AUNT PHILLIS'S CABIN;

OR, SOUTHERN LIFE AS IT IS. 

BY

MRS. MARY H. EASTMAN. 

PHILADELPHIA:LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO. 1852. 

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by

LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO. 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District ofPennsylvania. 

Transcriber's note: Minor typos in text corrected. Footnotes movedto end of text. 

PREFACE. 

A writer on Slavery has no difficulty in tracing back its origin. There isalso the advantage of finding it, with its continued history, and the lawsgiven by God to govern his own institution, in the Holy Bible. Neitherprofane history, tradition, nor philosophical research are required toprove its origin or existence; though they, as all things must, comeforward to substantiate the truth of the Scriptures. God, who created thehuman race, willed they should be holy like himself. Sin was committed, andthe curse of sin, death, was induced: other punishments were denounced forthe perpetration of particular crimes--the shedding of man's blood formurder, and the curse of slavery. The mysterious reasons that hereinfluenced the mind of the Creator it is not ours to declare. Yet may welearn enough from his revealed word on this and every other subject toconfirm his power, truth, and justice. There is no Christian duty moreinsisted upon in Scripture than reverence and obedience to parents. "Honorthy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which theLord thy God giveth thee. " The relation of child to parent resemblesclosely that of man to his Creator. He who loves and honors his God willassuredly love and honor his parents. Though it is evidently the duty ofevery parent so to live as to secure the respect and affection of hischild, yet there is nothing in the Scriptures to authorize a childtreating with disrespect a parent, though he be unworthy in the greatestdegree. 

The human mind, naturally rebellious, requires every command and incentiveto submission. The first of the ten commandments, insisting on the dutyowing to the Creator, and the fifth, on that belonging to our parents, arethe sources of all order and good arrangement in the minor relations oflife; and on obedience to them depends the comfort of society. 

Reverence to age, and especially where it is found in the person of thosewho by the will of God were the authors of their being, is insisted upon inthe Jewish covenant--not indeed less required now; but as the Jews werecalled from among the heathen nations of the earth to be the peculiarpeople of God, they were to show such evidences of this law in theirhearts, by their conduct, that other nations might look on and say, "Ye arethe children of the Lord your God. "

It was after an act of a child dishonoring an aged father, that theprophecy entailing slavery as a curse on a portion of the human race wasuttered. Nor could it have been from any feeling of resentment or revengethat the curse was made known by the lips of a servant of God; for thisservant of God was a parent, and with what sorrow would any parent, yea, the worst of parents, utter a malediction which insured such punishment andmisery on a portion of his posterity! Even the blessing which was promisedto his other children could not have consoled him for the sad necessity. Hemight not resist the Spirit of God: though with perfect submission heobeyed its dictates, yet with what regret! The heart of any Christianparent will answer this appeal!

We may well imagine some of the reasons for the will of God in thuspunishing Ham and his descendants. Prior to the unfilial act which isrecorded, it is not to be supposed he had been a righteous man. Had he beenone after God's own heart, he would not have been guilty of such a sin. What must that child be, who would openly dishonor and expose an erringparent, borne down with the weight of years, and honored by God as Noah hadbeen! The very act of disrespect to Noah, the chosen of God, implies wilfulcontempt of God himself. Ham was not a young man either: he had not theexcuse of the impetuosity of youth, nor its thoughtlessness--he was himselfan old man; and there is every reason to believe he had led a life atvariance with God's laws. When he committed so gross and violent a sin, itmay be, that the curse of God, which had lain tranquil long, was roused anduttered against him: a curse not conditional, not implied--now, as then, amandate of the Eternal. 

Among the curses threatened by the Levites upon Mount Ebal, was the onefound in the 16th verse of the 27th chapter of Deuteronomy: "Cursed be hethat setteth light by his father or his mother. " By the law of Moses, thissin was punished with death: "Of the son which will not obey the voice ofhis father or the voice of his mother, " "all the men of his city shallstone him with stones that he die. " (Deut. Xxi. 21. ) God in his wisdominstituted this severe law in early times; and it must convince us thatthere were reasons in the Divine mind for insisting on the ordinanceexacting the most perfect submission and reverence to an earthly parent. 

"When, after the deluge, " says Josephus, "the earth was settled in itsformer condition, Noah set about its cultivation; and when he had plantedit with vines, and when the fruit was ripe, and he had gathered the grapesin the season, and the wine was ready for use, he offered a sacrifice andfeasted, and, being inebriated, fell asleep, and lay in an unseemlymanner. When Ham saw this, he came laughing, and showed him to hisbrothers. " Does not this exhibit the impression of the Jews as regards thecharacter of Ham? Could a man capable of such an act deserve the blessingof a just and holy God?

"The fact of Noah's transgression is recorded by the inspired historianwith that perfect impartiality which is peculiar to the Scriptures, as aninstance and evidence of human frailty and imperfection. Ham appears tohave been a bad man, and probably he rejoiced to find his father in sounbecoming a situation, that, by exposing him, he might retaliate for thereproofs which he had received from his parental authority. And perhapsCanaan first discovered his situation, and told it to Ham. The conduct ofHam in exposing his father to his brethren, and their behaviour in turningaway from the sight of his disgrace, form a striking contrast. "--_Scott'sCom. _

We are told in Gen. Ix. 22, "And Ham, the father of Canaan, saw thenakedness of his father, and told his two brethren without;" and in the24th, 25th, 26th, and 27th verses we read, "And Noah awoke from his wine, and knew what his younger son had done unto him; and he said, Cursed beCanaan, a servant of servants shall he be unto his brethren. And he said, Blessed be the Lord God of Shem, and Canaan shall be his servant. God shallenlarge Japheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem, and Canaan shallbe his servant. " Is it not preposterous that any man, any Christian, shouldread these verses and say slavery was not instituted by God as a curse onHam and Canaan and their posterity?

And who can read the history of the world and say this curse has notexisted ever since it was uttered?

"The whole continent of Africa, " says Bishop Newton, "was peopledprincipally by the descendants of Ham; and for how many ages have thebetter parts of that country lain under the dominion of the Romans, then ofthe Saracens, and now of the Turks! In what wickedness, ignorance, barbarity, slavery, misery, live most of the inhabitants! And of the poornegroes, how many hundreds every year are sold and bought like beasts inthe market, and conveyed from one quarter of the world to do the work ofbeasts in another!"

But does this curse authorize the slave-trade? God forbid. He commanded theJews to enslave the heathen around them, saying, "they should be theirbondmen forever;" but he has given no such command to other nations. Thethreatenings and reproofs uttered against Israel, throughout the oldTestament, on the subject of slavery, refer to their oppressing and keepingin slavery their own countrymen. Never is there the slightest imputation ofsin, as far as I can see, conveyed against them for holding in bondage thechildren of heathen nations. 

Yet do the Scriptures evidently permit slavery, even to the present time. The curse on the serpent, ("And the Lord God said unto the serpent, Becausethou hast done this, thou art cursed above all cattle and above every beastof the field, ") uttered more than sixteen hundred years before the curse ofNoah upon Ham and his race, has lost nothing of its force and true meaning. "Cursed is the ground for thy sake: in sorrow shalt thou eat of it, all thedays of thy life, " said the Supreme Being. Has this curse failed or beenremoved?

Remember the threatened curses of God upon the whole Jewish tribe if theyforsook his worship. Have not they been fulfilled?

However inexplicable may be the fact that God would appoint the curse ofcontinual servitude on a portion of his creatures, will any one _dare_, with the Bible open in his hands, to say the fact does not exist? It is notours to decide _why_ the Supreme Being acts! We may observe his dealingswith man, but we may not ask, until he reveals it, Why hast thou thus done?

"Cursed is every one who loves not the Lord Jesus Christ. " Are not allthese curses recorded, and will they not all be fulfilled? God haspermitted slavery to exist in every age and in almost every nation of theearth. It was only commanded to the Jews, and it was with them restrictedto the heathen, ("referring entirely to the race of Ham, who had beenjudicially condemned to a condition of servitude more than eighteen hundredyears before the giving of the law, by the mouth of Noah, the medium of theHoly Ghost. ") No others, at least, were to be enslaved "forever. " Everybook of the Old Testament records a history in which slaves and God's lawsconcerning them are spoken of, while, as far as profane history goes back, we cannot fail to see proofs of the existence of slavery. "No legislator ofhistory, " says Voltaire, "attempted to abrogate slavery. Society was soaccustomed to this degradation of the species, that Epictetus, who wasassuredly worth more than his master, never expresses any surprise at hisbeing a slave. " Egypt, Sparta, Athens, Carthage, and Rome had theirthousands of slaves. In the Bible, the best and chosen servants of Godowned slaves, while in profane history the purest and greatest men did thesame. In the very nation over whose devoted head hung the curse of God, slavery, vindictive, lawless, and cruel slavery, has prevailed. It is saidno nation of the earth has equalled the Jewish in the enslaving of negroes, except the negroes themselves; and examination will prove that thedescendants of Ham and Canaan have, as God foresaw, justified by theirconduct the doom which he pronounced against them. 

But it has been contended that the people of God sinned in holding theirfellow-creatures in bondage! Open your Bible, Christian, and read thecommands of God as regards slavery--the laws that he made to govern theconduct of the master and the slave!

But again--_we_ live under the glorious and new dispensation of Christ; andHe came to establish God's will, and to confirm such laws as were tocontinue in existence, to destroy such rules as were not to govern ourlives!

When there was but one family upon the earth, a portion of the family wasdevoted to be slaves to others. God made a covenant with Abraham: heincluded in it his slaves. "He that is born in thy house, and he that isbought with thy money, " are the words of Scripture. A servant of Abrahamsays, "And the Lord has blessed my master greatly, and he is become great, and he hath given him flocks and herds, and silver and gold, andmen-servants and maid-servants, and camels and asses. "

The Lord has called himself the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob. Theseholy men were slaveholders!

The existence of slavery then, and the sanction of God on his owninstitution, is palpable from the time of the pronouncing of the curse, until the glorious advent of the Son of God. When he came, slavery existedin every part of the world. 

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came from heaven and dwelt upon the earth:his mission to proclaim the will of God to a world sunk in the lowestdepths of iniquity. Even the dear and chosen people of God had departedfrom him--had forsaken his worship, and turned aside from his commands. 

He was born of a virgin. He was called Emmanuel. He was God with us. 

Wise men traveled from afar to behold the Child-God--they knelt beforehim--they opened their treasures--they presented to them gifts. Angels ofGod descended in dreams, to ensure the protection of his life against theking who sought it. He emerged from infancy, and grew in favour with Godand man. He was tempted but not overcome--angels came again from heaven tominister to him. He fulfilled every jot and tittle of the law, and enteredupon the duties for which he left the glories of heaven. 

That mission was fulfilled. "The people which sat in darkness saw greatlight, and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light issprung up. "

Look at his miracles--the cleansing of the leper, the healing of the sick, the casting out unclean spirits, the raising of the dead, the rebuking ofthe winds and seas, the control of those possessed with devils--and say, was he not the Son of God--yea, was he not God?

Full of power and goodness he came into the world, and light and gloryfollowed every footstep. The sound of his voice, the glance of his eye, thevery touch of the garment in which his assumed mortality was arrayed, was amedicine mighty to save. He came on an errand of mercy to the world, and hewas all powerful to accomplish the Divine intent; but, did he emancipatethe slave? The happiness of the human race was the object of his coming;and is it possible that the large portion of them then slaves could haveescaped his all-seeing eye! Did he condemn the institution which he hadmade? Did he establish universal freedom? Oh! no; he came to redeem theworld from the power of sin; his was no earthly mission; he did notinterfere with the organization of society. He healed the sick servant ofthe centurion, but he did not command his freedom; nor is there a word thatfell from his sacred lips that could be construed into a condemnation ofthat institution which had existed from the early ages of the world, existed then, and is continued now. The application made by theAbolitionist of the golden rule is absurd: it might then apply to thechild, who _would have_ his father no longer control him; to theapprentice, who _would_ no longer that the man to whom he is bound shouldhave a right to direct him. Thus the foundations of society would beshaken, nay, destroyed. Christ would have us deal with others, not as theydesire, but as the law of God demands: in the condition of life in which wehave been placed, we must do what we conscientiously believe to be our dutyto our fellow-men. 

Christ alludes to slavery, but does not forbid it. "And the servant abidethnot in the house forever, but the son abideth ever. If the Son thereforeshall make you free, you are free indeed. "

In these two verses of the Gospel of St. John, there is a manifest allusionto the fact and condition of slaves. Of this fact the Saviour tookoccasion, to illustrate, by way of similitude, the condition of a wickedman, who is the slave of sin, and to show that as a son who was the heir ina house _could_ set a bondman free, if that son were of the proper age, sohe, the Son of God, could set the enslaved soul free from sin, when hewould be "free indeed. " Show me in the history of the Old Testament, or inthe life of Christ, authority to proclaim _as a sin_ the holding of therace of Ham and Canaan in bondage. 

In the times of the apostles, what do we see? Slaves are still in bondage, the children of Ham are menials as they were before. Christ had come, haddied, had ascended to heaven, and slavery still existed. Had the apostlesauthority to do it away? Had Christ left it to them to carry out, in thisinstance, his revealed will?

