ye don't tell where ye raised that critter, eh ?" he 
 interrupts, inquisitively, pointing his thumb over his right 
 shoulder, and crooking his finger, comically. 
 
 "liaised her with shiners lots on 'em!" he rejoins, pushing 
 Mr. Pringle Blowers in the stomach, playfully, with his fore 
 finger.
 
 VARIOUS MATTERS. 
 
 " Graspum ! yer a wicked 'uu." 
 
 " Suit ye, kind 'a eh, Blowers ?" he rejoins, enquiringly, 
 maintaining great gravity of manner as he watches each 
 change of Blowers' countenance. 
 
 Blowers laughs in reply. His laugh has something 
 sardonic in it, seeming more vicious as he opens his 
 great wicked mouth, and displays an ugly row of coloured 
 teeth. 
 
 " Sit down, Blowers, sit down !" says Graspum, motioning 
 his hand, with a studied politeness. The two gentlemen 
 take seats side by side, on a wooden bench, stretched across 
 the centre of the pen, for negroes to sit upon. " As I live, 
 Blowers, thar ain't another individual like you in the 
 county. You can whip a file of common guardsmen, put the 
 Mayor's court through a course of affronts, frighten all the 
 females out of the fashionable houses, treat a regiment of 
 volunteers, drink a bar-room dry- " 
 
 " Compliments thick, long and strong," interposes 
 Blowers, winking and wiping his mouth. " Can elect half 
 the members of the assembly !" he concludes. 
 
 " True ! nevertheless," rejoins Graspum, " a great man 
 cannot be flattered compliments are his by merit ! And 
 the city knows you're a man of exquisite taste." 
 
 Blowers interrupts with a loud laugh, as he suggests the 
 propriety of seeing the " gal get round again." 
 
 " Not so fast, Blowers ; not so fast !" Graspum ejacu 
 lates, as Blowers is about to rise from his seat and follow 
 Annette. 
 
 " "Well, now !" returns Blowers, remaining seated, " Might 
 just as well come square to the mark, ye want to sell me 
 that wench ?" 
 
 " Truth's truth !" he replies. " Blowers is the man who's 
 got the gold to do it." 
 
 " Name yer price; and no rounding the corners!" ex 
 claims Blowers, his countenance quickening with animation. 
 He takes Graspum by the arm with his left hand, turns him 
 half round, and waits for a reply. 
 
 Seeing it's Blowers, (the keen business man replies, in 
 an oft-hand manner), who's a trump in his way, and don't 
 care for a few dollars, he'll take seventeen hundred for her, 
 tin down ; not a fraction less ! He will have no bantering, 
 inasmuch as his friends all know that he has but one price
 
 YAJIIOTJS MATTERS. 459 
 
 for niggers, from which it is no use to seek a discount. Mr. 
 Blowers, generally a good judge of such articles, would 
 like one more view at it before fully making up his mind. 
 Graspum calls " Oh, boy !" and the negro making his 
 appearance, says : " Dat gal 'um all right agin ; went mos 
 asleep, but am right as parched pea now." 
 
 " Have her coming," he returns, facing Blowers. 
 "Nothing the matter with that gal," he exclaims, touching 
 his elbow. It is merely one of her flimsy fits ; she hasn't 
 quite come to maturity." 
 
 Slowly the negro leads her, weeping (Graspum says they 
 will cry it's natural !) into the presence of the far-famed 
 and much-feared Mr. Pringle Blowers. Her hair hangs 
 carelessly about her neck and shoulders, the open incision of 
 her dress discloses a neatly worked stomacher ; how sweetly 
 glows the melancholy that broods over her countenance ! 
 " I'll take her I'll take her !" exclaims Blowers, in spas 
 modic ecstasy. 
 
 " I know'd you would ; I'll suit you to a charm," rejoins 
 the man of trade, laconically, as the negro steps a few feet 
 backward, and watches the process. " Considers it a trade," 
 is the reply of Blowers, as he orders his waggon to be 
 brought to the door. 
 
 " Oh ! master, master ! save me save me ! and let me 
 die in peace. Don't, good master, don't sell me again !" 
 Thus saying she falls on her knees at Grraspum's feet, and 
 with hands uplifted beseeches him to save her from the 
 hands of a man whose very sight she loathes. She reads the 
 man's character in his face ; she knows too well the hellish 
 purpose for which he buys her. Bitter, bitter, are the 
 tears of anguish she sheds at his feet, deep and piercing are 
 her bemoanings. Again her soft, sorrowing eyes wander in 
 prayer to heaven : as Graspum is a husband, a brother, and 
 a father, whose children are yet in the world's travel of un 
 certainty, she beseeches him to save her from that man. 
 
 "Don't be mad, girl," he says, pushing her. hand 
 from him. 
 
 " Frightened, eh ? Make ye love me, yet ! "Why, gal, 
 ye never had such a master in the world as I'll be to ye. 
 I lay I makes a lady on ye, and lets ye have it all yer own 
 way, afore a fortnight," he rejoins, spreading his brawny 
 arms over her, as she, in an attitude of fright, vaults from 
 30
 
 460 VABIO1TS MATTERS. 
 
 beneath them, and, uttering a faint cry, glides crouching into 
 a corner of the pen. There is no protection for her now ; 
 her weepings and implorings fall harmless on the slave- 
 dealer's ears ; heaven will protect her when earth knows 
 her no more ! 
 
 " There's two can play a game like that, gal !" exclaims 
 Blowers. "Hough play like that don't do with this ere 
 citizen. Can just take the vixen out on a dozen on ye as 
 what don't know what's good for 'em." Blowers is evidently 
 allowing his temper to get the better of him. He stands a 
 few feet from her, makes grim his florid face, gesticulates 
 his hands, and daringly advances toward her as the negro 
 announces the arrival of his waggon. 
 
 " You must go with him, girl ; stop working yourself into 
 a fever ; stop it, I say," interposes Grraspum, peremptorily. 
 " The waggon ! the waggon ! the waggon ! to carry me 
 away, away; never, never to return and see my mother?" 
 she exclaims, as well nigh in convulsions she shrieks, when 
 Blowers grasps her in his arms (Grraspum saying, be gentle, 
 Blowers), drags her to the door, and by force thrusts her 
 into the waggon, stifling her cries as on the road they drive 
 quickly away. As the last faint wail dies away, arid the 
 vehicle bearing its victim disappears in the distance, we 
 think how sweet is liberty, how prone to injustice is man, 
 how crushing of right are democracy's base practices. 
 
 " Does seem kind of hard ; but it's a righteous good sale. 
 Shouldn't wonder if she played the same game on him she 
 did with t'other two fools. Gret her back then, and sell her 
 over again. Well ! come now ; there's no great loss 
 without some small gain !" says Grraspum, as, standing 
 his prominent figure in the door of his man pen, he watches 
 the woman pass out of sight, thrusts his hands deep into his 
 breeches pockets, and commences humming an air for his 
 own special amusement.
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STOUT. 
 
 THE reader will remember that we left Nicholas seeking 
 his way to Mr. Grabguy's workshop, situated in the outskirts 
 of the city. And we must here inform him that considerable 
 change in the social position of the younger Grabguy family 
 has taken place since we left them, which is some years ago. 
 The elder Grabguy, who, it will be remembered, was very 
 distinguished as his Worship the Mayor of the City (that 
 also was some years ago), has departed this life, leaving the 
 present principal of the Grabguy family a large portion of 
 his estate, which, being mostly of "nigger property," 
 requires some little transforming before it can be made to 
 suit his more extended business arrangements. This 
 material addition to -the already well-reputed estate of 
 Mr. Grabguy warrants his admittance into very respectable, 
 and, some say, rather distinguished society. Indeed, it is 
 more than whispered, that when the question of admitting 
 Mr. and Mrs. Grabguy to the membership of a very select 
 circle, the saintly cognomen of which is as indefinable as 
 its system of selecting members, or the angles presented by 
 the nasal organs of a few ladies when anything short of the 
 very first families are proposed, there were seven very 
 fashionable ladies for, and only three against. The greatest 
 antagonist the Grabguys have to getting into the embrace 
 of this very select circle is Mrs. Chief Justice Pimpkins, 
 a matronly body of some fifty summers, who declares there can 
 be no judge in the world so clever as her own dear 
 Pimpkins, and that society was becoming so vulgar and 
 coarse, and so many low people whoso English was as 
 hopefully bad as could be, and who never spoke when they 
 didn't impugn her risible nerves were intruding themselves 
 upon its polished sanctity, that she felt more and more 
 every day the necessity of withdrawing entirely from it, and 
 enjoying her own exclusively distinguished self. In the 
 case of Grabguy's admittance to the St. Cecilia, my Lady
 
 462 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STOBT. 
 
 Pimpkins she is commonly called Lady Chief Justice 
 Pimpkins had two most formidable black balls ; the first 
 because Mrs. Grabguy's father was a bread-baker, and the 
 second that the present Grabguy could not be considered 
 a gentleman while he continued in mechanical business. 
 Another serious objection Mrs. Pimpkins would merely 
 suggest as a preventive ; such people were ill suited to 
 mix with titled and other distinguished society ! But, 
 Grabguy, to make up for the vexatious rejection, has got 
 to be an alderman, which is a step upward in the scale 
 of his father's attained distinction. There is nothing more 
 natural, then, than that Grabguy should seek his way up 
 in the world, with the best means at his hands ; it is a 
 worthy trait of human nature, and is as natural to the 
 slave. In this instance when master and slave are both 
 incited to a noble purpose Grabguy is a wealthy alderman, 
 and Nicholas the whiter of the two his abject slave. 
 The master, a man of meagre mind, and exceedingly ava 
 ricious, would make himself distinguished in society ; the 
 slave, a mercurial being of impassioned temper, whose mind 
 is quickened by a sense of the injustice that robs him of his 
 rights, seeks only freedom and what may follow in its order. 
 Let us again introduce the reader to Nicholas, as his 
 manly figure, marked with impressive features, stands before 
 us, in Grabguy's workshop. Tall, and finely formed, he has 
 grown to manhood, retaining all the quick fiery impulses of his 
 race. Those black eyes wandering irresistibly, that curl of 
 contempt that sits upon his lip, that stare of revenge that 
 scowls beneath those heavy eyebrows, and that hate of wrong 
 that ever and anon pervades the whole, tell how burns in his 
 heart the elements of a will that would brave death for its 
 rights that would bear unmoved the oppressor's lash that 
 would embrace death rather than yield to perfidy. He tells 
 us " I came here, sold so they said by God's will. 
 "Well. I thought to myself, isn't this strange, that a curious 
 God they tell me he loves everybody should sell me ? It 
 all seemed like a misty waste to me. I remembered home 
 I learned to read, myself I remembered mother, I loved her, 
 but she left me, and I have never seen her since. I loved 
 her, dear mother ! I did love her ; but they said she was 
 gone far away, and I musn't mind if I never see'd her again. 
 It seemed hard and strange, but I had to put up with it, for
 
 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STOET. 463 
 
 they said I never had a father, and my mother had no right 
 to me (his piercing black eyes glare, as fervently he 
 says, mother!'). I thought, at last, it was true, for everybody 
 had a right to call me nigger, a blasted white nigger, a 
 nigger as wouldn't be worth nothing. And then they used 
 to kick me, and cuff me, and lash me ; and if nigger was 
 nigger I was worse than a nigger, because every black nigger 
 was laughing at me, and telling me what a fool of a white 
 nigger I was ; that white niggers .was nobody, could be 
 nobody, and was never intended for nobody, as nobody 
 knew where white niggera come from. But I didn't believe 
 all this ; it warn't sensible. Something said Nicholas ! 
 you're just as good as anybody : learn to read, write, and 
 cypher, and you'll be something yet. And this something 
 I couldn't tell what it was, nor could I describe it 
 seemed irresistible in its power to carry me to be that some 
 body it prompted in my feelings. I was white, and when I 
 looked at myself I knew I wasn't a nigger ; and feeling that 
 everybody could be somebody, I began to look forward to 
 the time when I should rise above the burden of misfortune 
 that .seemed bearing me down into the earth. And then, 
 Franconia, like a sister, used to come to me, and say so 
 many kind things to me that I felt relieved, and resolved 
 to go forward. Then I lost sight of Franconia, and saw 
 nobody I knew but Annette ; and she seemed so pretty, and 
 loved me so affectionately. How long it seems since I have 
 seen her ! She dressed me so nicely, and parted my hair, and 
 kissed me so kindly ; and said good-by, when I left her, so 
 in regret, I never can forget it. And it was then they 
 said I was sold. Mr. Graspum said he owned me, and 
 owning me was equal to doing what he pleased with me. 
 Then I went home to Mr. Grabguy'a ; and they said Mr. 
 Grabguy owned me just as he owned his great big dog 
 they called a democratic bull-dog, the foreman said he paid 
 a democratic ten-dollar gold piece for. They used to say 
 the only difference between me and the dog was, that the 
 dog could go where he pleased without being lashed, and I 
 couldn't. And the dog always got enough to eat, and 
 seemed a great favourite with everybody, whereas I got only 
 more kicks than cucumbers, didn't seem liked by any 
 body, and if I got enough to eat I had nobody to thank but 
 good old Margery, the cook, who was kind to me now and
 
 464 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STORY. 
 
 then, and used to say "I like you, Nicholas !" And that 
 used to make me feel so happy ! Old Margery was coal- 
 black; but I didn't care for that, the knowledge of somebody 
 loving you is enough to light up the happy ol life, and 
 make the heart feel contented. In this manner my thoughts 
 went here and there and everywhere ; and the truth is, I 
 had so many thoughts, that I got completely bewildered in 
 thinking how I was to better myself, and be like other 
 folks. Mr. Grrabguy seemed kind to me at first, said he 
 would make a great mechanic of me, and give me a chance 
 to buy myself. I didn't know what this "buy myself" 
 meant, at first. But I soon found out he tells us he must 
 speak with caution that I must pay so many hundred 
 dollars afore I could be like other folks. The kindness Mr. 
 Grrabguy at first exhibited for me didn't last long ; he soon 
 began to kick me, and cuff me, and swear at me. And it 
 'pear'd to me as if I never could please anybody, and so my 
 feelings got so embittered I didn't know what to do. I was 
 put into the shop among the men, and one said Nigger, here! 
 and another said, Nigger, get there ! and they all seemed 
 not to be inclined to help me along. And then I would get in 
 a passion : but that never made things better. The foreman 
 now and then said a kind word to me ; and whenever he 
 did, it made my heart feel so good that I seemed a new being 
 with brighter hopes. Well, Mr. Grrabguy put me to 
 turning the grindstone, first ; and from turning the grind 
 stone the men used to throw water in rny face when they 
 ground their chisels, and their plane irons, and axes and 
 adzes I was learned to saw, and to plain boards, and then 
 to mortice and frame, and make mouldings, and window- 
 sashes, and door-frames. When I could do all these, master 
 used to say I was bound to make a great workman, and, 
 laughingly, would say I was the most valuable property he 
 ever owned. About this time I began to find out how it 
 was that the other white folks owned themselves and master 
 owned me ; but then, if I said anything about it, master 
 might tie me up and lash me as he used to do ; and so I re 
 mained quiet, but kept up a thinking. By and by I got 
 perfect at the carpenter's trade, and I learned engineering ; 
 and when I had got engineering perfect, I took a fancy for 
 making stucco work and images. And people said I learned 
 wondrously fast, and was the best workman far or near.
 
 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STOBY. 465 
 
 Seeing these things, people used to be coming to me, and 
 talking to me about my value, and then end by wanting me 
 to make them specimens of stucco. I seemed liked by 
 everybody who came to see me, and good people had a kind 
 word for me ; but Mr. Grabguy was very strict, and 
 wouldn't allow me to do anything without his permission. 
 People said my work was perfect, and master said I was a 
 perfect piece of property ; and it used to pain deep into my 
 heart when master spoke so. "Well ! I got to be a man, 
 and when the foreman got drunk master used to put me in 
 his place. And after a while I got to be foreman altogether : 
 but I was a slave, they said, and men wouldn't follow my 
 directions when master was away ; they all acknowledged 
 that I was a good workman, but said a nigger never should 
 be allowed to direct and order white people. That made my 
 very blood boil, as I grew older, because I was whiter than 
 many of them. However, submit was the word ; and I bore 
 up and trusted to heaven for deliverance, hoping the day 
 would come soon when its will would be carried out. With 
 my knowledge of mechanics increased a love of learning, 
 which almost amounted to a passion. They said it was 
 against the law for a nigger to read ; but I was raised so 
 far above black niggers that I didn't mind what the law 
 said : so I got ' Pilgrim's Progress,' and the Bible, and 
 ' Young's Night Thoughts,' and from them I learned great 
 truths : they gave me new hopes, refreshed my weary 
 soul, and made me like a new-clothed being ready to 
 soar above the injustice of this life. Oh, how I read them at 
 night, and re-read them in the morning, and every time 
 found something new in them, something that suited my 
 case ! Through the sentiments imbibed from them I saw 
 freedom hanging out its light of love, fascinating me, and 
 inciting me to make a death struggle to gain it. 
 
 " One day, as I was thinking of my hard fate, and how I 
 did all the work and master got all the money for it and how 
 I had to live and how he lived, master came in looking 
 good-natured. He approached me, shook hands with me, 
 said I was worth my weight in gold ; and then asked me 
 how I would like to be free. I told him I would jump for 
 joy, would sing praises, and be glad all the day long. 
 
 " ' Aint you contented where you are, Nicholas ?' he en 
 quired. I told him I didn't dislike him ; but freedom was 
 
 H H
 
 466 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STORY. 
 
 sweetest. ' Give me a chance of my freedom, master, and yet 
 you may know me as a man,' says I, feeling that to be free 
 was to be among the living ; to be a slave was to be among 
 the moving dead. To this he said, he always had liked 
 me, was proud of me, had unbounded confidence in my 
 directions over the men, and always felt safe when he 
 went from home leaving things in my charge. ' In this 
 view of the case, Nicholas,' he says, ' I have come to the 
 conclusion, and it's Mrs. Grabguy's conclusion, too, to 
 let you work evenings, on overtime, for yourself. You 
 can earn a deal of money that way, if you please ; just save 
 it up, and let me keep it for you, and in consideration of 
 your faithfulness I will set you free whenever you get a 
 thousand dollars to put into my hands. Now that's 
 generous I want to do the straight thing, and so Mrs. 
 Grabguy wants to do the straight thing ; and what money 
 you save you can put in Mrs. Grabguy's hands for safe 
 keeping. She's a noble-minded woman, and '11 take good 
 care of it.' This was to me like entering upon a new 
 life of hope and joy. How my heart yearned for the 
 coming day, when I should be free like other folks ! I 
 worked and struggled by night and day ; and good Mr. 
 Simons befriended me, and procured me many little orders, 
 which I executed, and for which I got good pay. All my 
 own earnings I put into Mrs. Grabguy's hands ; and she 
 told me she would keep it for me, safe, till I got enough to 
 buy my freedom. My confidence in these assurances was 
 undivided. I looked upon Mrs. Grabguy as a friend and 
 mother ; and good Mr. Simons, who was poor but honest, did 
 many kind things to help me out. When I got one hundred 
 dollars in missus' hands I jumped for joy ; with it I seemed 
 to have got over the first difficult step in the great moun 
 tain. Then missus said I must take Jerushe for my wife. 
 I didn't like Jerushe at first she was almost black ; but 
 missus said we were both slaves ; hence, that could be no 
 objection. As missus's order was equally as positive as 
 master's, there was no alternative but to obey it, and 
 Jerushe became my wife. We were lawfully married, and 
 missus made a nice little party for us, and Jerushe loved 
 me, and was kind to me, and her solicitude for my welfare 
 soon made me repay her love. I pitied her condition, and 
 she seemed to pity mine ; and I soon forgot that she was
 
 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STOBT. 
 
 black, and we lived happily together, and had two children, 
 which missus said were hers. It was hard to reconcile this, 
 and yet it was so, by law as well as social right. But then 
 missus was kind to Jerushe, aiid let her buy her time at four 
 dollars a week, which, having learned to make dresses, she 
 could pay and have a small surplus to lay by every 
 week. Jerushe knew I was struggling for freedom, 
 and she would help me to buy that freedom, knowing 
 that, if I was free, I would return her kindness, and struggle 
 to make her free, and our children free. 
 
 " Tears rolled on, we had placed nearly five hundred 
 dollars in missus's hands : but how vain were the hopes 
 that had borne us through so many privations for the 
 accumulation of this portion of our price of freedom ! 
 Master has sold my children, yes, sold them ! He will 
 not tell me where nor to whom. Missus will neither see 
 r.or hear me ; and master threatens to sell me to New 
 Orleans if I resent his act. To what tribunal can I appeal 
 for justice ? Shut from the laws of my native land, what 
 justice is there for the slave where injustice makes its law 
 oppression ? Master may sell me, but he cannot vanquish 
 the spirit God has given me ; never, never, will I yield to 
 his nefarious designs. I have but one life to yield up a 
 sacrifice for right I care not to live for wrong !" Thus 
 he speaks, as his frenzied soul burns with indignation. Hi? 
 soul's love was freedom ; he asked but justice to achieve it. 
 Sick at heart he has thrown up that zeal for his master's 
 welfare which bore him onward, summoned his determina 
 tion to resist to the last to die rather than again confront 
 the dreary waste of a slave's life. Grabguy has forfeited 
 the amount deposited by Nicholas as part of the price of 
 his freedom, betrayed his confidence. 
 
 He tells us his simple story, as the workmen, with 
 fear on their countenances, move heedlessly about the 
 room. As he concludes, Grabguy, with sullen countenance, 
 enters the great door at the end of the building; he is 
 followed by three men in official garbs, two of whom bear 
 manacles in their hands. Nicholas's dark eye flashes 
 upon them, and with an instinctive knowledge of their 
 errand, he seizes a broad axe, salutes them, and, defiantly, 
 cautions their advance. Grabguy heeds not ; and as the 
 aggrieved man slowly retreats backward to protect himself
 
 468 NICHOLAS'S SIMPLE STORY. 
 
 with the wall, still keeping his eye set on Grabguy, two negroes 
 make a sudden spring upon him from behind, fetter his arms as 
 the officers rush forward, bind him hand and foot, and drag him 
 to the door, regardless of his cries for mercy : they bind him to 
 a dray, and drive through the streets to the slave pen of Gras- 
 pum. We hear his pleading voice, as his ruffian captors, their 
 prey secure, disappear among the busy crowd.
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 HE WOULD DELIVER HER FROM BONDAGE. 
 
 twelve o'clock of a hazy night, in the month of 
 November, and while Annette, in the hands of Mr. Pringle 
 Blowers, with death-like tenacity refuses to yield to his vile 
 purposes, a little taunt-rigged schooner may be seen stealing 
 her way through the grey mist into Charleston inner barhour. 
 Like a mysterious messenger, she advances noiselessly, gibes 
 her half-dimmed sails, rounds to a short distance from 
 an old fort that stands on a ridge of flats extending into the 
 sea, drops her anchor, and furls her sails. We hear the 
 rumble of the chain, and "aye, aye !" sound on the still air, 
 like the murmur of voices in the clouds. A pause is fol 
 lowed by the sharp sound of voices echoing through the 
 hollow mist ; then she rides like a thing of life reposing on 
 the polished water, her masts half obscured in mist, looming 
 high above, like a spectre in gauze shroud. The sound dies 
 away, and dimly we see the figure of a man pacing the deck 
 from fore-shroud to taifrail. Now and then he stops at the 
 wheel, casts sundry glances about the horizon, as if to catch 
 a recognition of some point of land near by, and walks again. 
 Now he places his body against the spokes, leans forward, 
 and compares the "lay" of the land with points of compass. 
 He will reach his hand into the binnacle, to note the com 
 pass with his finger, and wait its traversing motion. Appa 
 rently satisfied, he moves his slow way along again ; now 
 folding his arms, as if in deep study, then locking his hands 
 behind him, and drooping his head. He paces and paces 
 for an hour, retires below, and all is still. 
 
 Early on the following morning, a man of middle stature, 
 genteeily dressed, may be seen leaving thecraft in aboat, which, 
 rowed by two seamen, soon reaches a wharf, upon the landing 
 slip of which he disembarks. He looks pale, and his coun 
 tenance wears a placidness indicating a mind absorbed in 
 reflection. With a carpet-bag in his right hand does he ascend 
 the steps to the crown of the wharf, as the boat returns to
 
 470 HE WOULD DEMTEB HEB FROM BONDAGE. 
 
 the mysterious-looking craft. Standing on the capsill for a 
 few minutes, his blue eyes wander over the scene, as if to 
 detect some familiar object. The warehouses along the 
 wharfs wear a dingy, neglected air ; immense piles of 
 cotton bales stand under slender sheds erected here and 
 there along the line of buildings which form a curvature 
 declining to the east and west. Again, open spaces are 
 strewn with bales of cotton waiting its turn through the 
 press (a large building near by, from which steam is issuing 
 in successive puffings and roarings) ; from which com 
 pressed bales emerge out of the lower story, followed by a 
 dozen half-naked negroes, who, half-bent, trundle it onward 
 into piles, or on board ships. Far above these is spread out 
 a semicircle of dwellings, having a gloomy and irregular 
 appearance, devoid of that freshness and brightness which 
 so distinguish every JSTew England city. The bustle of the 
 day is just commencing, and the halt-mantled ships, lying 
 unmoved at the wharfs, give out signs of activity. The new 
 comer is about to move on up the wharf, when suddenly he 
 is accosted by a negro, who, in ragged garb, touches his 
 hat politely, and says, with a smile, " Yer sarvant, mas'r !" 
 
 "Tour name, my boy?" returns the man, in a kind tone 
 of voice. The negro, thrusting his hands deep into the 
 pockets of his old sack coat, seems contemplating an answer. 
 He has had several names, both surname and Christian; names 
 are but of little value to a slave. " Pompe they once called 
 me, but da' calls me Bill now," he answers, eyeing the 
 stranger, suspiciously. " Pompe, Pompe ! I've heard that 
 name : how familiar it sounds !" the stranger says to him 
 self. 
 
 " One mas'r call me Turtle Tom," rejoins the negro, 
 scratching his head the while. 
 
 " Turtle Tom !" reiterates the stranger. " Had yon no 
 other name coupled with Pompe, when that was the name 
 by which you were recognised ?" 
 
 The negro will not wait his finishing the sentence. He 
 says he had good old mas'r's name ; but good old mas'r 
 "so dey tells" dead and gone long time ago. "His name 
 was Marston ; and dat war dis child's name den, God bless 
 'um !" he answers the stranger. 
 
 " Marston, who lived on the banks of the Ashley ?" again 
 he enquires, as his face crimsons with excitement.
 
 HE WOULD DELIVER HEE FBOM BONDAGE. 471 
 
 " Dat war my mas'r ; and dem war good old times when 
 I lived dar," returns the negro, significantly nodding his 
 head. 
 
 " Then you are the first man I have met, the first I want 
 to see," exclaimed the stranger, grasping the negro by the 
 hand, and, much to his surprise, shaking it heartily. 
 
 " 'Taint Lorenzo," returns the negro, contemplating the 
 stranger with astonishment. 
 
 The stranger is not Lorenzo, but he has heard much of 
 him. What happy recollections its familiar sound recalls : 
 how it strengthens his hopes of success in his mission. The 
 negro tells him he is a labourer on the wharf, and cannot 
 leave to conduct him to an hotel ; he will, however, direct 
 the stranger to a comfortable abode in Church Street. It 
 is quiet and unostentatious, but will serve his purpose. 
 Placing a piece of money in the negro's hand, he assures 
 him that he is his friend has much need of his services 
 will pay him well for their employment. He has equally 
 aroused the negro's curiosity ; and, were it nothing more 
 than satisfying that, he would be faithful to his promise to 
 call the same night at seven o'clock. Precisely at that hour 
 the negro will fulfil his engagement. The stranger wends 
 his way to Church Street, and up a narrow alley, on the left 
 hand side, finds comfortable apartments, as directed. Here 
 he makes his toilet, and sallies out to reconnoitre the city. 
 Meanwhile the little craft is entered at the custom-house as 
 a fruiter, bound from New Providence to New York, and 
 put in for a harbour. There is something suspicious about 
 a fruiter putting in for a harbour at this season, and many 
 curious glances are cast upon the little captain as he bowa 
 to the truth of his entry before the deputy collector. 
 
 The stranger has spent the day in viewing the city, and 
 at nightfall, the negro, true to his engagement, presents his 
 sable figure at his lodgings. A servant having shown him 
 up stairs, he is ushered into his presence, where, seeming 
 bewildered, he looks about inquiringly, as if doubting the 
 object for which he has been summoned. Abjectly he holds 
 his tattered cap in his hand, and tremblingly inquires what 
 master wants with him. 
 
 " Have confidence, my good fellow," the stranger speaks, 
 with a smile; "my mission is love and peace," He 
 places a chair beside a small table in the centre of the room ;
 
 472 HE WOULD DELIVER HER FROM BONDAGE. 
 
 bids the negro sit down, which he does with some hesitation. 
 The room is small; it contains a table, bureau, washstaud, 
 bed, and four chairs, which, together with a few small 
 prints hanging from the dingy walls, and a square piece of 
 carpet in the centre of the room, constitute its furniture. 
 " You know Marston's plantation know it as it was when 
 Marston resided thereon, do you?" enquires the stranger, 
 seating himself beside the negro, who evidently is not used 
 to this sort of familiarity. 
 
 " Know 'um well, dat I does," answers the negro, quickly, 
 as if the question had recalled scenes of the past. 
 
 "And you know the people, too, I suppose P" 
 
 " Da'h people !" ejaculates the negro, with a rhapsody of 
 enthusiasm; "reckon I does." 
 
 " Will you recount them." 
 
 The negro, commencing with old master, 'recounts the 
 names of Miss TYanconia, Clotilda, Ellen, Aunt Rachel, old 
 Daddy Bob, and Harry. 
 
 " It is enough," says the stranger, " they are ail familiar 
 names." 
 
 "Did you know my good old master?" interrupts the 
 negro, suddenly, as if detecting some familiar feature in the 
 stranger's countenance. 
 
 " JSTo," he replies, measuredly ; " but his name has 
 sounded in my ears a thousand times. Tell me where are 
 the children, Annette and Nicholas ? and where may I find 
 Franconia ?" 
 
 The negro shakes his head, and remains silent for a few 
 minutes. At length he raises his hand, and in a halt-whisper 
 says, " Gone, gone, gone ; sold and scattered, good mas'r. 
 Habn't see dem child dis many a day : reckon da'h done 
 gone down south." He hesitates suddenly, as if calling 
 something to memory ; and then, placing his left hand on 
 the stranger's right arm, as he rubs hia left across his fore 
 head, stammers out " Mas'r, mas'r, I reckon dis child do 
 know somefin 'bout Miss Frankone. Anyhow, mas'r (ye 
 knows I'se nigger do'h, and don't keep up 'quaintance a't'er 
 mas'r sell um), can put ye straight 'bout Missus Rosebrook'a 
 house, and reckon how dat lady can put ye straight on Miss 
 IVankone's where'bout." It is what the stranger wants. 
 He baa heard of Mrs. Rosebrook before ; she will give 
 him the information he seeks : so, turning again to the
 
 HE WOULD DELIVER HER FROM BONDAGE. 473 
 
 negro, he tells him that, for a few days at least, he shall 
 require his presence at the same hour in the evening : to 
 night he must conduct him to Mrs. liosebrook's sequestered 
 villa. 
 
 The Avatch-tower bell of the guard-house sounds forth 
 nine o'clock. The soldier-like sentinel, pacing with loaded 
 musket, and armed with sharpest steel, cries out in hoarse 
 accents, " All's well !" The bell is summoning all negroes to 
 their habitations : our guide, Bill, informs the stranger that 
 he must have a " pass" from a white man before he can 
 venture into the street. "Mas'r may write 'um," he says, 
 knowing that it matters but little from whom it comes, so 
 long as the writer be a white man. The pass is written ; 
 the negro partakes of refreshment that has been prepared 
 for him at the stranger's request, and they are wending 
 their way through the city. They pass between rows of massive 
 buildings, many of which have an antique appearance, and bear 
 strong signs of neglect ; but their unique style of architecture 
 denotes the taste of the time in which they were erected. 
 Some are distinguished by heavy stone colonnades, others 
 by verandas of fret-work, with large gothic windows stand 
 ing in bold outline. Gloomy-looking guard-houses, from 
 which numerous armed men are issuing forth for the 
 night's duty, patrolling figures with white cross belts, and 
 armed with batons, standing at corners of streets, or moving 
 along with heavy tread on the uneven side-walk, give the 
 city an air of military importance. The love of freedom is 
 dangerous in this democratic world ; liberty is simply a pri 
 vilege. Again the stranger and his guide (the negro) 
 emerge into narrow lanes, and pass along between rows of 
 small dwellings inhabited by negroes ; but at every turn 
 they encounter mounted soldiery, riding two abreast, heavily 
 armed. " Democracy, boast not of thy privileges ! tell no 
 man thou governest with equal justice!" said the stranger to 
 himself, as the gas-light shed its flickers upon this military 
 array formed to suppress liberty. 
 
 They have reached the outskirts of the city, and are ap 
 proaching a pretty villa, which the negro, who has been 
 explaining the nature and duties of this formidable display 
 of citizen soldiery, points to, as the peaceful home of the 
 Sosebrook family. Brighter and brighter, as they approach, 
 glares the bright light of a window in the north front. " I
 
 474 HE WOULD DELIYEB 1IEE FEOM BOKDAOE. 
 
 wish Mas'r Rosebrook owned me," says the negro, stopping 
 at the garden ga'te, and viewing the pretty enclosure ere he 
 opens it. " If ebery mas'r and missus war as kind as da'h 
 is, dar wouldn't be no need o' dem guard-houses and dem 
 guardmen wid dar savage steel," he continues, opening the 
 gate gently, and motioning the stranger to walk in. Noise 
 lessly he advances up the brick walk to the hall entrance, 
 and rings the bell. A well-dressed negro man soon makes 
 his appearance, receives him politely, as the guide retires, 
 and ushers him into a sumptuously furnished parlour. The 
 Rosebrook negroes quickly recognise a gentleman, and de 
 tecting it in the bearing of the stranger they treat him as 
 such. Mrs. Rosebrook, followed by her husband, soon 
 makes her appearance, saluting the stranger with her usual 
 suavity. " I have come, madam," he says, " on a strange 
 mission. "With you I make no secret of it ; should I be 
 successful it will remove the grief and anxiety of one who 
 has for years mourned the fate of her on whom all her affec 
 tions seem to have centred. If you will but read this it 
 will save the further recital of my mission." Thus saying, 
 he drew a letter from his pocket, presented it, and watched 
 her countenance as line by line she read it, and, with tears 
 glistening in her eyes, passed it to her husband. 
 
 "I am, good sir, heartily glad your mission is thus 
 laudable. Be at home, and while you are in the city let our 
 home be yours. Franconia is here with us to-night ; the 
 child you search after is also with us, and it was but to-day 
 we learned the cruelties to which she has been subjected 
 during the last few years. Indeed, her fate had been kept 
 concealed from us until a few weeks ago, and to-day, having 
 escaped the brutal designs of a ruffian, she fled to us for 
 
 protection, and is now concealed under our roof " 
 
 " Yes, poor wretch it is too true!" rejoins Rosebrook. 
 " But something must be done as quickly as possible, for if 
 Pringle Blowers regains her she will be subjected to tortures 
 her frame is too delicate to bear up under. There must be 
 no time lost, not a day !" he says, as Mrs. Eosebrook quickly 
 leaves the room to convey the news to Pranconia, who, with, 
 Annette, is in an adjoining apartment. 
 
 Like a hunted deer, Annette's fears were excited on hear 
 ing the stranger enter ; Francouia is endeavouring to quiet
 
 HE WOULD DELIVEB HEB, FEOM BONDAGE. 475 
 
 them. The poor slave fears the ruffian's pursuit, trembles 
 at each foot-fall upon the door-sill, and piteously turns 
 to her old friend for protection. Blowers, maddened 
 with disappointment, would rather sacrifice her to infamy 
 than sell her for money to a good master. The price of 
 a pretty slave is no object with this boasting democrat, the 
 gratification of his carnal desires soars supreme. Rosebrook 
 knows this, as the abject woman does to her sorrow. 
 
 As Rosebrook and the stranger sit conversing upon the 
 object of his mission, and the best way to effect it, this good 
 woman returns leading by the arm a delicately-formed girl, 
 whose blonde countenance is shadowed with an air of melan 
 choly which rather adds to her charms than detracts from her 
 beauty. The stranger's eye rests upon her, quickly he recog 
 nises Clotilda's features, Clotilda's form, and gentleness ; but 
 she is fairer than Clotilda, has blue eyes, and almost golden 
 hair. She hesitates as her eyes meet the stranger's. " Do 
 not fear, my child," speaks Eranconia, whose slender figure 
 follows her into the room. Assured that the stranger is 
 her friend, she is introduced to him, and modestly takes her 
 seat on a chair by the window. The stranger's name is 
 Maxwell, and on hearing it announced Franconia anticipated 
 the pleasure of meeting with her old friend, through whose 
 agency she effected Clotilda's escape. Advancing towards 
 him with extended hand, she looks enquiringly in his face, 
 saying, " Am I mistaken r" She shakes her head, doubtingly. 
 " No ! it is not rny friend Maxwell," she continues. 
 
 No !" rejoins the stranger ; " he is my cousin : by 
 his directions I have come here. I have brought a letter 
 from his wife Clotilda, whose dear deliverer you were; 
 and whose thoughts now daily recur to you, to your love 
 and kindness to her, with undying brightness." "Ah!" 
 interrupts Franconia, welcoming him with a fervent heart, 
 " I knew Clotilda would never forget Annette ; I knew she 
 would remember me ; I knew her ardent soul would give 
 forth its measure of gratitude. Happy am I that you 
 have come though years have rolled by since I gave up all 
 hopes of the joyous consummation to relieve this sorrowing 
 child," she says, running to Annette, and with tears of joy 
 in her eyes, exclaiming, " My child ! my child ! you '11 yet 
 be saved. The ruffian who tortured you to-day will torture 
 
 ol
 
 476 HE "WOULD DELIVEB HER FEOM BONDAGE. 
 
 you no more no more !" And she kisses the sorrowing 
 girl's cheek, as tears of sympathy gush into her eyes. 
 
 Bosebrook handed Franconia the letter, which she read 
 as her face brightened with joy. " Good Clotilda ! how 
 happy she must be ! How generous, how kind, how true 
 dear Maxwell was to her ; and they are living together so 
 comfortably, and have such a nice family growing up ; but 
 she wants her slave child ! A slave mother never forgets 
 her slave offspring !" she exclaims, with enthusiastic delight, 
 as she reads and re-reads the letter. Back she paces to 
 Annette, lays her right arm gently over her shoulder, and 
 pats her cheek with her left hand : " Annette will see her 
 mother, yet. There is an all-protecting hand guiding us 
 through every ill of life. Be of good cheer, my child ; never 
 despond while there is a hope left ; bury the horrors of the 
 past in the brighter prospect of the future." And leading 
 her to the table she seats her by her side and reads the 
 letter aloud, as with joy the forlorn girl's feelings bound 
 forth. We need scarcely tell the reader that Clotilda's 
 letter was read in listening silence, and ran thus : 
 
 " Nassau, New Providence, 
 " October 24, 18. 
 
 " My Dear Franconia, 
 
 " My thoughts have never ceased to recur to you, 
 nor to my dear Annette. You were a mother and a deli 
 verer to me ; I know though I have not received a word in 
 reply to any of my letters you have been a mother to my 
 child. As you know, I dare not write as much as I would, 
 lest this letter fall into the hands of those whose interest it 
 is to perpetuate our enslavement. I hope you are happy 
 with a good husband, as I am. Tears have rolled by since 
 we parted, and many have been the scenes and changes 
 through which I have passed, but they wer,e all pleasant 
 changes, each for brighter and happier prospects. I was 
 married to him who, with you, effected my escape, a few 
 weeks after landing at Harbour Island. Since then we have 
 resided in Nassau, where my husband, who loves me dearly, 
 pursues an extensive and lucrative business, and we both 
 move in the best society of the place. We have a pretty 
 family of three children, the oldest nine years old, and the 
 youngest five. How my heart would leap with joy if I
 
 HE WOULD DELIVER HER FROM BONDAGE. 477 
 
 thought you would accept an invitation to come and see me, 
 to spend a few weeks with me, and see yourself how com 
 fortable and happy a slave may be ! Perhaps I should not 
 say happy, for I never can be truly happy without my 
 Annette. Something haunts my mind whenever I recur to 
 her, which is every day. And then I have written so many 
 letters to which no answers have been returned ; but, a 
 whispering angel, as if to console me, says, Franconia will 
 be her mother, and you will yet see her. 
 
 " The gentleman who bears this letter is my husband's 
 cousin. He has all my husband's generosity of character, 
 and will seek you for the purpose of finding Annette, and 
 bearing her safely to me. He has proffered his services, 
 and sworn to carry out his object; and being on his 
 way to New Tork for the purpose of entering into business 
 with his uncle now in that city, will touch at Charleston, 
 for the object herein stated. Further his object, my dear 
 Franconia, and that heaven will reward the hand that in 
 mercy helps the enslaved, 
 
 " Is the prayer of your grateful 
 " CLOTILDA MAXWELL." 
 
 "I knew mother would never forget me; I knew she 
 would come back to me, would be kind to me, as she used 
 to be, and save me from such cruelty as I have suffered. 
 Several times have I resolved on putting an end to my 
 unhappy existence, but as often did something say to me, 
 ' live hoping there is a better day coming.' G-od guides, 
 governs, and raises up the weary soul," says Annette, in 
 touching accents, as Franconia finished reading the letter. 
 
 While this conversation is progressing, and the plan of 
 getting Annette out of the city being devised, a nice 
 supper, at Mrs. Kosebrook's request, is being prepared in 
 the adjoining -room. To this the stranger is invited, and all 
 sit down in a happy circle. Francouia seems invested with 
 new life ; Annette forgets for the time her troubles ; Mrs. 
 Rosebrook, who does the honours of the table, wishes every 
 ill-used slave could find means of escaping into freedom ; 
 and Deacon Rosebrook says he will join heart and hand in 
 getting the forlorn girl free from her base purchaser.
 
 CHAPTER XL1II. 
 
 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 
 
 must leave to the reader's imagination mnch that 
 transpired at the Rosebrook Villa during the night above 
 mentioned, and ask him to accompany us on the following 
 morning, when curious placards may be seen posted here 
 and there at corners of streets and other conspicuous places 
 about the city. Mr. Pringle Blowers has lost a beautiful 
 female slave, whose fair hair, beautiful complexion, deep 
 blue eyes, delicate features, and charming promise, is in 
 large type and blackest printer's ink set forth most glow 
 ingly. Had Mr. Pringle Blowers been a poet instead of a 
 chivalric rice-planter, he might have emblazoned his loss in 
 sentimental rhyme. But Pringle Blowers says poets always 
 make fools of themselves; and, although the south is a sweet 
 and sunny land, he is happy indeed that it is troubled 
 with none of the miscreants. He owned niggers innume 
 rable ; but they were only common stock, all of whom he 
 could have lost without feeling any more than ordinary disap 
 pointment at the loss of their worth in money. For this one, 
 however, he had a kind of undefined love, which moved his 
 heart most indescribably. Disappointed in the gratification 
 of his desires, he is mortified and maddened to desperation. 
 Why should a slave he had invested so much money in, 
 and felt so like making a lady of, and never would have 
 thought of setting at field labour, run away ? He only 
 wanted her for the most aristocratic purpose the south can 
 provide for a beautiful slave. Hence Mr. Pringle Blowers, 
 through the medium of his knowledge of letters, puts 
 forward his placard a copy of which he inserts in all the 
 most respectable morning journals in which the fair 
 outlines of his lost woman are simply set forth. He will 
 give three hundred dollars for her apprehension, fifty dollars 
 more for proof to convict any person of harbouring her, 
 and an additional sum for lodging her in any gaol in the 
 country, This large reward Mr. Pringle Blowers will pay
 
 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 479 
 
 in bard cash ; and he has no doubt the offering will be quits 
 enough to excite the hunting propensities of fashionable 
 young gentlemen, as well as inveterate negro hunters. 
 Beside this, negro hunting being rather a democratic sport 
 than otherwise, Mr. Pringle Blowers reconciles his 
 feelings with the fact of these sports being uncommonly 
 successful. 
 
 The reader will naturally conclude that the offer of this 
 large reward produced some sensation in and about the 
 city. People stopped along the streets, read the curious 
 hand-bill, smiled, and made various remarks. Ladies, 
 always curious to know what is prominent among the current 
 events of the day, sent servants to ascertain what so 
 attractive the posters contained. It was, indeed, a regular 
 bit of self-enjoyed fun for them ; for the ladies had all 
 heard of Pringle Blowers, and that a female slave for whose 
 capture he would give three hundred dollars had run away 
 from him they were heartily glad to learn. 
 
 The day-police were equally happy to hear of the loss, and 
 anxious to make the capture. In this position it was doubly 
 necessary to be cautious in proceeding to effect the escape 
 of the fair girl. If discovered in the act the stranger might 
 be subjected to a series of inprisonments that would 
 sacrifice his life. Again, he might be assassinated by some 
 disguised hand ; or, if an infuriated mob were let loose 
 upon him, no police interference could save his life. As 
 suspicion is ever on the point of giving out its dangerous 
 caprices where a community live fearing one another, so the 
 stranger became sensible of the shafts of suspicion that 
 might at any moment be darted at him. Despatching his 
 schooner on her voyage, he continued for several days walking 
 about the city, as if indifferent to what was passing. He 
 read the curious poster in which was offered the goodly 
 reward for the apprehension of a lost slave, affected great 
 coolness, and even ignorance of the mode by which such 
 articles were recovered. 
 
 Fortunate was it for the stranger that he despatched the 
 schooner without the prize he intended to carry off, for no 
 sooner had she got under way and begun to move down 
 the harbour, than she was boarded by four men, who, 
 producing their authority, searched her from stem to stern. 
 Such were their suspicions, that they would not be satisfied 
 until they had opened a few boxes and bales that were
 
 480 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 
 
 stowed away in the hold. This done, the schooner was 
 permitted to continue her voyage, and the stranger, unmo 
 lested, continues his walks about the city. A few days pass and 
 the excitement has calmed down. Pringle Blowers, although 
 chagrined at the loss of his valuable piece of woman property, 
 resolves to wait the issue with patience and forbearance. 
 If she, fool like, has made away with herself, he cannot bring 
 her to life ; if she be carried off by villainous kidnappers, 
 they must eventually suffer the consequences. Her beauty 
 will expose their plots. He will absorb his usual require 
 ment of spirit, keep the nerve up, and never despond of 
 regaining her while his reward of three hundred dollars 
 stands before a money-loving public. He would rather 
 have lost two dozen common niggers than this one he set 
 so much by, intended to make so much of, and upon whom 
 he had set his very heart, soul, and burning passions. But 
 there is no profit in grief, no use in giving way to 
 disappointment. Philosophers bear disappointments with 
 fortitude ; he must be a philosopher, keep a sharp look out 
 and not despair. 
 
 How different is the scene presented at Hosebrook's 
 Villa ! There, Annette is seen, prepared to take her 
 departure. Dressed in male attire, with frock coat and 
 trousers setting so neatly, dress boots, white vest, and 
 brightly arranged shirt-bosom, she is the type of perfection 
 of a youthful southron. Franconia has expended her skill 
 in completing the fair girl's toilet, when Mrs. Itosebrook 
 places a pair of green spectacles over her eyes, bids her 
 look in the glass, and tells her she will pass for a planter's 
 son among a million. 
 
 "Nobody will know me, now," she answers, viewing 
 herself in the mirror. Her neat setting suit, Panama hat, 
 and green spectacles, give a peculiar air to her lithe figure. 
 And though her emotions are well nigh ready to give forth 
 tears, she cannot suppress a smile at the singular transfor 
 mation of her person. 
 
 " It'll take sharper eyes than policemen's to discover the 
 disguise," says Bosebrook, who, having ordered a carriage 
 to the door, enters the room and takes her kindly by the 
 hand. " Keep up a good heart ; don't despond, my child, 
 and the chances are that you'll be safe you'll be in Wil 
 mington to-morrow morning," he continues : then, turning
 
 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 481 
 
 to Pranconia, who will accompany her to that place, he 
 awaits her pleasure. " I am ready !" returns that generous 
 woman, as, arrayed in her travelling dress, she takes Annette 
 by the hand, and is about to proceed to the gate where the 
 carriage waits. Mrs. Rosebrook must take oue more fond 
 parting. Laying her right arm over her shoulder, and 
 pressing her to her bosom, she kisses and kisses her fair 
 cheek, bids her remember that God alone is her protector, 
 her guide to a happy future. In freedom may she live to 
 freedom's God ; in slavery, hope ever, and trust in his 
 mercy ! With this admonition, the excited girl, trembling, 
 leaves the Villa, leaning on Franeonia's arm. Bradshaw has 
 the carriage at the door, piled with sundry boxes and port 
 manteaus, giving it the appearance of a gentleman's travelling 
 equipage. He has orders to drive to the steam-boat landing, 
 where the young invalid planter will embark for New York 
 via Wilmington and the land route. Soon they have taken 
 their seats, and with Eoseb rook's good-natured face shining 
 beside Bradshaw, on the front seat, they say their happy 
 adieu ! and bound over the road for the steamer. 
 
 It is now within fifteen minutes of the starting time. 
 The wharf presents a bustling scene : carriages and coaches 
 are arriving with eager-looking passengers, who, fearing 
 they are a little behind time, stare about as if bewildered, 
 scold heedless drivers, point out their baggage to awkward 
 porters who run to and fro with trunks and boxes on their 
 heads, and then nervously seek the ticket-office, where they 
 procure the piece of paper that insures them through to New 
 York. Albeit, finding they have quite time enough on their 
 hands, they escort their female voyagers on board, and 
 loiter about in the way of every one else, enjoying that 
 excitement in others which they have fortunately passed 
 through. Here and there about the wharf, leaning their heads 
 carelessly over black piles, are sly-looking policemen, who 
 scan every voyager with a searching eye. They are incog., 
 but the initiated recognise them at a glance. The restless 
 leer of that lynx eye discovers their object ; anything, from 
 a runaway nigger to a houseless debtor, is to them accept 
 able prey. Atween decks of the steamer, secured at tho 
 end of the wharf, another scene of bustle and confusion 
 presents itself. A passenger is not quite sure his baggage 
 is all on board, and must needs waste his breath in oatha 
 
 II
 
 482 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 
 
 at the dumb porter, who works at his utmost strength, 
 under the direction of Mr. Mate, whose important figure is 
 poised OQ the wharf. Another wants to " lay over" at 
 Richmond, and is using most abusive language to a mulatto 
 waiter, who has put his trunk on one side of the boat and 
 carpet bag on the other. A third, a fussy old lady with 
 two rosy-faced daughters she is, against her southern prin 
 ciples, taking to the north to be educated, is making a piteous 
 lamentation over the remains of two bonnets just from the 
 hands of the milliner hopelessly smashed in her bandbox. 
 The careless porter set it on a pile of baggage, from where it 
 tottled over under the feet of an astonished gentleman, who 
 endeavours to soothe the good lady's feelings with courteous 
 apologies. On the upper deck, heeding no one, but now and 
 then affecting to read a newspaper, as passengers pace to and 
 fro, is the stranger, seated on one of the side seats. The 
 engineer moves his valve now and then, the cross -head 
 ascends, the steam hisses below, the condenser rumbles, 
 the steam from the funnel roars furiously forth, spreading 
 its scalding vapour through the air. Again, the man, 
 almost imperceptibly touches the iron rod with his finger, the 
 magic monster again moves its piston downward, the wheels 
 make a turn, the massive vessel surges upon her lines, as 
 if eager to press forward on her course. Another gentle 
 touch, and, obeying the summons, the motive power is still ; 
 the man subjects the monster with his little finger. He 
 has stopped her near the centre, where, with a slight 
 touch, he can turn back or forward. Again, he lifts a small 
 key, and the steam, with a deafening roar, issues from the 
 escape : he is venting his chest. Simultaneously the second 
 bell sounds forth its clanking medley : two minutes more, 
 and the snake-like craft will be buffeting the waves, on her 
 daily errand. As passengers begin to muster on board, 
 their friends clustering round the capsill of the wharf, 
 obstructing the way, the sturdy figure of Mr. Pringle 
 Blowers may be seen behind a spile near the capsill, his 
 sharp, peering eyes scanning the ship from fore to aft. He 
 is not sure she will get off by this route ; common sense 
 tells him that, but there exists a prompting something 
 underneath common sense telling him it's money saved to 
 keep a sharp look-out. And this he does merely to 
 gratify that inert something, knowing at the same time
 
 OTHER PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 483 
 
 that, having no money, no person will supply her, and she 
 must be concealed in the swamps, where only " niggers" 
 will relieve her necessities. At this moment Eosebrook's 
 carriage may be seen driving to the ticket office at the head of 
 the wharf, where Eosebrook, with great coolness, gets out, 
 steps within the railing, and procures the tickets in his own 
 name. Again taking his seat, the mate, who stands on 
 the capsill of the wharf, now and then casting a glance up, 
 cries out, "Another carriage corning !" Bradshaw cracks his 
 whip, and the horses dash down the wharf, scatter the people 
 who have gathered to see the boat off, as a dozen black 
 porters, at the mate's command, rush round the carriage, 
 seize tho baggage, and hurry it on board. Eosebrook, 
 fearing his friends will lose their passage, begs people to clear 
 the gangway, and almost runs on board, his fugitive charge 
 clinging to his arms. The captain stands at the gangway, 
 and recognising the late coiner, makes one of his blandest 
 bows: he will send a steward to show them a good state-room. 
 " Keep close till the boat leaves, and remember there is a 
 world before you," Eosebrook says, shaking Annette by the 
 hand, as she returns, " God bless good master !" They are 
 safe in the state-room : he kisses Franconia's cheek, 
 shuts the door, and, hurrying back, regains the wharf just 
 as the last bell strikes, and the gangway is being carried 
 on board. 
 
 " Not going along with us, eh ?" ejaculates the captain, 
 as, from the capsill, Eosebrook looks round to bid him 
 good-by. 
 
 " !N"ot to-day (he returns, laconically). Take good care 
 of my friends ; the young invalid from Lousiana in par 
 ticular." Just then he catches the stranger's eye, and, 
 with a significant motion of his fingers, says, "All safe!" 
 With a nod of recognition the stranger makes his adieu ; 
 the fastenings are cast away, the faint tinkle of a bell is 
 heard amid the roar of steam ; the man at the valves 
 touches the throttle bar; up mounts the piston rod down 
 it surges again ; the revolving wheels rustle the water ; the 
 huge craft moves backward easy, and then ahead ; a clanking 
 noise denotes the connections are "hooked on," and onward 
 she bounds over the sea. How leaps with joy that heart 
 yearning for freedom, as the words " She's away !" 
 gladden Annette's very soul ! Her enraptured feelings
 
 484 OTHEE PHASES OF THE SUBJECT. 
 
 gush forth in prayer to her deliverers ; it is as a new spring 
 of life, infusing its refreshing waters into desert sands. 
 She seems a new being, with hope, joy, and happiness 
 brightening the future for her. But, alas ! how vain are 
 hopes, how uncertain the future ! 
 
 Rosebrook watched the steaming craft as she crosses the 
 bar, and dwindles out of sight. " Thou art safe, poor 
 slave," he says to himself, as she passes from view behind 
 the distant peak. 
 
 Something touches him on the shoulder as he returns to 
 his carriage. " Ah ! this you, Pringle Blowers ?" he ex 
 claims, turning round suddenly, as the full face of that 
 important personage presented itself. " Been seeing some 
 friends off to ?" 
 
 " No," replies Blowers, with seeming indifference. He 
 is just shying round, keeping an eye out for a smart kind 
 of '" a gal," lost last week. 
 
 " Quite a misfortune, that, Blowers ! God bless me, I'm 
 sorry," returns llosebrook, dryly. Rosebrook invites him 
 to get in and ride a short distance. Blowers has not the 
 slightest objection ; seats his square frame on the left side 
 of the carriage. " Those were clever posters you put on* 
 for the apprehension of fchat girl, Blowers !" 
 
 "Took some genius, I reckon," interrupts Blowers, with 
 broad laugh. 
 
 " They say she was very handsome, and, if it be true, I hope 
 you may get her, Blowers," continues Rosebrook, naively. 
 
 The disappointed man shakes his head, touches the other on 
 the arm, and says, " Nothing is more sure ! "
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 i 
 
 HOW DADDT BOB DEPARTED. 
 
 LET us again beg the indulgence of the reader, while we go 
 back to the night- when Marston was found dead in his 
 cell, and when that old negro, whose eventful, history we 
 shall here close, sat by his bed-side, unconscious that the 
 spirit of master had winged its way to another world. Bob, 
 faithful unto death, remained his lone watcher. Disguising 
 his ownership, he has toiled from day to day that the fruits 
 thereof might relieve master's necessities ; and he had 
 shared them with the flowing goodness of a simple heart. 
 In a malarious cell, how happy was he to make his bed on 
 the cold plank beside his master's cot, where he might 
 watch over his declining spirit. Kindness was his by nature, 
 no cruel law could rob his heart of its treasure : he would 
 follow master to the grave, and lavish it upon the soil that 
 covered him. 
 
 Having accompanied Frauconia to the Rosebrook Villa, he 
 will return to the prison and join Harry, alone watching over 
 the dead. The city clock strikes the hour of eleven as he leaves 
 the outer gate, and turns into the broad road leading to 
 the city. The scene before him is vamped in still darkness ; 
 a murky light now and then sheds its glimmers across the 
 broad road ; and as he hurries onward, contemplating the 
 sad spectacle presented in the prison, happy incidents of 
 old plantation life mingle their associations with his thoi%hts. 
 He muses to himself, and then, as if bewildered, commences 
 humming his favourite tune " There's a place for old nias'r 
 yet, when all 'um dead and gone !" His soul is free from, 
 suspicion : he fears not the savage guardsman's coming ; the 
 pure kindliness of his heart is his shield. How often has 
 lie scanned this same scene, paced this same road on his 
 master's errands ! How death has changed the circum 
 stances of this his nightly errand ! Far away to the east, 
 on his left, the broad landscape seems black and ominous ; 
 before him, the sleeping city spreads its panorama, broken
 
 4(86 HOW DADDY BOB DEPABTED. 
 
 and sombre, beneath heavy clouds ; the fretted towers 
 on the massive prison frown dimly through the mist to the 
 right, from which a low marshy expanse dwindles into 
 the dark horizon. And ever and anon the forked lightning 
 courses its way through the heavens, now tinging the 
 sombre scene with mellow light, then closing it in deeper 
 darkness. 
 
 Onward the old man wends his way. If he be shut 
 out from the prison, he will find shelter at Jane's cabin 
 near by, from whence he may reach the cell early next 
 morning. Presently the dull tramp of horses breaks upon 
 his ear, the sound sharpening as they advance. Through the 
 dimming haze he sees two mounted guardsmen advancing : 
 the murmuring sound of their conversation floats onward 
 through the air, their side arms rattle ominously. Now 
 their white cross belts are disclosed ; their stalwart figures 
 loom out. Nearer and nearer they approach : as the old 
 man, trembling with fear, remembers he is without a pass, 
 a gruff voice cries out, " Stop there !" 
 
 " A prowling nigger !" rejoins another, in a voice scarcely 
 less hoarse. . The old man halts in the light of a lamp, 
 as the right-hand guard rides up, and demands his pass. 
 
 "Whose nigger are you?" again demands the first voice. 
 " Tour pass, or come with us !" 
 
 The old man has no pass ; he will go to his master, dead 
 in the county prison ! 
 
 Guardsmen will hear neither falsehoods nor pleading. He 
 doesn't know " whose nigger he is ! he is a runaway 
 without home or master," says the left-hand guardsman, as 
 he draws his baton from beneath his coat, and with savage 
 grimace makes a threatening gesture. Again he poises it 
 over*the old man's head, as he, with hand uplifted, suppli 
 cates mercy. " Nobody's nigger, and without a pass /" he 
 grumbles out, still motioning his baton. 
 
 " He says his master is in gaol ; that's enough! Stop, now, 
 no more such nonsense !" rejoins the other, as the old man is 
 about to explain. "Not another word." He is good 
 prey, made and provided by the sovereign law of the state. 
 Placing him between their horses, they conduct him in 
 silence forward to the guard-house. He is a harmless captive, 
 in a world where democracy with babbling tongue boasts 
 of equal justice. " A prowler !" exclaims one of the guards-
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPABTED. 487 
 
 men, as, dismounting in front of the massive building, with 
 frowning facade of stone, they disappear, leading the old 
 man within its great doors, as the glaring gas-light reflects 
 upon his withered features. 
 
 " Pound prowling on the neck, sir !" says the right-hand 
 guardsman, addressing himself to the captain, a portly-look 
 ing man in a military suit, who, with affected importance, 
 casts a look of suspicion at the old man. " Have seen you 
 before, I think?" he enquires. 
 
 " Beckon so, mas'r ; but neber in dis place," replies Bob, 
 in half-subdued accents. 
 
 " You are nobody's nigger, give a false account of your 
 self, and have no home, I hear," interrupts the captain, at 
 the same time ordering a clerkly-looking individual who 
 sits at a desk near an iron railing enclosing a tribune, to 
 make the entry in hi shook. 
 
 ' Your name ?" demands the clerk. 
 
 'Bob!" 
 
 ' Without owner, or home?" 
 
 'My master's cell was my home." 
 
 'That won't do, my man!" interrupts the portly -looking 
 captain. "Mr. Clerk (directing himself to that functionary) 
 you must enter him nobody's nigger, without home or 
 master." And as such he is entered upon that high record 
 of a sovereign state the guard-house calendar. If this 
 record were carried before the just tribunal of heaven, how 
 foul of crime, injustice, and wrong, would its pages be 
 found ! The faithful old man has laboured under an assumed 
 ownership. His badge, procured for him through the 
 intercession of Franconia, shows him as the property of 
 Mr. Henry Frazer. That gentleman is many hundred 
 miles away : the old man, ignorant of the barbarous intri 
 cacy of the law, feels it to his sorrow. The production of 
 the badge, and the statement, though asserting that Miss 
 Franconia is his friend, show a discrepancy. His statement 
 has no truth for guardsmen ; his poor frame is yet worth 
 something, but his oath has no value in law : hence he 
 must march into a cold cell, and there remain till morning. 
 
 Before that high functionary, the mayor whose judg 
 ments the Russian Czar might blush to acknowledge or 
 affirm, lie is arraigned at ten o'clock on the following morn 
 ing. He has plenty of accusers, no one to plead the justice
 
 488 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 
 
 of Ms case. A plain story lie would tell, did tlie law and "his 
 "honour grant the boon. The fatal badge showa him the 
 property of Mr. Henry Frazer: Mr. Henry Frazer is 
 nowhere to be found, and the statement that master was in 
 prison tends to increase the suspicions against him. Against 
 this increasing force of proof, the old man begs his honour 
 will send to the prison, where master will be found, dead ! 
 In his love of clemency that functionary yields to the 
 request. There looks something harmless about the old 
 negro, something that warms his honour's legal coldness. 
 An officer is despatched, and soon returns with a description 
 that corresponds with the old man's. " He waited on Marston, 
 made Marston's cell his home ; but, your honour and . 
 have*the assurance of the gaoler he was not Marston's 
 nigger; all that man's niggers were sold for the benefit of 
 his creditors." So says the official, returning to his 
 august master with cringing servility. His honour, in the 
 fulness of his wisdom, and with every regard for legal 
 straightforwardness (his honour searched into the pro- 
 foundest depths of the "nigger statutes" while learning the 
 tailoring trade, which he now pursues with great success), 
 is now doubly satisfied that the negro before him is a vaga 
 bond perhaps, and he is more than half inclined to believe 
 he is, the very marauder who has been committing so many 
 depredations about the city. With a profound admonition, 
 wisdom glowing from his very countenance the while, he 
 orders him twenty-nine paddles on his bare posteriors, is 
 Borry the law does not give him power to extend the 
 number. And with compliments for the lucky fellows who 
 have thus timely relieved the public of such a dangerous 
 outlaw, his honour orders him to be taken away to that 
 prison-house where even-handed democracy has erected a 
 place for torturing the souls of men who love liberty. 
 
 He will get the stripes large, democratic stripes, gene 
 rously laid on. How much more he will get remains for a 
 proud state, in its sovereign littleness, to provide. His 
 honour, feeling his duties toward the state discharged, and 
 his precautionary measures for the protection of the people 
 fully exemplified in this awful judgment, orders one of the 
 officers to summon Mr. Ford Eosdick, a distinguished 
 gentleman of the state's own, who, he is quite sure, will not
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPABTED. 489 
 
 neglect her more important interests. Bob has no interests 
 in this world, nor doth he murmur that he hath not eaten 
 bread for fourteen hours. Kindliness yet lingers in his 
 withered face as he goes forth, yields submission to a state's 
 Injustice, and bares his back before he eats. 
 
 " Return him after administering the dressing," says hia 
 honour, directing his remarks to the official about to lead 
 his victim away. That functionary, half turning, replies 
 with a polite bow. 
 
 The reader, we feel assured, will excuse a description of 
 this unsavoury dressing, beautifully administered on. behalf 
 of a republican state that makes it a means of crushing out 
 the love of liberty. Bob has received his dressing and 
 returned ; but he has no tears to shed for democrats who 
 thus degrade him. 
 
 Mr. Ford Fosdick, a gentleman of the learned profession, 
 very straight of person, and most bland of manners, is what 
 may be called escheator in ordinary to the state. Keeping 
 a sharp eye on her interests, he has anticipated the commands 
 of his august master, presents his polite person very un 
 expectedly in his honour's court-room. Fosdick, in 
 addition to an excellent reputation for being the very best 
 gentleman " nigger grabber" the state ever had, is well 
 thought of in fashionable circles, having fought two duels of 
 the most desperate character. He is of middle stature, 
 with a face finely oval, and to which are added features of 
 much softness, altogether giving him more the appearance 
 of a well-ordained divine, than the medium of those high 
 functions by which the state's " grab-all" of homeless negroes 
 distinguishes himself. If the state tolerated an ignominy, 
 Ford Fosdick between whom there exists a mutual 
 partnership found in it an apology for the part he played ; 
 for let no man blush when we tell it the sum total for 
 which friendless, homeless, and ownerless negroes sold for 
 in the market was equally divided between them. Generous 
 as was this copartnership, there were few well-disposed 
 persons independent enough to sanction it; while here and 
 there an outspoken voice said it was paying a premium for 
 edging Fosdick's already sharp appetite for apprehending 
 the wretched, who God save the state's honour .'having no 
 means of protecting themselves, would be sold for the 
 sovereign interests of his own pocket, instead of the peace
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 
 
 of the dear people, of which the state was ever jealous. 
 Mr. Fosdick is present, thanks his honour the mayor: 
 he thinks he has seen the negro before ; that he is a prowler 
 not a doubt can exist. Quite indifferent as to his own interests, 
 he says the city is literally beset with such vermin : in his 
 own mind, however, he has not a doubt but that something 
 handsome will be realised from the sale of the old fellow. 
 There is now a most fearful case in the city, a negro 
 belonging to Mr. Grabguy has become mad with dis 
 obedience : they have chained him to the floor, but he sets 
 everything at defiance, threatens the lives of all who come 
 near him, says he will die or be free. Against this there is 
 little hope for old Bob ; his crooked story will not suit the 
 high considerations of these amiable worthies of state : he 
 must be siezed and dragged to the workhouse, there to 
 await the result. It is a profitable morning's work for 
 Mr. Ford Fosdick, who makes a large note in his ledger, 
 and will soon carry out a very acceptable item on behalf of 
 his dear self. So, while Bob eats his corn-grits in a cell, and 
 his heart beats high with purity, Mr. Ford Fosdick revels in 
 luxury he thinks not ill-gotten. 
 
 Due notice, in accordance with the statutes, is given to 
 all persons whomsoever may claim a piece of property 
 answering the description of Daddy Bob, as herein set forth. 
 Weeks pass, but no one comes to claim Bob. In the eyes 
 of an ignoble law he is a cast out, homeless upon the world; 
 and as such must be sold. He is put up at the man- 
 shambles, and, by order of Mr. Ford Fosdick, sold to Mr. 
 Cordes Kemp for the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars, 
 one half of which sum is the state's own, the other Mr. 
 Ford Fosdick's. Mr. Cordes Kemp had seen Bob working 
 about the wharf, and learned that the old man was of more 
 value than his outward appearance indicated, inasmuch as 
 he was a good carpenter ; which we have not before informed 
 the reader. But Bob had never been accustomed to a cruel 
 master : such Cordes Kemp was to the fullest extent of 
 the term. A few months passed, and Bob became heartily 
 sick of his new master, who gave him little to eat, and had 
 nearly ended his life with labour and the lash. Finding he 
 could no longer stand such treatment, he fled to the swamp ; 
 and for two years did he make his home among the 
 morasses and hillocks, now making his bed by the trunk of
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPAETED. 491 
 
 a fallen tree, then seeking shelter in a temporary camp 
 built with the axe he carried away with him. At times he was 
 forced to make food of roots, nuts, and such wild fruit as 
 the woods afforded ; and as the ravens found food, so the 
 outcast man did not suffer while an all-wise Providence 
 watched over him. And then he found a kind friend in old 
 Jerushe Aunt Jerushe, as she was commonly called, who 
 lived on a plantation a few miles from his hiding-place, 
 and met him at night, and shared her coarse meal with 
 him. Jerushe's heart was full of kindness; she would 
 have given him more, but for the want thereof. Full two 
 years did even-handed democracy drive the old man home 
 less to seek a shelter among the poisonous reptiles of the 
 morass. Mr. Cordes Kemp must regain his property, and 
 to that generous end he puts forth the following extremely 
 southern proclamation, which may be found in all respect 
 able morning journals, on posters hung at the " Hough and 
 Ready," at "Tour House," and at "Our House": 
 " SEVENTY-FIVE (75) DOI/LAES REWARD is offered for the 
 delivery of my old negro carpenter man named BOB, in 
 gaol in Charleston, within a month from this date. The 
 said BOB is a complete carpenter, about sixty-five years of 
 age, has a fine, full, good-natured face, knock-kneed, bald- 
 headed, and ran away about two years ago : he is thought 
 to be harboured in Charleston or James' Island. He was 
 bought of Mr. Ford Fosdick, on behalf of the state. 
 
 June 28, COEDES KEMP." 
 
 Mr. Cordes Kemp, sorely grieved at the loss of so 
 venerable and valuable a piece of property, and which he 
 bought of the state, for the rights of which he is a great 
 champion, will give the above sum in hard cash to the 
 clever fellow who will secure it within a prison, so he may 
 get it. If this cannot be done, he will declare him an 
 outlaw, offer a premium for the old man's head, and, with 
 the bleeding trophy, demand the premium paid by the 
 state. However, seventy-five dollars is no mean offer for 
 so old a negro, and as the said negro cannot be a fast 
 runner, the difficulty of catching him will not be very great, 
 while the sport will be much more exciting. Romescos 
 and Dan Bengal keep a sharp look-out for all such little 
 chances of making money ; and as their dogg are considered
 
 492 HOW DADDY BOB DEPABTED. 
 
 the very best and savagest in the country, they feel certain 
 they will be able to deliver the article over to Mr. Kemp in 
 a very few days. 
 
 A few days after the appearance of Mr. Cordes Kemp's 
 proclamation, these two worthies may be seen riding along 
 the Cam den Road, a sandy level, with little to indicate its 
 tortuous course save a beaten and irregular path through 
 a forest of stately pines. Their reddish-coloured home-spun 
 clothes, set loosely, and their large, felt hats, siouching over 
 their bearded faces, give their figures a brigand-like 
 appearance which excites apprehension. They are heavily 
 armed with rifles, revolvers, and bowie-knives ; and as their 
 horses move along at a quick walk, the riders may be heard 
 keeping up an animated discussion on matters of state 
 policy. The state and its policy is a matter of deep 
 interest to slave- dealer and slave-hunter ; none discuss 
 them with more pertinacity. And as every great measure 
 is supposed to have some bearing, directly or indirectly, on 
 the right of one class to enslave the other, a never-ceasing 
 political jar is kept up by these worthies, and too often 
 finds its way into the puWic acts of men who should be far 
 removed above their selfishness. 
 
 The horse on which Romescos rides, a sprightly dark-bay, 
 seeming to have an instinctive knowledge of his master's 
 pursuit, pricks his ears erect, and keeps his head turning 
 from one side to the other, as if watching the approach of 
 some object in the forest. A few paces ahead are seven 
 fierce hounds, now scenting about the ground, then scam 
 pering through the trees, and again, quickly obeying the 
 call, return to the horses. Not a bark is heard, not a 
 growl escapes them ! Nothing could be under more explicit 
 subjection not even those northern dogs who pollute their 
 own free soil by making it a forest, where the souls of men 
 are humbled, and where, willing allies of the sport, they 
 desecrate that holy sentence, " Our Pilgrim Fathers !" 
 
 Presently the lean figure of a man is seen advancing 
 from a thicket in the distance. Rifle in hand he advances 
 a few paces, leans against the trunk of a pine tree, relieves 
 his shoulders of a well-filled haversack, and supports 
 his arms on the stock of his weapon, the muzzle of which 
 he sets in the ground. He will wait the horsemen's 
 coming. With lightning quickneos the hounds start
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 493 
 
 suddenly, prick up their ears, make a bound forward. 
 " Hold there !" exclaims Eomescos, at the same time 
 directing Bengal's attention to the figure far away to 
 the right. His horse shies, an imprecation quickly follows ; 
 the dogs as suddenly obey the word, and crouch back to 
 await another signal. 
 
 " Nothing, I reckon !" returns Bengal, coolly, as the figure 
 in the distance is seen with smoking fusee lighting a cigar. 
 
 Eomescos thinks he is a gentleman returning from 
 hunting in the big swamp, to the north. He has a kind ot 
 presentiment, nevertheless, that some lucky prize will turn 
 up before sunset. 
 
 " Well, strangers, what luck to day ?" enquires the hunter, 
 as they run up their horses. At the same time he gracefully 
 raises a delicate hand, relieves his mouth of the cigar, twists 
 a well-trimmed mustache, and lifts his hunting-cap from, 
 off his head, disclosing a finely-chiselled face. 
 
 "Not a shy !" replies Eomescos, taking a cigar from his 
 side pocket, and motioning his hand : the hunter politely 
 extends his habanua, with which he communicates a light 
 to his own. It is well nigh noon-day, and at the hunter's 
 invitation do they dismount, seat themselves at the foot of the 
 tree, and regale with bread, cheese, and brandy, he draws 
 from his haversack. 
 
 " Thought ye'd got game in that," remarks Bengal, 
 measuredly. Ho has scoured the woods, but found little 
 game of the kind he hunts. " Our game is of a different 
 species : you, I take it,'hunt niggers, I'm in search of birds." 
 " Would have no objection to a stray deer or two !" is the 
 reply, as he passes his horn and flask to Eomescos, who 
 helps himself to a dose of the liquid, which, he says, smacking 
 his lips, is not bad to take. 
 
 " Especially when yer on a hunting excursion !" rejoins 
 Bengal. 
 
 " Now," says the gentleman hunter, quietly resuming his 
 cigar, " as you do not hunt my game, nor I yours, I think 
 I can give you a scent that may prove profitable." 
 
 " Where away ?" interrupts Bengal. Eomescos respects 
 the stranger he has dignity concealed beneath his hunting 
 garb, which the quick eye recognised as it flashed upon 
 him. He gives Bengal a significant wink, the meaning of
 
 494 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED 
 
 which he instinctively understands " Don't be rude, he 
 belongs to one of the first families !" 
 
 The stranger lays his left hand on Eomescos' arm, and 
 with the fore finger of his right hand pointing to the south 
 west, says, " My plantation is nine miles in that direction. 
 I left it this morning, early. In crossing an inlet of the 
 Pedee, I discovered white smoke, far ahead, curling upward 
 through the trees, and expanding itself in the clear blue 
 atmosphere. Peeling sure it indicated the haunt of run 
 aways,! approached it stealthily, and had almost unconsciously 
 come upon a negro, who, suddenly springing from his hiding- 
 place, ran to the water's edge, plunged in, and swam to a 
 little island a few yards in the stream. It did not become 
 me to pursue him, so I passed on heedlessly, lest he might 
 have companions, who would set upon me, and make me an 
 easy prey to their revengeful feelings." As each word fell 
 from the stranger's lips, Eomescos and his companion 
 became irresistibly excited. 
 