"Art thou, " said Paul, "called being a slave? care not for it; but if thoumayest be made free, use it rather. Let every man abide in the same callingwherein he is called. " "Let as many servants as are under the yoke counttheir own masters worthy of all honor, that the name of God and hisdoctrines be not blasphemed. And they that have believing masters, let themnot despise them, because they are brethren, but rather do them service, because they are faithful and beloved, partakers of the benefit. "

It is well known and often quoted that the holy apostle did all he could torestore a slave to his master--one whom he had been the means of makingfree in a spiritual sense. Yet he knew that God had made Onesimus a slave, and, when he had fled from his master, Paul persuaded him to return and todo his duty toward him. Open your Bible, Christian, and carefully read theletter of Paul to Philemon, and contrast its spirit with the incendiarypublications of the Abolitionists of the present day. St. Paul was not afanatic, and therefore _could not be_ an Abolitionist. The Christian ageadvanced and slavery continued, and we approach the time when our fathersfled from persecution to the soil we now call our own, when they fought forthe liberty to which they felt they had a right. Our fathers fought for it, and our mothers did more when they urged forth their husbands and sons, notknowing whether the life-blood that was glowing with religion andpatriotism would not soon be dyeing the land that had been their refuge, and where they fondly hoped they should find a happy home. Oh, gloriousparentage! Children of America, trace no farther back--say not the crest ofnobility once adorned thy father's breast, the gemmed coronet thy mother'sbrow--stop here! it is enough that they earned for thee a home--a free, ahappy home. And what did they say to the slavery that existed then and hadbeen entailed upon them by the English government? Their opinions arepreserved among us--they were dictated by their position andnecessities--and they were wisely formed. In the North, slavery wasuseless; nay, more, it was a drawback to the prosperity of that section ofthe Union--it was dispensed with. In other sections, gradually, our peoplehave seen their condition would be more prosperous without slaves--theyhave emancipated them. In the South, they are necessary: though an evil, itis one that cannot be dispensed with; and here they have been retained, andwill be retained, unless God should manifest his will (which never yet hasbeen done) to the contrary. Knowing that the people of the South still havethe views of their revolutionary forefathers, we see plainly that many ofthe North have rejected the opinions of theirs. Slaves were at the Northand South considered and recognized as property, (as they are inScripture. ) The whole nation sanctioned slavery by adopting theConstitution which provides for them, and for their restoration (whenfugitive) to their owners. Our country was then like one family--theirsouls had been tried and made pure by a united struggle--they loved asbrothers who had suffered together. Would it were so at the present day!

The subject of slavery was agitated among them; many difficulties occurred, but they were all settled--and, they thought, effectually. They agreedthen, on the propriety of giving up runaway slaves, unanimously. Mr. Sherman, of Connecticut, "saw no more impropriety in the public seizing andsurrendering a slave or servant than a horse!" (Madison's Papers. ) This wasthen considered a compromise between the North and South. Henry Clay andDaniel Webster--the mantle of their illustrious fathers descended to themfrom their own glorious times. The slave-trade was discontinued after awhile. As long as England needed the sons and daughters of Africa to doher bidding, she trafficked in the flesh and blood of her fellow-creatures;but our immortal fathers put an end to the disgraceful trade. They saw itsheinous sin, for they had no command to enslave the heathen; but they hadno command to emancipate the slave; therefore they wisely forbore fartherto interfere. They drew the nice line of distinction between an unavoidableevil and a sin. 

Slavery was acknowledged, and slaves considered as property all over ourcountry, at the North as well as the South--in Pennsylvania, New York, andNew Jersey. Now, has there been any law reversing this, except in theStates that have become free? Out of the limits of these States, slaves areproperty, according to the Constitution. In the year 1798, Judge Jay, beingcalled on for a list of his taxable property, made the followingobservation:--"I purchase slaves and manumit them at proper ages, whentheir faithful services shall have afforded a reasonable retribution. " "Asfree servants became more common, he was gradually relieved from thenecessity of purchasing slaves. " (See Jay's Life, by his son. )

Here is the secret of Northern emancipation: they were _relieved from thenecessity_ of slavery. Rufus King, for many years one of the mostdistinguished statesmen of the country, writes thus to John B. Coles andothers:--"I am perfectly anxious not to be misunderstood in this case, never having thought myself at liberty to encourage or assent to anymeasure that would affect the security of property in slaves, or tend todisturb the political adjustment which the Constitution has made respectingthem. "

John Taylor, of New York, said, "If the weight and influence of the Southbe increased by the representation of that which they consider a part oftheir property, we do not wish to diminish them. The right by which thisproperty is held is derived from the Federal Constitution; we have neitherinclination nor power to interfere with the laws of existing States in thisparticular; on the contrary, they have not only a right to reclaim theirfugitives whenever found, but, in the event of domestic violence, (whichGod in his mercy forever avert!) the whole strength of the nation is boundto be exerted, if needful, in reducing it to subjection, while we recognizethese obligations and will never fail to perform them. "

How many more could be brought! opinions of great and good men of theNorth, acknowledging and maintaining the rights of the people of the South. Everett, Adams, Cambreleng, and a host of others, whose names I need notgive. "Time was, " said Mr. Fletcher in Boston, (in 1835, at a great meetingin that city, ) "when such sentiments and such language would not have beenbreathed in this community. And here, on this hallowed spot, of all placeson earth, should they be met and rebuked. Time was, when the BritishParliament having declared 'that they had a right to bind us in all caseswhatsoever, ' and were attempting to bind our infant limbs in fetters, whena voice of resistance and notes of defiance had gone forth from this hall, then, when Massachusetts, standing for her liberty and life, was alonebreasting the whole power of Britain, the generous and gallant Southernerscame to our aid, and our fathers refused not to hold communion withslaveholders. When the blood of our citizens, shed by a British soldiery, had stained our streets and flowed upon the heights that surround us, andsunk into the earth upon the plains of Lexington and Concord, then when he, whose name can never be pronounced by American lips without the strongestemotion of gratitude and love to every American heart, --when he, thatslaveholder, (pointing to a full-length portrait of Washington, ) who, fromthis canvass, smiles upon his children with paternal benignity, came withother slaveholders to drive the British myrmidons from this city, and inthis hall our fathers did not refuse to hold communion with them. 

"With slaveholders they formed the confederation, neither asking norreceiving any right to interfere in their domestic relations: with them, they made the Declaration of Independence. "

To England, not to the United States, belongs whatever odium may beattached to the introduction of slavery into our country. Our fathersabolished the slave-trade, but permitted the continuation of domesticslavery. 

Slavery, authorized by God, permitted by Jesus Christ, sanctioned by theapostles, maintained by good men of all ages, is still existing in aportion of our beloved country. How long it will continue, or whether itwill ever cease, the Almighty Ruler of the universe can alone determine. 

I do not intend to give a history of Abolition. Born in fanaticism, nurtured in violence and disorder, it exists too. Turning aside theinstitutions and commands of God, treading under foot the love of country, despising the laws of nature and the nation, it is dead to every feeling ofpatriotism and brotherly kindness; full of strife and pride, strewing thepath of the slave with thorns and of the master with difficulties, accomplishing nothing good, forever creating disturbance. 

The negroes are still slaves--"while the American slaveholders, collectively and individually, ask no favours of any man or race thattreads the earth. In none of the attributes of men, mental or physical, dothey acknowledge or fear superiority elsewhere. They stand in the broadestlight of the knowledge, civilization, and improvement of the age, as muchfavored of Heaven as any other of the sons of Adam. "

AUNT PHILLIS'S CABIN. 

CHAPTER I. 

There would be little to strike the eye of a traveler accustomed topicturesque scenes, on approaching the small town of L----. Like most ofthe settlements in Virginia, the irregularity of the streets and the wantof similarity in the houses would give an unfavorable first impression. Theold Episcopal church, standing at the entrance of the town, could not failto be attractive from its appearance of age; but from this alone. Nomonuments adorn the churchyard; head-stones of all sizes meet the eye, someworn and leaning against a shrub or tree for support, others new and white, and glistening in the sunset. Several family vaults, unpretending in theirappearance, are perceived on a closer scrutiny, to which the plants usuallyfound in burial-grounds are clinging, shadowed too by large trees. Thewalls where they are visible are worn and discolored, but they are almostcovered with ivy, clad in summer's deepest green. Many a stranger stoppedhis horse in passing by to wonder at its look of other days; and some, itmay be, to wish they were sleeping in the shades of its mouldering walls. 

The slight eminence on which the church was built, commanded a view of theresidences of several gentlemen of fortune who lived in the neighborhood. To the nearest one, a gentleman on horseback was directing his way. Thehorse required no direction, in truth, for so accustomed was he to the rideto Exeter, and to the good fare he enjoyed on arriving there, that neitherwhip nor spur was necessary; he traced the familiar road with evidentpleasure. 

The house at Exeter was irregularly built; but the white stone wings andthe look-out over the main building gave an appearance of taste to themansion. The fine old trees intercepted the view, though adding greatly toits beauty. The porter's lodge, and the wide lawn entered by its opengates, the gardens at either side of the building, and the neatness andgood condition of the out-houses, all showed a prosperous state of affairswith the owner. Soon the large porch with its green blinds, and thesweetbrier entwining them, came in view, and the family party that occupiedit were discernible. Before Mr. Barbour had reached the point for alightingfrom his horse, a servant stood in readiness to take charge of him, andAlice Weston emerged from her hiding-place among the roses, with her usualsweet words of welcome. Mr. Weston, the owner of the mansion and itsadjoining plantation, arose with a dignified but cordial greeting; and Mrs. Weston, his sister-in-law, and Miss Janet, united with him in his kindreception of a valued guest and friend. 

Mr. Weston was a widower, with an only son; the young gentleman was at thistime at Yale College. He had been absent for three years; and so anxiouswas he to graduate with honor, that he had chosen not to return to Virginiauntil his course of study should be completed. The family had visited himduring the first year of his exile, as he called it, but it had now beentwo years since he had seen any member of it. There was an engagementbetween him and his cousin, though Alice was but fifteen when it wasformed. They had been associated from the earliest period of their lives, and Arthur declared that should he return home on a visit, he would not beable to break away from its happiness to the routine of a college life: heyielded therefore to the earnest entreaties of his father, to remain at NewHaven until he graduated. 

Mr. Weston will stand for a specimen of the southern gentleman of the oldschool. The bland and cheerful expression of his countenance, thearrangement of his soft fine hair, the fineness of the texture and theperfect cleanliness of every part of his dress, the plaiting of hisold-fashioned shirt ruffles, the whiteness of his hand, and the sound ofhis clear, well-modulated voice--in fact, every item of his appearance--wonthe good opinion of a stranger; while the feelings of his heart and hissteady course of Christian life, made him honored and reverenced as hedeserved. He possessed that requisite to the character of a true gentleman, a kind and charitable heart. 

None of the present members of his family had any lawful claim upon him, yet he cherished them with the utmost affection. He requested his brother'swidow, on the death of his own wife, to assume the charge of his house; andshe was in every respect its mistress. Alice was necessary to hishappiness, almost to his existence; she was the very rose in his garden oflife. He had never had a sister, and he regarded Alice as a legacy from hisonly brother, to whom he had been most tenderly attached: had she beenuninteresting, she would still have been very dear to him; but her beautyand her many graces of appearance and character drew closely together thebonds of love between them; Alice returning, with the utmost warmth, heruncle's affection. 

Mrs. Weston was unlike her daughter in appearance, Alice resembling herfather's family. Her dark, fine eyes were still full of the fire that hadbeamed from them in youth; there were strongly-marked lines about hermouth, and her face when in repose bore traces of the warfare of pastyears. The heart has a writing of its own, and we can see it on thecountenance; time has no power to obliterate it, but generally deepens theexpression. There was at times too a sternness in her voice and manner, yetit left no unpleasant impression; her general refinement, and her finesense and education made her society always desirable. 

Cousin Janet, as she was called by them all, was a dependant and distantrelation; a friend faithful and unfailing; a bright example of all that isholy and good in the Christian character. She assisted Mrs. Weston greatlyin the many cares that devolved on the mistress of a plantation, especiallyin instructing the young female servants in knitting and sewing, and insuch household duties as would make them useful in that state of life inwhich it had pleased God to place them. Her heart was full of love to allGod's creatures; the servants came to her with their little ailings andgrievances, and she had always a soothing remedy--some little specific fora bodily sickness, with a word of advice and kindness, and, if the caserequired it, of gentle reproof for complaints of another nature. CousinJanet was an old maid, yet many an orphan and friendless child had shedtears upon her bosom; some, whose hands she had folded together in prayeras they knelt beside her, learning from her lips a child's simple petition, had long ago laid down to sleep for ever; some are living still, surroundedby the halo of their good influence. There was one, of whom we shall speakby-and-by, who was to her a source of great anxiety, and the constantsubject of her thoughts and fervent prayers. 

Many years had gone by since she had accepted Mr. Weston's earnest entreatyto make Exeter her home; and although the bread she eat was that ofcharity, yet she brought a blessing upon the house that sheltered her, byher presence: she was one of the chosen ones of the Lord. Even in this day, it is possible to entertain an angel unawares. She is before you, reader, in all the dignity of old age, of a long life drawing to a close; still tothe last, she works while it is yet day!

With her dove-colored dress, and her muslin three-cornered handkerchief, pinned precisely at the waist and over her bosom, with her eyes sunken anddim, but expressive, with the wrinkles so many and so deep, and the thin, white folds of her satin-looking hair parted under her cap; with her silverknitting-sheath attached to her side, and her needles in ever busy hands, Cousin Janet would perhaps first arrest the attention of a stranger, inspite of the glowing cheek and golden curls that were contrasting with her. It was the beauty of old age and youth, side by side. Alice's face in itsfull perfection did not mar the loveliness of hers; the violet eyes of theone, with their long sweep of eyelash, could not eclipse the mild but deepexpression of the other. The rich burden of glossy hair was lovely, but sowere the white locks; and the slight but rounded form was only compared inits youthful grace to the almost shadowy dignity of old age. 

It was just sundown, but the servants were all at home after their day'swork, and they too were enjoying the pleasant evening time. Some wereseated at the door of their cabins, others lounging on the grass, all atease, and without care. Many of their comfortable cabins had been recentlywhitewashed, and were adorned with little gardens in front; over the onenearest the house a multiflora rose was creeping in full bloom. Singularlymusical voices were heard at intervals, singing snatches of songs, of astyle in which the servants of the South especially delight; and notunfrequently, as the full chorus was shouted by a number, their still morepeculiar laugh was heard above it all. Mr. Barbour had recently returnedfrom a pleasure tour in our Northern States, had been absent for twomonths, and felt that he had not in as long a time witnessed such a sceneof real enjoyment. He thought it would have softened the heart of thesternest hater of Southern institutions to have been a spectator here; itmight possibly have inclined him to think the sun of his Creator'sbeneficence shines over every part of our favored land. 

"Take a seat, my dear sir, " Mr. Weston said, "in our sweetbrier house, asAlice calls it; the evening would lose half its beauty to us, if we werewithin. "

"Alice is always right, " said Mr. Barbour, "in every thing she says anddoes, and so I will occupy this arm-chair that I know she placed here forme. Dear me! what a glorious evening! Those distant peaks of the Blue Ridgelook bluer than I ever saw them before. "

"Ah! you are glad to tread Virginia soil once more, that is evidentenough, " said Mr. Weston. "There is no danger of your getting tired of yournative state again. "

"Who says I was ever tired of her? I challenge you to prove yourinsinuation. I wanted to see this great New England, the 'great Norrurd, 'as Bacchus calls it, and I have seen it; I have enjoyed seeing it, too; andnow I am glad to be at home again. "

"Here comes Uncle Bacchus now, Mr. Barbour, " said Alice; "do look at himwalk. Is he not a curiosity? He has as much pretension in his manner as ifhe were really doing us a favor in paying us a visit. "

"The old scamp, " said Mr. Barbour, "he has a frolic in view; he wants to gooff to-morrow either to a campmeeting, or a barbecue. He looks as if hewere hooked together, and could be taken apart limb by limb. "

Bacchus had commenced bowing some time before he reached the piazza, but onascending the steps he made a particularly low bow to his master, and thenin the same manner, though with much less reverence, paid his respects tothe others. 

"Well, Bacchus?" said Mr. Weston. 

"How is yer health dis evenin, master? You aint been so well latterly. We'll soon have green corn though, and that helps dispepsy wonderful. "

"It may be good for dyspepsia, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, "but it sometimesgives old people cholera morbus, when they eat it raw; so I advise you toremember last year's experience, and roast it before you eat it. "

"I shall, indeed, " replied Bacchus; "'twas an awful time I had last summer. My blessed grief! but I thought my time was done come. But de Lord wasmighty good to me, he brought me up again--Miss Janet's physic done me moregood though than any thing, only it put me to sleep, and I never slept somuch in my born days. "

"You were always something of a sleeper, I am told, Bacchus, " said CousinJanet; "though I have no doubt the laudanum had that effect; you must bemore prudent; old people cannot take such liberties with themselves. "

"Lor, Miss Janet, I aint so mighty ole now; besure I aint no chickennother; but thar's Aunt Peggy; she's what I call a raal ole nigger; she'san African. Miss Alice, aint she never told you bout de time she seed anelerphant drink a river dry?"

"Yes, " said Alice, "but she dreamed that. "

"No, Miss, she actually seed it wid her own eyes. They's mighty weak anddim now, but she could see out of 'em once, I tell ye. It's hot nuff heresometimes, but Aunt Peggy says it's winter to what 'tis in Guinea, whar shewas raised till she was a big gall. One day when de sun was mighty strong, she seed an elerphant a comin along. She runned fast enough, she had no'casion to grease her heels wid quicksilver; she went mighty fast, nodoubt; she didn't want dat great beast's hoof in her wool. You and me seedan elerphant de time we was in Washington, long wid master, Miss Alice, andI thought 'bout Aunt Peggy that time. 'Twas a _'nageree_ we went to. Youknow I held you in my arms over de people's heads to see de monkeys ride. 

"Well, Aunt Peggy say she runned till she couldn't run no longer, so sheclumb a great tree, and sat in de branches and watched him. He madestraight for de river, and he kicked up de sand wid his hoofs, as he wentalong, till he come to de bank; den he begins to drink, and he drinks, Itell you. Aunt Peggy say every swaller he took was least a gallon, and hedrunk all dat blessed mornin. After a while she seed de water gitting verylow, and last he gits enuff. He must a got his thirst squinched by dattime. So Aunt Peggy, she waded cross de river, when de elephant had went, and two days arter dat, de river was clean gone, bare as my hand. Master, "continued Bacchus, "I has a great favor to ax of you. "

"Barbecue or campmeeting, Bacchus?" said Mr. Barbour. 

"If you please, master, " said he, addressing Mr. Weston, but at the sametime giving an imploring look to Mr. Barbour, "to 'low me to go wayto-morrow and wait at de barbecue. Mr. Semmes, he wants me mightily; hesays he'll give me a dollar a day if I goes. I'll sure and be home agin inthe evenin. "

"I am afraid to give you permission, " said Mr. Weston; "this habit ofdrinking, that is growing upon you, is a disgrace to your old age. Youremember you were picked up and brought home in a cart from campmeetingthis summer, and I am surprised that you should so soon ask a favor of me. "

"I feels mighty shamed o' that, sir, " said Bacchus, "but I hope you will'scuse it. Niggers aint like white people, no how; they can't 'sisttemptation. I've repented wid tears for dat business, and 'twont happenagin, if it please the Lord not to lead me into temptation. "

"You led yourself into temptation, " said Mr. Weston; "you took pains tocross two or three fences, and to go round by Norris's tavern, when, ifyou had chosen, you could have come home by the other road. "

"True as gospel, ma'am, " said Bacchus, "I don't deny de furst word of it;the Lord forgive me for backsliding; but master's mighty good to us, and ifhe'll overlook that little misfortune of mine, it shan't happen agin. "

"You call it a misfortune, do you, Bacchus?" said Mr. Barbour; "why, itseems to me such a great Christian as you are, would have given the rightname to it, and called it a sin. I am told you are turned preacher?"

"No, sir, " said Bacchus, "I aint no preacher, I warn't called to be; Ileads in prayer sometimes, and in general I rises de tunes. "

"Well, I suppose I can't refuse you, " said Mr. Weston; "but come homesober, or ask no more permissions. "

"God bless you, master; don't be afeard: you'll see you can trust me. Iaint gwine to disgrace our family no more. I has to have a little changesometimes, for Miss Janet knows my wife keeps me mighty straight at home. She 'lows me no privileges, and if I didn't go off sometimes for a littlefun, I shouldn't have no health, nor sperrets nother. "

"You wouldn't have any sperrits, that's certain, " said Alice, laughing; "Ishould like to see a bottle of whisky in Aunt Phillis's cabin. "

Bacchus laughed outright, infinitely overcome at the suggestion. "Myblessed grief! Miss Alice, " said he, "she'd make me eat de bottle, chaw upall de glass, swaller it arter dat. I aint ever tried dat yet--best not to, I reckon. No, master, I intends to keep sober from this time forrurd, tillyoung master comes back; _den_ I shall git high, spite of Phillis, and'scuse me, sir, spite of de devil hisself. When is he comin, any how, sir?"

"Next year, I hope, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston. 

"Long time, sir, " said Bacchus; "like as not he'll never see old Aunt Peggyagin. She's failin, sir, you can see by de way she sets in de sun all day, wid a long switch in her hand, trying to hit de little niggers as dey goby. Sure sign she's gwine home. If she wasn't altogether wore out, she'd beat somefin better. She's sarved her time cookin and bakin, and she's gwineto a country whar there's no 'casion to cook any more. She's a good oldsoul, but wonderful cross sometimes. "

"She has been an honest, hard-working, and faithful servant, and a soberone too, " said Mr. Weston. 

"I understand, sir, " said Bacchus, humbly; "but don't give yourself nooneasiness about me! I shall be home to-morrow night, ready to jine in atprayers. "

"Very well--that will do, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, who felt anxious toenjoy the society of his friend. 

"Good evenin to you all, " said Bacchus, retreating with many bows. 

We will see how Bacchus kept his word, and for the present leave Mr. Westonto discuss the subjects of the day with his guest; while the ladies paid avisit to Aunt Peggy, and listened to her complaints of "the flies and thelittle niggers, " and the thousand and one ailings that belong to the age ofninety years. 

CHAPTER II. 

"You rode too far this afternoon, Alice, you seem to be very tired, " saidMr. Weston. 

"No, dear uncle, I am not fatigued; the wind was cold, and it makes me feelstupid. "

"Why did not Walter come in?" asked Mr. Weston. "I saw him returning withyou by the old road. "

"He said he had an engagement this evening, " replied Alice, as she raisedher head from her uncle's shoulder. 

"Poor Walter!" said Cousin Janet; "with the education and habits of agentleman, he is to be pitied that it is only as a favor he is received, among those with whom he may justly consider himself on an equality. "

"But is not Walter our equal?" asked Alice. Cousin Janet held her knittingclose to her eyes to look for a dropped stitch, while Mr. Weston repliedfor her:

"My love, you know, probably, that Walter is not an equal by right of birthto those whose parents held a fair and honorable position in society. Hisfather, a man of rare talents, of fascinating appearance, and winningaddress, was the ruin of all connected with him. (Even his mother, broken-hearted by his career of extravagance and dissipation, found rest inthe termination of a life that had known no rest. ) His first wife, (notWalter's mother, ) a most interesting woman, was divorced from him by anunjust decision of the law, for after her death circumstances transpiredthat clearly proved her innocence. Walter's mother was not married, as faras is known; though some believe she was, and that she concealed it inconsequence of the wishes and threats of Mr. Lee, who was ashamed to ownthe daughter of a tradesman for his wife. "

"But all this is not Walter's fault, uncle, " said Alice. 

"Assuredly not; but there is something due to our long establishedopinions. Walter should go to a new country, where these things are notknown, and where his education and talents would advance him. Here they aretoo fresh in the memory of many. Yet do I feel most kindly towards him, though he rather repels the interest we take in him by his haughty coldnessof manner. The attachment between him and my son from their infancy drawsme towards him. Arthur writes, though, that his letters are very reservedand not frequent. What can be the meaning of it?"

"There was always a want of candor and generosity in Walter's disposition, "remarked Alice's mother. 

"You never liked him, Anna, " said Mr. Weston; "why was it?"

"Arthur and Walter contrast so strongly, " answered Mrs. Weston. "Arthur wasalways perfectly honest and straight-forward, even as a little child;though quiet in his way of showing it, he is so affectionate in hisdisposition. Walter is passionate and fickle, condescending to those heloves, but treating with a proud indifference every one else. I wonder hedoes not go abroad, he has the command of his fortune now, and here he cannever be happily situated; no woman of delicacy would ever think ofmarrying him with that stain on his birth. "

"How beautiful his mother was, Cousin Janet!" said Mr. Weston. "I havenever seen more grace and refinement. I often look at Walter, and recallher, with her beautiful brown hair and blue eyes. How short her course was, too! I think she died at eighteen. "

"Do tell me about her, uncle, " said Alice. 

"Cousin Janet can, better than I, my darling. Have you never told Alice herhistory, cousin?"

"No, it is almost too sad a tale for Alice's ear, and there is somethingholy, in my mind, in the recollection of the sorrows of that young person. I believe she was a wife, though an unacknowledged one. If the grave wouldgive up its secrets--but it will, it will--the time will come for justiceto all, even to poor Ellen Haywood. 

"That young creature was worse than an orphan, for her father, thriving inbusiness at one time, became dissipated and reckless. Ellen's time was herown; and after her mother's death her will was uncontrolled. Her educationwas not good enough to give her a taste for self-improvement. She had afine mind, though, and the strictest sense of propriety and dignity. Herremarkable beauty drew towards her the attention of the young men of herown class, as well as those of good family; but she was always prudent. Poor girl! knowing she was motherless and friendless, I tried to win herregard; I asked her to come to the house, with some other young girls ofthe neighborhood, to study the Bible under my poor teachings; but shedeclined, and I afterwards went to see her, hoping to persuade her to come. I found her pale and delicate, and much dispirited. Thanking me mostearnestly, she begged me to excuse her, saying she rarely went out, onaccount of her father's habits, fearing something might occur during herabsence from home. I was surprised to find her so depressed, yet I do notremember ever to have seen any thing like guilt, in all the interviews withher, from that hour until her death. 

"Ellen's father died; but not before many had spoken lightly of hisdaughter. Mr. Lee was constantly at the house; and what but Ellen's beautycould take him there! No one was without a prejudice against Mr. Lee, and Ihave often wondered that Ellen could have overlooked what every one knew, the treatment his wife had received. You will think, " continued CousinJanet, "that it is because I am an old maid, and am full of notions, that Icannot imagine how a woman can love a man who has been divorced from hiswife. I, who have never loved as the novelists say, have the most exaltedideas of marriage. It is in Scripture, the type of Christ's love to thechurch. Life is so full of cares; there is something holy in the thought ofone heart being privileged to rest its burden on another. But how can thatman be loved who has put away his wife from him, because he is tired ofher? for this is the meaning of the usual excuses--incompatibility oftemper, and the like. Yet Ellen did love him, with a love passingdescription; she forgot his faults and her own position; she loved as Iwould never again wish to see a friend of mine love any creature of theearth. 

"Time passed, and Ellen was despised. Mr. Lee left abruptly for Europe, andI heard that this poor young woman was about to become a mother. I knew shewas alone in the world, and I knew my duty too. I went to her, and I thankHim who inclined me to seek this wandering lamb of his fold, and to be (itmay be) the means of leading her back to His loving care and protection. Ioften saw her during the last few weeks of her life, and she was usuallyalone; Aunt Lucy, her mother's servant, and her own nurse when an infant, being the only other occupant of her small cottage. 

"Speaking of her, brings back, vividly as if it happened yesterday, thescene with which her young life closed. Lucy sent for me, as I had chargedher, but the messenger delayed, and in consequence, Ellen had been somehours sick when I arrived. Oh! how lovely her face appears to my memory, asI recall her. She was in no pain at the moment I entered; her head wassupported by pillows, and her brown hair fell over them and over her neck. Her eyes were bright as an angel's, her cheeks flushed to a crimson color, and her white, beautiful hand grasped a cane which Dr. Lawton had justplaced there, hoping to relieve some of her symptoms by bleeding. Lucystood by, full of anxiety and affection, for this faithful servant lovedher as she loved her own life. My heart reproached me for my unintentionalneglect, but I was in a moment by her side, supporting her head upon mybreast. 

"It is like a dream, that long night of agony. The patience of Ellen, thekindness of her physician, and the devotion of her old nurse--I thoughtthat only a wife could have endured as she did. 