 Again repeating the directions, which the stranger did 
 with great precision, they drank a parting social glass : the 
 mounted huntsmen thanked the pedestrian for his valuable 
 information, gave him a warm shake of the hand, and, as he 
 arranged his haversack, rode off at full gallop in the direction 
 indicated. The dogs, cunning brutes, trained to the state's 
 orutality, mutely kept in advance. " In luck yet !" 
 exclaims Bengal, as they rode onward, in high glee, antici 
 pating the valuable game about to fall into their hands. 
 
 "Ho! dogs and back !" shrieked Rornescos, at the top 
 of his shrill voice, his sandy hair hanging in tufts over 
 his little reddened face, now glowing with excitement. 
 Instantly the dogs started oft' through the thicket, and after 
 making a circle of about a mile, returned with heads up, 
 and eyes fiercely flashing. Trailing in a semicircle ahead 
 they seemed eager for another command. 
 
 " Better keep them back," mutters Bengal ; and aa 
 Eomescos gives the word, " Come back !" they form a 
 trail behind. 
 
 Now white fleecy clouds begin to obscure the sun; 
 then it disappears in a murky haze, and is no longer 
 their guide. After two hours' riding they find a wrong 
 turn has led them far away from their course, and to 
 avoid retracing their steps they make a short cut through
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 495 
 
 the thicket. In another hour they have reached the bank 
 of the stream they sought. Dogs, horses, and men, toge 
 ther drink of its limpid waters, and proceed onward. They 
 have yet several miles of travel before reaching the spot 
 designated by the strange hunter ; and seeking their way 
 along the bank is a slow and tedious process. The prize 
 that human outcast, who has no home where democracy 
 rules, is the all-absorbing object of their pursuit ; money 
 is the god of their hellish purpose. 
 
 It is near night-fall, when they, somewhat wearied of 
 the day's ride, halt on a little slope that extends into the 
 river, and from which a long view of its course above opens 
 out. It seems a quiet, inviting spot, and so sequestered 
 that Bengal suggests it be made a resting-place for the 
 night. 
 
 " Not a whisper," says Romescos. who, having dis 
 mounted, is nervously watching some object in the distance. 
 It is a pretty spot, clothed in softest verdure. How 
 suddenly the quick eye of .Romescos discovered the white 
 smoke curling above the green foliage ! " See ! see !" he 
 whispers again, motioning his hand behind, as Bengal 
 stretches his neck, and looks eagerly in the same direction. 
 "Close dogs close!" he demands, and the dogs crouch 
 back, and coil their sleek bodies at the horses' feet. There, 
 little more than a mile ahead, the treacherous smoke curls 
 lazily upward, spreading a white haze in the blue atmosphere. 
 Daddy Bob has a rude camp there. A few branches serve 
 for a covering, the bare moss is his bed ; the fires of his heart 
 would warm it, were nothing more at hand ! Xear by is the 
 island on which he seeks refuge when the enemy approaches ; 
 and from this lone spot his home for more than two 
 years has he sent forth many a fervent prayer, beseeching 
 Almighty God to be his shield and his deliverer. It was 
 but yesterday he saw Jerushe, who shared with him her 
 corn-cakes, which, when she does not meet him at his 
 accustomed spot, she places at the foot of a marked tree. 
 Bob had added a few chips to his night fire, (his defence 
 against tormenting mosquitoes), and made his moss bed. 
 Having tamed an owl and a squirrel, they now make his rude 
 camp their home, and share his crumbs. The squirrel 
 Eestles above his head, as the owl, moping about the camp 
 entrance, suddenly hoots a warning and flutters its way
 
 496 HOW BADDY BOB DEPARTED. 
 
 f 
 
 into the thicket. Starting to his feet with surprise the 
 
 squirrel chirping at the sudden commotion the tramp of 
 horses breaks fearfully upon the old man's ear ; bewildered 
 he bounds from the camp. Two water oaks stand a few 
 feet from its entrance, and through them he descries his 
 pursuers bearing down upon him at full speed, the dogs 
 making the very forest echo with their savage yelps. They 
 are close upon him ; the island is his only refuge ! * Suddenly 
 he leaps to the bank, plunges into the stream, and with 
 death-like struggles gains the opposite shore, where 
 he climbs a cedar, as the dogs, eager with savage pursuit, 
 follow in his wake, and are well nigh seizing his extremities 
 ere they cleared their vicious spring. The two horsemen 
 vault to the spot from whence the old man plunged into 
 the water ; and while the dogs make hideous ravings beneath 
 the tree, they sit upon their horses, consulting, as the 
 old man, from the tree top, looks piteously -over the 
 scene. Life has few charms for him ; death would not 
 be unwelcome. 
 
 The tedious journey, and disappointment at seeing the 
 old man's resolution, has excited Romescos' ire. "He's an- 
 old rack not worth much, but he doesn't seem like Kemp's 
 old saw-horse," Romescos remarks to Bengal, as his hawk 
 eye scans the old man perched among the cedar brandies. 
 They are not more than forty yards apart, and within 
 speaking distance. Bengal, less excited, thinks it better to 
 secure the old " coon" without letting the dogs taste of him. 
 
 "They'll only hold him with a firm grip, when he 
 dismounts, and swim him safe back," grumblingly returns 
 Romescos. "J^ow! old nig" Romescos shouts at the 
 top of his voice, directing himself to the old man -just trot 
 back here come along !" 
 
 The old man shakes his head, and raises his hands, as if 
 pleading for mercy. 
 
 " You won't, eh ?" returns the angry man, raising his 
 rifle in an attitude of preparation. Bengal reminds 
 Bomescos that his horse is not accustomed to firing from 
 the saddle. 
 
 " I will larn him, then," is the reply. 
 
 " Mas'r," says Bob, putting out his hand and uncovering 
 his bald head, " I can harm no white man. Let me live 
 where 'urn is, and die where 'um is."
 
 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 497 
 
 " None o' that ar kind o' nigger talk ; just put it back 
 here, or ye'll get a plug or two out o' this long Bill. (He 
 points to his rifle.) " Ye'll come down out of that by 
 heavens you will !" 
 
 "Wing him; don't shoot the fool!" suggests Bengal, aa 
 the old man, pleading with his pursuers, winds his body 
 half round the tree. Tick ! tick ! went the cock of Romescos' 
 rifle ; he levelled it to his eye, a sharp whistling report 
 rung through the air, and the body of the old man, shot 
 through the heart, lumbered to the earth, as a deadly shriek 
 Sounds high above the echoes over the distant landscape 
 "Mas'r in heaven take 'urn and have mercy on 'um !" 
 gurgles on the air : his body writhes convulsively the 
 devouring clogs spring savagely upon the ration all is over 
 with the old slave ! 
 
 Instantly with the report of the rifle, Bcinescos' hoi-se 
 darts, vaults toward the oaks, halts suddenly, and, ere he 
 has time to grasp the reins, throws him headlong against 
 one of their trunks. An oath escapes his lips as from the 
 saddle he lifted ; not a word more did he lisp, but sank on 
 the ground a corpse. His boon companion, forgetting the 
 dogs in their banquet of flesh, quickly dismounts, seizes the 
 body in his arms, the head hanging carelessly from the 
 shoulders : a few quivering shrugs, and all is over. " Neck 
 broken, and dead !" ejaculates the affrighted companion, 
 resting the dead hunter's back against his left knee, and 
 with his right hand across the breast, moving the head to 
 and fro as if to make sure life has left. 
 
 " Poor Anthony, it's a bad end ; but the state should 
 bury him with honours ; he ware the best 'un at this kind 
 o' business the state ever had," mutters Bengal, glancing 
 revengefully toward the island, where his democratic dogs 
 are busy in the work of destruction. Then he stretches 
 the lifeless body on the ground, crosses those hands full 
 of blood and treachery, draws a handkerchief from his 
 pocket, spreads it over the ghastly face fast discolouring, 
 as the riderless horse, as if by instinct, bounds back to 
 the spot and suddenly halts over his dead master, where he 
 frets the ground -with his hoof, and, with nostrils extended, 
 scents along the body. Having done this, as if in sorrow, 
 he will rest on the ground beside him j slowly he lumbers 
 K K
 
 498 HOW DADDY BOB DEPARTED. 
 
 his body down, his head and neck circled toward that of the 
 lifeless ruffian on the ground. 
 
 The disconsolate hunter here leaves his useless companion, 
 swims the stream, recalls the gory-mouthed dogs, looks 
 with satisfaction on the body of the torn slave. " You're 
 settled for," says Bengal, as with his right foot he kicks 
 together the distended and torn limbs. " Not all loss, 
 yet!" he adds, a glow of satisfaction infusing his face. 
 With the ghastly head for proof, he will apply for, and 
 perhaps obtain, the state's reward for the despatch of 
 outlaws ; and with the gory trophy he returns across the 
 limpid stream to his hapless companion, who, having 
 watched over during the night, he will convey into the city 
 to-morrow morning. Over his body the very humorous 
 Mr. Brien Moon will hold one of those ceremonies called 
 inquests, for which, fourteen dollars and forty cents being 
 paid into his own pocket, he will order the valueless flesh 
 under the sod, handsomely treating with cigars and drinks 
 those who honour him with their presence. 
 
 In the old man's camp, a hatchet, a few bits of corn-bread, 
 (old Jerushe's gift), and two fresh caught fish, are found ; 
 they constituted his earthly store. But he was happy, for his 
 heart's impulses beat high above the conflict of a State's 
 wrongs. That spirit so pure has winged its way to another 
 and better world, where, with that of the monster who 
 wronged nature while making cruelty his pastime, it will 
 appear before a just God, who sits in glory and juageth 
 justly.
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 HOW SLAVEHOLDERS FEAR EACH OTHER. 
 
 THE reader will please remember that we left Nicholas, 
 maddened to distraction at the perfidy of which Grabguy 
 makes him the victim, chained to an iron ring in the centre 
 of Graspum's slave pen. In addition to this very popular 
 mode of subduing souls that love liberty, his wife and 
 children are sold from him, the ekings of his toil, so care 
 fully laid up as the boon of his freedom, are confiscated, 
 and the wrong-doer now seeks to cover his character by pro 
 claiming to a public without sympathy that no such conven 
 tion existed, no such object entertained. Grabguy is a man 
 of position, and lady Grabguy moves well in society no 
 way vulgar ; but the slave (the more honourable of the two) 
 hath no voice he is nothing in the democratic world. Of 
 his origin he knows not ; and yet the sting pierces deeper 
 into his burning heart, as he feels that, would justice but 
 listen to his tale, freedom had not been a stranger. No 
 voice in law, no common right of commoners, no power to ap 
 peal to the judiciary of his own country, hath he. Over 
 powered, chained, his very soul tortured with the lash, he still 
 proclaims his resolution " death or justice !" He will no 
 longer work for him who has stripped away his rights, and while 
 affecting honesty, would crush him bleeding into the earth. 
 
 Grabguy will counsel an expedient wherewith further to 
 conceal his perfidy ; and to that end, with seeming honesty 
 lady Grabguy would have her fashionable neighbours believe 
 sincere, he will ship the oppressed man to New Orleans, 
 there to be sold. " Notwithstanding, he is an extremely 
 valuable nigger," he says, affecting superlative indif 
 ference. 
 
 " I'd rather sell him for a song than he should disturb the 
 peace of the city thus." To New Orleans Mr. Grabguy 
 sends his unsubdued property ; but that the threatened sale 
 is only a feint to more effectually dissolve the contract and
 
 500 HOW DEMOCRATS LIVE FEARING ONE ANOTHER. 
 
 forfeit the money paid as part of his freedom, he soon 
 becomes fully sensible. Doubly incensed at such conduct 
 the fire of his determination burns more fiercely ; if no jus 
 tice for him be made manifest on earth his spirit is consoled 
 with the knowledge of a reward in heaven. Having 
 tortured for months the unyielding man, Grabguy, with 
 blandest professions of kindness, commands that the lacera 
 ted servant be brought back to his domicile. Here, with 
 offers of kindness, and sundry pretexts of his sincerity, the 
 master will pledge his honour to keep faith with his slave. 
 The defrauded wretch knows but too well how little confi 
 dence he can place in such promises ; to such promises does 
 he turn a deaf ear. Q-rabguy, if serious, must give him 
 back his wife, his children, and his hard earnings, in which 
 the joyous hope of gaining freedom was centred : that 
 hope had carried him through many trials. Sad is the 
 dilemma in which Mr. Grabguy finds himself placed ; 
 simple justice to the man would have long since settled 
 the question. 
 
 And now Nicholas is a second time sent to Graspum's 
 pen, where living men are chained to rings of fierce iron for 
 loving freedom and their country. Eor twenty-two days 
 and nights is he chained to that floor where his soul had 
 before been tortured. Threats of being returned to New 
 Orleans again ring' their leaden music in his ears, ; but 
 they have no terrors for him ; his indignant spirit has 
 battled with torture and vanquished its smart he will 
 defend himself iinto death rather than be made the object 
 of a sham sale. A vessel for New Orleans waits in the 
 harbour a fair wind for sailing. On board of her Mr. 
 Grabguy will carry out his resolve ; and to which end the 
 reader will please accompany us to a small cell in Graspum's 
 pen, about fourteen by sixteen feet, and seven in height 
 in the centre of which is chained to a ring that man, once 
 so manly of figure, whose features are now worn down by 
 sorrow or distorted by torture, as three policemen enter to 
 carry out the order of shipment. The heavy chain aud 
 shackle with which his left foot is secured yield to him a 
 circuit of some four feet. As the officials advance his face 
 brightens up with animation ; his spirit resumes its fiery 
 action, and with a flashing knife, no one knows by whom 
 provided, he bids them advance no farther.
 
 HOW SLAVEHOLDERS FJEAK EACH OTHER. 501 
 
 " You. must go to the whipping-post, my good fellow ! I 
 know it's kind of hard ; but obey orders we must. Ye see, 
 I've gin ye good advice, time and agin; but ye won't take 
 it, and so ye must abide the consequences," says one of the 
 officials, who advances before the others, and addresses him 
 self to the chained man. 
 
 " I'll go to a whipping-post no more !" exclaims Nicholas, 
 his angry spirit flashing in his face, as in an attitude of de 
 fence he presses his right hand into his bosom, and frowns 
 defiantly upon the intruders. 
 
 " My name is Monssl, an officer ! Not a word of dis 
 obedience," returns the officer, in a peremptory voice. 
 
 Another suggests that he had better be throated at once. 
 But the chained victim of democracy's rule warns them 
 against advancing another step. " Either must die if rou 
 advance ! I have counselled death, and will lay my pros 
 trate body on the cold floor rather than be taken from 
 this cell to the whipping-post. It is far better to die de 
 fending my right, than to yield my life under the lash ! I 
 appeal to you, officers of the state, protectors of the peace, 
 men who love their right as life's boon !" The men hesitate, 
 whisper among themselves, seem at a loss as to what course 
 to pursue. " You are setting the laws of the state at de 
 fiance, my good fellow!" rejoins Monsel. 
 
 " I care not for the law of the stated Its laws for me 
 are founded in wrong, exercised with injustice !" Turning 
 towards the door, Mr. Monsel despatches his fellow- officers 
 for a reinforcement. That there will be a desperate 
 struggle he has no doubt. The man's gestures show him 
 fully armed ; and he is stark mad. During the interim, 
 Mr. Monsel will hold a parley with the boy. He finds, 
 however, that a few smooth words will not subdue him. 
 One of the officials has a rope in his hand, with which he 
 would make a lasso, and, throwing it over his head, secure 
 him an easy captive. Mr. Monsel will not hear of such a 
 cowardly process. He is a wiry man, with stunted fea 
 tures, and has become enured to the perils of negro 
 catching. Hand to hand he has had many an encounter with 
 the brutes, and always came off victor ; never did he fail to 
 serve the interests of the state, nor to protect the property 
 of his client. With a sort of bravado he makes another ad 
 vance. The city esteems him for the valuable services
 
 502 HOW SLAVEHOLDERS FEAR EACH OTHER. 
 
 he has rendered its safety ; why should he shrink in thia 
 emergency ? 
 
 * The chained man, drawing his shining steel from his 
 bosom, says, " You take me not from here, alive." Mr. 
 Monsel's face becomes pale, while .Nicholas's flashes angry 
 scowls ; an irresistible nervousness seizes him, for a moment 
 he hesitates, turns half round to see if his companions stand 
 firm. They are close behind, ready for the spring, like 
 sharp-eyed catamounts ; while around the door anxious 
 visitors crowd their curious faces. The officers second in 
 command file off to the right and left, draw their revolvers, 
 and present them in the attitude of firing. " Use that knife, 
 and you fall !" exclaims one, with a fearful imprecation. At 
 the next moment he fires, as Monsel rushes upon the chained 
 man, followed by half a dozen officials. An agonising shriek 
 is heard, and Monsel, in guttural accents, mutters, " I'am a 
 murdered man he has murdered me ! Oh, my God, he 
 has murdered me !" Nicholas has plunged the knife into 
 the fleshy part of Monsel's right arm ; and while the bloody 
 weapon, wrested from his hand, lies on the floor, an official 
 drags the wounded man from his grasp. As some rise, others 
 full upon him like infuriated animals, and but for the 
 timely presence of Grabguy and Graspum would have 
 despatched him like a bullock chained to a stake. The 
 presence of these important personages produces a cessation 
 of hostilities ; but the victim, disarmed, lies prostrate on the 
 ground, a writhing and distorted body, tortured beyond 
 his strength of endurance. A circle where the struggle 
 ensued is wet with blood, in which Nicholas bathes his 
 poor writhing body until it becomes one crimson mass. 
 
 All attention is now directed to the wounded man, who, 
 it is found, although he has bled freely of good red blood, 
 is neither fatally nor seriously wounded. It is merely a 
 flesh wound in the arm, such as young gentlemen of the 
 south frequently inflict upon each other for the purpose oi 
 sustaining their character for bravery. Butthe oppressed slave 
 has raised his hand against a white man, he must pay the 
 penalty with his life ; he no longer can live to keep peaceful 
 citizens in fear and trembling. Prostrate on the floor, the 
 
 * Our southern readers, in a certain state, will readily recognise the 
 cone we here describe.
 
 HOW SLAVEHOLDERS FEAR EACH OTHER. 503 
 
 victors gather round him again, as Graspum stoops down 
 and unlocks the shackle from his leg. " It's the Ingin, you 
 see : the very devil wouldn't subdue it, and when once its 
 revenge breaks out you might just as well try to govern 
 a sweeping tornado," Graspum remarks, coolly, as he calls 
 a negro attendant, and orders the body to be drawn from out 
 the puddle of disfiguring gore. Languidly that poor bosom 
 heaves, his eyes half close, and his motionless lips pale as 
 death. 
 
 " Had I know'd it when I bargained for him, he would 
 never have pested me in this way, never ! But he looked 
 so likely, and had such a quick insight of things, Ingin's 
 Ingin, though!" says Grabguy. 
 
 " The very look might have told you that, my dear fellow ; 
 I sold him to you with your eyes open, and, of course, ex 
 pected you to be the judge," interrupts Graspum, 
 his countenance assuming great commercial seriousness. 
 
 Mr. Grabguy politely says, he meant no insinuations. 
 " Come, Nicholas ! I told you this would be the end 
 on't," lie continues, stooping down and taking him by the 
 shoulders, with an air of commiseration. 
 
 The bruised body, as if suddenly inspired with new life, 
 raises itself half up, and with eyes opening, gazes vacantly at 
 those around, at its own hands besmeared with gore ; then, 
 with a curl of contenr.pt on his lip, at the shackle just re 
 leased from his limb "Ah, well, it's ended here ; this is 
 the last of me, no doubt," he murmurs, and makes another 
 attempt to rise. 
 
 " Don't move from where you are !" commands an official, 
 setting his hand firmly against his right shoulder, and 
 pressing him back. He has got the infective crimson on 
 his hands, chafes them one against the other, perpendicularly, 
 as Nicholas looks at him doubtingly. " It's all over I'll 
 not harm you ; take me to a slaughter-house if you 
 will, I care not," he says, still keeping his eye n the 
 official. 
 
 Grabguy, somewhat moved at the sight, would confirm 
 his harmlessness. " You'll give up now, won't you ?" ho 
 enquires, and before Nicholas has time to answer, turns to 
 the official, saying, "Yes, I know'd he would !" 
 
 The official bows his head significantly, but begs to 
 inform Mr. Grabguy, that the negro, having violated the
 
 504 HOW SLAVEHOLDERS FEAR EACH OTHER. 
 
 most sacred law of the state, is no longer under his care. 
 He is a prisoner, and must, as the law directs, answer for 
 the heinous crime just committed. Mr. Grrabguy, if he 
 please, may forward his demand to the state department, 
 and by yielding all claim to his criminal property, receive its 
 award two hundred round dollars, or thereabouts. 
 
 " Stand back, gentlemen stand back, I say !" commands 
 the officer, as the crowd from the outside come pressing in, 
 the news of the struggle having circulated through the city 
 with lightning speed. Eumour, ever ready to spread its 
 fears in a slave state, reported an insurrection, and 
 many were they who armed themselves to the very 
 teeth. 
 
 The officer, in answer to a question why he does not 
 take the man away, says he has sent for means to secure 
 him. He had scarcely given out the acceptable information, 
 when an official, followed by a negro man, bearing cords 
 over his right arm, makes his appearance. The oppressed 
 man seems subdued, and as they make the first knot with 
 the cord they wind about his neck, he says, sarcastically, 
 " 'Twouldn't be much to hang a slave! Now round my 
 hands. Now, with, a half hitch, take my legs !" thus 
 mocking, as it were, while they twist the cords about his yield 
 ing limbs. Now they draw his head to his knees, and his 
 hands to his feet, forming a curve of his disabled body. 
 " How I bend to your strong ropes, your strong laws, and 
 your still stronger wills ! You make good slip-nooses, and 
 better bows of human bodies," he says, mildly, shaking his 
 head contemptuously. The official, with a brutal kick, 
 reminds him that there will be no joking when he swings 
 by the neck, which he certainly will, to the great delight of 
 many. 
 
 " 1 welcome the reality. by heaven I do, for only in 
 heaven is there justice for me !" With these words failing 
 from his lips, four negro men seize the body, bear it to the 
 door : an excited crowd having assembled, place it upon a 
 common dray, amid shouts and furious imprecations of 
 
 " D him, kill him at once !" Soon the dray rolls speedily 
 
 away for the county prison, followed by the crowd, who 
 utter a medley of yells and groans, as it disappears 
 within the great gates, bearing its captive to a cell of 
 torture.
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 IT is just a week since Nicholas committed the heinous 
 offence of wounding officer Monsel in the arm. That 
 distinguished personage, having been well cared for, is to 
 use a common phrase about again, as fresh as ever. With 
 Nicholas the case is very different. His bruised and 
 lacerated body, confined in an unhealthy cell, has received 
 little care. Suspicion of treachery has been raised against 
 him ; his name has become a terror throughout the city ; 
 and all his bad qualities have been magnified five-fold, 
 while not a person can be found to say a word in praise of 
 his 1 good. That he always had some secret villainy in view 
 no one for a moment doubts ; that he intended to raise an 
 insurrection among the blacks every one is quite sure ; and 
 that confession of all his forelaid evil designs may be 
 extorted from him, the cruellest means have been re- 
 sorted to. 
 
 The day upon which the trial is to take place haa 
 arrived. On the south side of Broad Street there stands a 
 small wooden building, the boarding discoloured and decayed, 
 looking as if it had been accidentally dropped between the 
 walks of two brick buildings standing at its sides. In 
 addition, it has the appearance of one side having been set 
 at a higher elevation than the other for some purpose of 
 convenience known only to its occupants. About fifteen 
 feet high, its front possesses a plain door, painted green, 
 two small windows much covered with dust, and a round 
 port-hole over the door. A sheet of tin, tacked above the 
 door, contains, in broad yellow letters, the significant names 
 of " Eetter and Eelsh, Attorneys at Law." Again, on a 
 board about the size of a shingle, hanging from a nail at tho 
 right side of the door, is " Jubez Fetter, Magistrate" By 
 these umnistakeable signs we feel assured of its being the 
 department where the legal firm of Fetter and Felsh do 
 their customers that is, where they dispose of an immense
 
 606 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 amount of legal filth for which the state pays very accept 
 able fees. Squire Fetter, as he is usually called, is extremely 
 tall and well-formed, and, though straight of person, very 
 crooked in morals. With an oval and ruddy face, nicely 
 trimmed whiskers, soft blue eyes, tolerably good teeth, he is 
 considered rather a handsome man. But (to use a vulgar 
 phrase) he is death on night orgies and nigger trials. He 
 may be seen any day of the week, about twelve o'clock, 
 standing his long figure in the door of his legal domicile, 
 his hat touching the sill, looking up and then down the 
 street, as if waiting the arrival of a victim upon whom to 
 pronounce one of his awful judgments. Felsh is a different 
 species of person, being a short, stunted man, with a flat, 
 inexpressive face. He has very much the appearance of a 
 man who had been clumsily thrown together for any pur 
 pose future circumstances might require. Between these 
 worthies and one Hanz Von Vickeinsteighner there has 
 long existed a business connection, which is now being 
 transferred into a fraternity of good fellowship. Hanz 
 Yon Vickeinsteighner keeps a small grocery, a few doors 
 below : that is, Von, in a place scarcely large enough to 
 turn his fat sides without coming in contact with the 
 counter, sells onions, lager-beer, and whiskey ; the last- 
 named article is sure to be very bad, inasmuch as bis 
 customers are principally negroes. Von is considered a 
 very clever fellow, never a very bad citizen, and always on 
 terms of politeness with a great many squires, and other 
 members of the legal profession. A perfect picture of the 
 good-natured Dutchman is Von, as seen standing his square 
 sides in his doorway, stripped to his sleeves, his red cap tipped 
 aside, a crooked grin on his broad fat face, and his hands 
 thrust beneath a white apron into his nether pockets. 
 Von has a great relish for squires and police officers, esteems 
 them the salt of all good, nor ever charges them a cent for 
 his best-brewed lager-beer. There is, however, a small 
 matter of business in the way, which Von, being rather a 
 sharp logician, thinks it quite as well to reconcile with beer. 
 The picture is complete, when of a morning, some exciting 
 negro case being about to be brought forward, Fetter and 
 Von may be seen, as before described, standing importantly 
 easy in their respective doors ; while Felsh paces up and 
 down the side-walk, seemingly in deep study. On these
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 507 
 
 occasions it is generally said Von makes the criminal 
 "niggers," Felsh orders them caught and brought before 
 Fetter, and Fetter passes awful judgment upon them. 
 Now and then, Felsh will prosecute on behalf of the state, 
 for which that generous embodiment of bad law is debtor 
 the fees. 
 
 The city clock has struck twelve ; Fetter stands in his 
 doorway, his countenance wearing an air of great serious 
 ness. Felsh saunters at the outside, now and then making 
 some legal remark on a point of the negro statutes, and at 
 every turn casting his bleared eye up the street. Presently, 
 Nicholas is seen, his hands pinioned, and a heavy chain 
 about his neck, approaching between two officials. A crowd 
 follows ; among it are several patriotic persons who 
 evince an inclination to wrest him from the officials, that 
 they may, according to Judge Lynch's much-used privi 
 leges, wreak their vengeance in a summary manner. " The 
 boy Nicholas is to be tried to-day !" has rung through the 
 city : curious lookers-on begin to assemble round the 
 squire's office, and Hanz Von Vickeiusteighner is in great 
 good humour at the prospect of a profitable day at his 
 counter. 
 
 "Bring the criminal in!" says Squire Fetter, turning 
 into his office as Nicholas is led in, still bearing the 
 marks of rough usage. Hows of board seats stretch across 
 the little nook, which is about sixteen feet wide by twenty 
 long, the floor seeming on the verge of giving way under 
 its professional burden. The plaster hangs in broken 
 flakes from the walls, which are exceedingly dingy, and 
 decorated with festoons of melancholy cobwebs. At the 
 farther end is an antique book-case of pine slats, on which 
 are promiscuously thrown sundry venerable-looking works on 
 law, papers, writs, specimens of minerals, branches of 
 coral, aligators' teeth, several ship's blocks, and a bit of 
 damaged fishing-tackle. This is Felsh's repository of 
 antique collections ; what many of them have to do with his 
 rough pursuit of the learned profession we leave to the 
 reader's discrimination. It has been intimated by several 
 waggishly-inclined gentlemen, that a valuable record of all 
 the disobedient "niggers" Fetter had condemned to be 
 hung might be found among this confused collection of 
 antiquities. A deal table, covered with a varnished cloth, 
 23
 
 508 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 standing on the right side of the room, and beside which a 
 ponderous arm-chair 13 raised a few inches, forms Fetter's 
 tribune. Hanging from the wall, close behind this, is a 
 powder-horn and flask, several old swords, a military hat 
 somewhat broken, and sundry other indescribable things, 
 enough to make one's head ache to contemplate. 
 
 The office is become crowded to excess, the prisoner (his 
 hands unpinioned, but the heavy chain still about his neck !) 
 is placed in a wooden box fronting the squire's table, as a 
 constable is ordered to close the court. It is quite evident 
 that Fetter has been taking a little too much on the previous 
 night; but, being a " first-rate drinker," his friends find an 
 apology in the arduousness of his legal duties. In answer 
 to a question from Felsh, who has been looking at the 
 prisoner somewhat compassionately, the serving constable 
 says two of the jury of " freeholders" he has summoned have 
 not yet made their appearance. Fetter, who was about to 
 take his seat in the great chair, and open court, politely 
 draws forth his watch, and after addressing a few words to 
 the persons present, on the necessity of keeping order in a 
 court with such high functions, whispers a few words in 
 Felsh' s ear, holding his hand to his mouth the while. 
 
 "Maintain order in court!" says Fetter, nodding his 
 head to the official ; " we will return in five minutes." Soon 
 they are seen passing into Von's crooked establishment, 
 where, joined by a number of very fashionable friends, they 
 "take" of the "hardware" he keeps in a sly place under 
 the counter, in a special bottle for his special customers. 
 Having taken several "special glasses, Fetter is much 
 annoyed at sundry remarks made by his friends, who press 
 round him, seeming anxious to instruct him on intricate 
 points of the " nigger statutes." One hopes he will 
 not let the nigger oft' without a jolly good hanging ; another 
 will bet his life Felsh takes care of that small item, for 
 then his claim on the state treasury will be doubled. Anduow, 
 Fetter finding that Felsh, having imbibed rather freely of 
 the liquid, hath somewhat diminished his brilliant faculties, 
 will take him by the arm and return into court. With all 
 the innate dignity of great jurists they enter their sanctum of 
 iustice, as the usher exclaims, " Court ! Court ! hats off and 
 cigars out !"
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OP JUSTICE. 509 
 
 " Jury are present ?" enquires Fetter, with great gravity, 
 bowing to one side and then to the other, as he resumes lua 
 seat on the tribune. 
 
 " Present, yer 'oner ;" the officer answers in a deep, gruff 
 voice, as he steps forward and places a volume of the re 
 vised statutes before that high jurist. Fetter moves the 
 book to hia left, where Felsh has taken his seat. "With 
 placid countenance and softest accents, Fetter orders the 
 prisoner at the bar to stand up while our constable calls the 
 names of the jurymen. 
 
 Our victim of democracy's even-handed justice obeys the 
 summons, rising as his dark eyes flash angrily, and that hat/red 
 wrong which lurks in his bosom seems kindling anew. 
 " Jarnes M'Neilty ! Terrance M'Quade ! Harry Johanna ! 
 Baldwin Dobson ! Patrick Henessy ! Be dad and I have 
 um all now, yer 'oner," ejaculates the official, exultingly, as 
 one by one the "nigger jurymen" respond to the call, 
 and take their seats on a wooden slab at the right of his 
 Honour, squire Fetter. " You are, I may be sure, gentle 
 men, freeholders ?" enquires his honour, with a mechanical 
 bow. They answer simultaneously in the affirmative, and 
 then, forming in a half circle, lay their hands on a volume of 
 Byron, which Fetter makes do for a Bible, and subscribe to 
 the sacred oath Felsh administers. By the Giver of all Good 
 will they return a verdict according to the evidence and 
 the facts. " Gentlemen will take their seats (the officer 
 must preserve order in the court !) the prisoner may also sit 
 down," says Felsh, the words falling from his lips with 
 great gravity, as, opening the revised statutes, he rises to 
 address the jury. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Jury ! suddenly hesitates for a mo 
 mentthe solemn duties which you are now called upon to 
 perform (at this moment Terrance M'Quade draws a small 
 bottle from his pocket, and after helping himself to a portion 
 of its contents passes it to his fellows, much to the surprise 
 of the learned Felsh, who hopes such indecorum will cease) 
 and they are duties which you owe to the safety of the state 
 as well as to the protection of your own families, are much 
 enhanced by the superior mental condition of the criminal 
 before you." Here Mr. Felsh calls for a volume of Prince'a 
 Digest, from which he instructs the jury upon several im 
 portant points of the law made and provided for making the
 
 510 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 striking a white person by a slave or person of colour a 
 capital offence. " Your honour, too, will see the case to 
 which I refer ' State and Prudence !' " The learned gentle 
 man extends the book, that his august eyes may have a near 
 view. 
 
 " Tour word is quite sufficient, Mr. Felsh," returns 
 Fetter, his eyes half closed, as he waves his hand, adding 
 that he is perfectly posted on the case cited. " Page 499, 
 I think you said?" he continues, placing his thumbs in his 
 waistcoat armlets, with an air of indifference. 
 
 "Yes, your honour," rejoins Felsh, with a polite bow. 
 His honour, ordering a glass of water mixed with a little 
 brandy, Mr. Felsh continues : " The case, gentlemen, be 
 fore you, is that of the ' State v. Nicholas.' This case, 
 gentlemen, and the committal of the heinous crime for 
 wiiich he stands arraigned before you, has excited no small 
 amount of interest in the city. It is one of those peculiar 
 cases where intelligence creeps into the property in 
 terest of our noble institution the institution of slavery 
 makes the property restless, disobedient to the will and com 
 mands of the master, disaffected to the slave population, 
 and dangerous to the peace and the progress of the commu 
 nity, Now, gentlemen (his honour has dropped into a 
 moderate nap Mr. Felsh pauses for a moment, and touches 
 him gently on the shoulder, as he suddenly resumes his 
 wonted attention, much to the amusement of those 
 assembled) you will be told by the witnesses we shall here 
 produce, that the culprit is an exceedingly intelligent and 
 valuable piece of property, and as such might, even now, be 
 made extremely valuable to his master Mr. Grrabguy is in 
 court, watching his interests! who paid a large sum for him, 
 and was more than anxious to place him at the head of his 
 manufacturing establishment, which office he was fully 
 capable of filling. Now, gentlemen his honour will please 
 observe this point much as I may consider the heavy loss 
 the master will suffer by the conviction of the prisoner, and 
 which will doubtless be felt severely by him, I cannot help 
 impressing upon you the necessity of overlooking the in 
 dividual loss to the master, maintaining the law, and pre 
 serving the peace of the community and stability of our 
 noble institution. That the state will only allow the master 
 two hundred dollars for his valuable slave you have nothing
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 511 
 
 to do with you must sink that from your minds, listen to 
 the testimony, and form your verdict in accordance with 
 that and the law. That he is a dangerous slave, has long 
 maintained a disobedience towards his owner, set the 
 authorities at defiance, attempted to create an insurrection, 
 and made a dangerous assault on a white man which 
 constitutes a capital offence we shall now call witnesses to 
 prove. The learned gentleman having finished his opening 
 for the prosecution, sits down. After a moment's pause, 
 he orders an attendant to bring something " to take " 
 " Similar to the squire's!" he ejaculates, hoarsely. 
 
 " Gentlemen !" says his honour, as if seized with the re 
 collection of some important appointment, the time for 
 which was close at hand, drawing out his watch, " Call 
 witnesses as fast as possible ! The evidence in this case, I 
 reckon, is so direct and positive, that the case can be very 
 summarily despatched." 
 
 "I think so, too! yer 'oner," interrupts Terrance 
 M'Quade, starting from his seat among the five jurors. 
 Terrance has had what in vulgar parlance is termed a 
 "tough time" with several of his own stubborn negroes; 
 and having already heard a deal about this very bad cast;, is 
 prepared to proclaim him fit only to be hanged. His honour 
 reminds Terrance that such remarks from a j uror are neither 
 strictly legal nor in place. 
 
 The first witness called is Toby, a slave of Terrance 
 M'Quade, who has worked in the same shop with Nicholas. 
 Toby heard him say he got his larnin' when he was young, 
 that his heart burned for his freedom that he knew he was 
 no slave by right that some day would see him a great 
 man ; that if all those poor wretches now in slavery knew 
 as much as he did, they would rise up, have their liberties, 
 and proclaim justice without appealing to heaven for 
 
 it! " 
 
 "I said all that, and more!" interrupted the criminal 
 bondman, rising quickly to his feet, and surveying those 
 around him with a frown of contempt. 
 
 " Silence ! sit down !" resounds from the officer 
 He will sit down, but they cannot quench the fires of his 
 soul ; they may deny him the commonest right of his man 
 hood, but they cannot take from him the knowledge that
 
 512 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 God gave him those rights ; they may mock with derision the 
 firm mien with which he disputes the power of his oppressors, 
 and their unjust laws, but they cannot make him less than a man 
 \n his own feelings ! 
 
 His honour, squire Fetter, reminds him that it were bettei* 
 he said nothing, sit down, or be punished instanter. 
 Turning to Felsh, who is sipping his quencher, he en 
 quires what thai; gentleman means to prove by the witness 
 Toby ? 
 
 " His intention to raise an insurrection, yer honour !" 
 Felsh, setting his glass aside, quickly responds, wiping hia 
 lips as he adds, "It is essentially necessary, yer honour!" 
 
 His honour, leaning forward, places the fore-finger of his 
 right hand to his lip, and making a very learned gesture, 
 says, " Toby has said enough to establish that point." 
 