"Before this, Ellen had told me her wishes as regards her child, persuadedthat, if it should live, she should not survive its birth to take care ofit. She entreated me to befriend it in the helpless time of infancy, andthen to appeal to its father in its behalf. I promised her to do so, alwayschiding her for not hoping and trusting. 'Ellen, ' I would say, 'life is ablessing as long as God gives it, and it is our duty to consider it so. '

"'Yes, Miss Janet, but if God give me a better life, shall I not esteem ita greater blessing? I have not deserved shame and reproach, and I cannotlive under it. Right glad and happy am I, that a few sods of earth willsoon cover all. '

"Such remarks as these, " continued Cousin Janet, "convinced me that therewas grief, but not guilt, on Ellen's breast, and for her own sake, I hopedthat she would so explain to me her past history, that I should have it inmy power to clear her reputation. But she never did. Truly, 'she died andmade no sign, ' and it is reserved to a future day to do her justice. 

"I said she died. That last night wore on, and no word of impatience orcomplaint escaped her lips. The agony of death found her quiet andcomposed. Night advanced, and the gray morning twilight fell on thosefeatures, no longer flushed and excited. Severe faintings had come on, andthe purple line under the blue eyes heralded the approach of death. Herluxuriant hair lay in damp masses about her; her white arms were cold, andthe moisture of death was gathering there too. 'Oh! Miss Ellen, ' cried oldLucy, 'you will be better soon--bear up a little longer. '

"'Ellen dear, ' I said, 'try and keep up. ' But who can give life andstrength save One?--and He was calling to her everlasting rest the pooryoung sufferer. 

"'Miss Ellen, ' again cried Lucy, 'you have a son; speak to me, my darling;'but, like Rachel of old, she could not be thus revived, 'her soul was indeparting. '

"Lucy bore away the child from the chamber of death, and I closed her whiteeyelids, and laid her hands upon her breast. Beautiful was she in death:she had done with pain and tears forever. 

"I never can forget, " continued Cousin Janet, after a pause of a fewmoments, "Lucy's grief. She wept unceasingly by Ellen's side, and it wasimpossible to arouse her to a care for her own health, or to an interest inwhat was passing around. On the day that Ellen was to be buried, I went tothe room where she lay prepared for her last long sleep. Death had laid alight touch on her fair face. The sweet white brow round which her hairwaved as it had in life--the slightly parted lips--the expression ofrepose, not only in the countenance, but in the attitude in which her oldnurse had laid her, seemed to indicate an awakening to the duties of life. But there was the coffin and the shroud, and there sat Lucy, her eyes heavywith weeping, and her frame feeble from long fasting, and indulgence ofbitter, hopeless grief. 

"It was in the winter, and a severe snow-storm, an unusual occurrence withus, had swept the country for several days; but on this morning the windand clouds had gone together, and the sun was lighting up the hills andriver, and the crystals of snow were glistening on the evergreens thatstood in front of the cottage door. One ray intruded through the shutterinto the darkened room, and rested on a ring, which I had never observedbefore, on Ellen's left hand. It was on the third finger, and itsappearance there was so unexpected to me, that for a moment my strengthforsook me, and I leaned against the table on which the coffin rested, forsupport. 

"'Lucy, ' I said, 'when was that placed there?'

"'I put it there, ma'am. '

"'But what induced you?'

"'She told me to do so, ma'am. A few days before she was taken sick, shecalled me and took from her bureau-drawer, that ring. The ring was in asmall box. She was very pale when she spoke--she looked more like deaththan she does now, ma'am. I know'd she wasn't able to stand, and I said, 'Sit down, honey, and then tell me what you want me to do. '

"'Mammy, ' said she, 'you've had a world of trouble with me, and you've hadtrouble of your own all your life; but I am not going to give you muchmore--I shall soon be where trouble cannot come. '

"'Don't talk that way, child, ' said I, 'you will get through with this, andthen you will have something to love and to care for, that will make youhappy again. '

"'Never in this world, ' said she; 'but mammy, I have one favor more to askof you--and you must promise me to do it. '

"'What is it, Miss Ellen?' said I, 'you know I would die for you if 'twoulddo you any good. '

"'It is this, ' she said, speaking very slowly, and in a low tone, 'when Iam dead, mammy, when you are all by yourself, for I am sure you will stayby me to the last, I want you to put this ring on the third finger of myleft hand--will you remember?--on the third finger of my left hand. ' Shesaid it over twice, ma'am, and she was whiter than that rose that lays onher poor breast. '

"'Miss Ellen, ' says I, 'as sure as there's a God in heaven you are Mr. Lee's wife, and why don't you say so, and stand up for yourself? Don't yousee how people sneer at you when they see you?'

"'Yes, but don't say any more. It will soon be over. I made a promise, andI will keep it; God will do me justice when he sees fit. '

"'But, Miss Ellen, ' says I, 'for the sake of the child'--

"'Hush! mammy, that is the worst of all; but I will trust in Him. It's adreadful sin to love as I have, but God has punished me. Do you remember, dear mammy, when I was a child, how tired I would get, chasing butterflieswhile the day lasted, and when night came, how I used to spring, and try tocatch the lightning-bugs that were flying around me--and you used to beg meto come in and rest or go to bed, but I would not until I could no longerstand; then I laid myself on your breast and forgot all my weariness? So itis with me now; I have had my own way, and I have suffered, and have nomore strength to spend; I will lie down in the grave, and sleep where noone will reproach me. Promise me you will do what I ask you, and I will diecontented. '

"'I promised her, ma'am, and I have done it. '

"'It is very strange, Lucy, ' said I, 'there seems to have been a mysteriousreason why she would not clear herself; but it is of no use to try andunravel the mystery. She has no friends left to care about it; we can onlydo as she said, leave all to God. '

"'Ah ma'am, ' said Lucy, 'what shall I do now she is gone? I have got nofriend left; if I could only die too--Lord have mercy upon me. '

"'You have still a friend, Lucy, ' I said. 'One that well deserves the nameof friend. You must seek Him out, and make a friend of Him. Jesus Christ isthe friend of the poor and desolate. Have you no children, Lucy?'

"'God only knows, ma'am. '

"'What do you mean?' I said. 'Are they all dead?'

"'They are gone, ma'am--all sold. I ain't seen one of them for twentyyears. Days have come and gone, and nights have come and gone, but day andnight is all the same to me. You did not hear, may be, for grand folksdon't often hear of the troubles of the poor slave--that one day I hadseven children with me, and the next they were all sold; taken off, and Idid not even see them, to bid them good-by. My master sent me, with mymistress to the country, where her father lived, (for she was sickly, andhe said it would do her good, ) and when we came back there was no child tomeet me. I have cried, ma'am, enough for Miss Ellen, but I never shed atear for my own. '

"'But what induced him, Lucy, to do such a wicked thing?'

"'Money, ma'am, and drinking, and the devil. He did not leave me one. Myfive boys, and my two girls, all went at once. My oldest daughter, ma'am, Iwas proud of her, for she was a handsome girl, and light-colored too--shewent, and the little one, ma'am. My heart died in me. I hated him. I usedto dream I had killed him, and I would laugh out in my sleep, but Icouldn't murder him on her account. My mistress, she cried day and night, and called him cruel, and she would say, 'Lucy, I'd have died before Iwould have done it. ' I couldn't murder him, ma'am, 'twas my mistress heldme back. '

"'No, Lucy, ' said I, ''twas not your mistress, it was the Lord; and thankHim that you are not a murderer. Did you ever think of the consequences ofsuch an act?'

"'Lor, ma'am, do you think I cared for that? I wasn't afraid of hanging. '

"'I did not mean that, Lucy. I meant, did you not fear His power, who couldnot only kill your body, but destroy your soul in hell?'

"'I didn't think of any thing, for a long time. My mistress got worse afterthat, and I nursed her until she died; poor Miss Ellen was a baby, and Ihad her too. When master died I thought it was no use for me to wish himill, for the hand of the Lord was heavy on him, for true. 'Lucy, ' he said, 'you are a kind nurse to me, though I sold your children, but I've had norest since. ' I couldn't make him feel worse, ma'am, for he was going to hisaccount with all his sins upon him. '

"'This is the first time Lucy, ' I said, 'that I have ever known children tobe sold away from their mother, and I look upon the crime with as great ahorror as you do. '

"'Its the only time I ever knowed it, ma'am, and everybody pitied me, andmany a kind thing was said to me, and many a hard word was said of him;true enough, but better be forgotten, as he is in his grave. '

"Some persons now entered, and Lucy became absorbed in her present grief;her old frame shook as with a tempest, when the fair face was hid from hersight. There were few mourners; Cousin Weston and I followed her to thegrave. I believe Ellen was as pure as the white lilies Lucy planted at herhead. "

"Did Lucy ever hear of her children?" asked Alice. 

"No, my darling, she died soon after Ellen. She was quite an old woman, andhad never been strong. "

"Uncle, " said Alice, "I did not think any one could be so inhuman as toseparate mother and children. "

"It is the worst feature in slavery, " replied Mr. Weston, "and the Stateshould provide laws to prevent it; but such a circumstance is veryuncommon. Haywood, Ellen's father, was a notoriously bad man, and afterthis wicked act was held in utter abhorrence in the neighborhood. It is theinterest of a master to make his slaves happy, even were he not actuated bybetter motives. Slavery is an institution of our country; and while we areprivileged to maintain our rights, we should make them comfortable here, and fit them for happiness hereafter. "

"Did you bring Lucy home with you, Cousin Janet?" asked Alice. 

"Yes, my love, and little Walter too. He was a dear baby--now he is a manof fortune, (for Mr. Lee left him his entire property, ) and is under noone's control. He will always be very dear to me. But here comes Mark withthe Prayer Book. "

"Lay it here, Mark, " said Mr. Weston, "and ring the bell for the servants. I like all who can to come and unite with me in thanking God for His manymercies. Strange, I have opened the Holy Book where David says, (and wewill join with him, ) 'Praise the Lord, oh! my soul, and all that is withinme, praise his holy name. '"

CHAPTER III. 

After the other members of the family had retired, Mr. Weston, as was usualwith him, sat for a while in the parlor to read. The closing hour of theday is, of all, the time that we love to dwell on the subject nearest ourheart. As, at the approach of death, the powers of the mind rally, and themortal, faint and feeble, with but a few sparks of decaying life withinhim, arouses to a sense of his condition, and puts forth all his energies, to meet the hour of parting with earth and turning his face to heaven; so, at the close of the evening, the mind, wearied with its day's travelling, is about to sink into that repose as necessary for it as for the body--thatrepose so often compared to the one in which the tired struggler with life, has "forever wrapped the drapery of his couch about him, and laid down topleasant dreams. " Ere yielding, it turns with energy to the calls ofmemory, though it is so soon to forget all for a while. It hears voiceslong since hushed, and eyes gaze into it that have looked their last uponearthly visions. Time is forgotten, Affection for a while holds her reign, Sorrow appears with her train of reproachings and remorse, untilexhaustion comes to its aid, and it obtains the relief so bountifullyprovided by Him who knoweth well our frames. With Mr. Weston this last hourwas well employed, for he not only read, but studied the Holy Scriptures. Possessed of an unusually placid temperament, there had occurred in hislife but few events calculated to change the natural bent of hisdisposition. The death of his wife was indeed a bitter grief; but he hadnot married young, and she had lived so short a time, that after a while hereturned to his usual train of reflection. But for the constant presence ofhis son, whose early education he superintended, he would have doubted ifthere ever had been a reality to the remembrance of the happy year he hadpassed in her society. 

With his hand resting on the sacred page, and his heart engrossed with thelessons it taught, he was aroused from his occupation by a loud noiseproceeding from the kitchen. This was a most unusual circumstance, forbesides that the kitchen was at some distance from the house, the servantswere generally quiet and orderly. It was far from being the case atpresent. Mr. Weston waited a short time to give affairs time to rightthemselves, but at length determined to inquire into the cause of theconfusion. 

As he passed through the long hall, the faces of his ancestors looked downupon him by the dim light. There was a fair young lady, with an arm whiteas snow, unconcealed by a sleeve, unless the fall of a rich border of lacefrom her shoulder could be called by that name. Her golden hair was brushedback from her forehead, and fell in masses over her shoulders. Her face wasslightly turned, and there was a smile playing about her mouth. 

Next her was a grave-looking cavalier, her husband. There were old men, with powdered hair and the rich dress of bygone times. 

There were the hoop and the brocades, and the stomacher, and the fairbosom, against which a rose leaned, well satisfied with its loungingplace. Over the hall doors, the antlers of the stag protruded, remindingone that the chase had been a favorite pastime with the self-exiled sons ofMerry England. 

Such things have passed away from thee, my native State! Forever have theygone, and the times when over waxed floors thy sons and daughtersgracefully performed the minuet. The stately bow, the graceful curtsey areseen no more; there is hospitality yet lingering in thy halls, but fashionis making its way there too. The day when there was a tie between masterand slave, --is that departing, and why?

Mr. Weston passed from the house under a covered way to the kitchen, andwith a firm but slow step, entered. And here, if you be an Old or a NewEnglander, let me introduce you--as little at home would be Queen Victoriaholding court in the Sandwich Islands, as you here. You may look in vainfor that bane of good dinners, a cooking stove; search forever for a grainof saleratus or soda, and it will be in vain. That large, round block, withthe wooden hammer, is the biscuit-beater; and the cork that is liftingitself from the jug standing on it, belongs to the yeast department. 

Mr. Weston did not, nor will we, delay to glance at the well-swept earthenfloor, and the bright tins in rows on the dresser, but immediatelyaddressed himself to Aunt Peggy, who, seated in a rush-bottomed chair inthe corner, and rocking herself backwards and forwards, was talkingrapidly. 

And oh! what a figure had Aunt Peggy; or rather, what a face. Which was theblacker, her eyes or her visage; or whiter, her eyeballs or her hair? Thelatter, unconfined by her bandanna handkerchief as she generally wore it, standing off from her head in masses, like snow. And who that had seen her, could forget that one tooth projecting over her thick underlip, and inconstant motion as she talked. 

"It's no use, Mister Bacchus, " said she, addressing the old man, wholooked rather the worse for wear, "it's no use to be flinging yer imperencein my face. I'se worked my time; I'se cooked many a grand dinner, and eat'em too. You'se a lazy wagabond yerself. "

"Peggy, " interposed Mr. Weston. 

"A good-for-nothing, lazy wagabond, yerself, " continued Peggy, not noticingMr. Weston, "you'se not worth de hommony you eats. "

"Does you hear that, master?" said Bacchus, appealing to Mr. Weston; "she'ssuch an old fool. "

"Hold your tongue, sir, " said Mr. Weston; while Mark, ready to strangle hisfellow-servant for his impertinence, was endeavoring to drag him out of theroom. 

"Ha, ha, " said Peggy, "so much for Mr. Bacchus going to barbecues. A nicewaiter he makes. "

"Do you not see me before you, Peggy?" said Mr. Weston, "and do youcontinue this disputing in my presence? If you were not so old, and had notbeen so faithful for many years, I would not excuse such conduct. You arevery ungrateful, when you are so well cared for; and from this timeforward, if you cannot be quiet and set a good example in the kitchen, donot come into it. "

"Don't be afeard, master, I can stay in my own cabin. If I has been welltreated, it's no more den I desarves. I'se done nuff for you and yours, inmy day; slaved myself for you and your father before you. De Lord aboveknows I dont want ter stay whar dat ole drunken nigger is, no how. Hand memy cane, dar, Nancy, I ain't gwine to 'trude my 'siety on nobody. " AndPeggy hobbled off, not without a most contemptuous look at Bacchus, who wasmaking unsuccessful efforts to rise in compliment to his master. 

"As for you, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, "never let this happen again. Iwill not allow you to wait at barbecues, in future. "

"Don't say so, master, if you please; dat ox, if you could a smelled himroastin, and de whiskey-punch, " and Bacchus snapped his finger, as the onlyway of concluding the sentence to his own satisfaction. 

"Take him off, Mark, " said Mr. Weston, "the drunken old rascal. "

"Master, " said Bacchus, pushing Mark off, "I don't like de way you speak tome; t'aint 'spectful. "

"Carry him off, " said Mr. Weston, again. "John, help Mark. "

"Be off wid yourselves, both of ye, " said Bacchus; "if ye don't, I'll giveyou de devil, afore I quits. "

"I'll shut your mouth for you, " said Mark, "talking so before master; knockhim over, John, and push him out. "

Bacchus was not so easily overcome. The god whose namesake he was, stood byhim for a time. Suddenly the old fellow's mood changed; with a patronizingsmile he turned to Mr. Weston, and said, "Master, you must 'scuse me: Iaint well dis evening. I has the dyspepsy; my suggestion aint as good ascommon. I think dat ox was done too much. "

Mr. Weston could not restrain a smile at his grotesque appearance, andridiculous language. Mark and John took advantage of the melting mood whichhad come over him, and led him off without difficulty. On leaving thekitchen, he went into a pious fit, and sung out

 "When I can read my title clar. "

Mr. Weston heard him say, "Don't, Mark; don't squeeze an ole nigger so; doyou 'spose you'll ever get to Heaven, if you got no more feelins thanthat?"

"I hope, " said Mr. Weston, addressing the other servants, "that you willall take warning by this scene. An honest and respectable servant likeBacchus, to degrade himself in this way--it gives me great pain to see it. William, " said he, addressing a son of Bacchus, who stood by the window, "did you deliver my note to Mr. Walter?"

"Yes, sir; he says he'll come to dinner; I was on my way in to tell you, but they was making such a fuss here. "

"Very well, " said Mr. Weston. "The rest of you go to bed, quietly; I amsure there will be no more disturbance to-night. "

But, what will the Abolitionist say to this scene? Where were the whip andthe cord, and other instruments of torture? Such consideration, hecontends, was never shown in the southern country. With Martin Tupper, Isay, "Hear reason, oh! brother; Hear reason and right. "

It has been, that master and slave were friends; and if this cannotcontinue, at whose door will the sin lie?

The Abolitionist says to the slave, Go! but what does he do that reallyadvances his interest? He says to the master, Give up thine own! but doeshe offer to share in the loss? No; he would give to the Lord of that whichcosts him nothing. 

Should the southern country become free, should the eyes of the world seeno stain upon her escutcheon, it will not be through the efforts of thesefanatics. If white labor could be substituted for black, better were itthat she should not have this weight upon her. The emancipation of herslaves will never be accomplished by interference or force. Good men assistin colonizing them, and the Creator may thus intend to christianizebenighted Africa. Should this be the Divine will, oh! that from every port, steamers were going forth, bearing our colored people to their naturalhome!

CHAPTER IV. 

My readers must go with me to a military station at the North, and dateback two years from the time of my story. The season must change, andinstead of summer sunsets and roses, we will bring before them three feetof snow, and winter's bleakest winds. 

Neither of these inconvenienced the company assembled in the comfortablelittle parlor of Captain Moore's quarters, with a coal-grate almost aslarge as the room, and curtains closely drawn over the old style windows:Mrs. Moore was reduced to the utmost extremity of her wits to make the roomlook modern; but it is astonishing, the genius of army ladies for puttingthe best foot foremost. This room was neither square nor oblong; and thougha mere box in size, it had no less than four doors (two belonged to theclosets) and three windows. The closets were utterly useless, beingoccupied by an indomitable race of rats and mice; they had an impregnablefortress somewhere in the old walls, and kept possession, in spite of thehouse-keeping artillery Mrs. Moore levelled against them. The poor womangave up in despair; she locked the doors, and determined to starve thegarrison into submission. 

She was far more successful in other respects, having completely banishedthe spirits of formality and inhospitality that presided in these domains. The house was outside the fort, and had been purchased from a citizen wholived there, totally apart from his race; Mrs. Moore had the comfort ofhearing, on taking possession, that all sorts of ghosts were at home there;but she was a cheerful kind of woman, and did not believe in them any morethan she did in clairvoyance, so she set to work with a brave heart, andevery thing yielded to her sway, excepting the aforesaid rats and mice. 

Her parlor was the very realization of home comfort. The lounge by thethree windows was covered with small figured French chintz, and it was adelightful seat, or bed, as the occasion required. She had the legs ofseveral of the chairs sawed off, and made cushions for them, covered withpieces of the chintz left from the lounge. The armchairs that looked ateach other from either side of the fireplace place, not being of velvet, were made to sit in. 

In one corner of the room, (there were five, ) a fine-toned guitar restedagainst the wall; in another, was a large fly-brush of peacock's feathers, with a most unconscionable number of eyes. In the third, was CaptainMoore's sword and sash. In the fourth, was Mrs. Moore's work-basket, whereany amount of thimbles, needles, and all sorts of sewing implements couldbe found. And in the fifth corner was the baby-jumper, its fat and habitualoccupant being at this time oblivious to the day's exertions; in point offact, he was up stairs in a red pine crib, sound asleep with his thumb inhis mouth. 

One of Chickering's best pianos stood open in this wonderful little parlor, and Mrs. Moore rung out sweet sounds from it evening after evening. Mrs. M. Was an industrious, intelligent Southern woman; before she met CaptainMoore, she had a sort of antipathy to dogs and Yankees; both, however, suddenly disappeared, for after a short acquaintance, she fell desperatelyin love with the captain, and allowed his great Newfoundland dog, (who hadsaved the captain, and a great number of boys from drowning, ) to lick herhand, and rest his cold, black nose on her lap; on this evening Neptune layat her feet, and was another ornament of the parlor. Indeed, he should havebeen mentioned in connection with the baby-jumper, for wherever the babywas in the day time, there was Neptune, but he seemed to think that aNewfoundland dog had other duties incumbent upon him in the evening thanwatching babies, so he listened attentively to the music, dozing now andthen. Sometimes, during a very loud strain, he would suddenly rouse andlook intently at the coal-fire; but finding himself mistaken, that he hadonly dreamed it was a river, and that a boy who was fishing on its bankshad tumbled in, and required his services to pull him out, would fall downon the rug again and take another nap. 

I have said nothing of this rug, which Neptune thought was purchased forhim, nor of the bright red carpet, nor of the nice china candlesticks onthe mantel-piece, (which could not be reached without a step-ladder, ) norof the silver urn, which was Mrs. Moore's great-grandmother's, nor of thelard-lamp which lit up every thing astonishingly, because I am anxious tocome to the point of this chapter, and cannot do justice to all thesethings. But it would be the height of injustice, in me, to pass byLieutenant Jones's moustaches, for the simple reason, that since the closeof the Mexican war, he had done little else but cultivate them. They werevery brown, glossy, and luxuriant, entirely covering his upper lip, so thatit was only in a hearty laugh that one would have any reason to suppose hehad cut his front teeth; but he had, and they were worth cutting, too, which is not always the case with teeth. The object of wearing thesemoustaches was, evidently, to give himself a warlike and ferociousappearance; in this, he was partially successful, having the drawbacks of aremarkably gentle and humane countenance, and a pair of mild blue eyes. Hewas a very good-natured young man, and had shot a wild turkey in Mexico, the tail of which he had brought home to Mrs. Moore, to be made into a fan. (This fan, too, was in the parlor, of which may be said what was oncethought of the schoolmaster's head, that the only wonder was, it couldcontain so much. )

Next to Mr. Jones we will notice a brevet-second lieutenant, just attachedto the regiment, and then introduce a handsome bachelor captain. (These arescarce in the army, and should be valued accordingly. ) This gentleman was afine musician, and the brevet played delightfully on the flute; in fact, they had had quite a concert this evening. Then there was Colonel Watson, the commanding officer, who had happened in, Mrs. Moore being an especialfavorite of his; and there was a long, lean, gaunt-looking gentleman, bythe name of Kent. He was from Vermont, and was an ultra Abolitionist. Theyhad all just returned from the dining-room, where they had been eating coldturkey and mince pies; and though there was a fair chance of the nightmaresome hours hence, yet for the present they were in an exceedingly highstate of health and spirits. 

Now, Mrs. Moore had brought from Carolina a woman quite advanced in life. She had been a very faithful servant, and Mrs. Moore's mother, wishing herdaughter to have the benefit of her services, and feeling perfectconfidence in Polly's promise that under no circumstances would she leaveher daughter without just cause, had concluded that the best way ofmanaging affairs would be to set her free at once. She did so; but Pollybeing one of those persons who take the world quietly, was not the leastelated at being her own mistress; she rather felt it to be a kind ofexperiment to which there was some risk attached. Mrs. Moore paid her sixdollars a month for her services, and from the time they had left hometogether until the present moment, Polly had been a most efficient servant, and a sort of friend whose opinions were valuable in a case of emergency. 

For instance, Captain Moore was a temperance man, and in consequence, opposed to brandy, wine, and the like being kept in his house. This wasquite a trouble to his wife, for she knew that good mince pies and puddingsauces could not be made without a little of the wherewithal; so she laidher difficulties before Aunt Polly, and begged her to advise what was bestto do. 

"You see, Aunt Polly, Captain Moore says that a good example ought to beset to the soldiers; and that since the Mexican war the young officers aremore inclined to indulge than they used to be; that he feels such aresponsibility in the case that he can't bear the sight of a bottle in thehouse. "

"Well, honey, " said Aunt Polly, "he says he likes my mince pies, and mypuddins, mightily; and does he 'spect me to make 'em good, and make 'em outof nothin, too?"

"That's what I say, Aunt Polly, for you know none of us like to drink. Thecaptain belongs to the Temperance Society; and I don't like it, because itgets into my head, and makes me stupid; and you never drink any thing, soif we could only manage to get him to let us keep it to cook with. "

"As to that, child, " said Aunt Polly, "I mus have it to cook with, that's apint settled; there aint no use 'sputin about it. If he thinks I'm gwine tochange my way of cookin in my old age, he's mightily mistaken. He need'ntthink I'm gwine to make puddins out o' one egg, and lighten my muffins withsnow, like these ere Yankees, 'kase I aint gwine to do it for nobody. I sotout to do my duty by you, and I'll do it; but for all that, I aint bound toset to larnin new things this time o' day. I'll cook Carolina fashion, or Iwont cook at all. "

"Well, but what shall I do?" said Mrs. Moore; "you wouldn't have me do athing my husband disapproves of, would you?"

"No, that I wouldn't, Miss Emmy, " said Aunt Polly. "My old man's dust andashes long ago, but I always done what I could to please him. Men's mightyonreasonable, the best of 'em, but when a woman is married she ought to doall she can for the sake of peace. I dont see what a man has got to dointerferin with the cookin, no how; a woman oughter 'tend to thesematters. 'Pears to me, Mr. Moore, (captain, as you calls him, ) is mightyfidjetty about bottles, all at once. But if he cant bear the sight of abrandy bottle in the house, bring 'em down here to me; I'll keep 'em out ofhis sight, I'll be bound. I'll put 'em in the corner of my old chistyonder, and I'd like to see him thar, rummagin arter brandy bottles or anything else. "

Mrs. Moore was very much relieved by this suggestion, and when her husbandcame in, she enlarged on the necessity of Polly's having her own way aboutthe cooking, and wound up by saying that Polly must take charge of all thebottles, and by this arrangement he would not be annoyed by the sight ofthem. 

"But, my dear, " said he, "do you think it right to give such things incharge of a servant?"

"Why, Aunt Polly never drinks. "

"Yes, but Emmy, you don't consider the temptation. "

"La, William, do hush; why if you talk about temptation, she's had that allher life, and she could have drank herself to death long ago. Just say yes, and be done with it, for it has worried me to death all day, and I want itsettled, and off my mind. "

"Well, do as you like, " said Captain Moore, "but remember, it will be yourfault if any thing happens. "

"Nothing is going to happen, " said Mrs. Moore, jumping up, and seizing thewine and brandy bottles by the necks, and descending to the lower regionswith them. 

"Here they are, Aunt Polly. William consents to your having them; and mindyou keep them out of sight. "

"Set 'em down in the cheer thar, I'll take care of 'em, I jist wanted somebrandy to put in these potato puddins. I wonder what they'd taste likewithout it. "

But Mrs. Moore could not wait to talk about it, she was up stairs inanother moment, holding her baby on Neptune's back, and more at ease in hermind than she had been since the subject was started, twenty-four hoursbefore. 