 The next witness is Mr. Brien Calligan, a criminal in 
 the prison, who for his good behaviour has been promoted 
 to the honourable post of under-warden. Mr. Brien 
 Calligan testifies that the prisoner, while in prison, con 
 fined in a cell under his supervision, admitted that he 
 intended to kill Mr. Monsel when he inflicted the wound. 
 He must qualify this statement, however, by saying that 
 the prisoner added he was altogether beside himself with 
 rage. 
 
 Grabguy, who has been intently watching the pro 
 ceedings, suddenly springs to his feet. He would like to 
 know if that admission was not extorted from the culprit by 
 cruelty ! 
 
 Mr. Brien Calligan pauses a moment, looks innocently 
 at the court, as one of the jurors suggests that quite enough 
 evidence has already been put in to warrant a conviction. 
 It's a pity to hang such valuable property ; but, being ben!: 
 on disturbing the peace of the community, what else can be 
 done ? 
 
 His honour listens with great concern to the juror's remarks, 
 but suggests that Mr. Grabguy had better not interrupt the 
 court with questions. That he has an indirect interest in the 
 issue of the suit, not a doubt exists, but if he be not satis 
 fied with the witness's statement, he has his remedy in the 
 court of appeals, where, upon the ground of testimony having 
 been elicited by coercion or cruelty, a new trial will probably 
 be granted.
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 513 
 
 Mr. Grabguy would merely suggest to his honour that 
 although sentencing a negro to be hung may be a matter of 
 small consequence to him, yet his position in society gives 
 hun a right to be heard with proper respect. Aware that 
 he does not move in that exclusively aristocratic sphere of 
 society awarded to lawyers in general, he is no less 
 entitled to respect, and being a man of honour, and an 
 alderman as well, he shall always insist on that re 
 spect. 
 
 " Order, order !" demand a dozen voices. His honour's face 
 flashing with indignation, he seizes the statutes, and rising to 
 his feet, is about to throw them with unerring aim at the 
 unhandsome head of the municipal functionary. A commo 
 tion here ensues. Felsh is esteemed not a bad fighting man ; 
 and rising almost simultaneously, liis face like a full moon 
 peeping through a rain cloud, attempts to pacify his colleague, 
 Fetter. The court is foaming with excitement ; Mr. Felsh 
 is excited, the jury are excited to take a little more drink, 
 the constables are excited, the audience are excited to 
 amusement ; Messrs. Fetter and Felsh's court rocks with 
 excitement : the only unexcited person present is the 
 criminal, who looks calmly on, as if contemplating with 
 horror the debased condition of those in whose hands an 
 unjust law has placed his life. 
 
 As the uproar and confusion die away, and the court 
 resumes its dignity, Mr. Grabguy, again asserting his posi 
 tion of a gentleman, says he is not ashamed to declare his 
 conviction to be, that his honour is not in a fit state to try a 
 " nigger" of his : in fact, the truth must be told, he would 
 not have him sit in judgment upon his spaniel. 
 
 At this most unwarranted declaration Fetter rises from 
 his judicial chair, his feelings burning with rage, and bounds 
 over the table at Grabguy, prostrating his brother Felsh, 
 tables, benches, chairs, and everything else in his way, 
 making the confusion complete. Several gentlemen inter 
 pose between Fetter ; but before he can reach Grabguy, 
 who is no small man in physical strength which he has 
 developed by fighting his way " through many a crowd" on 
 election days that municipal dignitary is ejected, smis 
 ceremonie, into the street. 
 
 " Justice to me ! My honest rights, for which I laboured 
 when he gave rae no bread, would have saved him his com- 
 
 LL
 
 514 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OP JUSTICE. 
 
 punction of conscience: 1 wanted nothing more," says 
 Nicholas, raising the side of his coarse jacket, and wiping 
 the sweat from his brow. 
 
 " Silence there !" demands an official, pointing his tipstaff, 
 and punching him on the shoulder. 
 
 Grabguy goes to his home, considering and reconsidering 
 his own course. His heart repeats the admonition, " Thou 
 art the wrong-doer. Grabguy !" It haunts his very soul ; it 
 lays bare the source's from whence the slave's troubles flow ; 
 places the seal of aggression on the state. It is a question 
 with him, whether the- state, through its laws, or Messrs. 
 Tetter and Pelsh, through the justice meted out at their 
 court, play the baser part. 
 
 A crowd of anxious persons have gathered about the door, 
 making the very air resound with their shouts of derision. 
 Hans Von Vickeinsteighner, his fat good-natured face shining 
 like a pumpkin on a puncheon, and his red cap dangling above 
 the motley faces of the crowd, moves glibly about, and says they 
 are having a right jolly good time at the law business within. 
 
 !Fetter, again taking his seat, apologises to the jury, to 
 the persons present, and to his learned brother, Felsh. He 
 is very sorry for this ebullition of passion ; but they may be 
 assured it was called forth by the gross insult offered to all 
 present. " Continue the witnesses as fast as possible," he 
 concludes, with a methodical bow. 
 
 Mr. Monsel steps forward : he relates the fierce attempt 
 made upon his life ; has no doubt the prisoner meant to kill 
 him, and raise an insurrection. "It is quite enough ; Mr. 
 Monsel may stand down," interposes i^elsh, with an air of 
 dignity. 
 
 Paul Vampton, an intelligent negro, next bears testimony. 
 " The criminal at the bar (Paul does not believe he has a 
 drop of negro blood in his veins) more than once told him 
 his wife and children were sold from him, his rights stripped 
 from him, the hopes of gaining his freedom for ever gone. 
 Having nothing to live for, he coveted death, because it was 
 more honourable to die in defence of justice, than live the 
 crawling slave of a tyrant's rule." 
 
 " I feel constrained to stop the case, gentlemen of the jury," 
 interposes his honour, rising from his seat. " The evidence al 
 ready adduced is more than sufficient to establish the conviction."
 
 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 515 
 
 A juror at Terrance M'Quado's right, touches that gentle 
 man ou the shoulder : he had just cooled away into a nice 
 Bleep : " I think so, too, yer 'oner," rejoins Terrance, in half 
 bewilderment, starting nervously and rubbing his eyes, 
 
 A few mumbled words from his honour serve as a charge 
 to the jury. They know the law, and have the evidence 
 before them. " I see not, gentlemen, how you can render 
 a verdict other than guilty ; but that, let me hero say, 
 I shall leave to your more mature deliberation." With these 
 concluding remarks his honour sips his mixture, and sits 
 down. 
 
 Gentlemen of the jury rise from their seats, and form 
 into a circle ; Mr Felsh coolly turns over the leaves of the 
 statutes ; the audience mutter to themselves ; the prisoner 
 stares vacantly over the scene, as if heedless of the issue. 
 
 " Guilty ! it's that we've made it; and the divil a thing 
 else we could make out of it," exclaims Terrance M'Quade, 
 as they, after the mature length of two minutes' consulta 
 tion, turn and face his honour. They pause for a reply. 
 " Stand up, prisoner !" 
 
 " Hats off during the sentence !" rejoins a constable. 
 " Guilty." His honour rises to his feet with ponderous 
 dignity to pronounce the awful sentence. " Gentlemen, I 
 must needs compliment your verdict ; you could have come 
 to no other." His honour bows gracefully to the jury, 
 reminds gentlemen present of the solemn occasion, and will 
 hear what the prisoner has to say for himself. 
 
 An angry frown pervades the prisoner's face. He lias 
 nothing to say. Burning tears course down his cheeks ; 
 but they are not tears of contrition, Oh, no ! he has no such 
 tears to shed. Eiruily and resolutely he says, " Guilty ! 
 guilty ! yes, 1 am guilty guilty by the guilty laws of a 
 guilty land. You are powerful I am weak ; you have might 
 I have right. Mine is not a chosen part. Guilty on earth, 
 my soul will be innocent in heaven ; and before a just judge 
 will my cause be proclaimed, before a holy tribunal my ver 
 dict received, and by angels my soul be enrolled among the 
 righteous. Tour earthly law seals my lips ; your black 
 judgment enough to make heaven frown and earth tremble, 
 fearing justice crushes the man ; but you cannot judge the 
 spirit. In fear and trembling your wrongs will travel 
 broken paths give no man rest. I am guilty with you ; I
 
 516 SOUTHERN ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE. 
 
 am innocent in heaven. He who judgeth all things right, 
 receives the innocent soul into his bosom ; and He will offer 
 repentance to him who takes the innocent life." He pauses, 
 as his eye, with intense stare, rests upon his honour. 
 
 " You are through ?" enquires his honour, raising his 
 eyebrows. 
 
 "In this court of justice," firmly replies the prisoner. 
 
 " Order in the court !" is echoed from several voices. 
 
 " Nicholas Nicholas Grabguy ! the offence for which you 
 stand convicted is one for which 1 might, according to the 
 laws of the land, pronounce a more awful sentence than the 
 one now resolved upon. But the advanced and enlightened 
 spirit of the age calls for a more humane manner of taking 
 life and inflicting punishments. Never before has it been 
 my lot to pass sentence although I have pronounced the 
 awful benediction on very many on so valuable and intelli 
 gent a slave. I regret your master's loss as much as I 
 sympathise with your condition ; and yet I deplore the 
 hardened and defiant spirit you yet evince. And permit me 
 here to say, that while you manifest such an unyielding 
 spirit there is no hope of pardon. Nicholas! you have been 
 tried before a tribunal of the land, by the laws of your state, 
 and found guilty by a tribunal of competent men. Nothing 
 is now left for me but to pass' sentence upon you in accord 
 ance with the law. The sentence of the court is, that you 
 be taken hence to the prison from whence you came, and on 
 this day week, at twelve o'clock, from thence to the gallows 
 erected in the yard thereof, and there and then be hanged by 
 the neck until you are dead ; and may the Lord have mercy 
 on your soul!" 
 
 His honour, concluding nervously, orders the jury to be 
 dismissed, and the court adjourned. 
 
 How burns the inward hate of the oppressed culprit, as 
 mutely, his hands pinioned, and the heavy chain about his 
 neck, he is led away to his prison-house, followed by a de 
 riding crowd. " Come that happy day, when men will cease 
 to make their wrong fire my very blood !" he gays, firmly 
 marching to the place of death.
 
 CHAPTER XL VII. 
 
 PROSPERITY THE RESULT OF JUSTICE. 
 
 years have rolled into the past since the Rosebrook 
 family moved by a sense of right to enquire into the errors 
 of a bad system of labour resolved to try the working of a 
 new scheme. There was to be no cutting, nor lashing, nor 
 abusing with overburdening tasks. Education was to regu> 
 late the feelings, kindness to expand the sympathies, and 
 justice to bind the affections and stimulate advancement. 
 There were only some fifty negroes on the Rosebrook plan 
 tation, but its fame for raising great crops had resounded 
 far and wide. Some planters said it "astonished everything," 
 considering how much the Rosebrooks indulged their slaves. 
 With a third less in number of hands, did they raise more and 
 better cotton than their neighbours ; and then everything was 
 so neat and bright about the plantation, and everybody 
 looked so cheerful and sprightly. When Rosebrook' s cotton 
 was sent into the market, factors said it was characteristic 
 of his systemised negroes ; and when his negroes rolled into 
 the city, as they did on holidays, all brightened up with new 
 clothes, everybody said There were Rosebrook' s dandy, fat, 
 and saucy " niggers." And then the wise prophets, who 
 h;id all along predicted that Rosebrook's project would never 
 amount to much, said it was all owing to his lady, who was 
 worth her weight in gold at managing negroes. And she 
 did conceive the project, too ; and her helping hand was felt 
 like a quickening spring, giving new life to the physical 
 being. That the influence might not be lost upon others of 
 her sex in the same sphere of life, she was ever reasoning 
 upon the result of female sympathy. She felt that, were it 
 exercised properly, it could raise up the menial slave, awaken 
 his inert energies, give him those moral guides which elevate 
 his passive nature, and regenerate that manhood which pro 
 vides for its own good. 
 
 They had promised their people that all children born at 
 and after a given date should be free ; that all those over
 
 518 PBOSPEEITY THE BESTJLT OF JUSTICE. 
 
 sixty should, be nominally free, the only restriction being the 
 conditions imposed by the state law ; that slaves under 
 fifteen years of age, and able to do plantation work, should, 
 during the ten years prescribed, be allowed for their extra 
 labour at a given rate, and expected to have the sum of two 
 hundred and fifty dollars set to their credit ; that all prime 
 people should be required to work a given number of hours, 
 as per task, for master, beyond which they would be allotted a 
 "patch" for cultivation, the products of which were entrusted 
 to Bosebrook for sale, and the proceeds placed in missus' 
 savings bank to their credit. The people had all fulfilled 
 the required conditions ere the ten years expired ; and a 
 good round sum for extra earnings was found in the bank. 
 The llosebrooks kept faith with their slaves ; and the happy 
 result is, that Rosebrook, in addition to the moral security 
 he has founded for the good of his people and which secu 
 rity is a boon of protection between master and slave has 
 been doubly repaid by the diiference in amount of product, 
 the result of encouragement incited by his enlightened sys 
 tem. The family were bound in affection to their slaves ; 
 and the compact has given forth its peaceful products for a 
 good end. Each slave being paid for his or her labour, 
 there is no decline of energy, no disaffection, no clashing of 
 interests, no petulant disobedience. Rosebrook finds his 
 system the much better of the two. It has relieved him of 
 a deal of care ; he gets more work for less money ; he laughs 
 at his neighbours, who fail to raise as much cotton with 
 double the number of negroes ; and he knows that his negroes 
 love instead of fear him. And yet, notwithstanding tho 
 proof he has produced, the whole district of planters look 
 upOTi him with suspicion, consider him rather a dangerous 
 innovator, and say, that while his foolish system cannot be 
 other than precarious to the welfare of the state, time will 
 prove it a monster fallacy. 
 
 A happy moment was it when the time rolled round, and 
 the morning of the day upon which Rosebrook would pro 
 claim the freedom of his people broke serenely forth. The 
 cabins looked bright and airy, were sanded and whitewashed, 
 and, surrounded by their neatly attired inhabitants, pre 
 sented a picturesque appearance. It was to be a great gala- 
 day, and the bright morning atmosphere seemed propitious 
 of the event. Daddy Daniel had got a new set of shiny
 
 PBOSPEEITY THE RESULT OF JUSTICE. 519 
 
 brass buttons put on his long blue coat, and an extremely 
 broad white cravat for his neck. Daniel was a sort of law 
 giver for the plantation, and sat in judgment over all cases 
 brought before him, with great gravity of manner. As to 
 his judgments, they were always pronounced with wondrous 
 solemnity, and in accordance with what he conceived to be 
 the most direct process of administering even-handed justice. 
 Daddy was neither a democrat nor an unjust judge. Believing 
 that it were better to forgive than inflict undue punishments, 
 hewouldrathershamethe transgressor, dismiss him with a firm 
 admonition to do better, and bid him go, transgress no more ! 
 Harry had prepared a new sermon for the eventful day ; 
 and with it he was to make his happy flock remember the 
 duty which they would henceforth owe to those who had been 
 their kind protectors, as well as the promoters of that system 
 which would result in happier days. How vivid of hap 
 piness was that scene presented in the plantation church, 
 where master and missus, surrounded by their faithful old 
 slaves, who, with a patriarchal attachment, seemed to view 
 them with reverence, sat listening to the fervent discourse 
 of that once wretched slave, now, by kindness, made a man ! 
 Deep, soul-stirring, and affecting to tears, were the words of 
 prayer with which that devout negro invoked the all-pro 
 tecting hand of Almighty God, that he would guide master 
 and slave through the troubles of this earthly stage, and 
 receive them into his bosom. How in contrast with that 
 waging of passion, and every element of evil that has its 
 source in injustice, so rife of plantation life, was the picture 
 here presented ! 
 
 The service ended, Kosebrook addresses a few remarks to 
 bis people ; after which they gather around him and pour 
 forth their gratitude in genial sentiments. Old and young 
 have a " Heaven save master !" for Rosebrook, and a " God 
 bless missus !" for his noble-hearted lady, to whom they 
 cling, shaking her hand with warmest affection. 
 
 How enviable to her sex is the position of that woman 
 who labours for the fallen, and whose heart yields its kin 
 dred sympathy for the oppressed ! 
 
 After congratulations and tokens of affection had been 
 exchanged, master, missus, and the people for such they 
 now were repaired to the green in front of the plantation 
 mansion, where a sumptuous collation was spread out, to
 
 620 PEOSPBKITT THE BESTTLT OP JUSTICE. 
 
 v?hich all sat down in one harmonious circle. Then the fes 
 tivities of the day a 4th of July in miniature ended with 
 a gathering at Dad Daniel's cabin, where he profoundly laid 
 down a system of rules for the future observance of the 
 people. 
 
 Six months have passed under the new regime ; and Rose- 
 brook, feeling that to require labour of his people for a sum 
 much beneath its value must in time become a source from 
 which evil results would flow, awarded them a just and ade 
 quate remuneration, and finds it work well. Harry had not 
 been included among those who were enrolled as candidates 
 for the enjoyment offered by the new system ; but missus 
 as well as master had confidentially promised him he should 
 be free before many years, and with his family, if he desired, 
 sent to Liberia, to work for the enlightenment of his fellow 
 Africans. Harry was not altogether satisfied that the 
 greater amount of labour to be done by him for the unfortu 
 nate of his race was beyond the southern democratic states 
 of America ; and, with this doubt instinctively before him, 
 he was not restless for the consummation. 
 
 Some three months after the introduction of the new 
 state of affairs, Dad Daniel was observed to have something 
 weighing heavily on his mind. At times he was seen con 
 sulting seriously with Harry ; but of the purport of these 
 consultations no one, except themselves, was made ac 
 quainted. That very many venerable uncles and aunts 
 were curious to know Daddy's secret contemplations was 
 equally evident. At length Daniel called a meeting of his 
 more aged and sagacious brethren, and with sage face made 
 known his cherished project. Absalom and Uncle Cato 
 listened with breathless suspense as the sage sayings fell 
 from his lips. His brethren had all felt the sweet pleasures 
 of justice, righl;, freedom, and kindness. " "Well, den, 
 broderin, is't 'um right in de sight ob de Lord, dat ye for 
 gets dat broder what done so much fo'h ye bodv and ye 
 Koul too P" 
 
 "No, No ! dat tisn't!" interrupted a dozen voices. 
 
 " Well, den ! I kuow'd, broderin, ye hab got da' bright 
 spirit in ye, and wouldn't say 'twas !" Daniel continues, 
 making a gesture with his left hand, as he raises the spec 
 tacles from his eyes with his right, and in his fervency lets 
 them speed across the room. Daniel ia only made conscious
 
 PB08PEEITY THE RESULT OF JUSTICE. 521 
 
 of his ecstasy when his broken eves are returned to him. 
 Turning to his brethren, he makes one of his very best 
 apologies, and continues " Dis ar poposition I'se gwine to 
 put ! And dat is, dat all ye broderin ere present put up 
 somefin ob he arnin, and wid dat somefin, and what mas'r 
 gib, too, we sarve dat geman what preach the gospel dat do 
 'em good wid 'e freedom for sef and family. Tain't right in 
 de sight ob de Lor, nohow, to have preacher slave and con- 
 gration free : I tell ye dat, my broderin, tain't !" With 
 these sage remarks, Daddy Daniel concluded his proposition, 
 leaned his body forward, spread his hands, and, his wrinkled 
 face filled with comicality, waited the unanimous response 
 which sounded forth in rapturous medley. Each one wa3 
 to put in his mite, the preacher was to have a fund made up 
 for him, which was to be placed in the hands of missus, and 
 when sufficiently large (master will add his mite) be handed 
 over for the freedom of the clergyman and his family. But 
 missus, ever generous and watchful of their interests, had 
 learned their intentions, and forestalled their kindness by 
 herself setting them free, and leaving it to their own discre 
 tion to go where they will. There were many good men at 
 the south men whose care of their slaves constituted a 
 bond of good faith ; but they failed to carry out means for 
 protecting the slave against the mendacity of the tyrant. 
 None more than Harry had felt how implicated was the 
 state for giving great power to tyrant democracy that de 
 mocracy giving him no common right under the laws of the 
 land, unless, indeed, he could change his skin. Ardently as 
 he was attached to the plantation and its people much as 
 he loved good master and missus, he would prefer a home in 
 happy New England, a peaceful life among its liberty -living 
 people. To this end the Rosebrooks provided him *with 
 money, sent him to the land he had longed to live in. In 
 Connecticut he has a neat and comfortable home, far from 
 the cares of slave life ; no bloodhounds seek him there, no 
 cruel slave-dealer haunts his dreams. An intelligent family 
 have grown up around him ; their smiles make him happy ; 
 they welcome him as a father who will no more be torn 
 from them and sold in a democratic slave mart. And, too, 
 Harry is a hearty worker in the cause of freedom, preaches 
 the gospel, and is the inventor of a system of education by 
 which he hopes to elevate the fallen of his race. He has
 
 622 PEOSPEBITT THE HESULT OF JUSTICE. 
 
 visited foreign lands, been listened to by dukes and nobles, 
 and enlisted the sympathies of the lofty in the cause of tho 
 lowly. And while his appeals on behalf of his race are 
 fervent and fiery, his expositions of the wrongs of slavery 
 are equally fierce ; but he is not ungrateful to the good 
 master, whom he would elevate high above the cruel laws 
 he is born and educated to observe. With gratitude and 
 affection does he recur to the generous Rosebrooks ; he 
 would hold them forth as an example to the slave world, 
 and emblazon their works on the pages of history, as proof of 
 what cau be done. Bright in his eventful life, was the day, 
 when, about to take his departure from the slave world, he bid 
 the Rosebrooks a long, long good by. He vividly remembers 
 how hope seemed lighting up the prospect before him how 
 good missus shook his hand so motherly how kindly she 
 spoke to Jane, and how fondly she patted his little ones on 
 the head. " The Rosebrooks," says our restored clergy 
 man, " have nothing to fear save the laws of the state, 
 which may one day make tyrranny crumble beneath its own 
 burden."
 
 CHAPTER XL VIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE FATE OF FKANCONIA IS SEEN. 
 
 THE reader may remember that in a former chapter we left 
 Aunette and Franconia, in company of the stranger, on 
 board the steamer for Wilmington, swiftly gliding on her 
 course. Four bells struck as the surging craft cleared the 
 headlands and shaped her course. The slender invalid, so 
 neat of figure, and whose dress exhibited so much good 
 taste, has been suddenly transformed into a delicate girl of 
 some seventeen summers. As night spreads its shadows over 
 the briny scene, and the steaming craft surges onward over 
 rolling swells, this delicate girl may be seen emerging 
 from her cabin confines, leaning on Franconia's arm as she 
 approaches the promenade deck. Her fawn-coloured dress, 
 setting as neatly as it is chastefully cut, displays a rounded 
 form nicely compact ; and, together with a drawn bonnet of 
 green silk, simply arranged, and adding to her fair oval face 
 an air of peculiar delicacy, present her with personal at 
 tractions of no ordinary character. And then -her soft blue 
 eyes, and her almost golden hair, hanging in thick wavy 
 folds over her carnatic cheeks, add to the symmetry of her 
 features that sweetness which makes modesty more fasci 
 nating. And though she has been but a slave, there is a 
 glow of gentleness pervading her countenance, over which 
 a playful smile now sheds a glow of vivacity, as if awakening 
 within her bosom new hopes of the future. 
 
 The suddenness with which they embarked served to con 
 fuse and dispel all traces of recognition; and even the 
 stranger, as they advanced toward him, hesitated ere he 
 greeted Annette and extended his hand. But they soon 
 joined in conversation, promenaded and mingled with the 
 passengers. Cautious not to enter the main cabin, they 
 remained, supperless, on the upper deck, until near 
 midnight. That social prejudice which acts like a crushing 
 weight upon the slave's mind was no longer to deaden her 
 faculties ; no, she seemed like a new being, as, with childish 
 simplicity, her soul bounded forth in rhapsody of praise and
 
 624 THE FATE OP FRANCONIA. 
 
 thankfulness. Holding Franconia by the hand, she would 
 kiss her, fondle her head on her bosom, and continue to 
 recount the pleasure she anticipated when meeting her long- 
 lost mother. " They'll sell me no more, Franconia, will 
 they ?" she would exclaim, looking enquiringly in her 
 face. 
 
 " No, my poor child ; you won't be worth selling in a land 
 of freedom!" Franconia would answer, jocosely. After 
 charging Maxwell to be a father and a brother to the 
 fugitive girl, to remember that a double duty was to be 
 performed in his guardianship over the being who had just 
 escaped from slavery, they retired below, and on the 
 following morning found themselves safely landed at 
 "Wilmington, where, after remaining about six hours, 
 Franconia bid Annette and Maxwell adieu ! saw them on 
 their way to New York, and returned to Charleston by the 
 same steamer. 
 
 On reaching her home, she was overjoyed at finding a 
 letter from her parents, who, as set forth, had many years 
 resided on the west coast of Mexico, and had amassed a 
 considerable fortune through a connection with some 
 mining operations. Lorenzo, on the first discovery of gold 
 in California, having joined a marauding party who were 
 traversing that country, was amongst the earliest who 
 enriched themselves from its bountiful yield. They gave up 
 their wild pursuits, and with energy and prudence stored-up 
 their diggings, and resolved to lead a new life. With the 
 result of one year's digging, Lorenzo repaired to San 
 Francisco, entered upon a lucrative business, increased his 
 fortune, and soon became a leading man of the place. The 
 hope that at some day he would have means wherewith to 
 return home, wipe away the stain which blotted his cha 
 racter, and relieve his parents from the troubles into which 
 his follies had brought them, seemed like a guiding star ever 
 before him. And then there was his generous-hearted uncle 
 in the hands of Graspum, that man who never lost an 
 opportunity of enriching himself while distressing others. 
 And now, by one of those singularities of fortune which 
 give persons long separated a key to each other's wayfaring, 
 Lorenzo had found out the residence of his parents on the 
 west coast of Mexico. Tes ; he was witli them, enjoying the 
 comforts of their domicile, at the date of their letter. How
 
 THE FATE OF FRA5CONIA. 525 
 
 happy they would be to see their Franconia, to have her 
 with them, and once more enjoy their social re-unions so 
 pleasantly given on brother Marston's plantation ! Number 
 less were the letters they had written her, but not an 
 answer to one had been received. This had been to them a 
 source of great misgiving ; and as a last resource they had 
 sent this letter enclosed to a friend, through whose kindness 
 it reached her. 
 
 The happy intelligence brought by this letter so overjoyed 
 Franconia that she could with difficulty restrain her 
 feelings. Tears of gladness coursed down her cheeks, as she 
 rested her head on Mrs. Rosebrook's bosom, saying, " Oh, 
 how happy I am ! Sweet is the forgiveness which awaits 
 us. strong is the hope that through darkness carries us into 
 brighter prospects of the future." Her parents were 
 yet alive happy and prosperous ; her brother, again an 
 honourable man, and regretting that error which cost him 
 many a tear, was with them. How inscrutable was the will 
 of an all- wise Providence: but how just! To be ever sanguine, 
 and hope for the best, is a passion none should be ashamed 
 of, she thought. Thus elated in spirits she could not resist 
 the temptation of seeking them out, and enjoying the com 
 forts of their parental roof. 
 
 But we must here inform the reader that M'Carstrow no 
 longer acted the part of a husband towards Franconia. His 
 conduct as a debauchee had driven her to seek shelter under 
 the roof of Rosebrook's cottage, while he, a degraded 
 libertine, having wasted his living among cast-out gamblers, 
 mingled only with their despicable society. Stripped of all 
 arts and disguises, and presented in its best form, the result 
 of i'ranconia's marriage with Colonel M'Carstrow was but 
 one of those very many unhappy connections so characteristic 
 of southern life. 
 
 Provided with funds which the generous Rosebrooks 
 kindly furnished her, a fortnight after the receipt of her 
 father's letter found her embarked on board a steamer 
 bound for the Isthmus, from whence she would seek her 
 parents overland. "With earnest resolution she had taken 
 a fond leave of the Rosebrooks, and bid adieu to that home 
 and its associations so dear to her childhood ; and with 
 God and happy associations her guide and her protector, 
 was bounding over the sea. For three days the gallant
 
 526 THE PATE OF FEAJfCOKIA. 
 
 skip sped swiftly onward, and the passengers, among whom 
 she made many friends, seemed to enjoy themselves with 
 one accord, mingling together for various amusements, 
 spreading their social influence for the good of all, and, 
 with elated spirits at the bright prospect, anticipating a 
 speedy voyage. All was bright, calm, and cheering the 
 monster machines working smoothly, pressing the leviathan 
 forward with curling brine at her bows, until the afternoon 
 of the fourth day, when the wind in sharp gusts from the 
 south-west, and the sudden falling of the barometer, 
 admonished the mariner of the approaching heavy weather. 
 At sunset a heavy bank in the west hung its foreboding 
 festoons along the horizon, while light, fleecy clouds 
 gathered over the heavens, and scudded swiftly into the east. 
 Steadily the wind increased, the sea became restless, and the 
 sharp chops thundering at the weather bow, veering the 
 ship from her course, rendering it necessary to keep her 
 head a point nearer the westward, betokened a gale. To 
 leeward were the Bahamas, their dangerous banks spreading 
 awe among the passengers, and exciting the fears of the 
 more timid. On the starboard bow was Key West, with 
 its threatening and deceptive reefs, but far enough ahead to 
 be out of danger. At midnight, the wind, which had 
 increased to a gale, howled in threatening fierceness. Over 
 head, the leaden clouds hung low their massive folds, and thick 
 spray buried the decks and rigging ; beneath, the angry ocean 
 spread out in resistless waves of phosphorous light, and the 
 gallant craft surged to and fro like a thing of life on a plain 
 of rolling fire. Now she yields to the monster wave 
 threatening her bow, over another she rides proudly, and 
 to a third her engines slowly rumble round, as with half- 
 buried deck she careens to its force. The man. at the wheel, 
 whose head we see near a glimmering light at the stern, 
 watches anxiously for the word of command, and when 
 received, executes it with quickness. An intruding sea has 
 driven the look-out from the knight-heads to a post at the 
 funnel, where, near the foremast, he clings with tenacious grip. 
 Near him is the first officer, a veteran seaman, who has seen 
 some twenty years' service, receiving orders from the 
 captain, who stands at the weather quarter. Noiselessly 
 the men proceed to execute their duties. There is not that 
 bustle nor display of seamanship, in preparing a steamer for
 
 THE PATE OF FRANCONIA. 527 
 
 encountering a gale, so necessary in a sailing-snip ; ax>d all. 
 save the angry elements, move cautiously on. The engineer, 
 in obedience to the captain's orders, has slowed his engines. 
 The ship can make but little headway against the fierce 
 sea ; but still, obedient to her command,.it is thought better 
 to maintain power just sufficient to keep her head to the 
 Sen. The captain says it is necessary, as well to ease her 
 working as not to strain her machinery. He is supposed 
 the better judge, and to his counsel all give ear. Now and 
 then a more resolute passenger shoots from no one knows 
 where, holds struggling by the jerking shroud, and, wrapt 
 in his storm cloak, his amazed eyes, watching the scudding 
 elements overhead, peer out upon the raging sea : then he 
 mutters, " What an awful sight ! how madly grand with 
 briny light !" How sublimely terrific are the elements here 
 combined to wage war against the craft he thought safe 
 from their thunders ! She is but a pigmy in their devouring 
 sweep, a feeble prey at their mercy. The starboard wheel 
 rumbles as it turns far out of water ; the larboard is buried in 
 a deep sea the ship careens into. Through the fierce drear 
 he sees the black funnel vomiting its fiery vapour high aloft; 
 he hears the chain braces strain and creak in its support ; 
 he is jerked from his grasp, becomes alarmed for his safety, 
 and suddenly disappears. In the cabin he tells his fellow 
 voyagers how the storm rages fearfully : out it needed not 
 his word to confirm the fact : the sudden lurching, creaking 
 of panel- work, swinging to and fro of lamps, sliding from 
 larboard to starboard of furniture, the thumping of the sea 
 against the ship's sides, prostrate passengers made helpless 
 by sea sickness, uucouched and distributed about the 
 floor, moaning females, making those not ill sick with their 
 wailings, timid passengers in piteous accents making their 
 lamentations in state rooms, the half frightened waiter 
 struggling timidly along, and the wind's mournful music as 
 it plays through the shrouds, tell the tale but too forcibly. 
 Hope, fear, and prayer, mingle in curious discord on board 
 this seemingly forlorn ship on an angry sea. Pranconia 
 lies prostrate in her narrow berth, now bracing against the 
 panels, then startled by an angry sea striking at her pillow, 
 like death with his warning mallet announcing, " but sixteeit 
 inches separate us !" 
 Daylight dawns forth, much to the relief of mariners and
 
 528 THE FATE OF FKANCONIA- 
 
 passengers ; but neither the wind nor the sea have lessened 
 their fierceness. Slowly arid steadily the engines work on ; 
 the good ship looks defiantly at each threatening sea, as it 
 sweeps along irresistibly ; the yards have been sent down, 
 the topmasts are struck and housed ; everything that can 
 render her easy in a sea has been stowed to the snuggest 
 compass ; but the broad ocean is spread out a sheet 
 of raging foam. The drenched captain, his whiskers matted 
 with saline, and his face glowing and flushed (he has stood 
 the deck all night), may be seen in the main cabin, cheering 
 and dispelling the fears of his passengers. The storm 
 cannot last the wind will soon lull the sea at meridian 
 will be as calm as any mill-pond he has seen a thousand 
 worse gales : so says the mariner, who will pledge his 
 prophecy on his twenty years' experience. But in this one 
 instance hia prophecy failed, for at noon the gale had 
 increased to a hurricane, the ship laboured fearfully, the 
 engines strained and worked unsteadily, while tlie sea at 
 intervals made a breach of the deck. At two o'clock a more 
 gloomy spectacle presented itself; and despondency seemed 
 to have seized all on board, as a sharp, cone-like sea boarded 
 the ship abaft, carried away the quarter-boats from the 
 starboard davys, and started several stancheons. Scarcely 
 was the work of destruction complete, when the condenser 
 of the larboard engine gave out, rendering the machine 
 useless, and spreading dismay among the passengers. Thus, 
 dragging the wheel in so fearful a sea strained the ship 
 more and more, and rendered her almost unmanageable. 
 Again a heavy, clanking noise was heard, the steam rumbled 
 from the funnel, thick vapour escaped from the hatchways, 
 the starboard engine stopped, and consternation reigned tri 
 umphant, as a man in oily fustian approached the captain 
 and announced both engines disabled. The unmanageable 
 monster now rolled and surged at the sweep of each suc 
 ceeding sea, which threatened to engulph her in its sway. 
 A piece of canvas is set in the main rigging, and her helm 
 put hard down, in the hope of keeping her head to the wind 
 But she obeys not its direction. Suddenly she yaws off ink. 
 the trough of the sea, lurches broad on, and ere she regains 
 her way, a fierce sea sweeps the house from the decks, car 
 rying those within it into a watery grave. Shrieks and 
 moans, for a moment, mingle their painful discord with
 
 THE PATE OF FBANCONIA. 529 
 
 the murmuring wind, and all is buried in the roar of the 
 elements. By bracing the fore-yard hard-a-starboard the 
 unwieldy wreck is got before the wind ; but the smoke- 
 funnel has followed the house, and so complete is the work 
 of demolition that it is with difficulty she can be kept 
 afloat. Those who were in the main, or lower cabin, 
 startled at the sudden crash which had removed the house 
 above, and leaving the passages open, exposing them to 
 the rushing water that invaded their state-rooms, seek the 
 deck, where a more dismal sight is presented in the frag 
 ments of wreck spread from knight-head to taffrail. The 
 anxious captain, having descended from the upper deck a 
 few minutes before the dire calamity, is saved to his passen 
 gers, with whom and his men he labours to make safe what 
 remains of his noble ship. Now more at ease in the sea, 
 with canvas brought from the store-rooms, are the hatches 
 and companions battened down, the splintered stancheous 
 cleared away, and extra pumps prepared for clearing 
 the water fast gaining in the lower hold. Lumber 
 ing moves the heavy mass over the mounting surge ; but a 
 serious leak having sprung in the bow, consternation and 
 alarm seem on the point of adding to the sources of danger. 
 " Coolness is our safeguard," says the captain. Indeed, 
 the exercise of that all-important virtue when destruction 
 threatens would have saved thousands from watery graves. 
 
 His admonition was heeded, all worked cheerfully, and 
 for some time the water was kept within bounds of subjec 
 tion. As night approached the sea became calmer, a bright 
 streak gleamed along the western horizon; hearts that had 
 sorrowed gladdened with joy, as the murky clouds overhead 
 chased quickly into the east and dissolved, and the blue 
 arch of heaven hung with pearly stars of hope shed its 
 peaceful glows over the murmuring sea. 
 
 Again the night was passed in incessant labour of pump 
 ing and clearing up the dismantled hull ; but when day 
 light appeared, the wind having veered and increased, the 
 sea ran in short swells, rocking the unwieldly hull, and 
 fearfully straining every timber in its frame. The leak now 
 increased rapidly, as also did the water in the hold, now 
 beyond their exertions to clear. At ten o'clock all hopes of 
 keeping the wreck afloat had disappeared ; and the las* 
 alternative of a watery grave, or launching upon the broad
 
 530 THE FATE OF FRANCONIA. 
 
 ocean, presented its stern terms for their acceptance). A 
 council decided to adopt the latter, when, as the hulk began 
 to settle in the sea, and with no little danger of swamping, 
 boats were launched, supplied with such stores as were at 
 hand, the passengers and crew embarked, and the frail 
 barks sent away with their hapless freight to seek a haven 
 of safety. The leviathan hulk soon disappeared from sight. 
 Franconia, with twenty-five fellow unfortunates, five of whom 
 were females, had embarked in the mate's boat, which now 
 shaped her course for Nassau, the wind having veered into 
 the north-west, and that seeming the nearest and most 
 available point. The clothing they stood in was all they 
 saved ; but with that readiness to protect the female, so 
 characteristic and noble of the sailor, the mate and his men 
 lightened the sufferings of the women by giving them a 
 portion of their own : incasing them with their jackets aud 
 fearnoughts, they would shield them from the night chill. 
 For five days were sufferings endured without a murmur 
 that can only be appreciated by those who have passed 
 through shipwreck, or, tossed upon the ocean in an open 
 boat, been left to stare in the face grim hunger and 
 death. At noonday they sighted land ahead ; and as each 
 eager eye strained for the welcome sight, it seemed rising 
 from the ocean in a dim line of haze. Slowly, as they neared, 
 did it come bolder and bolder to view, until it shone out 
 a long belt of white panoramic banks. Low, and to the 
 unpractised eye deceptive of distance, the mate pronouncea 
 it not many miles off, and, the wind freshening fair, kept the 
 little bark steadily on her course, hoping thereby to gain it 
 before night came on : but the sun sank in a heavy cloud 
 when yet some four miles intervened. Distinctly they saw 
 a cluster of houses on a projecting point nearly ahead ; but 
 not a sail was off shore, to which the increasing wind was 
 driving them with great violence. 
 