There was but one other servant in the house, a middle-aged woman, who hadrun away from her mistress in Boston; or rather, she had been seduced offby the Abolitionists. While many would have done well under thecircumstances, Susan had never been happy, or comfortable, since thisoccurred. Besides the self-reproach that annoyed her, (for she had beenbrought on from Georgia to nurse a sick child, and its mother, a veryfeeble person, had placed her dependence upon her, ) Susan was illycalculated to shift for herself. She was a timid, delicate woman, withrather a romantic cast of mind; her mistress had always been an invalid, and was fond of hearing her favorite books read aloud. For the style ofbooks that Susan had been accustomed to listen to, as she sat at hersewing, Lalla Rookh would be a good specimen; and, as she had never beenput to hard work, but had merely been an attendant about her mistress'room, most of her time was occupied in a literary way. Thus, having anexcellent memory, her head was a sort of store-room for lovesick snatchesof song. The Museum men would represent her as having snatched a feather ofthe bird of song; but as this is a matter-of-fact kind of story, we willobserve, that Susan not being naturally very strong-minded, and hereducation not more advanced than to enable her to spell out an antiquatedvalentine, or to write a letter with a great many small i's in it, she israther to be considered the victim of circumstances and a soft heart. Shewas, nevertheless, a conscientious woman; and when she left Georgia, tocome North, had any one told her that she would run away, she would haveanswered in the spirit, if not the expression, of the oft quoted, "Is thyservant a dog?"

She enjoyed the journey to the North, the more that the little babyimproved very much in strength; she had had, at her own wish, the entirecharge of him from his birth. 

The family had not been two days at the Revere House before Susan foundherself an object of interest to men who were gentlemen, if broadcloth andpatent-leather boots could constitute that valuable article. Theseindividuals seemed to know as much of her as she did of herself, thoughthey plied her with questions to a degree that quite disarranged her usualcalm and poetic flow of ideas. As to "Whether she had been born a slave, orhad been kidnapped? Whether she had ever been sold? How many times a weekshe had been whipped, and what with? Had she ever been shut up in a darkcellar and nearly starved? Was she allowed more than one meal a day? Didshe ever have any thing but sweet potato pealings? Had she ever beenducked? And, finally, she was desired to open her mouth, that they mightsee whether her teeth had been extracted to sell to the dentist?"

Poor Susan! after one or two interviews her feelings were terriblyagitated; all these horrible suggestions _might become_ realities, andthough she loved her home, her mistress, and the baby too, yet she wasfinally convinced that though born a slave, it was not the intention ofProvidence, but a mistake, and that she had been miraculously led to thisWestern Holy Land, of which Boston is the Jerusalem, as the means by whichthings could be set to rights again. 

One beautiful, bright evening, when her mistress had rode out to see theState House by moonlight, Susan kissed the baby, not without many tears, and then threw herself, trembling and dismayed, into the arms and tendermercies of the Abolitionists. They led her into a distant part of the city, and placed her for the night under the charge of some people who made theirliving by receiving the newly ransomed. The next morning she was to go off, but she found she had reckoned without her host, for when she thanked thegood people for her night's lodging and the hashed cod-fish on which shehad tried to breakfast, she had a bill to pay, and where was the money?Poor Susan! she had only a quarter of a dollar, and that she had asked hermistress for a week before, to buy a pair of side-combs. 

"Why, what a fool you be, " said one of the men; "Didn't I tell you to bringyour mistress' purse along?"

"And did you think I was going to steal besides running off from her andthe poor baby?" answered Susan. 

"It's not stealing, " said the Abolitionist. "Haven't you been a slaving ofyourself all your life for her, and I guess you've a right to be paid forit. I guess you think the rags on your back good wages enough?"

Susan looked at her neat dress, and thought they were very nice rags, compared to the clothes her landlady had on; but the Abolitionist was in ahurry. 

"Come, " said he, "I'm not going to spend all my time on you; if you want tobe free, come along; pay what you owe and start. "

"But I have only this quarter, " said Susan, despairingly. 

"I don't calculate to give runaway niggers their supper, and night'slodging and breakfast for twenty-five cents, " said the woman. "I aint sogreen as that, I can tell you. If you've got no money, open your bundle, and we can make a trade, like as not. "

Susan opened her bundle, (which was a good strong carpet-bag her mistresshad given her, ) and after some hesitation, the woman selected as her due anice imitation of Cashmere shawl, the last present her mistress had givenher. It had cost four dollars. Susan could hardly give it up; she wanted tokeep it as a remembrance, but she already felt herself in the hands of thePhilistines, and she fastened up her carpet-bag and set forward. She wascarried off in the cars to an interior town, and directed to the house ofan Abolitionist, to whom she was to hire herself. 

Her fare was paid by this person, and then deducted from her wages--herwages were four dollars a month. She cooked and washed for ten in family;cleaned the whole house, and did all _the chores_, except sawing the wood, which the gentleman of the house did himself. She was only required tosplit the hard, large knots--the oldest son splitting the easy sticks forher. On Saturday, the only extra duty required of her was to mend everyitem of clothing worn in the family; the lady of the house making themherself. Susan felt very much as if it was out of the frying pan into thefire; or rather, as if she had been transferred from one master to another. She found it took all her wages to buy her shoes and stockings and flannel, for her health suffered very much from the harsh climate and her new modeof life, so she ventured to ask for an increase of a dollar a month. 

"Is that your gratitude, " was the indignant reply, "for all that we've donefor you? The idea of a nigger wanting over four dollars a month, whenyou've been working all your life, too, for nothing at all. Why everybodyin town is wondering that I keep you, when white help is so much better. "

"But, ma'am, " replied Susan, "they tell me here that a woman gets sixdollars a month, when she does the whole work of a family. "

"A _white_ woman does, " said this Abolitionist lady, "but not a nigger, Iguess. Besides, if they do, you ought to be willing to work cheaper forAbolitionists, for they are your friends. "

If "save me from my friends, " had been in Lalla Rookh, Susan wouldcertainly have applied it, but as the quotation belonged to the heroicrather than the sentimental department, she could not avail herself of it, and therefore went on chopping her codfish and onions together, at the rateof four dollars a month, and very weak eyes, till some good wind blewCaptain Moore to the command of his company, in the Fort near the town. 

After Mrs. Moore's housekeeping operations had fairly commenced, she foundit would be necessary to have a person to clean the house of four rooms, and to help Neptune mind the baby. Aunt Polly accordingly set forward on anexploration. She presented quite an unusual appearance as regards her styleof dress. She wore a plaid domestic gingham gown; she had several stuffones, but she declared she never put one of them on for any thing less than"meetin. " She had a black satin Methodist bonnet, very much the shape of acoal hod, and the color of her own complexion, only there was a slightshade of blue in it. Thick gloves, and shoes, and stockings; a white cottonapron, and a tremendous blanket shawl completed her costume. She had a mostdetermined expression of countenance; the fact is, she had gone out to geta house-servant, and she didn't intend to return without one. 

I forgot to mention that she walked with a cane, having had a severe attackof rheumatics since her arrival in "the great Norrurd, " and at every stepshe hit the pavements in such a manner as to startle the rising generationof Abolitionists, and it had the good effect of preventing any of them fromcalling out to her, "Where did you get your face painted, you black nigger, you?" which would otherwise have occurred. 

Susan was just returning from a grocery store with three codfish in onehand, and a piece of salt pork and a jug of molasses in the other, when shewas startled by Aunt Polly's unexpected appearance, bearing down upon herlike a man of war. 

Aunt Polly stopped for a moment and looked at her intensely, while Susan'sfeelings, which, like her poetry, had for some time been quite subdued byconstant collision with a cooking stove, got the better of her, and sheburst into tears. Aunt Polly made up her mind on the spot; it was, as sheafterwards expressed it, "'A meracle, ' meeting that poor girl, with allthat codfish and other stuff in her hand. "

Susan did not require too much encouragement to tell her lamentable tale, and Aunt Polly in return advised her to leave her place when her month wasup, informing the family of her intention, that they might supplythemselves. This Susan promised to do, with a full heart, and Aunt Pollyhaving accomplished her mission, set out on her return, first saying toSusan, however, "We'll wait for you, you needn't be afeard, and I'll doyour work 'till you come, 'taint much, for we puts out our washin. And youneed'nt be sceard when you see the sogers, they aint gwine to hurt you, though they do look so savage. "

Susan gave notice of her intention, and after a season of martyrdom setforward to find Captain Moore's quarters. She had no difficulty, for Pollywas looking out for her, with her pipe in her mouth. "Come in, child, " saidshe, "and warm yourself; how is your cough? I stewed some molasses for you, 'gin you come. We'll go up and see Miss Emmy, presently; she 'spects you. "

Susan was duly introduced to Mrs. Moore who was at the time sitting in thecaptain's lap with the baby in hers, and Neptune's forepaws in the baby's. The captain's temperance principles did not forbid him smoking a goodcigar, and at the moment of Susan's entrance, he was in the act of emittingstealthily a cloud of smoke into his wife's face. After letting the babyfall out of her lap, and taking two or three short breaths with strongsymptoms of choking, Mrs. Moore with a husky voice and very red eyes, welcomed Susan, and introduced her to the baby and Neptune, then told AuntPolly to show her where to put her clothes, and to make her comfortable inevery respect. 

Aunt Polly did so by baking her a hoe-cake, and broiling a herring, anddrawing a cup of strong tea. Susan went to bed scared with her newhappiness, and dreamed she was in Georgia, in her old room, with the sickbaby in her arms. 

Susan's _friends_, the Abolitionists, were highly indignant at the turnaffairs had taken. They had accordingly a new and fruitful subject ofdiscussion at the sewing societies and quilting bees of the town. In solemnconclave it was decided to vote army people down as utterly disagreeable. One old maid suggested the propriety of their immediately getting up apetition for disbanding the army; but the motion was laid on the table inconsideration of John Quincy Adams being dead and buried, and therefore notin a condition to present the petition. Susan became quite cheerful, andgained twenty pounds in an incredibly short space of time, though strangerumors continued to float about the army. It was stated at a meeting of theF. S. F. S. T. W. T. R. (Female Society for Setting the World to Rights) that"army folks were a low, dissipated set, for they put wine in their _puddin_sauce. "

I do not mean to say liberty is not, next to life, the greatest of God'searthly gifts, and that men and women ought not to be happier free thanslaves. God forbid that I should so have read my Bible. But such cases asSusan's do occur, and far oftener than the raw-head and bloody-bones'stories with which Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe has seen fit to embellishthat interesting romance, Uncle Tom's Cabin. 

CHAPTER V. 

Capt. Moore suddenly seized the poker, and commenced stirring the firevigorously. Neptune rushed to his covert under the piano, and Mrs. Moorecalled out, "Dont, dear, for heaven's sake. "

"Why, it's getting cold, " said Captain Moore, apologetically. "Don't youhear the wind?"

"Yes, but I don't feel it, neither do you. The fire cannot be improved. Seehow you have made the dust fly! You never can let well alone. "

"That is the trouble with the Abolitionists, " said Colonel Watson. "Theycan't let well alone, and so Mr. Kent and his party want to reorganize theSouthern country. "

"There is no well there to let alone, " said Mr. Kent, with the air of aSolomon. 

"Don't talk so, Mr. Kent, " said Mrs. Moore, entreatingly, "for I can'tquarrel with you in my own house, and I feel very much inclined to do sofor that one sentence. "

"Now, " said the bachelor captain, "I do long to hear you and Mr. Kentdiscuss Abolition. The colonel and I may be considered disinterestedlisteners, as we hail from the Middle States, and are not politicians. Captain Moore cannot interfere, as he is host as well as husband; and Mr. Jones and Scott have eaten too much to feel much interest in any thing justnow. Pray, tell Mr. Kent, my dear madam, of Susan's getting you tointercede with her mistress to take her back, and see what he says. "

"I know it already, " said Mr. Kent, "and I must say that I am surprised tofind Mrs. Moore inducing a fellow-creature to return to a condition sodreadful as that of a Southern slave. After having been plucked from thefire, it should be painful to the human mind to see her thrown in again. "

"Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Kent, " said Mrs. Moore, with aheightened color. "I can make a better. Susan, in a moment of delirium, jumped into the fire, and she called on me to pull her out. Unfortunately, I cannot heal all the burns, for I yesterday received an answer to myletter to her mistress, who positively refuses to take her back. She iswilling, but Mr. Casey will not consent to it. He says that his wife wasmade very sick by the shock of losing Susan, and the over-exertionnecessary in the care of her child. The baby died in Boston; and theycannot overlook Susan's deserting it at a hotel, without any one to takecharge of it; they placing such perfect confidence in Susan, too. He thinksher presence would constantly recall to Mrs. Casey her child's death;besides, after having lived among Abolitionists, he fancies it would not beprudent to bring her on the plantation. Having attained her freedom, hesays she must make the best of it. Mrs. Casey enclosed me ten dollars togive to Susan, for I wrote her she was in bad health, and had very littleclothing when she came to me. Poor girl! I could hardly persuade her totake the money, and soon after, she brought it to me and asked me to keepit for her, and not to change the note that came from home. I felt verysorry for her. "

"She deserves it, " said Mr. Kent. 

"I think she does, " said Mrs. Moore, smiling, "though for another reason. "

Mr. Kent blushed as only men with light hair, and light skin, and lighteyes, can blush. 

"I mean, " said Mr. Kent, furiously, "she deserves her refusal for heringratitude. After God provided her friends who made her a free woman, sheis so senseless as to want to go back to be lashed and trodden under footagain, as the slaves of the South are. I say, she deserves it for beingsuch a fool. "

"And I say, " said Mrs. Moore, "she deserves it for deserting her kindmistress at a time when she most needed her services. God did not raise herup friends because she had done wrong. "

"You are right, Emmy, in your views of Susan's conduct; but you should becareful how you trace motives to such a source. She certainly did wrong, and she has suffered; that is all we can say. We must do the best we can torestore her to health. She is very happy with us now, and will, no doubt, after a while, enjoy her liberty: it would be a most unnatural thing if shedid not. "

"But how is it, Mr. Kent, " said the colonel, "that after you induce thesepoor devils to give up their homes, that you do not start them in life; setthem going in some way in the new world to which you transfer them. You donot give them a copper, I am told. "

"We don't calculate to do that, " said Mr. Kent. 