 And now that object which had been sighted with so 
 much welcome in the morning that had cheered many a 
 drooping heart, and seemed a haven of safety, threatened 
 their destruction. The water shoaled ; the sea broke and 
 surged in sharp cones ; the little craft tippled and yawed 
 confusedly ; the counter eddies twirled and whirled in 
 foaming concaves ; and leaden clouds again hung their 
 threatening festoons over the awful sea. To lay her head
 
 THE FATE OF FRANCONIA. 531 
 
 to the sea was impracticable an attempt to " lay-to " under 
 the little sail would be madness ; onward she rode, hurrying 
 to an inevitable fate. Away she swept through the white 
 crests, as the wind murmured and the sea roared, and the 
 anxious countenance of the mate, still guiding the craft 
 with a steady hand, seemed masked in watchfulness. 
 His hand remained firm to the helm, his eyes peered 
 into the black prospect ahead: but not a word did he 
 utter. 
 
 It was near "ten o'clock, when a noise as of thunder rolling 
 in the distance, and re-echoing in booming accents, broke 
 fearfully upon their ears. The sea, every moment threaten 
 ing to engulph the little craft, to sweep its freight of 
 human beings into eternity, and to seal for ever all traces 
 of their fate, was now the lesser enemy. Not a^word had 
 escaped the lips of a being on board for several minutes ; 
 all seemed resigned to whatever fate Providence awarded. 
 
 " The beach roars, Mr. Slade " 
 
 The mate interrupted before the seaman in the sheets had 
 time to finish his sentence : " I have not been deaf to the 
 breakers ; but there is no hope for us but upon the beach ; 
 and may heaven save us there ! Passengers, be calm ! let 
 me enjoin you to remain firm to your places, and, if it be 
 God's will that we strike, the curling surf may be our 
 deliverer. If it carry you to the sand in its sweep, press 
 quickly and resolutely forward, lest it drag you back in its 
 grasp, and bury you beneath its angry surge. Be firm, and 
 hope for the best !" he said, with great firmness. The man 
 who first spoke sat near Franeonia, and during the five days 
 they had been in the boat exhibited great sympathy and 
 kindness of heart. He had served her with food, and, 
 though a common sailor, displayed those traits of tenderness 
 for the suffering which it were well if those in higher 
 sphereo of life did but imitate. As the mate ceased speaking, 
 the man took his pilot coat from his shoulder and placed it 
 about Franconia's, saying, " I will save this lady, or die with 
 her in the very same sea." 
 
 " That's well done, Mr. Higgins ! (for such was the man's- 
 name). Let the hardiest not forget the females who have 
 shown so much fortitude under trying circumstances ; let 
 the strong not forget the weak, but all save who can,'* 
 returned the mate, as he scanned through the stormy
 
 532 THE FATE OF FEAKCONIA. 
 
 elements ahead, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the 
 point. 
 
 Drenched with the "briny spray that swept over the 
 little bark, never did woman exhibit fortitude more reso 
 lute. Franconia thanked the man for his solicitude, 
 laid her hand nervously upon his arm, and, through the 
 dark, watched his countenance as if her fate was in its 
 changes. 
 
 The din and murmur of the surf now rose high above 
 the wail of the sea. Fearful and gloomy, a fretted shore 
 stood out before them, extending from a bold jut on the 
 starboard hand away into the darkness on the left. Be 
 neath it the angry surf beat and lashed against the 
 beach in a sheet of white foam, roaring in dismal ca 
 dences. 
 
 " Hadn't you better put her broad on, Mr. Slade ?'" 
 enquired the young seaman, peering along the line of surf 
 that bordered the shore with its deluging bank. 
 
 " Ask no questions !" returned the mate, in a firm voice : 
 " Act to the moment, when she strikes I will act until 
 then." At the moment a terrific rumbling broke forth ; 
 the din of elements seemed in battle conflict ; the little 
 bark, as if by some unforeseen force, swept through the lash 
 ing surge, over a high curling wave, and with a fearful crash 
 lay buriedin theboiling sand. Agonising shrieks sounded amid 
 the rage of elements ; and then fainter and fainter they died 
 away on thewind's murmurs. Another moment, and the young 
 sailor might have been seen, Franconia' s slender form in his 
 arms, struggling against the devouring surf; but how vain 
 against the fierce monster were his noble efforts ! The re 
 ceding surge swept them far from the shore, and buried 
 them in its folds, a watery grave received the fair form of 
 one whose life of love had been spotless, just, and holy. 
 The white wave was her winding-sheet, the wind sang a 
 requiem over her watery grave, and a just God received her 
 spirit, and enthroned it high among the angels. 
 
 Of the twenty-seven who embarked in the little craft, but 
 two gained the beach, where they stood drenched and for 
 lorn, as if contemplating the raging surf that had but a 
 minute before swallowed up their fellow voyagers. The 
 boat had driven on a flat sandy beach some two miles from
 
 THE FATE OF FRANCONIA. 533 
 
 the point on which stood the cluster of 'dwellings before de 
 scribed ; and from which two bright lights glimmered, like bea 
 cons to guide the forlorn mariner. For them, the escaped men 
 one a passenger, the other a seaman shaped their course, wet, 
 and sad at heart.
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 IN WHICH IS A SAD RECOGNITION. 
 
 THE mate did not mistake his position, for the jut of 
 land we described in the last chapter is but a few hours' ride 
 from Nassau, and the houses are inhabited by wreckers. 
 With desponding hearts did our unfortunates approach ono 
 of the rude cabins, from the window of which a faint light 
 glimmered, and hesitate at the door, as if doubting the re 
 ception they were about to receive. The roaring of the 
 beach, and the sharp whistling of the wind, as in clouds it 
 scattered the sand through the air, drowned what sound 
 might otherwise be heard from within. " This cabin seems 
 deserted," says one, as he taps on the door a second time. 
 " No, that cannot be !" returns the other, peering through 
 a small window into the barrack-like room. It was from 
 this window the light shone, and, being a bleak November 
 night, a wood fire blazed on the great hearth, shedding 
 its lurid glows over everything around. It is the pale, saline 
 light of wreckwood. A large binnacle lamp, of copper, 
 hung from the centre of the ceiling, its murky light 
 mingling in curious contrast to the pale shadows of the 
 wreckwood fire. Rude chains, and chests, and boxes, and 
 ropes, and canvas, and broken bolts of copper, and pieces of 
 valuable wood, and various nautical relics all indicating 
 the trade of shipwreck, lie or stand promiscuously 
 about the room ; while in the centre is a table surrounded 
 by chairs, some of which are turned aside, as if the occu 
 pants had just left. Again, there may be seen hanging 
 from the unplastered walls numerous teeth of fish, bones 
 and Jaws of sharks, fins and flukes of curious species, heads 
 of the Fliridian mamalukes, and preserved dolphins all is 
 interspersed here and there with coloured prints, illustrative 
 of Jack's leaving or returning to his favourite Mary, with a 
 lingering farewell or fond embrace. 
 Louder and louder, assured of some living being within
 
 A. SAD SECOGNITION. 535 
 
 they knock at the door, until a hoarse voice rather roara 
 than speaks "Aye, aye! hold hard a bit! I'se bearin' a 
 hand !" The sound came as if from the clouds, for not a 
 living being was visible. A pause followed ; then suddenly 
 a pair of dingy legs and feet descended from a small opening 
 above the window, which, until that moment, had escaped 
 their no'tice. The sight was, indeed, not the most en 
 couraging to weak nerves. Clumsily lowered the legs, the 
 feet making a ladder of cleets of wood nailed to the window, 
 until the burly figure of the wrecker, encased with red 
 shirt and blue trousers, stood out full to view. Over 
 his head stood bristly hair in jagged tufts ; and as he 
 drew his brawny hand over the broad disc of his sun- 
 scorched face, winking and twisting his eyes in the glare, 
 there stood boldly outlined on his features the index of 
 his profession. He shrugged his shoulders, gathered his 
 nether garments quickly about him, paused as if half con 
 fused and half overjoyed, then ran to the fire-place, threw 
 into a heap the charred wood with a long wooden poker, 
 and sought the door, saying " Avast heavin a bit, Tom !'' 
 Having removed a wooden bar, he stands in the opening, 
 braving out the storm. " A screachin nor'-easter this, 
 Tom what'r ye sighted away, eh !" he concludes. He 
 is' to use a vulgar term aghast with surprise. It was 
 Tom Dasher's watch to-night; but no Tom stands before him. 
 " Hallo ! From whence came you ?" he enquires of the 
 stranger, with an air of anxious surprise. He bids them 
 come in, for the wind carries the sand rushing into his 
 domicile. 
 
 "We are shipwrecked men in distress," says the pas 
 senger the wrecker, with an air of kindness, motioning 
 them to sit down: " Our party have been swallowed up in 
 the surf a short distance below, and we are the only survivors 
 here seeking shelter." 
 
 " Zounds you say God be merciful !" interrupts the 
 hardy wrecker, ere the stranger had time to finish his sen 
 tence. " It was Tom's look-out to-night. Ita oilers the 
 way wi* him he gits turned in, and sleeps as niver a body 
 see'd, and when time comes to unbunk himself, one disn't 
 know whether 'ts wind or Tom's snoarin cracks hardest. 
 Well, well, God help us ! Think ye now, if wife and I, 
 didn't, in a half sort of dream, fancy folks murmuring and
 
 586 A SAB 
 
 crying on the beach about twelve, say. But the wind and 
 the surf kept up such a piping, and Tom said ther war 
 nought a sight at sundown." With a warm expression of 
 good intention did our hardy host set about the preparing 
 something to cheer their drooping spirits. " Be at home 
 there wi' me," says he ; " and it' tilings b'nt as fine as they 
 might be, remember we're poor folks, and have many a hard 
 knock on the reefs for what we drag out. Excuse the bits 
 o' things ye may see about ; and wife '11 be down in a fip 
 and do the vary best she can fo'h ye." He had a warm heart 
 concealed beneath that rough exterior; he had long followed 
 the daring profession, seen much suffering, lightened many a 
 Borrowing heart. Bustling about among old boxes and bags, 
 he soon drew forth a lot of blankets and qailts, which he spread 
 upon the broad brick hearth, at the same time keeping up a 
 series of questions they found difficult to answer, so rapidly 
 were they put. They had indeed fallen into the hands of a 
 good Samaritan, who would dress their wounds with his best 
 balms. 
 
 " An' now I tak it ye must be famished ; so my old 
 woman muat get up an' help mak ye comfortable," says he, 
 bringing forth a black tea-kettle, and filling it from a pail 
 that stood on a shelf near the fire -frame. He will hang it 
 on the fire. He had no need of calling the good dame ; for 
 as suddenly as mysteriously does the chubby figure of a 
 motherly-looking female of some forty years shoot from 
 the before described opening, and greeting the strangers 
 with a hearty welcome, set about preparing something to 
 relieve their exhaustion. A gentle smile pervades her little 
 red face, so simply expressive , her peaked cap shines so 
 brightly in contrast with the black ribbon with which she 
 secures it under her mole-bedecked chin ; and her short 
 homespun frock sets so comely, showing her thick knit 
 stockings, and her feet well protected in calfskin laces, with 
 heels a trooper might not despise ; and then, she spreads 
 her little table with a heartiness that adds its value to simple 
 goodness, her invitingly clean cups and saucers, arid 
 knives and forks, as she spreads them, look so cheerful. The 
 kettle begins to sing, and the steam fumes from the spout, 
 and the hardy wrecker brings his bottle of old Jamaica, and 
 his sugar ; and such a bowl of hot punch was never made 
 before. " Come now," he says, "ye're in my little place ;
 
 A SAD RECOGNITION. 637 
 
 the wrecker as don't make the distressed comfortable 
 aneath his ruf 's a disgrace to the craft." And now he 
 hands each a mug of steaming punch, whicli they wel- 
 comely receive, a glow of satisfaction bespreading his face, 
 telling with what sincerity he gives it. Ere they com 
 menced sipping, the good dame brought pilot bread and 
 set it before them; and while she returned to preparing 
 her supper the wrecker draws his wooden seat by their 
 side, and with ears attentive listens to the passenger as he 
 recites the disaster. 
 
 " Only two out of twenty-seven saved a sorry place 
 that gulf!" he exclaims; "you bear away, wife. Ah, 
 many a good body's bones, too, have whitened the beach 
 beside us ; many 's the bold fellow has been dashed upon it 
 to die unknown," he continues, with serious face. " And 
 war ner onny wemen amang ye, good man ?" interposes the 
 good dame. 
 
 " Seven ; they have all passed into eternity !" rejoins the 
 seaman, who, till then, had been a mute looker-on. 
 
 " Poor souls ! how they mun' 'ave suffered I" she sighs, 
 shaking her head, and leaning against the great fire frame, 
 as her eyes fill with tears. The wrecker must needs acquaint 
 Tom Dasher, bring him to his aid, and, though the storm 
 yet rages, go search the beating surf where roll the unfor 
 tunates. Nay, the good dame will herself execute the 
 errand of mercy, while he supplies the strangers with dry 
 clothes ; she will bring Tom hither. She fears not the tem 
 pest while her soul warms to do good ; she will comfort the 
 distressed who seek shelter under her roof. With the best 
 his rough wardrobe affords does the wreckev clothe them, 
 while his good wife, getting Tom up, relates her story, and 
 hastens back with him to her domicile. Tom is an intrepid 
 seafarer, has spent some seven years wrecking, saved many a 
 life from the grasp of the grand Bahama, and laid up a good 
 bit of money lest some stormy day may overtake him and 
 make the wife a widow. 
 
 " This is a hard case, Stores 1" says Tom, addressing 
 himself to our wrecker, as with sharp, hairy i'ace, and 
 keen black eyes, his countenance assumes great serious 
 ness. Giving his sou'-wester a cant back on his head, 
 running his left hand deep into the pockot of hia pea-jacket,
 
 538 A SAD RECOGNITION. 
 
 and supplying I is mouth with tobacco from his right, he 
 stands his tall figure carelessly before the fire, and in a 
 contemplative mood remains silent for a few minutes. 
 
 "Aye, but somethin' mun' be done, Tom," says the first 
 wrecker, breaking silence. 
 
 " Yes ; as my name is Tom Dasher, there must. We 
 must go to the beach, and see what it's turned up, what 
 there is to be seen, an' the like o' that." Then, turning to 
 the strangers, he continued, " Pity yer skipper hadn't a 
 headed her two points further suthard, rounded the point 
 just above here a bit, and made a lee under the bend. Our 
 craft lies there now, as snug as Tompkins' wife in her 
 chamber !" 
 
 "Yes, but, Tom! ye dinna think as the poor folks 
 could know all things," speaks up the woman, as Tom was 
 about to add a few items more, merely to give the strangers 
 some evidence of his skill. 
 
 " Aye, aye, all right ; I didn't get the balance on't just 
 then," returned Tom, nodding his head with an air of 
 satisfaction. 
 
 A nice supper of broiled fish, and toast, and tea, and hot 
 rum punch of which Tom helped himself without stint 
 was set out, the strangers invited to draw up, and all 
 partook of the plain but cheering fare. As daylight was 
 fast approaching, the two wreckers dispatched their meal 
 before the others, and sought the spot on the beach de 
 scribed as where the fatal wreck took place, while the good 
 dame put the shipwrecked to sleep in the attic, and covered 
 them with her warmest rugs and blankets. 
 
 Not a vestige of the wreck was to be seen not a 
 fragment to mark the spot where but a few hours before 
 twenty-five souls were hurried into eternity. They stood 
 and stood, scanning over the angry ocean into the gloom : 
 nothing save the wail of the wind and the sea's roar greeted 
 their ears. Tom Dasher thinks either they have been borne 
 out into the fathomless caves, or the men are knaves with 
 false stories in their mouths. 
 
 Stores, for such is our good man's name turning from 
 the spot, says daylight will disclose a different scene ; with 
 the wind as it is the bodies will be drawn into the eddy 
 on the point, and thrown ashore by the under- current, for
 
 A SAD RECOGNITION. 539 
 
 burial. " Poor creatures ! there's no help for them now ;" 
 he adds, sighing, as they wend their way back to the cabin, 
 where the good dame waits their coming. Their search 
 was in vain; having no news to bring her, she must be 
 contented until morning. If the bodies wash ashore, the 
 good woman of the Humane Society will come down from 
 the town, and see them decently buried. Stores has several 
 times spoken of this good woman ; were she a ministering 
 angel he could not speak of her name with more reverence. 
 Eor years, he tells us, has she been a harbinger of good, 
 ever relieving the sick and needy, cheering the downcast, 
 protecting the unfortunate. Her name has become a 
 symbol of compassion ; she mingles with the richest and 
 the poorest, and none know her but to love and esteem 
 her. " And she, too, is an American lady !" Stores says,, 
 exultingly. And to judge from his praise, we should say, 
 if her many noble deeds were recorded on fair marble, it 
 would not add one jot to that impression of her goo'dnesa 
 made on the hearts of the people among whom she lives. 
 
 "Ah, man! she's a good woman, and everybody loves and 
 looks up to her. And she's worth loving, too, because she's 
 so kind," adds the good dame, significantly canting her head. 
 Daylight was now breaking in the east, and as there 
 seemed no chance of making a search on the bank that 
 day, such was the fierceness of the wind, the two men 
 drank again of the punch, spread their blankets before the 
 fire, lay their hardy figures down, and were soon in a 
 profound sleep. The woman, more watchful, coiled herself 
 in a corner of the room on some sail-cloth, but did not 
 steep. 
 
 At ten o'clock they were aroused by the neighbours, 
 who, in great anxiety, had come to inform them of an event 
 they were already conscious of, adding, however, as an 
 evidence of what had taken place, that sixteen male and 
 three female bodies, borne to the rips at the point, had been 
 thrown upon the shore. The denizens of the point were 
 indeed in a state of excitement ; a messenger had been sent 
 into the town for the coroner, which said functionary soon 
 spread the news about, creating no little commotion among 
 the inhabitants, many of whom repaired to the scene of 
 the disaster. 35 ^
 
 540 A SAD RECOGNITION. 
 
 "WTien it became known that two witnesses to the dire 
 misfortune had been spared to tell the tale, and were now 
 at Stores' house, the excitement calmed into sympathy. 
 The wrecker's little village resounded with curious enquiries, 
 and few were they who would be satisfied without a recital 
 of the sad tale by the rescued men. 
 
 Carefully they brought the dead bodies from the shore, 
 and laid them in an untenanted house, to await the coroner's 
 order. Among them was the slender form of Franconia, 
 the dark dress in which she was clad but little torn, and the 
 rings yet remaining on her fingers. " How with fortitude 
 she bore the suffering !" said the rescued passenger, gazing 
 on her blanched features as they laid her on the floor : the 
 wrecker's wife covered her with a white sheet, and spread 
 a pillow carefully beneath her head. 
 
 "Yes!" returns the unfortunate seaman, who stood by 
 his side, " she seemed of great goodness and gentleness. 
 She said nothing, bore everything without a murmur ; she 
 was Higgins' pet ; and I'll lay he died trying to save her, 
 for never a braver fellow than Jack Higgins stood trick at 
 a wheel. 
 
 The coroner arrives as the last corpse is brought from 
 the sand : he holds his brief inquest, orders them buried, and 
 retires. Soon, three ladies Stores' wife tells us they are of 
 the Humane Society make their appearance in search of the 
 deceased. They enter Stores' house, greet his good dame 
 familiarly, and remain seated while she relates what has 
 happened. One of the three is tall and stately of figure, 
 and dressed with that quiet taste so becoming a lady. And 
 while to the less observing eye no visible superiority over the 
 others is discernible, it is evident they view her in such a light, 
 always yielding to her counsels. Beneath a silk bonnet 
 trimmed with great neatness, is disclosed a finely oval 
 face, glowing with features of much regularity, large dark 
 e^es of great softness, and silky hair, laid in heavy wavy 
 folds across a beautifully arched brow to which is added 
 a sweet smile that ever and anon plays over her slightly olive 
 countenance. There, boldly outlined, is the unmistakeable 
 guide to a frank and gentle nature. For several minutes does 
 she listen to the honest woman's recital of the sad event, which 
 is suspended by the passenger making his appearance. 
 The wrecker's wife introduces him by motioning her hand,
 
 A SAD lEcocuriTioir. 541 
 
 and saying, " This is the kind lady of whose goodness I 
 spoke so last night." Anxiously does she gather from the 
 stranger each and every incident of the voyage : this done, 
 she will go to the house where lay the dead, our good 
 Dame Stores leading the way, talking from the very honesty 
 of her heart the while. In a small dilapidated dwelling on 
 the bleak sands, the dead lay. Children and old men linger 
 about the door, now they make strange mutterings,and walk 
 away, as if in fear. Our messengers of mercy have entered 
 the abode of the dead. The wrecker's wife says, " They 
 are to be buried to-morrow, ma'am ;" while the lady, with 
 singular firmness, glances her eye along the row of male 
 bodies, counting them one by one. She has brought 
 shrouds, in which to bury them like Christians. 
 
 " Them three females is here, ma'am," says Dame Stores, 
 touching the lady on the elbow, as she proceeds to uncover 
 the bodies. The passenger did, indeed, tell our Lady of 
 Mercy there was one handsome lady from Carolina. One 
 by one she views their blanched and besanded features. 
 
 "A bonny figure that, mum- I lay she's bin a handsome 
 in her day," with honest simplicity remarks Dame Stores, 
 as, bent over the lifeless body of Franconia, she turns back 
 the sheet, carefully. " Yes," is the quick reply : the philan 
 thropic woman's keen eye scans along the body from head 
 to foot. Dame Stores will part the silken hair from off that 
 cold brow, and smooth it with her hand. Suddenly our 
 lady's eyes dart forth anxiety ; she recognises some 
 familiar feature, and trembles. The rescued seaman had 
 been quietly viewing the bodies, as if to distinguish their 
 different persons, when a wrecker, who had assisted in 
 removing the bodies, entered the room and approached him. 
 "Ah!" exclaims the seaman, suddenly, "yonder's poor 
 Jack Higgins." He points to a besanded body at the 
 right, the arms torn and bent partly over the breast, adding, 
 " Jack had a good heart, he had." Turning half round, th 
 wrecker replies, " That 'un had this 'un. fast grappled in his 
 arms ; it was a time afore we got 'urn apart." 
 
 " Was it this body 1 '' enquires the lady, looking at the 
 lifeless form before her. He says, " That same, ma'am ; an' 
 it looked as if he had tried to save the slender woman." 
 He points to the body which Dame Stores has just uncov 
 ered. The good lady kneels over the body : her face suddenly
 
 642 A SAD BECOGmiTIOH. 
 
 becomes pale ; her lips purple and quiver ; she seems sink 
 ing with nervous excitement, as tremulously she seizes the 
 blanched hand in her own. Cold and frigid, it will not 
 yield to her touch. " That face those brows, those pearly 
 teeth, those lips so delicate, those hands, those deathless 
 emblems ! how like Franconia they seem," she ejaculates 
 frantically, the bystanders looking on with surprise. " And 
 are they not my Franconia' s my dear deliverer's ?" she 
 continues. She smooths the cold hands, and chafes them in 
 her own. The rings thereon were a present from Marston. 
 " Those features like unto chiselled marble are hers ; I am 
 not deceived : no ! oh no ! it cannot be a dream (in sorrow 
 she shakes her head as the tears begin to moisten her 
 cheeks), she received my letter, and was on her way seeking 
 me. v Again she smooths and smooths her left hand over 
 those pallid cheeks, her right still pressing the cold hand of 
 the corpse, as her emotions burst forth in agonising sobs. 
 
 The wrecker's wife loosens the dress from about deceased's 
 neck, bares that bosom once so fair and beautiful. A small 
 locket, attached to a plain black necklace, lies upon it, like 
 a moat on a snowy surface. Nervously does the good 
 woman grasp it, and opening it behold a miniature of 
 Marston, a facsimile of which is in her own possession. 
 " Somethin' more 'ere, mum," says Dame Stores, drawing 
 from beneath a lace stomacher the lap of her chemise, on 
 which is written in indelible ink " Franconia M'Carstrow." 
 The doubt no longer lent its aid to hope ; the lady's 
 sorrowing heart can no longer withstand the shock. Weep 
 ing tears of anguish, she says, " May the God of all 
 goodness preserve her pure spirit, for it is my Franconia ! 
 she who was my saviour ; she it was who snatched me from 
 death, and put my feet on the dry land of freedom, and 
 
 gave me ah, me !" she shrieked, and fell swooning over 
 
 the lifeless body, ere Dame Stores had time to clasp her in 
 her arms. 
 
 My reader can scarcely have failed to recognise in this 
 messenger of mercy, this good woman who had so ennobled 
 herself by seeking the sufferer and relieving his wants, and 
 who makes light the cares of the lowly, the person of that 
 slave-mother, Clotilda. Having drank of the bitterness of 
 slavery, she the more earnestly cheers the desponding. That 
 lifeless form, once so bright of beauty, so buoyant of heart
 
 A SAD RECOGNITION. 543 
 
 and joyous of spirit, is Eranconia ; she it was who delivered 
 the slave-mother from the yoke of bondage, set her feet on 
 freedom's heights, and on her head invoked its genial 
 blessings. Her soul had yearned for the slave's good ; she 
 had been a mother to Annette, and dared snatch her from 
 him Tvho made the slave a wretch, democracy his boast ! 
 It wo,s Franconia who placed the miniature of Marston 
 about Clotilda's neck on the night she effected her escape, 
 bid her Grod speed , into freedom. All that once so 
 abounded in goodness now lies cold in death. Eternity has 
 closed her lips with its strong seal, no longer shall her 
 soul be harassed with the wrongs of a slave world : no ! her 
 pure spirit has ascended among the angels. 
 
 We will not longer pain the reader's feelings with details 
 of this sad recognition, but inform him that the body was 
 removed to Clotilda's peaceful habitation, from whence, 
 with becoming ceremony, it was buried on the following day. 
 A small marble tablet, standing in a sequestered church 
 yard near the outskirts of Nassau, and on which the 
 traveller may read these simple words : " Franconia, my 
 friend, lie^here ! " over which, in a circle, is chiseled the figure 
 of an angel descending, and beneath, " How happy in Heaven 
 are the Good ! " marks the spot where her ashes rest in peace.
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 IN WHICH A DANGEROUS PRINCIPLE IS ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 SHOULD the sagacious reader be disappointed in our hero 
 Nicholas, who, instead of being represented as a model of 
 disinterestedness, perilling his life to save others, sacrificing 
 his own interests for the cause of liberty, and wasting on 
 hardened mankind all those amiable qualities which belong 
 only to angels, but with which heroes are generally invested 
 for the happy purpose of pleasing the lover of romance, 
 has evinced little else than an unbending will, he will find 
 a palliation in that condition of life to which his oppressors 
 have forced him to submit. Had Nicholas enjoyed his 
 -liberty, many incidents of a purely disinterested character 
 might have been recorded to his fame, for indeed he had 
 noble traits. That we have not put fiery word^s into his 
 mouth, with which to execrate the tyrant, while invoking 
 the vengeance of heaven and, too, that we are guilty of the 
 ci'ime of thus suddenly transferring him from boyhood to 
 manhood, nor have hanged him to please the envious aiul 
 vicious, will find excuse with the indulgent reader, who will 
 be kind enough to consider that it is our business to 
 relate facts as they are, to the performance of which 
 -unthankful though it may be we have drawn from the 
 abundance of material placed in our hand by the southern 
 world. We may misname characters and transpose 
 scenes, but southern manners and customs we have trans 
 cribed from nature, to which stern book we have religiously 
 adhered. And, too (if the reader will pardon the digression), 
 though we never have agreed with our very best admirers of 
 the galJows,some of whom hold it a meansof correcting morals 
 nor,are yet ready to yield assent to the opinionsof the many, 
 so popularly laid down in favour of what we consider a 
 medium of very unwholesome influence, we readily admit the 
 existence of many persons who have well merited a very 
 good hanging. But, were the same rules of evidence 
 admissible in a court of law when a thief is on trial, applied
 
 DANGEBOUS PBISTCIPLES ILLUSTRATED. 545 
 
 against the practice of "publicly hanging," there would be 
 little difficulty in convicting it of inciting to crime. Not 
 only does the problem of complex philosophy the reader 
 may make the philosophy to suit his taste presented in 
 the contrariety of scenes on and about the gallows offer some 
 thing irreconcileable to ordinary minds, but gives to the 
 humorous large means with which to feast their love of the 
 ludicrous. On the scaffold of destruction, our good brothers 
 of the clergy would, pointing to the " awful example," 
 assure the motley assembly gathered beneath, that he hath 
 purified that soul, which will surely be accepted in heaven ; 
 but, he can in no wise condescend to let it, still directing the 
 flesh, live on the less pure platform of earth. With eager 
 eyes, the mass beneath him, their morbid appetites curiously 
 distended, heed not the good admonition ; nay, the curious 
 wait in breathless suspense the launching a human being 
 into eternity ; the vicious are busy in crime the while ; the 
 heedless make gay the holiday. Sum up the invention and 
 perpetration of crime beneath the gallows on one of those 
 singular gala-days, and the culprit expiating his guilt at 
 the rope's end, as an "awful warning," will indeed have dis 
 closed a shallow mockery. Taking this view of the hanging 
 question, though we would deprive no man of his enjoy 
 ment, we deem it highly improper that our hero should die 
 by any other means than that which the chivalrous sons of 
 the south declared " actually necessary." 
 
 But before proceeding further with Nicholas, it may be 
 proper here to state that Annette and the stranger, in 
 whose hands we left her, have arrived safe at New York. 
 Maxwell for such is his name is with his uncle engaged 
 in a lucrative commercial business ; while Annette, for 
 reasons we shall hereafter explain, instead of forthwith 
 seeking the arms 'of an affectionate mother, is being educated 
 at a female seminary in a village situated on the left bjftik 
 of the Hudson River. 
 
 In returning to Nicholas, the reader will remember that 
 Grabguy was something of a philosopher, the all-important 
 functions of which medium he invoked on the occasion of his 
 ejectment from Fetter's court, for an interference which 
 might at that moment have been taken as evidence of repent 
 ance. The truth, however, was, that Grabguy, in the exercise 
 of his philosophy, found the cash value of his slave about to
 
 646 DANOEBOUS PEIKCIFLES ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 be obliterated by the carrying out of Fetter's awful sentence. 
 Here there rose that strange complexity which the physical 
 action and mental force of slave property, acting in con 
 trariety, so often produce. The physical of the slave was 
 very valuable, and could be made to yield ; but the mental 
 being all powerful to oppose, completely annulled the 
 monetary worth. But by allowing the lacerations to heal, 
 sending him to New Orleans, and making a positive sale, 
 some thousand or twelve hundred dollars might be saved ; 
 whereas, did Fetter's judgment take effect, Mr. Grabguy 
 must content himself with the state's more humble award of 
 two hundred dollars, less the trouble of getting. In this 
 democratic perplexity did our economical alderman find 
 himself placed, when, again invoking his philosophy not in 
 virtue of any sympathetic admonition, for sympathy was 
 not of Grabguy he soon found means of protecting his 
 interests. To this end he sought and obtained an order 
 from the Court of Appeals, which grave judiciary, after 
 duly considering the evidence on which the criminal was 
 convicted before Fetter's tribunal, was of opinion that 
 evidence had been improperly extorted by cruelty ; and, in 
 accordance with that opinion, ordered a new trial, which 
 said trial would be dististinguished above that at Fetter's 
 court by being presided over by a judicial magistrate. 
 This distinguished functionary, the judicial magistrate, who 
 generally hears the appeals from F'etter's court, is a man 
 of the name of Fairweather Fuddle, a clever wag, whose 
 great good-nature is only equalled by the rotundity of his 
 person, which is not a bad portraiture of our much-abused 
 Sir John Falstaff, as represented by the heavy men of our 
 country theatres. Now, to enter upon an analysis of the 
 vast difference between Fetter's court in ordinary, and 
 Fuddle's court in judiciary, would require the aid of more 
 pmlosophy than we are capable of summoning ; nor would 
 the sagacious reader be enlightened thereby, inasmuch as 
 the learned of our own atmosphere have spent much study 
 on the question without arriving at any favourable result. 
 Very low people, 'tnd intelligent negroes whooe simple 
 mode of solving difficult problems frequently produces 
 results nearest the truth do say without fear or trembling 
 that the distinction between these great courts exists in the 
 fact of Justice Fuddle drinking the more perfect brandy.
 
 DANGEROUS PRINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED. 547 
 
 Now, whether the quality of brandy has anything to do 
 with the purity of ideas, the character of the judiciary, or the 
 tempering of the sentences, we will leave to the reader's dis 
 crimination ; bat true it is, that, while Fetter's judgments are 
 always for the state, Fuddle leans to mercy and the master's 
 interests. Again, were Fuddle to evince that partiality for 
 the gallows which has become a trait of character with his 
 legal brother, it would avail him nothing, inasmuch as by 
 confirming Fetter's judgments the fees would alike remain. 
 that gentleman's. If, then, the reader reason on the philo 
 sophy of self-interest, he may find the fees, whi^h are in no 
 wise small, founding the great distinction between the 
 courts of Messrs. Fuddle and Fetter ; for by reversing 
 Fetter's judgments fees accrue to Fuddle's own court, and 
 belong to his own well-lined pocket ; whereas, did he confirm 
 them, not one cent of fees could he claim. The state 
 should without delay remedy this great wrong, and give its 
 judicial gentlemen a fair chance of proving their judgments 
 well founded in contrariety. We should not, forsooth, 
 forget to mention that Fuddle, in his love of decorum 
 though he scarce ever sat in judgment without absorbing 
 his punch the while never permitted in his forum the use 
 of those knock-down arguments which were always a prelude 
 to Fetter's judgments. 
 
 Before Fuddle's court, then, Grrahguy has succeeded in 
 getting a hearing for his convicted property, still mentally 
 obstinate. Not the least doubt has he of procuring a 
 judgment tempered by mercy ; for, having well drunk 
 Fuddle on the previous night, and improved the oppor 
 tunity for completely winning his distinguished considera 
 tion, he has not the slightest apprehension of being many 
 months deprived of his property merely to satisfy injured 
 justice. And, too, the evidence upon which Nicholas was 
 convicted in Fetter's court, of an attempt to create an 
 insurrection the most fatal charge against him was so 
 imperfect that the means of overthrowing it can be pur 
 chased of any of the attendant constables for a mere 
 trifle, oaths with such fellows being worth about sixty-two 
 and a half cents each. 
 
 If the reader will be pleased to fancy the trial before 
 Fetter's tribunal before described with the knock-down 
 arguments omitted, he will have a pretty clear idea of
 
 548 DANGEROUS PRINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 that now proceeding before Fuddle's ; and having such will 
 excuse our entering into details. Having heard the case 
 with most learned patience, the virtue of which has been 
 well sustained by goodly potions of Paul and Brown's 
 perfect " London Dock," Puddle, with grave deportment, 
 receives from the hands of the clerical-looking clerk a 
 broken-down gentleman of great legal ability the charge he 
 is about to make the jury. " Gentlemen," he says, 
 " I might, without any detriment to perfect impunity, 
 place the very highest encomiums on the capabilities 
 displayed in the seriousness you have given to this all- 
 important case, in which the state has such deep and consti 
 tutional interests ; but that I need not do here. The state 
 having placed in my possession such responsible functions, 
 no one more than me can feel the importance of the 
 position ; and which position has always been made the 
 judicial medium of equity and mercy. I hold moderation 
 to be the essential part of the judiciary, gentlemen ! And 
 here I would say (Fuddle directs himself to his gentlemanly 
 five) and your intelligence will bear me out in the state 
 ment, that the trial below seems to have been in error from 
 beginning to end. I say this understand, gentlemen ! 
 with all deference to my learned brother, Fetter, whose 
 judgments, in the exercise of the powers in me invested, 
 and with that respect for legal equity by which this 
 court is distinguished, it has become me so often to 
 reverse. On the charge of creating an insurrection rather 
 an absurdity, by the way you must discharge the prisoner, 
 there being no valid proof; whereas the charge of maiming 
 or raiding his hand to a white man, though clearly proved, 
 and according to the statutes a capital offence, could not in 
 the spirit of mercy which now prevails in our judiciary 
 and, here, let me say, which is emulated by that high state 
 of civilisation for which the people of this state are dis 
 tinguished be carried rigidly into effect. There is only 
 this one point, then, of maiming a white gentleman, with 
 
 intention Ah ! yes (a pause) the intention the 
 
 court thinks it as well not to mind ! open to you for a con 
 viction. Upon this point you will render your verdict, 
 guilty ; only adding a recommendation to the mercy of the 
 court." With this admonition, our august Mr. Fuddle, his 
 face glowing in importance, sita down to his mixture of Paul
 
 DANGEBOUS PRINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED. 549 
 
 and Brown's best. A few moments' pause during which 
 Fetter enters looking very anxious and the jury have made 
 up their verdict, which they submit on a slip of paper to the 
 clerk, who in turn presents it to Fuddle. That functionary 
 being busily engaged with his punch, is made conscious of 
 the document waiting his pleasure bv the audience bursting 
 into a roar of laughter at the comical picture presented in 
 the earnestness with which he regards his punch some of 
 which is streaming into his bosom and disregards the paper 
 held for some minutes in the clerk's hand, which is in close 
 proximity with his nasal organ. Starting suddenly, he lets 
 the goblet fall to the floor, his face flushing like a broad 
 moon in harvest-time, takes the paper in his fingers with 
 a bow, making three of the same nature to his audience, as 
 Fetter looks over the circular railing in front of the dock, 
 his face wearing a facetious smile. " Nigger boy will clear 
 away the break, prisoner at the bar will stand up for the 
 sentence, and the attending constable will reduce order !" 
 speaks Fuddle, relieving his pocket of a red kerchief with 
 which he will wipe his capacious mouth. These requests 
 being complied with, he continues having adjusted his 
 glasses most learnedly making a gesture with his right 
 hand " I hold in my hand the solemn verdict of an intelli 
 gent jury, who, after worthy and most mature deliberation, 
 find the prisoner at the bar, Nicholas Grrabguy, guilty of the 
 heinous olfence of raising his hand to a white man, whom 
 he severely maimed with a sharp-edged tool ; and the jury 
 in their wisdom, recognising the fact of their verdict involving 
 capital punishment, have, in the exercise of that enlightened 
 spirit which is inseparable from our age, recommended 
 him to the mercy of this court, and, in the discretion of that 
 power in me invested, I shall now pronounce sentence." 
 Prepare, the'n, ye lovers of civilisation, ye friends of humanity, 
 ye who would temper the laws of our land of freedom to the 
 circumstance of offences prepare, I say, to have your 
 ears and hearts made glad over the swelling sound of this 
 most enlightened sentence of a court, where judgments are 
 tempered with mercy. Our Lero, a chain hanging loosely 
 from his left arm, stands forward in the dock, his manly 
 deportment evincing a stern resolution to meet his fate un 
 subdued. Fuddle continues : " There is no appeal from, 
 this court ! (he forgot the court of a brighter world) and
 
 550 DANGEEOUS PRINCIPLES ILLUSTBATED. 
 
 in reversing the decision of the court below, I sentence 
 the prisoner to four years' imprisonment with hard labour, 
 two months' solitary confinement in each year, and thirty 
 blows with the paddle, on the first day of each month until 
 the expiration of the sentence." Such, reader, was Puddle's 
 merciful sentence upon one whose only crime was a love of 
 freedom and justice. Nicholas bowed to the sentence ; Mr. 
 Grabguy expressed surprise, but no further appeal on earth 
 was open to him ; Squire Fetter laughed immeasurably ; 
 and the officer led his victim away to the place of durance 
 vile. 
 
 To this prison, then, must we go with our hero. In this 
 magnificent establishment, its princely exterior seeming like 
 a modern fort with frowning bastions, are some four hundred 
 souls for sale and punishment. Among them Nicholas is 
 initiated, having, for the time being, received his first instal 
 ment of blows, and takes his first lesson in the act of 
 breaking stone, which profession is exclusively reserved 
 for criminals of his class. Among the notable characters 
 connected with this establishment is Philip Fladge, the wily 
 superintendent, whose power over the criminals is next to 
 absolute. Nicholas has been under Philip's guardianship 
 but a few months, when it is found that he may be turned 
 into an investment which will require only the outlay of 
 kindness and amelioration on his part to become extremely 
 profitable. Forthwith a convention is entered into, the 
 high contracting parties being Nicholas and himself. Mr. 
 Fladge stipulates on his part that the said Nicholas, con 
 demned by Fairweather Fuddle's court to such punishments 
 as are set forth in the calendar, shall be exempt from all 
 such punishments, have the free use of the yard, comfortable 
 apartments to live in, and be invested with a ^ort of fore- 
 manship over his fellow criminals ; in consideration of which 
 it is stipulated on the part of Nicholas that he do work at 
 the more desirable profession of stucco-making, together 
 with- the execution of orders for sculpture, the proceeds of 
 which were to be considered the property of Fladge, he 
 allowing the generous stipend of one shilling a week to the 
 artist. Here, then, Mr. Fladge becomes sensible of the 
 fact that some good always come of great evils, for indeed 
 his criminal was so far proving a mine of wealth that he 
 only hoped it might be his fortune to receive many more
 
 DANGEROUS PRINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED. 551 
 
 such enemies of the state : he cared not whether they came 
 from Fetter or Fuddle's court. With sense enough to keep 
 his heart-burnings well stored away in his own bosom, 
 Nicholas soon became a sort of privileged character. But if 
 he said little, he felt much ; nor did he fail to occupy every 
 leisure moment in inciting his brother bondmen to a love 
 of freedom. So far had he gained complele control over 
 their feelings, that scarce two months of his sentence had 
 expired ere they would have followed his lead to death or 
 freedom. 
 
 Among those human souls stored for sale was one Sal 
 Stiles, an olive wench of great beauty, and daughter of one 
 of the very first families. This Sal Stiles, who was indeed 
 one of the most charming creatures to look upon, had 
 cousins whom the little world of Charleston viewed as 
 great belles ; but these said belles were never known to 
 ring out a word in favour of poor Sal, who was, forsooth, 
 only what in our vulgar parlance is called a well-con 
 ditioned and very marketable woman. Considering, then, 
 that Nicholas had been separated by Q-rabguy from his 
 wife and children, the indulgent reader, we feel assured, 
 will excuse our hero for falling passionately in love with 
 this woman. That it was stipulated in the convention 
 between himself and Fladge, he should take her unto himself, 
 we are not justified in asserting; nevertheless, that that 
 functionary encouraged the passion rather than prevented their 
 meetings is a fact our little world will not pretend to deny.
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 A CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTER. 
 
 A YEAH and two months have rolled by, since Nicholas, a 
 convict, took up his abode within the frowning walls of a 
 prison: thus much of Fuddle's merciful sentence has he 
 served out. In the dreary hours of night, fast secured in 
 his granite cell, has he cherished, and even in his dreams 
 contemplated, the means of escaping into that freedom for 
 which his soul yearns. But, dearly does he love Sal Stiles, 
 to whose keeping he confides the secret of his ambition ; 
 several times might he, having secured the confidence of 
 Fladge, have effected his own escape ; but the admonitions of 
 a faithful heart bid him not leave her behind in slavery. To 
 that admonition of his bosom did he yield, and resolve never 
 to leave her until he secured her freedom. A few days after 
 he had disclosed to her his resolution, the tall figure of 
 Guy Grantham, a broker of slaves by profession, appeared 
 in the prison yard, for the purpose of carrying away the 
 woman, whom he had sold for the Washington market, 
 where her charms would indeed be of much value, during 
 the session, when congress-men most do riot. Already 
 were the inseparable chains about her hands, and the mise 
 rable woman, about to be led away, bathed in grief. Nicholas, 
 in his studies, had just finished a -piece of scroll-work for 
 Mrs. Fladge, as a companion approached him in great haste, 
 and whispered the word of trouble " they're taking her 
 away" in his ear. Quick as lightning did tWPanger of hio 
 very soul break forth like a tempest: he rushed from his 
 place of labour, vaulted as it were to the guard gate, seized 
 the woman as she stepped on the threshold in her exit, drew 
 her back with great force, and in a defiant attitude, drawing 
 a long stiletto from his belt, placed himself between her and 
 her destroyer. " Foes of the innocent, your chains were not 
 made for this woman ; never shall you bear her from this ; 
 not, at least, while I have arm to defend her, and a soul that 
 cares not for your vengeance!" spake he, with curling
 
 A CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CH.4.PTEB. 553 
 
 contempt on his lip, as hia adversaries stood aghast with 
 fear and trembling. " Nay ! do not advance one step, or 
 by the God of justice I make ye feel the length of this 
 steel !" he continued, as G-rantham nervously motioned an 
 attempt to advance. Holding the woman with hia left hand 
 pressed backward, he brandished his stiletto in the faces of 
 his opponents with his right. This was rebellion in ita 
 most legal acceptation, and would have justified the sum 
 mary process G-rautham was about adopting for the disposal 
 of the instigator, at whose head he levelled his revolver, and, 
 without effect, snapped two caps, as Nicholas bared his 
 bosom with the taunt " Coward, shoot !" Mr. Fladge, who 
 was now made sensible of the error his indulgence had 
 committed, could not permit Q-rantham the happy display 
 of his bravery ; no, he has called to his aid some ten sub- 
 guardsmen, and addressing the resolute Grantham, bids him 
 lay aside his weapon. Albeit he confesses his surprise at 
 such strange insolence and interference ; but, being respon 
 sible for the life, thinks it well to hold a parley before taking 
 it. Forsooth his words fall useless on the ears of Nicholas, 
 as defiantly he encircles the woman's waist with his left 
 arm, bears her away to the block, dashes the chains from 
 her hands, and, spurning the honied words of Fladge, 
 hurls them in the air, crying : " You have murdered the 
 flesh; would you chain the soul?" As he spoke, the 
 guard, having ascended the watch tower, rings out the first 
 alarm peal. "Dogs of savage might ! ring your alarms ; I 
 care not," he continued, casting a sardonic glance at the 
 tower as the sound died away on his ear. His pursuers 
 now made a rush upon him, but ere they had secured him 
 he seized a heavy bludgeon, and repelling their attack, found 
 some hundred^!:' his companions, armed with stone hammers, 
 rallying in his defence. Seeing this formidable force thus 
 suddenly come to his rescue, Mr. Fladge and his force were 
 compelled to fall back before the advance. Gallantly did 
 Nicholas lead on his sable band, as the woman sought 
 refuge in one of the cells, Mr. Fladge and his posse 
 retreating into the guard-house. Nicholas, now in full pos 
 session of the citadel, and with consternation and confusion 
 triumphant within the walls, found it somewhat difficult to 
 restrain his forces from taking possession of the guard 
 house, and putting to death those who had sought shelter
 
 554 A. CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTEB. 
 
 therein. Calmly but firmly did he appeal to them, and 
 beseech them not to commit an outrage against life. As 
 he had placed himself between the woman and her pursuers, 
 so did he place himself before a file of his sable companions, 
 who, with battle hammers extended, rushed for the 
 great gates, as the second alarm rung out its solemn peal. 
 Counselling his compatriots to stand firm, he gathered them 
 together in the centre of the square, and addressed them in 
 a fervent tone, the purport of which was, that having thus 
 suddenly and unexpectedly become plunged into what would 
 be viewed by the laws of the land as insurrection, they 
 must stand on the defensive, and remember it were better 
 to die in defence of right than live under the ignorance and 
 sorrow of slavery. 
 
 "While our hero whose singular exploit we have divested 
 of that dramatic effect presented in the original addressed 
 his forlorn band in the area of the prison, strange indeed 
 was the scene of confusion presenting along the streets of 
 the city. The alarm peals had not died ineffectual on the 
 air, for as a messenger was despatched to warn the civil 
 authorities of the sad dilemma at the prison, the great bell 
 of St. Michael's church answered the warning peal with two 
 loud rings; and simultaneously the city re-echoed the 
 report of a bloody insurrection. On the long line of 
 wharfs half circling the city, stood men aghast with fright ; 
 to the west all was quiet about the battery ; to the south, 
 the long rampart of dark moving pines that bordered on 
 that side the calm surface of a harbour of unsurpassed 
 beauty, seemed sleeping in its wonted peacefulness ; to the 
 east, as if rising from the sea to mar the beauty of the 
 scene, stood fort Sumpter's sombre bastions, still and quiet 
 like a monster reposing ; while retracing along the north 
 side of the harbour, no sign of trouble flutters from Fort 
 Moultrie or Castle Pinkney no, their savage embrasures 
 are closed, and peace hangs in mists over their dark walls. 
 The feud is in the city of democrats, wherein there are few 
 who know not the nature of the warning peal ; nor, indeed, 
 act on such occasions like a world in fear, waiting but the tap 
 of the watchman's baton ere it rushes to bloodshed. 
 
 In the busy portion of the city have men gathered at the 
 corners of the street to hold confused controversy ; with 
 anxious countenances and most earnest gesticulations do they
 
 A CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTER. 555 
 
 discuss the most certain means of safety. Ladies, in fright, 
 speedily seek their homes, now asking questions of a passer 
 by, whose intense excitement has carried off his power of 
 speech, then shunning every luckless negro who chances in 
 their way. The rumour of an insurrection, however falsely 
 founded, turns every negro (of skin there is no distinction) 
 into an enemy ; whilst the second sound of the alarm peal 
 makes him a bloody votary, who it needs but the booming 
 of the cannon ere he be put to the sword. Guardsmen, 
 with side-arms and cross-belts, are eager and confused, 
 moving to and fro with heavy tread ; merchants and men of 
 more easy professions hasten from their labours, seek their 
 homes, prepare weapons for the conflict, and endeavour to 
 soothe the fears of their excited families, beseeching protec 
 tion. That a deadly struggle is near at hand no one doubts, 
 for men have gathered on the house-tops to watch the 
 moving mass, bearing on its face the unmistakeable evidence 
 of fear and anxiety, as it sweeps along the streets. Now 
 the grotesque group is bespotted with forms half dressed 
 in military garb ; then a dark platoon of savage faces and 
 ragged figures brings up the rear ; and quickly catching the 
 sound " To the Workhouse !" onward it presses to the 
 scene of tumult. Firemen in curious habiliment, and 
 half-accoutred artillerymen, at the alarm peal's call are 
 rallying to their stations, as if some devouring element, 
 about to break over the city, demanded their strongest 
 arm ; while eager and confused heads, protruded from green, 
 masking shutters, and in terror, would know whither lies 
 the scene of the outbreak. Alarm has beset the little world, 
 which now moves a medley of fear and trembling. 
 
 The clock in St. Michael's tall spire has just struck two, 
 as, in the arena of the prison, Nicholas is seen, halted in front 
 of his little -band, calmly awaiting the advance of his 
 adversaries, who, fearing to open the great gates, have 
 scaled the long line of wall on the north side. Suddenly 
 the sound of an imploring voice breaks upon his ear, and 
 his left hand is firmly grasped, as starting with surprise he 
 turns and beholds the slave woman, her hair hanging 
 loosely over her shoulders, and her face bathed in tears. With 
 simple but earnest words does she admonish him against 
 his fatal resolution. Fast, and in the bitter anguish of her 
 eoul, fall her implorings ; she would have him yield and 
 33
 
 656 A CONTINUATION OF THE LAST CHAPTEE. 
 
 gave his life, that she may love him still. Her words would 
 melt his resolution, had he not taken the rash step. " In 
 my soul do I love thee, woman !" he says, raising her 
 gently to her feet, and imprinting a kiss upon her olive 
 brow ; " but rather would I die a hero than live a crawling 
 slave : nay, I will love thee in heaven !' ' The woman has 
 drawn his attention from his adversaries, when, in that 
 which seems a propitious moment, they rush down from the 
 walls, and ere a cry from his band warn him of the danger, 
 have well nigh surprised and secured him. With two shots 
 of a revolver pierced through the fleshy part of his left 
 arm, does he bound from the grasp of his pursuers, rally 
 his men, and charge upon the miscreants with undaunted 
 courage. Short but deadly is the struggle that here ensues ; 
 far, indeed, shrieks and horrid groans reiid the very air ; but 
 the miscreants are driven back from whence they came, 
 leaving on the ground five dead bodies to atone for treble 
 the number dead of our hero's band. In the savage 
 conflict did the woman receive a fatal bullet, and now lies 
 writhing in the agonies of death (a victim of oppression in 
 a laud of liberty) at our hero's feet. Not a moment ia 
 there to spare, that he may soothe her dying agonies, for 
 a thundering at the great gates is heard, the bristling of 
 fire-arms falls upon his ear, and the drums of the military 
 without beat to the charge. Simultaneously the great gates 
 swing back, a solid body of citizen soldiery, ready to rush in, is 
 disclosed, and our hero, as if by instinct moved to rashness, 
 cries aloud to his forces, who, following his lead, dash 
 recklessly into the soldiery, scatter it in amazement, and 
 sweep triumphantly into the street. The first line of 
 soldiery did not yield to the impetuous charge without 
 eifect, for seven dead bodies, strewn between the portals 
 of the gate, account for the sharp report pf their rifles. 
 "Wild with rage, and not knowing whither to go, or for what 
 object they have rushed from the bounds of their prison 
 house, our forlorn baud, still flourishing their battle 
 hammers, have scarcely reached the second line of military, 
 stationed, in war order, a few squares from the prison, 
 when our hero and nine of his forlorn band fall pierced 
 through the hearts with rifle bullets. Our Nicholas has 
 a sudden end ; he dies, muttering, " My cause was only 
 justice!" as twenty democratic bayonets cut into shreda
 
 JL CONTINUATION OP THE LAST CHAPTEE. 557 
 
 his quivering body. Oh, Grabguy ! thou wilt one day be 
 made to atone for this thy guilt. Justice to thy slave had 
 saved the city its foreboding of horror, and us the recital 
 of a bloody tragedy we would spare the feelings of our 
 readers by ending here. 
 
 Having informed the reader that Ellen Juvarna was 
 mother of Nicholas, whom she bore unto Marston, we will 
 now draw aside the veil, that he may know her real origin 
 and be the better prepared to appreciate the fate of 
 her child. This name, then, was a fictitious one, which 
 she had been compelled to take by Romescos, who stole her 
 from her father, Neamathla, a Creek Indian. In 1820, this 
 brave warrior ruled chief of the Mickasookees, a tribe of 
 brave Indians settled on the borders of the lake of that 
 name, in Florida. Old in deeds of valour, Neamathla sank 
 into the grave in the happy belief that his daughter, the 
 long-lost JSFasarge, had been carried into captivity by chiefs 
 of a hostile tribe, in whose chivalrous spirit she would find 
 protection, and religious respect for her caste. Could that 
 proud spirit have condescended to suppose her languishing 
 in the hands of mercenary slave-dealers, his tomahawk had 
 been first dipped in the blood of the miscreant, to avenge 
 the foul deed. From Romescos, jSTasarge, who had scarce 
 seen her twelve summers, passed into the hands of one 
 Silenus, who sold her to Marston, for that purpose a fair 
 slave seems born to in our democratic world. 
 
 And now again must we beg the indulgence of the read 
 er, while we turn to the counter-scene of this chapter. The 
 influence of that consternation which had spread throughout 
 the city, was not long in finding its way to the citadel, a 
 massive fort commanding the city from the east. On the 
 plat in front are three brass field-pieces, which a few artillery 
 men have wheeled out, loaded, and made ready to belch forth 
 that awful signal, which the initiated translate thus : " Proceed 
 to the massacre ! Dip deep your knives in the heart of ev 
 ery negro ! "* At the alarm-bell's first tap were the guns made 
 
 * Certain alarm bells are rung in case of an insurrection of the 
 negroes, which, if accompanied by the firing of three guns at the 
 citadel, is the signal for un onslaught of the whites. The author, on 
 asking a gentleman why he exhibited so much fear, or why he deemed 
 it necessary to put to the sword his faithful servants, answered, 
 " Slrves, no matter of what colour, sympathise with each other ill
 
 658 A CONTINUATION O? THE LAST CHAPTER. 
 
 ready at the second peal were matchlocks lighted and 
 nervous men waited in breathless suspense the third and last 
 signal peal from the Guard Tower. But, in a moment that 
 had nearly proved fatal to thousands, and as the crash of 
 musketry echoed in the air, a confused giinner applied the 
 match : two vivid flashes issued from the cannon, their peals 
 booming successively over the city. It was at that moment, 
 citizens who had sought in their domiciles the better pro 
 tection of their families might be seen in the tragic attitude 
 of holding savage pistols and glistening daggers at the 
 breasts of their terrified but faithful servants, those, 
 perhaps, whose only crime was sincerity, and an earnest 
 attachment to master's interests. The booming of a third 
 cannon, and they had fallen, victims of fear, at the feet of 
 their deluded victors. Happily, an act of heroism (which 
 we would record to the fame of the hero) saved the city 
 that bloody climax we sicken while contemplating. Ere the 
 third gun belched its order of death, a mounted officer, 
 sensible of the result that gun would produce, dashed 
 before its angry mouth, and at the top of his voice cried 
 out " In Heaven's name, lay your matchlock down : 
 save the city !" Then galloping to the trail, the gunner 
 standing motionless at the intrepid sight, he snatched the 
 fiery torch from his hand, and dismounting, quenched it on 
 the ground. Thus did he save the city that awful massacre 
 the misdirected laws of a democratic state would have been 
 accountable for to civilisation and the world. 
 
 their general condition of slavery. I could not, then, leave my fam 
 ily to the caprice of their feelings, while I sought the scene of action 
 to aid in suppressing the outbreak."
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 IN WHICH ARE PLEASURES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 IN a former chapter . of this narrative, have we described 
 our. fair fugitive, Annette, as possessing charms of no 
 ordinary kind ; indeed, she was fair and beautiful, and even 
 in the slave world was by many called the lovely blonde. 
 In a word, to have been deeply enamoured of her would 
 have reflected the highest credit on the taste and senti 
 ment of any gallant gentleman. Seeming strange would it 
 be, then, if the stranger to whose care we confided her (and 
 hereafter to be called Montague, that being his Christian 
 name) should render himself liable to the charge of 
 stupidity did these attractions not make a deep impression 
 on his heart. And here we would not have the reader lay 
 so grave a charge at his door ; for, be it knownj ye who 
 are not insensible to love's electric force, that scarce had 
 they reached New York, ere Montague began to look upon 
 Annette with that species of compassion which so often, in 
 the workings of nature's mystery, turns the sympathies of 
 the heart into purest love. The misery or happiness of this 
 poor girl he viewed as dependent on himself: this, forsooth, 
 was strengthened by the sad recital of her struggles, whicli 
 caused his sympathies to flow in mutual fellowship with her 
 sorrows. As he esteemed her gentleness, so was he ena 
 moured of her charms ; but her sorrows carried, the captive 
 arrow into his bosom, where she fastened it with holding 
 forth that wrist broken in defence of her virtue : nay^more, 
 he could not refrain a caress, as in the simplicity of her 
 heart she looked in his face smilingly, and said she would 
 he were the father of her future in this life. But, when 
 did not slavery interpose its barbarous obstacles ? when 
 did it not claim for itself the interests of federal power, and 
 the nation's indulgence ? when did it not regard with 
 coldest indifference the good or ill of all beyond its own 
 limits ? The slave world loves itself; but, though self-lovo 
 may now and then give out a degree of virtue, slavery has
 
 560 PLEASURES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 none to lead those beyond its own atmosphere. To avoid, then, 
 the terrors to which, even on the free soil of the north, a fugi 
 tive slave is constantly liable, as also that serpent-like prejudice 
 for into the puritanic regions of New England, forsooth, does 
 slavery spread its more refined objections to colour which makes 
 the manners of one class cold and icy, while acting like a dagger in 
 the hearts of the other, was it necessary to change her name. 
 How many of my fair readers, then, will recur to and recog 
 nise in the lovely Sylvia De Lacy whose vivacity made 
 them joyous in their school days, and whose charms all envied 
 the person of Annette Mazatlin. Nothing could be more 
 true than that the pretty blonde, Sylvia De Lacy, who passed 
 at school as the daughter of a rich Bahamian, was but the hum 
 ble slave of our worthy wag, Mr. Pringle Blowers, But we 
 beg the reader to remember that, as Sylvia De Lacy, with her 
 many gallant admirers, she is a far different person from Annette 
 the slave. 
 
 Clotilda is made acquainted with the steps Montague has 
 taken in behalf of his charge, as also of a further intention 
 he will carry out at the expiration of two years ; which said 
 intention is neither more nor less than the making Sylvia 
 De Lacy his bride ere her school days have ended. In the 
 earnestness of a heart teeming of joy, does Clotilda respond 
 to the disclosures she is pleased to term glad tidings. Oft 
 and fervently has she invoked the All-protecting hand to 
 save her child from the licentious snares of slavery ; and 
 now that she is rescued, her soul can rest satisfied. How 
 her heart rejoices to learn that her slave child will hereafter 
 be happy in this life ! ever will she pray that peace and 
 prosperity reward their virtues. Her own prospects brighten 
 with the thought that she may, ere long, see them under her 
 own comfortable roof, and bestow a mother's love on the 
 head of her long-lost child. 
 
 And now my reader will please to suppose these two 
 years of school-days passed that nuptial ceremony iu 
 which so many mingled their congratulations, and showered 
 blandest smiles upon the fair bride, celebrated in a princely 
 mansion not far from the aristocratic Union Square of New 
 York and our happy couple launched upon that path of 
 matrimony some facetious old gentlemen have been pleased 
 to describe as so crooked that others fear to journey upon
 
 PLEASUBES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 561 
 
 it. They were indeed a happy couple, with each future 
 prospect golden of fortune's sunshine. Did we describe in 
 detail the reign of happiness portended on the bright day of 
 that nuptial ceremony, how many would recognise the gay 
 figures of those who enlivened the scene how deceptive 
 would seem the fair face of events how obscured would 
 be presented the life of a slave in this our world of freedom 
 how false that democracy so boastful of its even-handed 
 rule ! 
 
 Two years have rolled into the past, since Montague led 
 the fair Sylvia to the altar. Pringle Blowers has pocketed 
 the loss of his beauty, the happy couple have lost all thought 
 of slavery, and a little responsibility coming iu due time 
 adds to make their happiness complete. Now the house 
 to which Montague was connected in New York had an agent 
 in New Orleans ; which agent was his brother. In the course 
 of time, then, and as the avenues of business expanded, was 
 it deemed necessary to establish a branch house at Memphis, 
 the affairs of which it was agreed should be conducted by 
 Montague. To this new scene of life my reader will please 
 suppose our happy couple, having journeyed by railroad to 
 Cincinnatti, and with hearts gladdened of hope for the 
 future, now gliding down that river of gorgeous banks, on 
 
 board the good steamer bearing its name. As our young 
 mother again enters ithe atmosphere of slavery, misgivings
 
 662 PLEABUEES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 force themselves irresistibly upon her feelings. The very 
 face of nature wears a sluggish air; the fresh, bright 
 offspring of northern energy, so forcibly illustrated in the 
 many cheerful looking villages here and there dotting its 
 free soil, is nowhere to be seen, society again puts forth its 
 blighting distinctions : there is the man-owner's iron 
 deportment contrasting with the abjectness of his slave : 
 forcibly does the change recall scenes of the past. But, 
 with the certain satisfaction that no one will recognise the 
 slave in her, do those misgivings give way to the happier 
 contemplation of her new home affording the means of 
 extending a succouring hand to some poor mortal, suffering 
 in that condition of life through which she herself has 
 passed. 
 
 After a pleasant passage, then, do we find them comfort 
 ably settled in Memphis, that city of notorious character, 
 where the venerable Lynch presides judge over all state 
 cases, and administers summary justice according to the 
 most independent of bar rules. Montague pursues the ordi 
 nary routine of a flourishing business, and moves among 
 the very best society of the little fashionable w r orld; with 
 which his Sylvia, being the fair belle of the place, is not 
 only a great favourite, but much sought after and caressed. 
 Gentle as a slave, so was she an affectionate mother and 
 dutiful wife. Some twelve mouths passed pleasantly at their 
 new home, when there came to the city a Jew of the name 
 of Salamons Finch. This Finch, who was "runner" to a 
 commercial firm in the city of Charleston (he was lank 
 of person, with sallow, craven features), knew Annette 
 when but a child. Indeed, he was a clerk of Graspum 
 when that gentleman sold the fair slave to Grurdoin 
 Choicewest ; in addition to which he had apartments at 
 Lady Tuttlewell's most fashionable house, where the little 
 doll-like thing used to be BO sprightly in waiting at table. 
 The quick eye of this harpy, as may readily be supposed, 
 was not long in detecting the person of Annette the slave in 
 our fair mother ; which grand discovery he as soon communica 
 ted to Montague, pluming himself a generous fellow for being 
 first to disclose what he supposed a valuable secret. Indeed, 
 such was the force of association on this fellow, that he could 
 not bring his mind to believe such a match possible, unless the 
 fair fugitive of the circumstances of whose escape he was
 
 PLEASURES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 563 
 
 well posted) had, by the exercise of strategy, imposed 
 herself on the gentleman. The reader may easily picture 
 to himself the contempt in which Montague held the fellow's 
 generous expose ; but he as readily became sensible of the 
 nature of the recognition, and of its placing him in a dan 
 gerous position. At first he thought of sending his wife 
 and child immediately to her mother, in Nassau ; but 
 having intimations from the fellow that the matter might 
 be reconciled with golden eagles, he chose rather to adopt 
 that plan of procuring peace and quietness. With a goodly 
 number of these gold eagles, then, did he from time to time 
 purchase the knave's secrecy; but, with that singular propen 
 sity so characteristic of the race, was he soon found making 
 improper advances to the wife of the man whose money he 
 received 'for keeping secret her early history. This so exas 
 perated Montague, that in addition to sealing the fellow's 
 lips with the gold coin, he threatened his back with stripes 
 of the raw hide, in payment of his insolence. Albeit, 
 nothing but the fear of exposure, the consequences of which 
 must prove fatal, caused him to bear with pain the insult 
 while withholding payment of this well-merited debt. With 
 keen instincts, and a somewhat cultivated taste for the 
 beautiful, Finch might with becoming modesty have 
 pleaded them in extenuation of his conduct ; but the 
 truth was, he almost unconsciously found himself deeply 
 enamoured of the fair woman, without being able to look 
 upon her as a being elevated above that menial sphere his 
 vulgar mind conditioned for her when in slavery. Here, then, 
 the reader will more readily conceive than we can describe 
 the grievous annoyances our otherwise happy couple were 
 subjected to ; nor, if a freeman's blood course in his veins, 
 can he fail to picture the punishment it so dearly merited. 
 However, it came to pass that in the course of a few 
 months this fellow disappeared suddenly, and nearly at the 
 same time was Montague summoned to New Orleans to 
 direct some complicated affairs of his brother, who lay a 
 victim to that fearful scourge which so often devastates that 
 city of balmy breezes. After due preparations for an 
 absence of some two months, Montague set out on his 
 journey ; but had riot been forty-eight hours gone, when 
 Pinch again made his appearance, and taking advantage 
 of a hus band's absence, pressed his advances with grossest
 
 564 PLEASUEES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 
 
 insult, threatening at the same time to convey information 
 of the discovery to Pringle Blowers. Successively did these 
 importunities fail to effect Mr. Pinch's purpose ; but he was 
 of an indomitable temper, and had strong faith in that 
 maxim of his race, which may be transcribed thus : " If 
 one effort fail you, try another." To carry out this prin 
 ciple, then, did Finch draw from the cunning inventive of 
 his brain .a plan which he could not doubt for a moment 
 would be successful. The reader may blush while we 
 record the fact, of Pinch, deeming a partner necessary to 
 the gaining his purpose, finding a willing accomplice in one 
 of Montague's clerks, to whom he disclosed the secret of the 
 fair woman being nothing more than a fugitive slave, whose 
 shame they would share if the plan proved successful. 
 This ingenious plan, so old that none but a fellotv of this 
 stamp would have adopted it, was nothing more than the 
 intercepting by the aid of the clerk all Montague's letters 
 to his wife. By this they came in possession of the nature 
 of his family affairs ; and after permitting the receipt of 
 two letters by Sylvia, possessed themselves of her answers 
 that they might be the better able to carry out the 
 evil of their scheme. After sufficient time had passed, 
 did Sylvia receive a letter, duly posted at New Orleans, 
 purporting to have been written by a clerk in the 
 employ of the firm, an.d informing her, having acknow 
 ledged becomingly the receipt of her letter, that Montague 
 had been seized with the epidemic, and now lay in a pre 
 carious state. Much concerned was she at the painful 
 intelligence ; but she almost as soon found consolation in 
 the assurances of the clerk who brought her the letter, 
 and, to strengthen his own cause, told her he had seen 
 a captain just arrived up, who had met her husband a day 
 after the date of the letter, quite well. Indeed, this was ne 
 cessary to that functionary's next move, for he was the 
 conspirator of Pinch, and the author of the letter which 
 had caused so much sadness to the woman who now 
 sought his advice. In suspense did the anxious woman 
 wait the coming tidings of her affectionate husband : alas ! 
 in a few days was the sad news of his death by the 
 fatal scourge brought to her in an envelope with broad 
 black border and appropriate seal. Overwhelmed with 
 grief, the good woman read the letter, describing her
 
 PLEASURES AND DISAPPOINTMENTS. 565 
 
 Montague to have died happy, as the conspirator looked on with 
 indifference. The confidential clerk of the firm had again per 
 formed a painful and unexpected duty. The good man died, 
 said he, invoking a blessing on the head of his child, and asking 
 heaven to protect his wife ; to which he would add, that the af 
 fairs of the house were in the worst possible condition, there not 
 being assets to pay a fraction of the debts. And here we would 
 beg the reader to use his imagination, and save us the descrip 
 tion of much that followed. Not all their threats nor persua 
 sions, however, could induce her to yield to their designs ; defi 
 antly did she repulse the advances of the crawling Finch ; nobly 
 did she spurn his persuasions ; firmly did she, heedless of his 
 threat to acquaint Pringle Blowers of her whereabouts, bid him 
 be gone from her door. The fellow did go, grievously disap 
 pointed ; and, whether from malice or mercenary motives we 
 will not charge, sought and obtained from Pringle Blowers, in 
 exchange for his valuable discovery, a promise of the original 
 reward. Shudder not, reader, while we tell it ! It was not 
 many days ere the notorious Blowers set out for Memphis, re 
 covered his lost property, who, like a lamb panting in the grasp 
 of a pursuing w r olf, was, with her young child, dragged back, a 
 wretch, into the melancholy waste of slavery. Long and loudly 
 was the grand discovery resounded through the little world of 
 Memphis ; not in sympathy for the slave, for many hearts were 
 made glad with joy over what the fashionable were pleased to 
 term a fortunate disclosure and a happy removal. Many very 
 grave gentlemen said the miscreant who dared impose a slave 
 on society, well merited punishment at the hands of the venera 
 ble Lynch, a judge of that city whose celebrity is almost world 
 wide.
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 A FAMILIAR SCENB, IN WHICH PRINGLE BLOWERS HAS BUSINESS. 
 
 OP a bright morning, not many days after Pringle 
 Blowers returned with his fair slave to Charleston (which 
 said slave he would not sell for gold), there sat on a 
 little bench at the entrance gate of the " upper workhouse," 
 the brusque figure of a man, whose coarse and firmly knit 
 frame, to which were added hard and weather-stained 
 features, indicated his having seen some fifty summers. 
 But, if he was brusque of figure and coarse of deportment, 
 he had a good soft heart in the right place ; nor did he 
 fail to exercise its virtues while pursuing the duties of 
 a repulsive profession ; albeit, he was keeper of the 
 establishment, and superintended all punishments. Leisurely 
 he smoked of a black pipe ; and with shirt sleeves rolled 
 up, a grey felt hat almost covering his dark, flashing eyes, and 
 his arms easily folded, did he seem contemplating the calm, 
 loveliness of morning. Now he exhaled the curling fume, 
 then scanned away over the bright landscape to the east, and 
 again cast curious glances up and down the broad road 
 stretching in front of his prison to the north and south. 
 It was not long before a carriage and pair appeared on the 
 hill to the south, advancing at a slow pace towards the city. 
 The keeper's keen eye rested upon it intently, as it neared, 
 bearing in a back seat what seemed to be a lady fine of 
 figure and deportment ; while on the front drove a figure of 
 great rotundity, the broad, full face shining out like a ripe 
 pumpkin in a sun shower. " It's Pringle Blowers, I do 
 believe in my soul! but it's seeming strange how he's got 
 a lady to ride with him," mused the man, who, still 
 watching the approach, had quite forgotten the escape of 
 the fair slave. The man was not mistaken, for as he 
 touched his hat, on the carriage arriving opposite the gate, 
 it halted, and there, sure enough, was our valiant democrat, 
 who, placing his whip in the socket, crooked his finger and
 
 A FAMILIAK SCENE. 567 
 
 beckoned the keeper. " Broadman !" said he, (for that was 
 the man's name) I'ze a bit of something in your way of 
 business this morning." The honest functionary, with 
 seeming surprise, again touching his hat as he approached 
 the vehicle, replied: "Tour servant, sir!" Blowers 
 motioned his hand to the woman, whose tears were now, to 
 Broadman's surprise, seen coursing down her pale cheeks. 
 To use a vulgar phrase, Broadman was entirely " taken aback" 
 by the singularity of Blowers' manner ; for the woman, 
 whose dress and deportment the honest man conceived to 
 be nothing less than that of a lady cf one of the " first 
 families," obeying the motion, began to descend from the 
 carriage. " Now, Broadman," continued Blowers, arranging 
 his reins, and with clumsy air making Ins descent over the 
 fore wheels, take that 'ar wench o' mine, and, by the State's 
 custom, give her the extent of the law, well laid on."* The 
 man hesitated, as if doubting his senses ; rather would he 
 have been courteous to what he still viewed as a lady, than 
 extend his rude hand to lead her away, 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir ! but you cannot mean what you say," 
 nervously spoke the man, as in doubt he exchanged glances 
 first with the fair woman and then with Blowers. "I means 
 just what I says," returned that gentleman, peremptorily ; 
 " you'ze hearn o' that 'un afore. She's a nigger o' mine, what 
 ruuned away more nor six years ago ; come, do the job for 
 her, and no fussing over't." "Nigger!" interrupted the 
 man, in surprise. " Yes !" rejoined Blowers, emphasising 
 his assurance with oaths, of which he had a never-failing 
 supply, "that's the cussed white nigger what's gin me all the 
 bother. The whiter niggers is, the more devil 's in em ; and 
 that ar' one's got devil enough for a whole plantation ; 'tisn't 
 the licks I cares about, but it's the humblin' on her feelings 
 by being punished in the workhouse !" The man of duty 
 was now brought to his senses, when, seeing Blowers was 
 inclined to relieve his anger on what he was pleased to consider 
 the stupidity of a keeper, he took the weeping but resolute 
 woman by the arm, and called a negro attendant, into whose 
 charge he handed her, with an order to " put her in the slings." 
 Soon she disappeared within the gate, following the mulatto 
 man. And here we will again spare the reader's feelings, by 
 
 * The author here writes the incident as given by the prison-keeper.
 