"I believe you, " said Mrs. Moore, maliciously. 

Mr. Kent looked indignant at the interruption, while his discomfiture wasvery amusing to the young officers, they being devoted admirers of Mrs. Moore's talents and mince pies. They laughed heartily; and Mr. Kent lookedat them as if nothing would have induced him to overlook their impertinencebut the fact, that they were very low on the list of lieutenants, and hewas an abolition agent. "We calculate, sir, to give them their freedom, andthen let them look out for themselves. "

"That is, you have no objection to their living in the same world withyourself, provided it costs you nothing, " said the colonel. 

"We make them free, " said Mr. Kent. "They have their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They are no longer enslaved, bodyand soul. If I see a man with his hands and feet chained, and I break thosechains, it is all that God expects me to do; let him earn his own living. "

"But suppose he does not know how to do so, " said Mrs. Moore, "what then?The occupations of a negro at the South are so different from those of thepeople at the North. "

"Thank God they are, ma'am, " said Mr. Kent, grandly. "We have no overseersto draw the blood of their fellow creatures, and masters to look on andlaugh. We do not snatch infants from their mothers' breasts, and sell themfor whisky. "

"Neither do we, " said Mrs. Moore, her bosom heaving with emotion; "no onebut an Abolitionist could have had such a wicked thought. No wonder thatmen who glory in breaking the laws of their country should make suchmisstatements. "

"Madam, " said Mr. Kent, "they are facts; we can prove them; and we say thatthe slaves of the South shall be free, cost what it will. The men of theNorth have set out to emancipate them, and they will do it if they have towade through fire, water, and blood. "

"You had better not talk in that style when you go South, " said CaptainMoore, "unless you have an unconquerable prejudice in favor of tar andfeathers. "

"Who cares for tar and feathers?" said Mr. Kent; "there has been already amartyr in the ranks of Abolition, and there may be more. Lovejoy died aglorious martyr's death, and there are others ready to do the same. "

"Give me my cane, there, captain, if you please, " said Colonel Watson, whohad been looking at Mr. Kent's blazing countenance and projecting eyes, inutter amazement. "Why, Buena Vista was nothing to this. Good night, madam, and do tell Susan not to jump into the fire again; I wonder she was notburned up while she was there. Come, captain, let us make our escape whilewe can. "

The captain followed, bidding the whole party good night, with a smile. Hehad been perfectly charmed with the Abolition discussion. Mr. Jones had gotvery sleepy, and he and Mr. Scott made their adieu. Mr. Kent, with someembarrassment, bade Mrs. Moore good night. Mrs. Moore begged him to goSouth and be converted, for she believed his whole heart required changing. Captain Moore followed them to the door, and shivered as he inhaled thenorth-easter. "Come, Emmy, " said he, as he entered, rubbing his hands, "you've fought for your country this night; let's go to bed. "

Mrs. Moore lit a candle, and put out the lard-lamp, wondering if she hadbeen impolite to Mr. Kent. She led the way to the staircase, in areflective state of mind; Neptune followed, and stood at the foot of thesteps for some moments, in deep thought; concluding that if there should bedanger of any one's falling into a river up there, they would call him andlet him know, he went back, laid down on the soft rug, and fell asleep forthe night. 

 * * * * *

It does not take long to state a fact. Mr. Kent went to Washington onAbolition business, --through the introduction of a senator from his ownState he obtained access to good society. He boarded in the same house witha Virginian who had a pretty face, very little sense, but a large fortune. Mr. Kent, with very little difficulty, persuaded her he was a saint, readyto be translated at the shortest notice. He dropped his Abolition notions, and they were married. At the time that my story opens, he is a planter, living near Mr. Weston, and we will hear of him again. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Arthur Weston is in his college-room in that far-famed city, New Haven. Heis in the act of replacing his cigar in his mouth, after having knocked theashes off it, when we introduce to him the reader. Though not wellemployed, his first appearance must be prepossessing; he inherited hismother's clear brunette complexion, and her fine expressive eyes. His veryblack hair he had thrown entirely off his forehead, and he is now readingan Abolition paper which had fallen into his hands. There are two otheryoung men in the room, one of them Arthur's friend, Abel Johnson; and theother, a young man by the name of Hubbard. 

"Who brought this paper into my room?" said Arthur, after laying it down onthe table beside him. 

"I was reading it, " said Mr. Hubbard, "and threw it aside. "

"Well, if it makes no difference to you, Mr. Hubbard, I'd prefer not seeingany more of these publications about me. This number is a literarycuriosity, and deserves to be preserved; but as I do not file papers atpresent, I will just return it, after expressing my thanks to you foraffording me the means of obtaining valuable information about the Southerncountry. "

"What is it about, Arthur, " said Abel Johnson, "it is too hot to read thismorning, so pray enlighten me?"

"Why, here, " said Arthur, opening the paper again, "here is anadvertisement, said to be copied from a Southern paper, in which, afterdescribing a runaway slave, it says: 'I will give four hundred dollars forhim alive, and the same sum for satisfactory proof that he has beenkilled. ' Then the editor goes on to say, 'that when a planter loses aslave, he becomes so impatient at not capturing him, and is so angry at theloss, that he then does what is equivalent to inducing some person tomurder him by way of revenge. ' Now, is not this infamous?"

"But it is true, I believe, " said Mr. Hubbard. 

"It is not true, sir, " said Arthur, "it is false, totally and entirelyfalse. Why, sir, do you mean to say, that the life of a slave is in thepower of a master, and that he is not under the protection of our laws?"

"I am told that is the case, " said Mr. Hubbard. 

"Then you are told what is not true; and it seems to me, you are remarkablyignorant of the laws of your country. "

"It is not my country, " said Mr. Hubbard, "I assure you. I lay no claims tothat part of the United States where slavery is allowed. "

"Then if it is not your country, for what reason do you concern yourself somuch about its affairs?"

"Because, " replied Mr. Hubbard, "every individual has the right to judgefor himself, of his own, and of other countries. "

"No, not without proper information, " said Arthur. "And as you have nowgraduated and intend to be a lawyer, I trust you will have considerationenough for the profession, not to advance opinions until you aresufficiently informed to enable you to do so justly. Every country musthave its poor people; you have yours at the North, for I see them--we haveours; yours are white, ours are black. I say yours are white; I shouldexcept your free blacks, who are the most miserable class of human beings Iever saw. They are indolent, reckless, and impertinent. The poorer classesof society, are proverbially improvident--and yours, in sickness, and inold age, are often victims of want and suffering. Ours in suchcircumstances, are kindly cared for, and are never considered a burden;our laws are, generally speaking, humane and faithfully administered. Wehave enactments which not only protect their lives, but which compel theirowners to be moderate in working them, and to ensure them proper care asregards their food. "

"But, " said Mr. Hubbard, "you have other laws, police-laws, which deprivethem of the most innocent recreations, such as are not only necessary fortheir happiness, but also for their health. "

"And if such laws do exist, " said Arthur, "where is the cause? You maytrace it to the interference of meddling, and unprincipled men. They excitethe minds of the slaves, and render these laws necessary for the veryprotection of our lives. But without this interference, there would be nosuch necessity. In this Walsh's Appeal, which is now open before me, youwill find, where Abel left off reading, these remarks, which show that notonly the health and comfort of the slaves, but also their feelings, aregreatly considered. 'The master who would deprive his negro of hisproperty--the product of his poultry-house or his little garden; who wouldforce him to work on holidays, or at night; who would deny him commonrecreations, or leave him without shelter and provision, in his old age, would incur the aversion of the community, and raise obstacles to theadvancement of his own interest and external aims. '"

"Then, " said Mr. Hubbard, "you mean to say, he is kind from self-interestalone. "

"No, I do not, " replied Arthur; "that undoubtedly, actuates men at theSouth, as it does men at the North; but I mean to say, so universal is itwith us to see our slaves well treated, that when an instance of thecontrary nature occurs, the author of it is subject to the dislike andodium of his acquaintances. "

"But, " said Mr. Hubbard, "that does not always protect the slaves--whichshows that your laws are sometimes ineffectual. They are not always securefrom ill-treatment. "

"But, do your laws always secure you from ill-treatment?" said Arthur. 

"Of course, " said Mr. Hubbard, "the poorest person in New England is assafe from injustice and oppression, as the highest in the land. "

"Nonsense, " said Arthur, "don't you think I can judge for myself, asregards that? Abel, do tell Mr. Hubbard of our little adventure in thebakehouse. "

"With pleasure, " said Abel, "especially as you two have not let me say aword yet. Well, Mr. Hubbard, Arthur and I having nothing else to do, gothungry, and as it was a fine evening, thought we would walk out in searchof something to satisfy our appetites, and there being a pretty girl inBrown's bakehouse, who waits on customers, we took that direction. Arthur, you know, is engaged to be married, and has no excuse for such things, butI having no such ties, am free to search for pretty faces, and to make themost of it when I find them. We walked on, arm-in-arm, and when we got tothe shop, there stood Mrs. Brown behind the counter, big as all out doors, with a very red face, and in a violent perspiration; there was some thingwrong with the old lady 'twas easy to see. "

"'Well, Mrs. Brown, ' said Arthur, for I was looking in the glass cases andunder the counter for the pretty face, 'have you any rusk?'

"'Yes, sir, we _always_ have rusk, ' said Mrs. Brown, tartly. 

"'Will you give us some, and some cakes, or whatever you have? and then wewill go and get some soda water, Abel. '

"Mrs. Brown fussed about like a 'bear with a sore head, ' and at last shebroke out against _that gal_. 

"'Where on earth has she put that cake?' said she. 'I sent her in herewith it an hour ago; just like her, lazy, good-for-nothing Irish thing. They're nothing but white niggers, after all, these Irish. Here, Ann, ' shebawled out, 'come here!'

"'Coming, ' said Ann, from within the glass door. 

"'Come this minute, ' said the old woman, and Ann's pretty Irish face showeditself immediately. 

"'Where's that 'lection cake I told you to bring here?'

"'You didn't tell me to bring no cake here, Mrs. Brown, ' said Ann. 

"'I did, you little liar, you, ' said Mrs. Brown. 'You Irish are born liars. Go, bring it here. '

"Ann disappeared, and soon returned, looking triumphant. 'Mr. Brown says hebrought it in when you told him, and covered it in that box--so I aint sucha liar, after all. '

"'You are, ' said Mrs. Brown, 'and a thief too. '

"Ann's Irish blood was up. 

"'I'm neither, ' said she; 'but I'm an orphan, and poor; that's why I'mscolded and cuffed about. '

"Mrs. Brown's blood was up too, and she struck the poor girl in the face, and her big, hard hand was in an instant covered with blood, which spoutedout from Ann's nose. 

"'Now take that for your impudence, and you'll get worse next time you godisputing with me. '

"'I declare, Mrs. Brown, ' said Arthur, 'this is, I thought, a free country. I did not know you could take the law into your own hands in that style. '

"'That gal's the bother of my life, ' said Mrs. Brown. 'Mr. Brown, he was inNew York when a ship come, and that gal's father and mother must die of theship-fever, and the gal was left, and Mr. Brown calculated she could bemade to save us hiring, by teaching her a little. She's smart enough, butshe's the hard-headedest, obstinatest thing I ever see. I can't makenothin' of her. You might as well try to draw blood out of a turnip as toget any good out of her. '

"'You got some good blood out of her, ' said I, 'at any rate, ' for Mrs. Brown was wiping her hands, and the blood looked red and healthy enough;'but she is not a turnip, that's one thing to be considered. '

"'Well, Mrs. Brown, good evening, ' said Arthur. 'I shall tell them at theSouth how you Northern people treat your white niggers. '

"'I wish to the Lord, ' said Mrs. Brown, 'we had some real niggers. Here Iam sweatin, and workin, and bakin, all these hot days, and Brown he's doinnothin from morning 'till night but reading Abolition papers, and tendinAbolition meetings. I'm not much better than a nigger myself, half thetime. '

"Now, " said Arthur, "Mr. Hubbard, I have been fortunate in my experience. Ihave never seen a slave woman struck in my life, though I've no doubt suchthings are done; and I assure you when I saw Mrs. Brown run the risk ofspoiling that pretty face for life, I wondered your laws did not protect'these bound gals, ' or 'white niggers, ' as she calls them. "

"You see, Hubbard, " said Abel, "your philanthropy and Arthur's is verycontracted. He only feels sympathy for a pretty white face, you for a blackone, while my enlarged benevolence induces me to stand up for all female'phizmahoganies, ' especially for the Hottentot and the Madagascar ones, andthe fair sex of all the undiscovered islands on the globe in general. "

"You don't think, then, " said Mr. Hubbard, argumentatively, "that God'scurse is on slavery, do you?"

"In what sense?" asked Arthur. "I think that slavery is, and always was acurse, and that the Creator intended what he said, when he first spoke ofit, through Noah. "

"But, I mean, " said Mr. Hubbard, "that it will bring a curse on those whoown slaves. "

"No, _sir_, " said Arthur, "God's blessing is, and always has been on myfather, who is a slaveholder; on his father, who was one; and on a goodmany more I could mention. In fact, I could bring forward quite arespectable list who have died in their beds, in spite of their egregioussin in this respect. There are Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Marshall, Calhoun, Henry Clay, and not a few others. In this case, the North, as hasbeen said, says to her sister South, 'Stand aside, for I am holier thanthou!' that is, you didn't need them, and got rid of them. "

"We were all born free and equal, " said Mr. Hubbard, impressively. 

"Equal!" said Abel, "there is that idiot, with his tongue hanging out ofhis mouth, across the street: was he born equal with you?"

"It strikes me, " said Arthur, "that our slaves are not born free. "

"They ought to be so, then, " said Mr. Hubbard. 