 668 A FAMILIAS SCENE, IN WHICH 
 
 omitting much that followed. Blowers and Broadman 
 follow the hapless woman, as she proceeds through a narrow 
 passage leading to the punishment room, and when about 
 half way to that place of torture, a small, square door opens 
 on the right, into a dingy office, the keeper says is where he 
 keeps his accounts with the State, which derives a large 
 revenue from the punishments. Into this does the worthy 
 man invite his patron, whom he would have be seated while 
 the criminal is got " all right" in the slings. Fain would 
 Blowers go and attend the business himself; but Broadman 
 saying " that cannot be," he draws from his pocket a small 
 flask, and, seemingly contented, invites him to join in 
 " somethin" he says is the very choicest. Broadman has no 
 objection to encouraging this evidence of good feeling, which he 
 will take advantage of to introduce the dialogue that follows. 
 " G-ood sir," says he, "you will pardon what I am about to 
 say, for indeed I feel the weakness of my position when 
 addressing you, fortune having made a wide distinction 
 between us ; but judge me not because I am coarse of flesh, 
 nor have polished manners, for I have a heart that feels 
 for the unfortunate." Here Blowers interrupted the 
 keeper by saying he would hear no chicken-hearted inter 
 positions. " .Remember, keeper," he added, "you must not 
 presume on the small familiarity I have condescended to 
 admit in drinking with you. I hold no controversies with 
 prison-keepers (again he gulps his brandy) or their subs ; 
 being a servant of the state, 1 order you to give that wench 
 the extent of the law. She shall disclose the secret of her 
 escape, or I'll have her life ; I'm a man what won't stand no 
 nonsense, I am !" The keeper, rejoining, hopes he will 
 pardon the seeming presumption ; but, forsooth, notwith 
 standing necessity has driven him to seek a livelihood in his 
 repulsive occupation, there is a duty of the heart he cannot 
 betray, though the bread of his maintenance be taken from 
 him. Blowers again assumes his dignity, rises from his 
 seat, scowls significantly at the keeper, and says he will go 
 put through the business with his own hands. " Good 
 friend," says Broadman, arresting Blowers' progress, by the 
 state's ruling you are my patron ; nevertheless, within these 
 walls I am master, and whatever you may bring here for 
 punishment shall have the benefit of my discretion. I loathe 
 the law that forces me to, in such cases, overrule the admo-
 
 PBINQLE BLOWEES HAS BUSINESS. 569 
 
 nitions of my heart. I, sir, am low of this world, good! but, 
 in regret do I say it, I have by a slave mother two fair 
 daughters, who in the very core of my heart I love ; nor 
 would I, imitating the baser examples of our aristocracy, 
 sell them hapless outcasts for life." Here Blowers 
 again interrupted by allowing his passion to manifest itself 
 in a few very fashionable oaths ; to which he added, that he 
 (pacing the room several times) would no longer give ear to 
 such nonsense from a man of Broadman's position, which 
 was neither socially nor politically grand. " No doubt, 
 good sir, my humble and somewhat repulsive calling does 
 not meet your distinguished consideration ; but I am, 
 nevertheless, a man. And what I was about to say I hope 
 you will grant me a hearing was, that having these two 
 daughters poverty only prevents my purchasing them has 
 made me sensible of these slaves having delicate textures. The 
 unhappy possession of these daughters has caused me to 
 reflect to study constitutions, and their capacity to endure 
 punishments. The woman it has pleased y ou to bring here for 
 chastisement, I take it, is not coarse of flesh ; but is one of 
 those unfortunates whom kindness might reform, while the 
 lash never fails to destroy. Why, then, not consider her in 
 the light of a friendless wretch, whom it were better to save, 
 than sink in shame ? One word more and I am done (Blowers 
 was about to cut short the conversation) ; the extent of the 
 law being nothing less than twenty blows of the paddle, is 
 most severe punishment for a woman of fine flesh to with 
 stand on her naked loins. Nor, let me say and here I 
 speak from twelve years' experience can the lady I beg 
 pardon, the slave you bring me ! bear these blows : no, my 
 lips never spoke truer when I say she'li.quiver and sink in 
 spasms ere the second blow is laid on." Here some twenty 
 minutes having passed since the fair slave was led into the 
 punishment room Blowers cut short the conversation which 
 had failed to thaw his resolution, by saying Broadman had 
 bored his ears in spinning out his long song, and if he were 
 unwilling to fulfil the duties of his office, such should be 
 reported to the authorities, who would not permit workhouse- 
 keepers so to modify their ordnances that black and white 
 niggers have different punishments. ''Nay, sir!" says the 
 honest man, with an air of earnestness, as lie rises from his 
 seat ; " follow me, and with the reality will I prove the truth
 
 570 A FAMILIAB SCENE, IN WHICH 
 
 of my words." Here he proceeds to that place of torments, 
 the punishment-room, followed by Blowers ; who says, with 
 singular indifference " Can do the job in five minutes : then 
 I'll leave her with you for two, three, or four days or so. 
 Then if she's civilly humbled down, I'll send my nigger 
 fellow, Joe, with an order for her. Joe' 11 be the fellow's 
 name ; now, mind that : but you know my Joe, I reckon ?" 
 The keeper led the way, but made no reply ; for indeed he 
 knew nothing of his Joe, there being innumerable niggers 
 of that name. As the men left the little office, and were 
 sauntering up the passage, our worthy friend Rosebrook 
 might be seen entering in search of Broadman ; when, 
 discovering Blowers in his company, and hearing the signi 
 ficant words, he shot into a niche, unobserved by them, and 
 calling a negro attendant, learned the nature of his visit. 
 And here it becomes necessary that we discover to the 
 reader the fact of Eosebrook having been apprised of the 
 forlorn woman's return, and her perilous position in the 
 hands of Pringle Blowers ; and, further, that the communi 
 cation was effected by the negro man Pompe, who we have 
 before described in connection with Montague at the time 
 of his landing from the witch-like schooner. This Pompe was 
 sold to Blowers but a few months before Annette's recovery, 
 and acting upon the force of that sympathy which exists 
 among fellow slaves of a plantation, soon renewed old 
 acquaintance, gained her confidence, and, cunningly eluding 
 the owner's watchfulness, conveyed for her a letter to the 
 Kosebrooks. In truth, Pompe had an inveterate hatred of 
 Blowers, and under the incitement would not have hesitated 
 to stake his life in defence of the fair woman. Now, the 
 exacting reader may question Kosebrook's intrepidity in not 
 proceeding at once to the rescue of the victim ; but when we 
 say that he was ignorant of the positive order given the 
 keeper, and only caught distinctly the words " I'll send 
 my nigger fellow, Joe, with an order for her!" they may 
 discover an excuse for his hastily withdrawing from the 
 establishment. Indeed, that my reader may withhold his 
 censure, it may be well to add that he did this in order to 
 devise more strategical means of effecting her escape. 
 
 And now, ye who have nerves let them not be shaken ; 
 let not your emotions rise, ye who have souls, and love the 
 blessings of liberty ; let not mothers nor fathers weep over
 
 PBIUGLE BLOWEBS HAS BUSINESS. 671 
 
 democracy's wrongs ; nor let man charge us with picturing the 
 horrors of a black romance when we introduce the spectacle 
 in the room of punishments : such, be it known, is not our 
 business, nor would we trifle unjustly with the errors of 
 society ; but, if chivalry have blushes, we do not object 
 to their being used here. The keeper, followed by Blowers, 
 enters a small room at the further end of the passage. It 
 is some sixteen feet long by twelve wide, and proportionately 
 high of ceiling. The pale light of a tallow candle, suspended 
 from the ceiling by a wire, and from which large flakes of 
 the melted grease lay cone-like on the pine floor, discloses 
 the gloom, and discovers hanging from the walls, grim with 
 smoke, sundry curious caps, cords, leathern cats, and the 
 more improved paddles of wood, with flat blades. The very 
 gloom of the place might excite the timid ; but the reflection 
 of how many tortures it has been the scene, and the myste 
 rious stillness pervading its singularly decorated walls, add 
 still more to increase apprehension. A plank, some two 
 feet wide, and raised a few inches, stretches across the floor, 
 and is secured at each end with cleets. About midway of 
 this are ropes securing the victim's feet ; and through the 
 dim light is disclosed the half nude body of our fair girl, 
 suspended by the wrists, which are clasped in bands of cord, 
 that, being further secured to a pulley block, is hauled taut 
 by a tackle. Suddenly the wretched woman gives vent to 
 her feelings, and in paroxysms of grief sways her poor body 
 to and fro, imploring mercy ! " Nay, master ! think that I 
 am a woman that I have a heart to feel and bleed ; that 
 I am a mother and a wife, though a slave. Let your deeda 
 be done quickly, or end me and save me this shame !" she 
 supplicates, as the bitter, burning anguish of her goaded 
 soul gives out its flood of sorrow. Chivalry, forsooth, lies 
 cold and unmoved Blowers has no relish for such inconsis 
 tency ; such whinings, he says, will not serve southern 
 principles. The mulatto attendant has secured the fall, and 
 stands a few feet behind Blowers and the keeper, as that 
 functionary says, laying his coarse hands on the woman's 
 loins, " How silky !" The mulatto man shakes his head, 
 revengefully, making a grimace, as Broadman, having 
 selected the smallest paddle (reminding us of the curious 
 sympathy now budding between the autocratic knout and 
 37
 
 572 A FAMILIAB SCENE, IN WHICH 
 
 democratic lash) again addresses Blowers. " I doubt, sir," 
 he says, " if the woman stand a blow. Necessity 's a hard 
 master, sir ; and in this very act is the test more trying than 
 I have ever known it. I dissemble myself when I see a 
 wretch of fine flesh a woman with tender senses, in distress, 
 and I am made the instrument of adding to her suffering. 
 Indeed, sir, when I contemplate the cause of such wretch 
 edness, and the poverty forcing me to remain in this 
 situation, no imagination can represent the horror of my 
 feelings." 
 
 " "We have no demand on your feelings, my man ! we want 
 your duty what the state put you here to perform," inter 
 rupted Blowers, placing his thumbs in his vest, and making 
 a step backward. Another second, and the attendant lighted 
 a hand-lamp, a sharp, slapping blow was heard, a death-like 
 shriek followed ; the flesh quivered and contracted into a 
 discoloured and inflamed pustule ; the body writhed a few 
 seconds in convulsive spasms ; a low moaning followed, and 
 that fair form hung swooning in the slings, as the keeper, in 
 fright, cried out, at the top of his voice, to the attendant 
 "Lower away the fall!" As if the fiend had not yet 
 gratified his passion, no sooner was the seemingly Lifeless 
 body lowered clumsily to the floor, than he grasped the 
 weapon from Broadman's hand, and like a tiger seeking its 
 banquet of flesh, was about to administer a second blow. 
 But Broadman had a good heart, the admonitions of which 
 soared high above the state's mandate : seizing Blowers in 
 his arms, he ejected him from the door, ran back to the 
 prostrate woman, released her bruised limbs from the 
 fastenings, gathered her to his arms ; and with nervous 
 hands and anxious face did he draw from his pocket the 
 well-timed hartshorn, by the application of which he sought 
 to restore her, as the mulatto man stood by, bathing her 
 temples with cold water. " Ah ! shame on the thing called 
 a man who could abuse a sweet creature of fine flesh, like 
 thee ! it's not many has such a pretty sweet face," says 
 Broadman, with an air of compassion, resting her shoulder 
 against his bended knee as he encircles it with his left arm, 
 and looks upon the pale features, tears glistening in his honest 
 eyes. We might say with Broadman " It's not the finest, 
 nor the polished of flesh, that hath the softest hearts."
 
 PEIN&LE BLOWEES HAS BUSINESS. 573 
 
 But, reader, having performed our duty, let us drop the 
 curtain over this sad but true scene ; and when you have 
 conjectured the third and fourth acts of the drama, join 
 with us in hoping the chivalry of our State may yet awake 
 to a sense of its position, that, when we again raise it, a 
 pleasanter prospect may be presented.
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 IN WHICH ARE DISCOVEHIKS AND PLEASANT SCENES. 
 
 ST. PATEICK'S night closed the day on which the scenes of 
 the foregoing chapter were enacted ; and that patron saint 
 being of aristocratic descent, which caused him to be held 
 in high esteem by our " very first families," than among 
 whom better admirers could nowhere be found, his anniver 
 sary was sure to be celebrated with much feasting and 
 drinking. But while this homage to the good saint made 
 glad the hearts of thousands while the city seemed radiant 
 of joy, and reeling men from Hibernia's gorgeous hall 
 found in him an excuse for their revelries there sat in the 
 box of a cafe, situated on the west side of Meeting Street, 
 two men who seemed to have a deeper interest at heart than 
 that of the Saint's joy on his road to paradise. The one 
 was a shortish man, coarse of figure, and whose browned 
 features and figured hands bespoke him a sailor ; the other 
 was delicate of figure, with pale, careworn countenance and 
 nervous demeanour. Upon the marble slab, on which 
 they rested their elbows, sat a bottle of old Madeira, from 
 which they sipped leisurely, now and then modulating their 
 conversation into whispers. Then the man of brown 
 features spoke out more at ease, as if they had concluded 
 the preliminaries of some important business. 
 
 "Well, well, now isn't that strange?" said he, sighing 
 as he spread his brawny hands upon the white marble. 
 " Natur's a curious mystery, though (he looked intently at 
 the other) : why, more nor twenty years have rolled over 
 since I did that bit of a good turn, and here I is the very 
 same old Jack Hardweather, skipper of the Maggy Bell. 
 But for all that and I'd have folks know it ! the Maggy's 
 as trim a little craft-as ever lay to on a sou'-easter ; and she 
 can show as clean a pair of heels as any other barring her 
 old top timbers complain now and then to the best cutter 
 as ever shook Uncle Sam's rags." His hard features 
 softened, as in the earnest of his heart he spoke. He
 
 DISCOVERIES AND PLEASANT SCENES, 575 
 
 extended his hand across the table, grasping firmly that of 
 his nervous friend, and continued " And it was no other 
 witch than the taunt Maggy Bell that landed that good 
 woman safe on the free sands of old Bahama!" The 
 Maggy, he tells the other, is now at the wharf, where the 
 good wife, Molly Hardweather, keeps ship while the boys 
 take a turn ashore. 
 
 " There's always a wise provision to relieve one's feelings 
 when sorrow comes unexpectedly," returns the nervous 
 man, his hand trembling as he draws forth the money to 
 pay the waiter who answered his call. 
 
 " Yes !" quickly rejoined the other, " but keep up a good 
 heart, like a sailor hard upon a lee shore, and all '11 be 
 bright and sunny in a day or two. And now we'll just 
 make a tack down the bay street and sight the Maggy. 
 There's a small drop of somethin' in the locker, that'll help 
 to keep up yer spirits, I reckon a body's spirit* has to be 
 tautened now and then, as ye do a bobstay, and the wife 
 (she's a good sort of a body, though I say it) will do the 
 best she can in her hard way to make ye less troubled at 
 heart. Molly Hardweather has had some hard ups and 
 downs in life, knows well the cares of a mother, and has had 
 twins twice; yes adds the hardy seafarer we arn't 
 polished folks, nor high of blood, but we've got hearts, and 
 as every true heart hates slavery, .so do we, though we are 
 forced to dissemble oar real feelings for the sake of peace 
 in the trade." Here the delicate man took the sailor's arm, 
 and sallied out to seek the little Maggy Bell, the former 
 saying the meeting was as strange as grateful to his very 
 soul. Down Market Street, shaded in darkness, they 
 wended their way, and after reaching the wharf, passed 
 along between long lines of cotton bales, piled eight and 
 ten feet high, to the end, where lay motionless the pretty 
 Maggy Bell, as clipper-like a craft as ever spread canvas. 
 The light from the cabin shed its faint gleams over the 
 quarter-deck, as Hardweather halted on the capsill, and 
 with a sailor's pride run his quick black eye along her 
 pirate-like hull, then aloft along the rigging. Exultingly, 
 he says, " She is the sauciest witch that ever faced sea or 
 showed a clean pair of heels. The Maggy Bell '.he pats 
 his friend on the shoulder why, sir, she has just between 
 ourselves now slided many a poor slave off into freedom ;
 
 676 DISCOVERIES AND PLEASANT SCENES. 
 
 but folks here don't think it of me. Now, if I reckon 
 right he bites his tobacco, and extends it to the stranger 
 and I believe I do, it's twenty years since the Maggy, of 
 one dark night, skimmed it by that point, with Fort 
 Pinkney on it, yonder, that good creature on board." He 
 points to the murky mass, scarce visible in the distance, to 
 the east. " And now she's one of the noblest women that 
 ever broke bread to the poor ; and she's right comfortable 
 off, now, alwa's has a smile, and a kind word, and some 
 thing good for old Jack Hardweather whenever she sees him. 
 Lord bless yer soul ! here he shakes his head earnestly, and 
 says he never was a lubber Jack Hardweather didn't care 
 about the soft shot for his locker ; it was my heart that 
 felt the kindness. Indeed, it always jumps and jerks like a 
 bobstay in a head sea, when I meets her. And then, when 
 I thinks how 'twas me done the good turn, and no thanks 
 to nobody ! You hearn of me 'afore, eh (he turns to his 
 companion, who measuredly answers in the affirmative). 
 Well, then, my name's Skipper Jack Hardweather, known 
 all along the coast ; but, seeing how the world and naviga 
 tion's got shortened down, they call me old Jack Splitwnter. 
 I s'ppose it's by the way of convenience, and so neither 
 wife nor me have a bit of objection." Here the conversa 
 tion was interrupted by the good wife's round, cheery face 
 shooting suddenly from out the companion-way, and en 
 joining our friend Jack to come away aboard, her high peaked 
 cap shining like snow on a dark surface. The trutii was, 
 that Splitwater, as he was styled, had become so much 
 absorbed in excitement as to forget the length of his yarn. 
 "Come away, now !" says the good wife, " everybody's left 
 the Maggy to-night; and ther's na knowin' what 'd a' 
 become 'un her if a'h hadn't looked right sharp, for ther' 
 wer' a muckle ship a' mast run her dune ; an' if she just 
 had, the Maggy wad na mar bene seen !" The good wife 
 shakes her head; her rich Scotch tongue sounding on the 
 still air, as with apprehension her chubby face shines in 
 the light of the candle she holds before it with her right 
 hand. Skipper Splitwater will oee his friend on board, he 
 says, as they follow her down the companion-ladder. 
 !' Wife thinks as much of the Maggy and would, I believe 
 in my soul, cry her life out if anything happened till her : 
 wife's a good body aboard a ship, and can take a trick at
 
 DISCOVERIE^AND PLEASANT SCENES. 57"? 
 
 the wheel just as well as Harry Span the mate. Skipper 
 Splitwater leads the way into a little dingy cabin, a partition 
 running athwart ships dividing it into two apartments ; 
 the former being where Skipper Hardweather "sleeps his 
 crew " and cooks his mess, the sternmost where he receives 
 his friends. This latter place, into which he conducts the 
 nervous man, is lumbered with boxes, chests, charts, camp- 
 seats, log-lines, and rusty quadrants, and sundry marine 
 relics which only the inveterate coaster could conceive a 
 use for. But the good wife Molly, whose canny face bears 
 the wrinkles of some forty summers, and whose round, short 
 figure is so simply set off with bright plaid frock and apron of 
 gingham check, in taste well adapted to her humble position, 
 is as clean and tidy as ever was picture of mine Vrow Varden- 
 stein. Nevertheless, we know the reader will join us in the 
 sentiment that which gave the air of domestic happiness a com 
 pleteness hitherto unnoticed, was a wee responsibility, as seen 
 sprawling and kicking goodnaturedly on the white pillow of 
 the starboard berth, where its two peering eyes shone forth as 
 bright as new-polished pearls. The little darling is just a 
 year old, Dame Hardweather tells us; it's a twin, the 
 other died, and, she knows foil well, has gone to heaven. 
 Here she takes the little cherub in her lap, and having 
 made her best courtesy as Hardweather introduces her to 
 his nervous friend, seats herself on the locker, and com 
 mences suckling it, while he points to the very place on 
 the larboard side where Clotilda " Ah ! I just caught the 
 name," he says, used to sit and sorrow for her child. 
 " And then," he continues, " on the quarter-deck she 'd go 
 and give such longing looks back, like as if she wanted to 
 see it ; and when she could n't, she 'd turn away and sigh so. 
 And this, Molly," he continues, "is the self-same child 
 my friend here, who I am as happy to meet as a body can 
 be, wants me to carry off from these wolves of slavery ; and 
 if I don't, then my name's not Jack Splitwater ! " So say- , 
 rng, he bustles about, tells the nervous man he must excuse 
 the want of finery, that he has been a hard coaster for God 
 knows how many years, and the little place is all he can 
 afford ; for indeed he is poor, but expects a better place one 
 of these days. Then he draws forth from a little nook in 
 the stern locker a bottle, which he says contains pure stuff,
 
 578 DISCOVERIES AND PLEA^.NT SCENES. 
 
 and of which he invites his visitor to partake, that he may 
 keep up a good heart, still hoping for the best. The ner 
 vous man declines his kind invitation, he has too much 
 at heart, and the sight of the child so reminds him of his 
 own now blighted in slavery. The good woman now 
 becoming deeply concerned, Hardweather must needs re 
 count the story, and explain the- strange man's troubles, 
 which he does in simple language ; but, as the yarn is 
 somewhat long, the reader must excuse our not transcribing 
 it here. With anxious face and listening ears did the 
 woman absorb every word ; and when the earnest skipper 
 concluded with grasping firmly the man's hand, and saying 
 "Just you scheme the strategy, and if I don't carry it out 
 my name aint Jack Hardweather ! " would she fain have had 
 him go on. " Lack a day, good man ! " she rejoined, fondling 
 closer to her bosom the little suckling ; " get ye the wee 
 bairn and bring it hither, and I'll mak it t'uther twin na 
 body'll kno't! and da ye ken hoo ye may mak the bonny 
 wife sik a body that nane but foxes wad ken her. Just 
 mak her a brae young sailor, and the Maggy Bell '11 do the 
 rest on't." Hardweather here interrupted Molly's sugges 
 tion which was, indeed, most fortunate, and albeit supplied 
 the initiative to the strategy afterwards adopted for slavery 
 opens wide the field of strategy by reminding the stranger 
 that she had a long Scotch head. The night had now well 
 advanced ; the stranger shook the woman's hand firmly, and 
 bade her good night, as a tear gushed into his eyes. The 
 scene was indeed simple, but touching. The hard mariner 
 will accompany his friend to the wharf; and then as he 
 again turns on the capsill, he cannot bid him good night 
 without adding a few words more in praise of the little Mag 
 gy Bell, whose name is inscribed in gilt letters upon the 
 flash-board of her stern. Holding his hand, he says : " Now, 
 keep the heart up right! and in a day or two we'll have 
 ^all aboard, and be in the stream waiting for a fair breeze 
 then the Maggy '11 play her part. Bless yer soul ! the little 
 craft and me's coasted down the coast nobody knows how 
 many years; and she knows every nook, creek, reef, and 
 point, just as well as I does. Just give her a double-reefed 
 mainsail, and the lug of a standing jib, and in my soul I 
 believe she'd make the passage without compass, chart, or a 
 hand aboard. By the word of an old sailor, such a craft is
 
 DISCOTEEIES AND PLEASANT SCENES. 579 
 
 the Maggy Bell. And when the Spanish and English and 
 French all got mixed up about who owned Florida, the 
 Maggy and me's coasted along them keys when, blowing a 
 screecher, them Ingins' balls flew so, a body had to hold 
 the hair on his head ; but never a bit did the Maggy mind 
 it." The stranger's heart was too full of cares to respond 
 to the generous man's simplicity; shaking his hand 
 fervently, he bid him good night, and disappeared up the 
 wharf. 
 
 We apprehend little difficulty to the reader in discovering 
 the person of Montague in our nervous man, who, in the 
 absence of intelligence from his wife, was led to suspect 
 some foul play. Nor were his suspicious unfounded ; for, on 
 returning to Memphis, which he did in great haste, he found 
 his home desolate, his wife and child borne back into slavery, 
 and himself threatened with Lynch law. The grief which 
 .threatened to overwhelm him at finding those he so dearly 
 loved hurled back into bondage, was not enough to appease 
 a community tenacious of its colour. No ! he must leave his 
 business, until the arrival of some one from New York, 
 to the clerk who so perfidiously betrayed him. With sick 
 ened heart, then, does he only too glad to escape the fury 
 of an unreasoning mob seek that place of bondage into 
 which the captives have been carried ; nay, more, he left 
 the excited little world (reporting his destination to be New 
 York) fully resolved to rescue them at the hazard of his 
 life, and for ever leave the country. Scarcely necessary then, 
 will it be for us to inform the reader, that, having sought 
 out the Bosebrooks, he has counselled their advice, and 
 joined them in devising means of relief. Blowers had 
 declared, on his sacred honour, he would not sell the cap 
 tives for their weight in gold. 
 
 Rosebrook had no sooner received Annette's letter from 
 the hand of Pompe than he repaired to Blowers' plantation 
 as well to sound that gentleman's disposition to sell his 
 captives, as a necessary precaution against the dangers he 
 had incurred through his participation in the fair girl's 
 escape ; for albeit the disclosure might be extorted from 
 her by cruelty. But Blowers was too much of a gentleman 
 to condescend to sell his captive ; nor would he listen to 
 arguments in her behalf. Nevertheless, we will not under 
 rate Blowers' character, that the reader may suppose him
 
 DISCOVERIES AND PLEASANT SCENES. 
 
 devoid of compassion ; for be it recorded to his fame he 
 did, on the morning following that on which the punish 
 ment we have described in the foregoing chapter took place, 
 send the child, whose long and piercing cries he could no 
 longer endure, to the arms of its poor disconsolate mother, 
 whom he hoped would take good care of it. 
 
 ]X"ow, let not the reader restrain his fancy, but imagine, if 
 he can, Pringle Mowers' disappointment and state of per 
 turbation, when, three days after the punishment, he pre 
 sented himself at Broadman's establishment, and was 
 informed by that functionary that the fair mother was 
 non est. With honest face did Broadman assert his 
 ignorance of wrong. That he had not betrayed his duty he 
 \vould satisfy the enraged man, by producing the very order 
 on which he delivered them to Joe ! " Yes, Joe was his 
 name ! " continues the honest man ; " and he asserted his 
 ownership, and told a straightforward story, and didn't look- 
 roguish." He passes the order over to Blowers, who, having 
 examined it very cautiously, says : " Forgery, forgery ! 'tis, 
 by the Eternal ! " Turning his fat sides, he approaches the 
 window, and by the light reads each successive word. It is 
 written in a scrawl precisely like his own ; but, forsooth, it 
 cannot be his. However, deeming it little becoming a man 
 of his standing to parley with Broadman, he quickly makes 
 his exit, and, like a locomotive at half speed, exhausting his 
 perturbation the while, does he seek his way into the city, 
 where he discovers his loss to the police. We have in 
 another part of our history described Blowers as something 
 of a wag ; indeed, waggery was not the least trait in his 
 curious character, nor was he at all cautious in the exercise 
 of it ; and, upon the principle that those who give must 
 take, did he render himself a fit object for those who in 
 dulge in that sort of pastime to level their wit upon. 
 On this occasion, Blowers had not spent many hours in the 
 city ere he had all its convenient corners very fantastically 
 decorated with large blue placards, whereon was inscribed 
 the loss of his valuable woman, and the offer of the increased 
 sum of four hundred dollars for her apprehension. The 
 placards were wonderful curiosities, and very characteristic 
 of Blowers, who in this instance excited no small amount 
 of merriment among the city wags, each of whom cracked 
 a joke at his expense. Now it was not that those waggish
 
 DISCOVEBIES AND PLEASANT SCENES. 681 
 
 spirits said of his placard things exceedingly annoying to 
 his sensitive feelings, but that every prig made him the 
 butt of his borrowed wit. One quizzed him with want of 
 gallantry, another told him what the ladies said of hia 
 loss, a third pitied him, but hoped he might get back his 
 property ; and then, Tom Span, the dandy lawyer, laconi 
 cally told him that to love a fair slave was a business he 
 must learn over again ; and Sprout, the cotton-broker, said 
 there was a law against ornamenting the city with blue 
 placards and type of such uncommon size. In this inter 
 minable perplexity, and to avoid the last-named difficulty, 
 did he invoke the genius of the " bill-sticker," who 
 obliterated the blue placards by covering them over with 
 brown ones, the performance of which, Blowers himself 
 superintended. This made the matter still worse, for with 
 jocose smile did every wag say he had hung the city in. 
 mourning for his loss ; which singular proceeding the ladies 
 had one and all solemnly protested against. Now, Blowers' 
 regard for the ladies was proverbial ; nor will it disparage 
 his character to say that no one was more sensitive of their 
 opinions concerning himself. In this unhappy position, 
 then, whicli he might have avoided had he exercised more 
 calmly his philosophy, did his perturbation get the better of 
 him ; an object of ridicule for every wag, and in ill-favour 
 with the very first ladies, never was perplexed man's temper 
 so near the exploding point of high pressure. And here, 
 forsooth, disgusted with the whole city, nor at all pleased 
 with the.result of his inventive genius, he sought relief in 
 strong drinks and a week of dissipation ; in which sad con 
 dition we must leave him to the reader's sympathy. 
 
 As some of our fair readers may be a little prudish, 
 or exacting of character, and as we are peculiarly sensi 
 tive of the reputation some of the characters embodied in 
 this history should bear to the very end, we deem it prudent 
 here not to disclose the nature of the little forgery which was 
 perpetrated at Blowers' expense, nor the means by which 
 it was so cleverly carried out, to the release of the fair 
 captives, who must now be got out of the city. Should 
 we, in the performance of this very desirable duty, fail to 
 please the reader's taste for hair-bi'eadth escapes, unnatural 
 heroism, and sublime disinterestedness, an excuse may be 
 found in our lack of soul to appreciate those virtues of ro-
 
 582 DISCOVERIES AND PLEASANT SCENES. 
 
 mance. We have no taste for breathless suspenses, no love 
 of terror : we deal not in tragedy, nor traffic in dramatic 
 effects. But as the simplest strategy is often the most 
 successful of results, so did ft prove in this particular case ; 
 for, be it known, that on the morning of the twenty-fourth of 
 
 March, , was Molly Hard weather's suggestion adopted 
 
 and effectually carried out, to the gratification of sundry 
 interested persons. Calm and bright was that morning ; 
 Charleston harbour and its pretty banks seemed radiant of 
 loveliness : the phantom-like Maggy Bell, with mainsail and 
 jib spread motionless in the air, swung gently at anchor 
 midway the stream ; and Dame Hardweatlier sat in the dingy 
 cabin, her little chubby face beaming contentment as she 
 nursed the " t'other twin." The brusque figure of old Jack, 
 immersed in watchfulness, paced to and fro the Maggy's 
 deck ; and in the city as trim a young sailor as ever served 
 signal halliards on board man-o'-war, might be seen, his 
 canvas bag slung over his shoulder, carelessly plodding 
 along through the busy street, for the landing at the market 
 slip. Soon the Maggy's flying jib was run up, then the fore 
 sail followed and bung loose by the throat. Near the wheel, 
 as if in contemplation, sat Montague, while Hardweatlier 
 continued his pacing, now glancing aloft, then to seaward, 
 as if invoking Boreas' all-welcome aid, and again watching 
 intently in the direction of the slip. A few minutes more 
 and a boat glided from the wharf, and rowed away for the 
 little craft, which it soon reached, and on board of which the 
 young sailor flung his bag, clambered over the rail, and seemed 
 happy, as old Jack put out his brawny hand, saying : " Come 
 youngster, bear a hand now, and set about brightening up the 
 coppers !" We need not here discover the hearts that leaped 
 with joy just then; we need not describe the anxiety that 
 found relief when the young sailor set foot on the Maggy's 
 deck ; nor need we describe those eyes on shore that in tears 
 watched the slender form as it disappeared from sight. 
 Just then a breeze wafted from the north, the anchor was 
 hove up, the sails trimmed home, and slowly seaward moved 
 the little bark. As she drifted rather than sailed past 
 Port Pinkuey, two burly officials, as is the custom, 
 boarded to search for hapless fugitives ; but, having great 
 confidence in the honesty of Skipper Splitwater, who never 
 failed to give them of his best cheer, they drank a pleasant
 
 DTSCOYERIE3 AND PLEAS A NX SCENES. 583 
 
 passage to him, made a cursory search, a note of the 
 names of all on board (Jack saying Tom Bolt was the 
 young sailor's), and left quite satisfied. Indeed, there was 
 nothing to excite their suspicious, for the good dame sat 
 nursing the " twa twins," nor left aught to discover the 
 discrepancy between their ages, if we except a pair of 
 little red feet that dangled out from beneath the fringe of a 
 plaid shawl. And the young sailor, who it is hardly necessary 
 to inform the reader is Annette, was busy with his cooking. 
 And now the little craft, free upon the wave, increased her 
 speed as her topsails spread out, and glided swiftly seaward, 
 heaven tempering the winds to her well-worn sails. God 
 speed the Maggy Bell as she vaults over the sea ; and may 
 she never want water under keel, slaves to carry into 
 freedom, or a good Dame Hardweather to make cheerful the 
 little cabin ! say we. 
 
 And now, reader, join us in taking a fond farewell of the 
 Rosebrooks, who have so nobly played their part, to the 
 shame of those who stubbornly refuse to profit by their 
 example. They played no inactive part in the final 
 escape ; but discretion forbids our disclosing its minutiae. 
 They sought to give unto others that liquid of life to which 
 they owed their own prosperity and happiness ; nor did selfish 
 motive incite them to action. No ; they sought peace and 
 prosperity for the state ; they would bind in lasting fellow 
 ship that union so mighty of states, which tiie world with 
 mingled admiration and distrust watches ; which in kindred 
 compact must be mightier, which dividedmust fall! And while 
 taking leave of them, hoping their future may be brightened 
 with joys and, too, though it may not comport with the 
 interests of our southern friends, that their inventive genius 
 may never want objects upon which to illustrate itself so 
 happily let us not forget to shake old Jack Hardweather 
 warmly by the hand, invoking for him many fair wiads and 
 profitable voyages. A big heart enamelled of " coarse flesh '' 
 is his ; but with his warm functions he has done much good 
 may he be rich in heaven's rewards, for he is poor in earth's !
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 IN WHICH IS A HAPPY MEETING, SOME CURIOUS FACTS DEVEL 
 OPED, AND CLOTILDA'S HISTORY DISCLOSED. 
 
 IT was sevep. days after the sailing of the Maggy Bell, as 
 described in the foregoing chapter, that Montague was seen 
 sitting in the comfortably furnished parlour of a neat 
 cottage in the suburbs of Nassau. The coal fire burned 
 brightly in a polished grate ; the carpets and rugs, and 
 lolling mats, indicated of care and comfort ; the tabbied fur 
 niture and chastely worked ottomans, and sofas, and chairs, 
 and inlaid workstands, seem bright of regularity and taste ; 
 and .the window curtains of lace and damask, and the scroll 
 cornices from which they flowingly hung, and the little 
 landscape paintings that hung upon the satin-papered walls, 
 and the soft light that issued from two girandoles on the 
 mantel-piece of figured marble, all lent their cheering aid to 
 make complete the radiant picture of a happy home. But 
 Montague sat nervous with anxiety. " Mother won't be a 
 minute !" said a pert little fellow of some seven summers, 
 who played with his hands as he sat on the sofa, and asked 
 questions his emotions forbid answering. On an ottoman 
 near the cheerful fire, sat, with happy faces, the prettily 
 dressed figures of a boy and girl, older in age than the first ; 
 while by the side of Montague sat Maxwell, whose manly 
 countenance we transcribed in the early part of our narra 
 tive, and to whom Montague had in part related the sad 
 events of the four months past, as he heaved a sigh, saying, 
 " How happy must he die who careth for the slave !" Ere 
 the words had escaped his lips, the door opened, and the grace 
 ful form of a beautiful woman entered, her finely oval but 
 pensive face made more expressive by the olive that shaded it, 
 and those deep soul-like eyes that now sparkled in gentle 
 ness, and again flashed with apprehension. Nervously she 
 paused and set her eyes with intense stare on Montague ; 
 then vaulted into his arms and embraced him, crying, " la 
 not my Annette here ?" as a tear stole down her cheeks.
 
 A HAPPY MEETING. 585 
 
 Her quick eye detected trouble in bis deportment ; sbe 
 grasped his left band firmly in her right, and with quivering 
 frame besought him to keep her no longer in the agony of 
 suspense. " Why thus suddenly have you come ? ah !: 
 you disclose a deep-rooted trouble in not forewarning me ! 
 tell me all and relieve my feelings!" sbe ejaculated, in broken 
 accents. " I was driven from that country because I loved 
 nature and obeyed its laws. My very soul loved its great 
 ness, and would have done battle for its glories yea, I 
 loved it for the many blessings it hath for the favoured ; but 
 one dark stain on its bright escutcheon so betrayed justice, 
 that no home was there for me none for the wife I had 
 married in lawful wedlock." Here the woman, in agonising 
 throbs, interrupted him by enquiring why he said there was 
 no home for the wife he had married in lawful wedlock 
 was not the land of the puritans free ?" "Nay!" he 
 answered, in a measured tone, shaking his head, " it is be- 
 stained not with their crimes for dearly do they love justice 
 and regard the rights of man but with the dark deeds of 
 the man-seller, who, heedless of their feelings, and despising 
 their moral rectitude, would make solitary those happy 
 homes that brighten in greatness over its soil." Again, 
 frantic of anxiety, did the woman interrupt him : " Heavens ! 
 she is not dragged back into slavery ?" she enquired, her 
 emotions rising beyond her power of restraint, as she drew 
 bitter pangs from painful truths. With countenance 
 bathed in trouble did Montague return her solicitous glance, 
 and speak. "Into slavery he muttered, in half choked accents 
 was she hurled back." He had not finished the sentence ere 
 anxiety burst its bounds, and the anxious woman shrieked, and 
 fell swooning in his arms. Even yet her olive face was beaute- 
 fnlly pale. The cheerful parlour now rung with confusion, ser 
 vants bustled about in fright, the youthful family shrieked in 
 fear, the father sought to restore the fond mother, as Mon 
 tague chafed her right hand in his. Let us leave to the reader's 
 conjecture a scene his fancy may depict better than we can 
 describe, and pass to one more pleasant of results. Some 
 half an hour had transpired, when, as if in strange bewilder 
 ment, Clotilda opened her eyes and seemed conscious of her 
 position. A deep crimson shaded her olive cheeks, as 
 in luxurious ease she lay upon the couch, her flushed face 
 and her thick wavy hair, so prettily parted over her classic
 
 586 A HAPPY MEETING. 
 
 brow, curiously contrasting with the snow-white pillow on 
 which it rested. A pale and emaciated girl sat beside her, 
 smoothing her brow with her left hand, laying the right 
 gently on the almost motionless bosom, kissing the 
 crimsoning cheek, and lisping rather than speaking, 
 " Mother, mother, oh mother !" it's only me." And then 
 the wet courses on her cheeks told how the fountain of 
 her soul had overflown. Calmly and vacantly the woman 
 gazed on the fair girl, with whom she had been left 
 alone. Then she raised her left hand to her brow, sighed, 
 and seemed sinking into a tranquil sleep. " Mother ! 
 mother ! I am once more with my mother !" again ejacu 
 lates the fair girl, sobbing audibly ; " do you not know 
 me, mother ?" Clotilda started as if suddenly surprised. 
 " Do I dream ?" she muttered, raising herself on her elbow, 
 as her great soft eyes wandered about the room. She 
 would know who called her mother. " 'Tis me," said the 
 ' fair girl, returning her glances, " do you not know your 
 Annette your slave child ?" Indeed the fair girl was not 
 of that bright countenance she had anticipated meeting, for 
 though the punishment had little soiled her flesh the dagger 
 of disgrace had cut deep into her heart, and spread its 
 poison over her soul. "This my Annette!" exclaimed 
 Clotilda, throwing her arms about the fair girl's neck, 
 drawing her frantically to her bosom, and bathing her 
 cheeks with her tears of joy. " Yes, yes, 'tis my long-lost 
 child ; 'tis she for whom my soul has longed (rod has been 
 merciful, rescued her from the yawning death of slavery, and 
 given her back to her mother ! Oh, no, I do not dream it 
 is my child, my Annette!" she continued. Long and 
 affectionately did they mingle their tears and kisses. And now 
 a fond mother's joy seemed complete, a child's sorrow ended, 
 and a happy family were made happier. Again the family 
 gathered into the room, where, as of one accord, they poured 
 out their affectionate congratulations. One after another 
 were the children enjoined to greet Annette, kiss her, and 
 call her sister. To them the meeting was as strange as to 
 the parents it was radiant of joy. " Mother !" said the 
 little boy, as he took Annette by the hand and called her 
 sister, and kissed her as she kissed him, " was you married 
 before you was married to father ?" The affectionate 
 mother had no answer to make ; she might have found
 
 SOME CURIOUS PACTS DEVELOPED. 587 
 
 one in the ignominy of the slave world. And now, when 
 the measure of joy seemed full when the bitterness of the 
 past dwindled away like a dream, and when the future like 
 a beacon hung out its light of promise, Clotilda drew from 
 a small workstand a discoloured paper written over in Greek 
 characters, scarce intelligible. " Annette !" said she, " my 
 mother gave me this when last I saw her. The chains were 
 then about her hands, and she was about to be led away to the 
 far south slave market : by it did I discover my history." 
 Here she unfolded its defaced pages, lifted her eyes up 
 wards invokingly, and continued " To speak the crimes of 
 great men is to hazard an oblivion for yourself, to bring 
 upon you the indifference of the multitude ; but great men 
 are often greatest in crime for so it proved with those 
 who completed my mother's destruction. Give ear, then, 
 ye grave senators, and if ye have hearts of fathers, lend 
 them ! listen, ye queen mothers of my country, whose 
 sons and daughters are yet travelling the world's uncer 
 tainties ! listen, ye fathers, who have souls above Mammon's 
 golden grasp, and sons in whom ye put your trust ! 
 listen, ye brothers, whose pride brightens in a sister's virtue ! 
 listen, ye sisters, who enjoy paternal affections, and feel that 
 one day you may grace a country's social life ! listen, ye 
 philanthropists, ye men of the world, who love your country, 
 and whose hearts yearn for its liberties ye men sensitive of 
 our great Republic's honour, nor seek to traffic in the small 
 gains of power when larger ones await you ; and, above all, 
 lend your hearts, ye brothers of the clergy in the slave 
 church, and give ear while I tell who I am, and pray ye, as 
 ye love the soul of woman, to seek out those who, like unto 
 what I was, now wither in slavery. My grandfather's name 
 was Iznard Maldonard, a Minorcan, who in the year 1767 
 (some four years after Florida was by the king of Spain 
 ceded to Great Britain) emigrated with one Dr. Turnbull 
 whose name has since shone on the pages of history to 
 that land of sunshine and promise ; for, indeed, Florida is the 
 Italy of America. In that year did numerous of the English 
 aristocracy conceive plans as various as inconsistent for the 
 population and improvement of the colony. With a worthy 
 motive did Lord Rolle draw from, the purlieus of London* 
 
 * See Williams' History of Florida, page 188. State Papers. 
 38
 
 588 SOME DUBIOUS FA.CTS DEVELOPED. 
 
 three hundred wretched females, whose condition he 
 would better by reforming and making aid in founding 
 settlements. This his lordship found no easy task ; but 
 the climate relieved him of the perplexity he had brought 
 upon himself, for to it did they all fall victims in a very 
 short time. But Turnbull, with motive less commendable, 
 obtained a grant of his government, and, for the sum of 
 four hundred pounds, (being then in the Peleponn-esus) was 
 the governor of Modou bribed into a permission to convey 
 sundry Greek families to Florida, for colonization. Return 
 ing from Modon with a number of families, he touched at 
 the islands of Corsica and Minorca, added another vessel 
 to his fleet, and increased the number of his settlers to 
 fifteen hundred. With exciting promises did he decoy 
 them to his land of Egypt, which proved a bondage to 
 his shame. He would give them lands, free passages, good 
 provisions and clothing ; but none of these promises did he 
 keep. A long passage of four months found many victims 
 to its hardships, and those who arrived safe were emaciated 
 by sickness. Into the interior were these taken ; and there 
 they founded a settlement called New Smyrna, the land for 
 which some sixty thousand acres was granted by the 
 governor of Florida. Faithfull} r and earnestly did they 
 labour for the promised reward, and in less than five years 
 had more than three thousand acres of land in the highest 
 state of cultivation ; but, as TurnbulFs prosperity increased, 
 so did the demon avarice ; and men, women, and children, 
 were reduced to the most abject slavery. Tasks greater 
 than they could perform were assigned them, and a few 
 Italians and negroes made overseers and drivers. For food 
 the labourers were allotted seven quarts of corn per week. 
 Many who had lived in affluence in their own country 
 were compelled to wear osnaburgs, and go bare-foot through 
 the year. More than nine years were those valuable settlers 
 kept in this state of slavery, the cruelties inflicted upon 
 them surpassing in enormity those which so stigmatised the 
 savage Spaniards of St. Domingo. Drivers were compelled 
 to beat and lacerate those who had not performed their tasks ; 
 many were left naked, tied all night to trees, that mosqui 
 toes might suck their blood, and the suffering wretches be 
 come swollen from torture. Some, to end their troubles, wan 
 dered off, and died of starvation in the forest, and, including
 
 SOME CUEIOTTS FACTS DEVELOPED. 689 
 
 the natural increase, less than six hundred souls were left 
 at the end of nine years. But, be it known to those whose 
 hearts and ears I have before invoked, that many children of 
 these unfortunate parents were fair and beautiful, which valu 
 able charms singularly excited the cupidity of the tyrant, who 
 betook himself to selling them for purposes most infamous. A 
 child overhearing the conversation of three English gentle 
 men w]io trade an excursion to the settlement, and being 
 quick of ear, conveyed the purport of it to his mother, 
 who, in the night, summoned a council of her confidants 
 to concoct the means of gaining more intelligence. The 
 boy heard the visitors, who stood in the great mansion, 
 which was of stone, say, " Did the wretches know their 
 rights they had not suffered such enormities of slavery." 
 It was resolved that three ask for long tasks, under the 
 pretext of gaining time to catch turtle on the coast ; but 
 having gained the desired time, they set off for St. Augustine, 
 which they reached, after swimming rivers and delving 
 almost impenetrable morasses. They sought the attorney- 
 general of the province, Mr. Tounge, I speak his name 
 with reverence and with an earnest zeal did he espouse 
 the cause of this betrayed people. At that time, Governor 
 Grant since strongly suspected of being concerned with 
 Turnbull in the slavery of the Greeks and Minorcans had 
 just been superseded by Tonyn, who now had it in his 
 pOAver to rebuke a tyrant, and render justice to a long- 
 injured people. Again, on the return of the envoys, who 
 bore good tidings, did they meet in secret, and choose one 
 Pallicier, a Greek, their leader. This man had been master 
 mechanic of the mansion. With wooden spears were the 
 men armed and formed into two lines, the women, children, 
 and old men in the centre ; and thus did they set off from 
 the place of bondage to seek freedom. In vain did the 
 tyrant whose name democracy has enshrined with its 
 glories pursue them, and exhaust persuasion to procure 
 their return. For three days did they wander the woods, 
 delve morasses, and swim rivers, ere they reached the haven 
 of St. Augustine, where, being provided with provisions, 
 their case was tried, and, albeit, though Turnbull interposed 
 all the perfidy wealth could purchase, their fredeom estab 
 lished. But alas! not so well was it with those fair 
 daughters whom the tyrant sold slaves to a life of infamy,
 
 590 CLOTILDA'S HISTORY DISCLOSKD. 
 
 and for whose offspring, now in the bitterness of bondage, do 
 we plead. Scores of these female children were sold by the 
 tyrant ; but either the people were drunk of joy over their 
 own liberty, and forgot to demand the return of their 
 children, or the good Younge felt forcibly his weakness to 
 bring to justice the rich and great for the law is weak where 
 slavery makes men great so as to make him disgorge the 
 ill-gotten treasure he might have concealed, but the proof 
 of which nothing was easier than to obliterate. 
 
 " Maldonard, then, was my grandfather ; and, with my 
 grandmother and three children, was of those who suffered 
 the cruelties I have detailed. Two - of his children were 
 girls, fair and beautiful, whom the tyrant, under the pretext 
 of bettering their condition in another colony, sold away 
 into slavery. One was my dear mother." Here tears 
 coursed down the woman's cheeks. " And she, though I 
 blush to tell it, was sold to Rovero, who was indeed my 
 father as well as Franconia's. But I was years older than 
 Franconia I visit her grave by day, and dream of her by 
 night; nor was it strange that she should trace the cause 
 of similarity in our features. Forsooth, it was that singular 
 discovery of which I was long ignorant coupled with 
 the virtues of a great soul, that incited her to effect my 
 escape. Rovero, ere he married Franconia' s mother, sold 
 Sylvia Maldonard, who was my mother ; and may angels 
 bring glad tidings of her spirit ! Yes, true is it that my 
 poor mother was sold to one Silenus, of whom Marston 
 bought my body while heaven guarded the soul : but here 
 would I drop the curtain over the scene, for Maldonard is 
 dead ; and in the grave of his Italian wife, ere he gained his 
 freedom, was he buried." Here again the fond mother, as 
 she concluded, lifted her eyes invokingly, fondled her long- 
 lost child to her bosom, smiled upon her, kissed her, and was 
 happy.
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 IK WHICH A PLOT IS DISCLOSED, AND THE MAN-SELLER MADE TO 
 PAY THE PENALTY OF HIS CRIMES. 
 
 WHILE the scenes which we have detailed in the forego 
 ing chapter were being enacted at Nassau, there stood in 
 the portico of a massive dwelling, fronting what in Charles 
 ton is called the " Battery Promenade," the tall and stately 
 figure of a man, wrapped in a costly black cloak, the folds of 
 which lay carelessly about his neck and shoulders. For 
 some minutes did he stand, hesitating, and watching up and 
 down the broad walk in front. The gas-light overhead 
 shed its glare upon the freestone walls for the night was 
 dark and, as he turned, discovered the fiue features of a 
 frank and open countenance, to which the flashing of two 
 great intelligent eyes, a long silvery beard, and a flowing 
 moustache, all shaded by the broad brim of a black felt 
 hat, lent their aid to make impressive. Closer he muffled 
 his face in the folds of his cloak, and spoke. " Time !" 
 said he, in a voice musical and clear, " hath worn little on 
 his great mansion ; like his r heart, it is of good stone." The 
 mansion, indeed, was of princely front, with chiselled fa$ade 
 and great doric windows of deep fluted mouldings, grand 
 in outline. Now a small hand stole from beneath bis 
 cloak, rapped gently upon the carved door of black walnut, 
 and rang the bell. Soon the door swung open, and a 
 negro in a black coat, white vest, and handkerchief of great 
 stiffness, and nether garments of flashy stripes, politely 
 bowed him into a hall of great splendour. Rows of statuary 
 Btood in alcoves along its sides ; the walls dazzled with 
 bright coloured paintings in massive gilt frames; highly 
 coloured and badly blended mythological designs spread 
 along the ceiling : the figure of a female, with pearly tears 
 gushing from her eyes, as on bended knee she besought 
 mercy of,the winged angel perched above her, stood beside 
 the broad stairway at the further end of the hall strangely 
 emblematical of the many thousand souls the man-seller had
 
 592 A PLOT IS DISCLOSED, AND THE MAN-SELLER 
 
 made weep in the bitterness of slavery ; the softest rugs and 
 costly Turkey carpets, with which its floor was spread, yielded 
 lightly to the footfall, as the jetting lights of a great chande 
 lier shed refulgence over the whole : indeed, what there lacked 
 of taste was made up with air of opulence. The negro exhibit 
 ed some surprise at the stranger's dress and manner, for he af 
 fected ease and indifference. " Is your master at leisure 1 " said 
 he. " Business, or a friend ? " inquired the negro, making one 
 of his best bows, and drawing back his left foot. " Both," was 
 the quick reply. " I, boy, am a gentleman ! " "I sees dat, 
 mas'r," rejoined the boy, accompanying his answer with another 
 bow, and requesting the stranger's name, as he motioned him 
 into a spacious drawing-room on the right, still more gorgeously 
 furnished. 
 
 " My name is Major Blank : your master knows my name : 
 I would see him quickly ! " again spoke the stranger, as the 
 boy promptly disappeared to make the announcement. The 
 heavy satin-damask curtains, of finest texture, that adorned 
 the windows ; the fresco-paintings of the walls ; the 
 elaborate gilding that here and there in bad taste relieved 
 the cornices ; the massive pictures that hung in gauze- 
 covered frames upon the walls ; the chastely designed 
 carpets, and lolls, and rugs, with which the floor gave 
 out its brilliancy ; the costly tapestry f the curiously 
 carved furniture that stood here and there about the room ; 
 and the soft light of a curiously constructed chandelier, 
 suspended from the left hand of an angel in bronze, the 
 said angel having its wings pinioned to the ceiling, its 
 body in the attitude of descending, and its right hand 
 gracefully raised above the globe, spreading its prismatic 
 glows over the whole, did indeed make the scene resplendent 
 of luxury. The man carelessly seated himself at a table 
 that stood in the centre of the room, threw the hat 
 he had declined yielding to the negro on the floor beside 
 him, rested the elbow of his left arm on the table, and his 
 head in his hand, as with the fingers of his right hand did 
 he fret the long silvery beard that bedecked his chin, and 
 contemplate with eager gaze the scene around him. " Yea, 
 the man-seller hath, with his spoils of greed, gotten him a 
 gorgeous mansion ; even he liveth like a prince, his head 
 resteth more in peace, and because he hath great wealth of 
 crime men seek to honour him. The rich criminal hath few
 
 MADE TO PAT THE PENALTY OP HIS CEIMES. 593 
 
 to fear ; but hard is the fate of him who hath not the where 
 with to be aught but a poor one !" he muttered to himself, 
 as the door opened, and the well-rounded figure of 
 Graspum whisked into the room. The negro bowed 
 politely, and closed the door after him, as the stranger's 
 eye flashed upon his old acquaintance, who, bedecked some 
 what extravagantly, and with a forced smile on his subtle 
 countenance, advanced rubbing his hands one over the other, 
 making several methodical bows, to which the stranger rose, 
 as he said, " Most happy am I to see you, Major ! Major 
 Blake, I believe, I have the pleasure of receiving?" Here 
 the stranger interpolated by saying his name was not 
 Blake, but Blank : the other apologised, said he was just 
 entertaining a small but very select circle of friends ; never 
 theless, always chose to follow the maxim of " business before 
 pleasure." Again he bustled about, worked his fingers 
 with a mechanical air, frisked them through his hair, with 
 which he covered the bald surface of his head, kept his 
 little keen eyes leering apprehensively on what he deemed 
 a ripe customer, whom he bid keep his seat. To an invita 
 tion to lay off his cloak the stranger replied that it was of 
 no consequence. " A planter just locating, if I may be 
 permitted to suggest?" enquired Graspum, taking his seat on 
 the opposite side of the table. "JSTo !" returned the other, 
 emphatically ; " but I have some special business in your 
 line." The man of business, his face reddening of anxiety, 
 rose quickly from his seat, advanced to what seemed a rose 
 wood cabinet elaborately carved, but which was in reality 
 an iron safe encased with ornamental wood, and from 
 it drew forth a tin case, saying, as he returned and set it 
 upon the table, " Lots from one to five were sold yesterday 
 at almost fabulous prices never was the demand for 
 prime people better ; but we have Lots (here he began to 
 disgorge invoices) six, seven, eight, and nine left ; all 
 containing the primest of people ! Yes, sir, let me assure 
 you, the very choicest of the market." He would have the 
 customer examine the invoices himself, and in the morning 
 the live stock may be seen at his yard. " You cherish no evil 
 in your breast, in opposition to the command of Him who 
 reproved the wrong of malice ; but you still cling to the sale 
 of men, which you conceive no harm, eh, Graspum ?" 
 returned the stranger, knitting his brows, as a curl of
 
 594 A PLOT IS DISCLOSED, AND THE MAN-SELLE3 
 
 fierce hatred set upon his lip. "With an air of surprise 
 did Grraspum hesitate for a moment, and then, with a 
 measured smile, said, " "Why, Lord bless you ! it would 
 be a dishonour for a man of my celebrity in business to 
 let a day escape without a sale ; within the last ten days I 
 have sold a thousand people, or more, provided you throw 
 in the old ones !" Here he again frisked his fingers, and 
 leaned back in his chair, as his face resumed an air of satis 
 faction. The stranger interrupted as the man-seller \\~as 
 about to enquire the number and texture of the people he 
 desired. " Grraspum," said he, with significant firmness, 
 setting his eyes upon him with intense stare, " I want 
 neither your men, nor your women, nor your little children ; 
 but, have you a record of souls you have sunk in the bitter 
 ness of slavery in that box here the stranger paused, and 
 pointed at the box on the table keep it until you knock for 
 admittance at the gates of -eternity." It was not until this 
 moment that he could bring his mind, which had been 
 absorbed in the mysteries of man- selling, to regard the 
 stranger in any other light than that of a customer. 
 " Pardon me, sir !" said he, somewhat nervously, " but you 
 speak with great familiarity." The stranger would not be 
 considered intrusive. " Then you have forgotten me, 
 Grraspum ?" exclaimed the man, with an ominous laugh. 
 As if deeply offended at such familiarity, the man-seller 
 shook his head rebukingly, and replied by saying he had an 
 advantage of him not comprehensible. " Then have you 
 sent my dearest relatives to an untimely grave, driven me 
 from the home of my childhood, and made a hundred 
 wretches swim a sea of sorrow ; and yet you do not know 
 me?" Indeed, the charges here recounted would have 
 least served to aid the recognition, for they belonged only 
 to one case among many scores that might have been 
 enumerated. He shook his head in reply. For a minute 
 did they, the stranger scowling sarcastically upon 
 his adversary (for such he now was), gaze upon 
 each other, until Graspum's eyes drooped and his face 
 turned pale. " I have seen you ; but at this moment cannot 
 place you," he replied, drawing back his chair a pace. " It 
 were well had you never known me !" was the stranger's 
 rejoinder, spoken in significant accents, as he deliberately 
 drew from beneath his cloak a revolver, which he laid on
 
 MADE TO PAT THE PENALTY OF HIS CHIMES. 595 
 
 the table, warning his adversary that it were well he move 
 cautiously. Graspum affects not to comprehend such impor 
 tune demeanor, or conjecture what has brought him hither. 
 Trembling in fright, and immersed in the sweat of his cowar 
 dice, he would proclaim aloud his apprehension ; to which 
 medium of salvation he makes an attempt to reach the door. 
 But the stranger is too quick for him : " Calm your fears, 
 Graspum," he says ; " act not the child, but meet the conse 
 quences like a hero i^trange is it, that you, who have sold 
 twenty thousand souls, should shrink at the yielding up of 
 one life !" concludes he, placing his back firmly against the 
 door, and commanding Grraspum to resume his seat. Having 
 locked the door and placed the key in his pocket, he paced 
 twice or thrice up and down the floor, seemingly in deep 
 contemplation, and heaved a sigh. " Graspum !" he ejacu 
 lated, suddenly turning towards that terrified gentleman ; 
 " in that same iron chest have you another box, the same 
 containing papers which are to me of more value than all 
 your invoices of souls. Go ! bring it hither !" Tremblingly 
 did the man-seller obey the command, drew from the chest 
 an antiquated box, and placed it hesitatingly upon the 
 table. " I will get the key, if you will kindly permit me," 
 he said, bowing, as the sweat fell from his chin upon the 
 carpet. The stranger says it wants no key ; he breaks it 
 open with his hands. " You have long stored it with goodly 
 papers ; let us see of what they are made," said he. Here 
 Grasp am commenced drawing forth package after package 
 of papers, the inscriptions on which were eagerly observed 
 by the stranger's keen eye. At length there came out a 
 package of letters, superscribed in the stranger's own hand, 
 and directed to Hugh Marston. " How came you by 
 these ?" enquired the stranger, grasping them quickly : 
 " Ah, Graspum, I have heard all ! Never mind, continue !" 
 he resumed. Presently there came forth a package 
 addressed to "Franconia M'Carstrow," some of which the 
 stranger recognised as superscribed by his mother, others 
 by Clotilda, for she could write when, a slave. Graspum 
 would put this last aside ; but in an angry tone did the 
 stranger demand it, as his passion had well nigh got the 
 better of his resolution. " How the deep and damning 
 infamy discovers itself ! Ah, Graspum, for the dross of 
 this world hast thou betrayed the innocent. Through thine
 
 596 A PLOT IS DISCLOSED, AND THE MAN-SELLEK 
 
 emissaries has thus intercepted these letters, and felt safe iq 
 thy guilt. And still you know not who I am ?" Indeed, the 
 man-seller was too much beside himself with terror to have 
 recognised even a near friend. " My name is Lorenzo, he 
 who more than twenty years ago you beguiled into crime. 
 There is concealed beneath those papers a bond that bears 
 on its face the secret of the many sorrows brought upon my 
 family." Lorenzo !" interrupted Graspum, as he let fall 
 a package of papers, and sat aghast and trembling. " Yes," 
 replied the other, " you cannot mistSte me, though time 
 hath laid a heavy hand upon my brow. Now is your infamy 
 complete !" Here the stranger drew forth the identical 
 bond we have described in the early part of our history, as 
 being signed by Marston, at his mansion, on the night pre 
 vious to Lorenzo's departure. Bidding the man-seller move 
 not an inch, he spread the document before him, and com 
 manded him to read the contents. This he had not resolu 
 tion to do. " Graspum !" spoke Lorenzo, his countenance 
 flushed in passion ; " you can see, if you cannot read ; look 
 ye upon the words of that paper (here he traced the lines 
 with the forefinger of his right hand as he stood over the 
 wretched miscreant) and tell me if it be honourable 
 to spare the life of one who would commit so foul a deed. 
 On the night you consummated my shame, forced me to re 
 lieve you by procuring my uncle's signature to a document 
 not then filled up, or made complete, how little did I con 
 jecture the germs of villainy so deep in your heart as to 
 betray the confidence I reposed in you. You, in your 
 avarice, changed the tenor of that instrument, made the 
 amount more than double that which I had injudiciously 
 become indebted to you, and transcribed it in the instrument, 
 in legal phraseology, which you made a death-warrant to my 
 nearest and dearest relatives. Bead it, miscreant ! read it ! 
 Head on itsixty-two thousand dollars, the cause of your anxiety 
 to hurry me out of the city into a foreign land. I returned 
 to seek a sister, to relieve my uncle, to live an honour 
 able man on that home so dear in my boyhood, so bright of 
 that which was pleasant in the past, to make glad the hearts 
 of my aged parents, and to receive the weet forgiveness of 
 those who honoured me when fortune smiled ; but you have 
 left me none of these boons nay, you would have me again 
 wander an outcast upon the world!" And now, as the
 
 MADE TO PAY THE PENALTY OF HIS CRIMES. 597 
 
 miscreant fell tremblingly on his knees, and beseeching that 
 mercy which he had denied so many, Lorenzo's frenzy 
 surmounted all his resolution. With agitated hand he 
 seized his revolver, saying, " I will go hence stained with a 
 miscreant's blood." Another moment, and the loud shriek 
 of the man-seller echoed forth, the sharp report of a pistol 
 rung ominously through the mansion; and quivering to 
 the ground fell- dead a wretch who had tortured ten 
 thousand souls, as Lorenzo disappeared and was seen no 
 more.
 
 MAGNIFICENT WORK OF HISTORY. 
 
 JL Whole library in Itself! 
 Cost $11,OOO 12OT Pages TO Maps TOO Engravings. 
 
 HISTORY OF ALL NATIONS, 
 
 FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME ; 
 
 9 
 IN WHICH THE 
 
 HISTORY OF EVERY NATION, ANCIENT AND MODERN, 
 
 IS SEPARATELY GIVEN. 
 
 BY S. O. GOODRICH, 
 
 Consul to Paris, and Author of several Works of History, Parley's Talcs, etc. 
 
 It contains 1207 pages, royal octavo, and is illustrated by 70 Maps and 700 Engravings : 
 bound in imitation Turkey morocco. 
 
 Invariable retail price, $6,00 in one volume ; $7,00 in two volumes. 
 
 The same, full gilt edira and sides, $8,00 in one volume ; $10,00 in two vola. 
 
 %* It Is believed that the above work, by Mr. Goodrich, -will be very acceptable 
 < the American public. It is the result of years of toil and labor, assisted in his re 
 searches by several scholars of known ability, and has been gotten up at a great ex 
 pense by the proprietors. No pains have been spared in the execution of the Illustra 
 tions and Maps, which are entirely new, and prepared by the distinguished author 
 exrpres&y for the work. Indeed, all the other historical writings of Mr. Goodrich 
 sink Into insignificance, when compared with this, the result of his riper and maturer 
 years. It is admitted that One Hundred, Dollars could not purchase the same mat 
 ter in any other shape: and the publishers confidently expect that, in consideration 
 of the great literary value of the. work, the large sum expended in preparing it for tho 
 press, and the exceedingly moderate price at which it is offered, that it will be favor 
 ably received by every lover of good books. 
 
 Published by MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 
 
 No. 25 Park Row, NEW YORK, and 107 Gene*ee-8t, AUBURN.
 
 MINNIE HERMON, 
 
 The great Temperance Tale. BY T. W. BROWN, Editor of the 
 
 "Cayuga Chief," and author of "Temperance Tales." Portrait 
 
 and four illustrations. Muslin, 472 pp. 12mo. Price $1,26. 
 
 This work bears the impress of life-like scenes. Boston Olive Branch. 
 
 The story is dramatically worked up, involving a great variety of moving scenes. N. 
 T. Evangelist. 
 
 This is a powerfully written and absorbingly interesting'volnme. Rural New Yorker. 
 
 This is a freshly, boldly written story, free from fanaticism, and advocating the cause of 
 temperance by argumentative incidents taken from real life. Dodge's Lit. Museum. 
 
 Mr. Brown is a vigorous and agreeable writer, and never forgets the object he has in 
 view, the correction of a great public evil. Buffalo Republic. 
 
 Its incidents are life-like, and are thrillingly related terrible pictures of the misfor^ 
 tune and scandal of fallen man. Buffalo Christian, Advocate. 
 
 It is smoothly and strongly written full of incident and makes eloquent appeals to 
 the heart and the conscience. Buffalo Express. 
 
 It appeals eloquently to the better feelings of humanity, and we predict that it will be 
 come the "Uncle Tom" of teetotalism. Yankee Blade. 
 
 Its matter is drawn from life, " written with a throbbing nib, and its truth scaled with 
 the endorsement of a scalding tear." Syracuse Journal. 
 
 Among the many works which the Temperance Reform has of late years produced, 
 few will rank as high as Minnie Hermon. Syracuse Religious Recorder. 
 
 Mr. Brown has attained considerable reputation as a writer of Temperance stories. His 
 works of that description have had a wide circulation. Cincinnati Commercial. 
 
 This is a thrilling Temperance narrative. Pittaburg Christian Advocate. 
 
 The characters are all drawn from life, and are sketched with a vigorous and fearless 
 pen. Main* Farmer. 
 
 There are many passages of surpassing power and beauty, the effect of which the reader 
 will find it difficult to resist Auburn Advertiser. 
 
 Mr. Brown narrates scenes which are strikingly true to nature, which stir the blood 
 and provoke scalding tears. Detroit Ch. Herald. 
 
 The evils of the License system are drawn out with fearful distinctness. Toledo Blade. 
 
 The work will be found a powerful ally by the friends of the Temperance Reform, and 
 should be circulated far and wide. If. Y. Tribune. 
 
 Minnie Hermon is a story of thrilling interest, and of the highest moral tendencies. It 
 Is truly a " Tale for the Times." Phrenol. Journal. 
 
 A beautiful volume, and though called a tale, yet every chapter is drawn from life. 
 Baltimore Lutheran Observer. 
 
 Minnie Hermon is a book that will make its mark in a book making age. It is wor 
 thy ot a wide circulation. Northern Christian Advocate. 
 
 All of it sweet toned and pure, and some scenes really pmvprfnl Sat. Eve. Post. 
 
 Some of its passages have a beauty and force rivaling the great masters of fiction. 
 Riclvmond Christian Advocate. 
 
 This excellent story should be read by both old and young. Star Spangled Banner. 
 
 It is a Temperance Tale, told attractively, and printed and bound in flrst-rate style. 
 Alb. Eve. Journal. 
 
 Minnie Hennon is a vivid delineation, in the form of a romance, of the evils of Intern 
 perance. N. Y. Eve. Post. 
 
 A valuable adjunct in the great moral movement of the age. American Courier. 
 
 This book must become very popular, and obtain a large circulation. Mihcaukie Sent. 
 
 A valuable addition to the Temperance literature of our country. Jf. Y. Alliance. 
 
 It is written in a forcible and graphic style. Temperance Banner. 
 
 This Life-Tale, we are sure, will command the best commendation in the reading. 
 Lancaster Express. 
 
 As an addition to the Temperance literature of the day, it has its mission, and con 
 tains elements of power that cannot fail to execute that mission successfully. Chicago 
 Christ. Advocate. 
 
 The author has succeeded in producing a work of rare merit "We hope it will be 
 widely circulated. Christian Ambasssador. 
 
 Published by MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 
 No. 25 Park Row, NEW YOKK, and 107 Geiiesee-st., AUBURN.
 
 LIFE OF 
 
 MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 
 
 - 
 
 BY P. C. HEADLEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'JOSEPHINE,' 'KOSSUTH,' 'WOMEN OF THE BIBLE,' ETC. 
 
 *. 
 
 Portrait on Steel. Muslin, 448 pp. 12mo. Price $1,25. 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE REVIEWERS. 
 
 The universal interest that has always been felt in the romantic and tragical career of 
 this unfortunate and beautiful queen, will render this biography one of living interest, 
 Olive Branch. 
 
 The sale of three editions of this work attests its popularity. JV. T. Time*. 
 
 The style in which the present volume rehearses the story, will secure for it an extensive 
 circulation.^- Y. Organ. 
 
 It is a full and corrected history of this remarkable personage. JV. Y. Evangelist. 
 
 Our author throws a chain around his subject that will insure for it a success equal to 
 the ''Josephine." Newport Mercury. 
 
 It is an affecting story, however told, and it is probably as near historic accuracy as 
 e.iij other life of the beautiful Scotch Queen that we have. Lutheran Oliiierver. 
 
 We commend this work to our readers who are inclined to tl;-i study of history in 
 biography, of the most interesting character. Wesleyan, Syracuse. 
 
 An old theme, but handled with the masterly style which characterizes everything 
 HKADI.KY attempts. Ohio Statesman. 
 
 lie has consulted the best English authors and such a beok compiled as seemed best 
 adapted to the popular mind of the American public. Detroit Advertiser. 
 
 This is a fine library volume, and the universal interest felt in the fate of the ro 
 mantic and tragical career of Mary Stuart, will, no doubt, cause this American version of 
 her life to be sought for. Dollar Newspaper. 
 
 Mr. Headley has performed his task faithfully and well. Ravenna Star. 
 
 "We think the author has dtoe full justice to his heroine, and lias taken a more correct 
 view of Mary as a woman, and as a Queen, than we have seen elsewhere. Lowell Christ 
 ian Era. 
 
 The value of the work is enhanced by the light it throws upon the history of some of 
 the most important kingdoms of Europe. Dundee liecord. 
 
 All historical and biographical readers will find it an acceptable volume. Yate& Whig. 
 The lifo of the lovely, unhappy and unfortunate Queen of Scotland is in this volume 
 tblineated with rare faithfulness. Racine Advocate. 
 The work is full of exciting interest, and its influence is good on the young. Galena Adv. 
 
 This account of her life and character seeins well adapted to popular use. 3Tew 
 England Farmer. 
 
 The publishers have done well in bringing out this work at this time, when there is 
 crving need that the corruptions of political conduct be warned, by the strongest testi 
 mony, that retributive justice will not forever sleep. Home Journal. 
 
 This is a beautiful volume of 448 pages, by a popular writer, embracing a subject 
 of deeplv romantic and melancholy interest Pittsburgh Christian Advocate. 
 
 Published by MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 
 No. 25 Park Row, NEW YOHK, and 107 Genesee-st., AUBURN.
 
 TWELVE YEAES A SLAVE 
 
 The Narrative of SOLOMON NORTHUP, a citizen of New York, 
 
 Kidnapped in Washington City, in 1841, and Rescued in 1853, 
 
 from a Cotton Plantation near Red River, Louisiana. 
 
 7 Illustrations, 336 pp. 12mo. Price $1,00 
 
 VOICE OF THE PRESS. 
 
 Tho narrative will bo read with interest by every one who can sympathize with a hu 
 man being struggling for freedom. Buff. Cour. 
 
 The volume cannot fail to gain a wide circulation. No one can contemplate the scenes 
 which are here so naturally set forth, without a new conviction of the hideousness of tho 
 institution from which the subject of the narrative has happily escaped. N. Y. Tribune. 
 
 We think the story as affecting as any tale of sorrow could be. N. Y, Evangelist. 
 
 It proves conclusively that Uncle Tom's Cabin is a truthful history of American Slavery, 
 though drawn under the veil of fiction. Otsego Jiep. 
 
 Next to Uncle Tom's Cabin, the extraordinary narrative of Solomon Northup, is the 
 most remarkable book that was ever issued from the American press. Detroit Trib. 
 
 This is a simple, earnest, moving narrative of the events,vicissitudes, cruelties and 
 kindnesses of a bondage of 12 years. If there are those who can peruse it unmoved, we 
 pity them. That it will create as great a sensation, anil be regarded equally as interesting 
 as " Uncle Tom's Cabin," is not a question for argument. Buffalo Express. 
 
 This is one of the most exciting narratives, full of thrilling incidents artlessly told, with 
 all the marks of truth. There are no depicted scenes in " Uncle Tom " more tragic, horri 
 ble, and pathetic,than the incidents compassed in the twelve years of this man's life in 
 slavery. Cincinnati Jour. 
 
 He who with an unbiassed mind sits down to the perusal of this book, will arise per 
 fectly satisfied that American slavery is a hell of torments yet untold, and feel like devo 
 ting the energies of his life to its extirpation from the face of God's beautiful earth. 
 Evening Chron. 
 
 The story is one of thrilling interest as a mere personal history. He is but a little darker 
 than many who pass for white, and quite as intelligent as most white men. N. C. Adv. 
 
 The book is one of most absorbing interest. Pittsburgh Dispatch. 
 
 It is written in a racy, agreeable style, and narrates with admirable conciseness, yet 
 animation tho story of the sufferings, woes and persecutions of the hero. It is no less 
 remarkable for candor and unity of purpose than for literary ability. O-neida Her. 
 
 It is one of the most effective books against slavery that was ever written. "Archy 
 Moore " and" Uncle Tom " are discredited by many as " romances ; " but how the apolo 
 gists for tho institution can dispose of Northup we are curious to see. Syracuse Jour. 
 
 It is well told and bears internal evidence of being a clear statement of facts. There is 
 no attempt at display, but the events are so graphically portrayed, that the interest in the 
 perusal is deep and unabated to the last Some of the scenes have a fearful and exciting 
 power in their delineation. Cayuga Chief. 
 
 It is a strange history, its truth is far stranger than fiction. Think of it! For thirty 
 years A MAN, with all a man's hopes, fears and aspirations with a wife and children to call 
 him by tho endearing names of husband and father with a home, humble it may be, 
 but still a HOME, beneath the shelter of whose roof none had a right to molest or make him 
 afraid then for twelve years A THINS, a chattel personal, classed with mules and horses 
 and treated with less consideration than they: torn from his home and family, and the free 
 labor by which he earned their bread, and driven to unremitting, unrequited toil in a cotton 
 field, under a burning southern sun, by the lash of an inhuman master. Oh 1 it is horri 
 ble. It chills the blood to think that such things tire. Fred. Vauglass' Paper. 
 
 It comes before us with highly respectable vouchers, and is a plain and simple statement 
 of what happened to the author while in bondage to southern masters. It is a well told 
 story, full of interest, and may be said to be the reality of "life among tho lowly." Buff. 
 Com. Adv. 
 
 Let it be read by all those pood easy souls, who think slavery is, on the wholo a good 
 thing. Let it be read by all who think that although slavery is politically and economi 
 cally a bad thing, it is not very bad for the slaves. Let it bo read by all those M. C.'s and 
 supporters who are always ready to give their votes, in aid of slavery and the slave trado 
 with all the kidnapping inseparable from it Let it be read, too, by our southern friends, 
 who pity with so much Christian sensibility, the wretched condition of the free negroes at 
 the north, and rejoice at the enviable condition of their own slaves. N. Y. Ind. 
 
 Published by HTLLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN, 
 No. 26 Park Row, NEW YORK, and 107 Genesee-st., APBPRN.
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 
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