"Ah! there you arraign the Creator, " said Arthur; "I must stop now. "

"What do you think is the meaning of the text 'Cursed be Canaan, a servantof servants shall he be unto his brethren, ' Hubbard?" said Abel. 

"I don't think it justifies slavery, " said Hubbard. 

"Well, what does it mean?" said Abel. "It must mean something. Now I am atpresent between two doctrines; so I am neither on your nor on Arthur'sside. If I can't live one way I must another; and these are hard times. IfI can't distinguish myself in law, divinity, or physic, or as an artist, which I would prefer, I may turn planter, or may turn Abolition agent. Imust do something for my living. Having no slaves I can't turn planter;therefore there is more probability of my talents finding their way to theAbolition ranks; so give me all the information you can on the subject. "

"Go to the Bible, " said Mr. Hubbard, "and learn your duty to yourfellow-creatures. "

"Well, here is a Bible my mother sent here for Arthur and myself, with thecommentaries. This is Scott's Commentary. Where is Canaan?" said he, turning over the leaves; "he is very hard to be got at. "

"You are too far over, " said Arthur, laughing, "you are not in the habit ofreferring to Scott. "

"Here it is, " said Abel, "'Cursed be Canaan, a servant of servants shall hebe unto his brethren. ' And in another verse we see 'God shall enlargeJapheth, and he shall dwell in the tents of Shem, and Canaan shall be hisservant. ' So we are Japheth and Shem, and the colored population areCanaan. Is that it, Arthur?" said Abel. 

"See what Scott says, Abel, " said Arthur; "I'm not a commentator. "

"Well, here it is, --'There is no authority for altering the text, andreading, as some do, Cursed be Ham, the father of Canaan, yet the frequentmention of Ham, as the father of Canaan, suggests the thought that thelatter was also criminal. Ham is thought to be second, and not the youngestson of Noah; and if so, the words, 'Knew what his younger son had done, 'refers to Canaan, his grandson. Ham must have felt it a very mortifyingrebuke, when his own father was inspired on this occasion to predict thedurable oppression and slavery of his posterity. Canaan was also rebuked, by learning that the curse would especially rest on that branch of thefamily which should descend from him; for his posterity were no doubtprincipally, though not exclusively, intended. '"

"Now, " continued Abel, "I shall have to turn planter, and get my niggers asI can; for I'll be hanged if it wasn't a curse, and a predicted one, too. "

"That does not make it right, " said Mr. Hubbard. 

"Don't it, " said Abel; "well, if it should be fated for me to turn parson, I shan't study divinity with you, for my mother has told me often, thatGod's prophecies were right, and were fulfilled, too; as I think this onehas been. "

"I suppose, then, you think slavery will always continue, Mr. Weston?"said Hubbard. 

"Well, I am only a man, and cannot prophesy, but I think, probably not. Slavery is decreasing throughout the world. The slave trade is about beingabolished on the coast of Africa. You Abolitionists are getting a good manyoff from our southern country, and our planters are setting a number oftheirs free, and sending them to Africa. I know a gentleman in Georgia wholiberated a number, and gave them the means to start in Liberia as freeagents and men. He told me he saw them on board, and watched the ship asshe disappeared from his sight. At last he could not detect the smallesttrace of her, and then such a feeling of intense satisfaction occupied hisbreast as had been a stranger there until that time. 'Is it possible thatthey are gone, and I am no longer to be plagued with them? They are free, and I am free, too. ' He could hardly give vent to his feelings of relief onthe occasion. "

"And are they such trouble to you, Arthur?" asked Abel. 

"No, indeed, " said Arthur, "not the least. My father treats them well, andthey appear to be as well off as the working classes generally are. I seerules to regulate the conduct of the master and slave in Scripture, but Isee no where the injunction to release them; nor do I find laid down thesin of holding them. The fact is, you northern people are full of yourisms; you must start a new one every year. I hope they will not travelsouth, for I am tired of them. I should like to take Deacon and Mrs. Whiteback home with me. Our servants would be afraid of a man who has workedsixteen hours a day half his lifetime. "

"Deacon White is worth twenty thousand dollars, " said Abel, "every cent ofwhich he made mending and making common shoes. "

"What does he do with it?" said Arthur. 

"Hoards it up, " said Abel, "and yet an honester man never lived. Did I nottell you of the time I hired his horse and chaise? I believe not; well, itis worth waiting for. The deacon's old white horse is as gray and as docileas himself; the fact is, the stable is so near the house, that the horse isconstantly under the influence of 'Old Hundred;' he has heard the good oldtune so often, that he has a solemn way of viewing things. Two or threeweeks ago I wanted to take my sister to see a relative of ours, who livesseven or eight miles from here, and my mother would not consent to mydriving her, unless I hired the deacon's horse and chaise--the horse, shesaid, could not run if he wanted to. So I got him, and Harriet asked KateLaune to go too, as the chaise was large enough for all three; and we had agood time. We were gone all day, and after I took the girls home, I droveround to the deacon's house and jumped out of the chaise to pay what Iowed. 

"You know what a little fellow the deacon is, and he looked particularlysmall that evening, for he was seated in his arm-chair reading a largenewspaper which hid him all but his legs. These are so shrunken that Iwonder how his wife gets his stockings small enough for him. 

"'Good evening, Mrs. White, ' said I, for the old lady was sitting on thesteps knitting. 

"'Mercy's sake, deacon, ' said she, 'put down your newspaper; don't you seeMr. Johnson?'

"'The deacon did not even give me a nod until he had scrutinized thecondition of the horse and chaise, and then he said, 'How are you?'

"'Not a screw loose in me, or the horse and chaise either, for I had twogirls with me, and I'm courting one of them for a quarter, so I drove verycarefully. I am in a hurry now, tell me what I am to pay you?'

"'Twelve and a half cents, ' said the deacon, slowly raising his spectaclesfrom his nose. 

"'No!' said I. 'Twelve and a half cents! Why, I have had the horse allday. '

"'That is my price, ' said the deacon. 

"'For a horse and chaise, all day?' said I. 'Why, deacon, do charge mesomething that I aint ashamed to pay you. '

"'That is my regular price, and I can't charge you any more. '

"I remonstrated with him, and tried to persuade him to take twenty-fivecents--but, no. I appealed to Mrs. White; she said the 'deacon hadn't oughtto take more than the horse and chaise was worth. ' However, I induced himto take eighteen and three-quarter cents, but he was uneasy about it, andsaid he was afraid he was imposing on me. 

"The next morning I was awakened at day-dawn--there was a man, they said, who wanted to see me on pressing business, and could not wait. I dressed ina hurry, wondering what was the cause of the demand for college-students. Iwent down, and there stood the deacon, looking as if his last hour werecome. 'Mr. Abel, ' he said, 'I have passed a dreadful restless night, and Icouldn't stand it after the day broke--here's your six and a quartercents--I hadn't ought to have charged you more than my usual price. ' I wasangry at the old fellow for waking me up, but I could not help laughing, too. "

"''Twas very ugly of you, Mr. Abel, to persuade me to take so much, ' saidhe; 'you're welcome to the horse and chaise whenever you want it, buttwelve and a half cents is my usual price. '"

"Now, " said Mr. Hubbard, "he is like the Portuguese devils; when they aregood, they are too good--I should distrust that man. "

"He is close to a farthing, " said Abel, "but he is as honest as the day. Why he has the reputation of a saint. Harriet says she wishes he wore along-tailed coat instead of a short jacket, so that she could hang on andget to heaven that way. "

"My sister saw Mrs. White not long ago, and complimented her on her newbonnet being so very becoming to her. 'Now I want to know!' said Mrs. White; 'why I thought it made me look like a fright. '

"'But what made you get a black one, ' said Harriet, 'why did you not get adark green or a brown one?'

"'Why, you see, ' said Mrs. White, 'the deacon's health is a failin'; he'sdreadful low in the top knots lately, and I thought as his time might comevery soon, I might as well get a black one while I was a getting. We're allborn to die, Miss Harriet; and the deacon is dwindlin' away. '"

The young men laughed, and Arthur said "What will he do with his money?Mrs. White will not wear the black bonnet long if she have twenty thousanddollars; she can buy a new bonnet and a new husband with that. "

"No danger, " said Abel, "Deacon White has made his will, and has left hiswife the interest of five thousand dollars; at her death the principalgoes, as all the rest, to aid some benevolent purpose. 

"But there are the letters; what a bundle for you, Arthur! That is thepenalty of being engaged. Well I must wait for the widow White, I guessshe'll let me have the use of the horse and chaise, at any rate. "

Mr. Hubbard arose to go, and Arthur handed him his newspaper. "That is avaluable document, sir, but there is one still more so in your libraryhere; it is a paper published the same month and year of the Declaration ofIndependence, in which are advertised in the New England States negroes forsale! Your fathers did not think we were all born free and equal itappears. "

"We have better views now-a-days, said Mr. Hubbard; the Rev. Mr. H. Hasjust returned from a tour in the Southern States, and he is to lectureto-night, won't you go and hear him?"

"Thank you, no, " said Arthur. "I have seen some of this reverendgentleman's statements, and his friends ought to advise him to drop thereverend for life. He is a fit subject for an asylum, for I can't think aman in his senses would lie so. "

"He is considered a man of veracity, " said Mr. Hubbard, "by those who havean opportunity of knowing his character. "

"Well, I differ from them, " said Arthur, "and shall deprive myself of thepleasure of hearing him. Good evening, sir. "

"Wouldn't he be a good subject for tar and feathers, Arthur? They'd stick, like grim death to a dead nigger, " said Abel. 

"He is really such a fool, " said Arthur, "that I have no patience with him;but you take your usual nap, and I will read my letters. "

CHAPTER VII. 

We will go back to the last evening at Exeter, when we left Mr. Weston towitness the result of Bacchus's attendance at the barbecue. There wereother hearts busy in the quiet night time. Alice, resisting the offers ofher maid to assist her in undressing, threw herself on a lounge by the openwindow. The night air played with the curtains, and lifted the curls fromher brow. Her bloom, which of late had been changeful and delicate, had nowleft her cheek, and languid and depressed she abandoned herself to thought. So absorbed was she, that she was not aware any one had entered the room, until her mother stood near, gently reproving her for thus exposingherself to the night air. "Do get up and go to bed, " she said. "Where isMartha?"

"I did not want her, " said Alice; "and am now going to bed myself. What hasbrought you here?"

"Because I felt anxious about you, " said Mrs. Weston, "and came, as I haveoften before, to be assured that you were well and enjoying repose. I findyou still up; and now, my daughter, there is a question I have feared toask you, but can no longer delay it. By all the love that is between us, bythe tie that should bind an only child to a widowed mother, will you tellme what are the thoughts that are oppressing you? I have been anxious foryour health, but is there not more cause to fear for your happiness?"

"I am well enough, dear mother, " said Alice, with some irritation ofmanner, "Do not concern yourself about me. If you will go to bed, I willtoo. "

"You cannot thus put me off, " said Mrs. Weston. "Alice, I charge you, as inthe presence of God, to tell me truly: do you love Walter Lee?"

"It would be strange if I did not, " said Alice, in a low voice. "Have wenot always been as brother and sister?"

"Not in that sense, Alice; do not thus evade me. Do you love him with anaffection which should belong to your cousin, to whom you are solemnlyengaged, who has been the companion of your childhood, and who is the sonof the best friend that God ever raised up to a widow and a fatherlesschild?"

Alice turned her head away, and after a moment answered, "Yes, I do, mother, and I cannot help it. " But on turning to look at her mother, shewas shocked at the expression of agony displayed on her countenance. Herhand was pressed tightly over her heart, her lips quivered, and her wholeperson trembled. It was dreadful to see her thus agitated; and Alice, throwing her arms around her mother exclaimed, "What is it, dearestmother? Be not look so deathlike. I cannot bear to see you so. "

Oh! they speak falsely who say the certainty of evil can be better bornethan suspense. Watcher by the couch of suffering, sayest thou so? Now thouknowest there is no hope, thy darling must be given up. There is nomistaking that failing pulse, and that up-turned eye. A few hours ago, there was suspense, but there was hope; death was feared, but not expected;his arm was outstretched, but the blow was not descending; now, there is nohope. 

Mrs. Weston had long feared that all was not well with Alice--that whileher promise was given to one, her heart had wandered to another; yet shedreaded to meet the appalling certainty; now with her there is no hope. Thekeen anguish with which she contended was evident to her daughter, who wasaffrighted at her mother's appearance. So much so, that for the first timefor months she entirely forgot the secret she had been hiding in her heart. The young in their first sorrow dream there are none like their own. It isnot until time and many cares have bowed us to the earth, that we lookaround, beholding those who have suffered more deeply than ourselves. 

Accustomed to self-control, Mrs. Weston was not long in recovering herself;taking her daughter's hand within her own, and looking up in her fair face, "Alice, " she said, "you listened with an unusual interest to the details ofsuffering of one whom you never saw. I mean Walter Lee's mother; she died. I can tell you of one who has suffered, and lived. 

"It is late, and I fear to detain you from your rest, but something impelsme that I cannot resist. Listen, then, while I talk to you of myself. Youare as yet almost unacquainted with your mother's history. "

"Another time, mother; you are not well now, " said Alice. 

"Yes, my love, now. You were born in the same house that I was; yet yourinfancy only was passed where I lived until my marriage. I was motherlessat an early age; indeed, one of the first remembrances that I recall is thebright and glowing summer evening when my mother was carried from ourplantation on James River to the opposite shore, where was our familyburial-ground. Can I ever forget my father's uncontrolled grief, and thesorrow of the servants, as they followed, dressed in the deepest mourning. I was terrified at the solemn and dark-looking bier, the black plumes thatwaved over it, and all the dread accompaniments of death. I remember butlittle for years after this, save the continued gloom of my father, and hisconstant affection and indulgence toward me, and occasionally varying ourquiet life by a visit to Richmond or Washington. 

"My father was a sincere and practical Christian. He was averse to partingwith me; declaring, the only solace he had was in directing my education, and being assured of my happiness. 

"My governess was an accomplished and amiable lady, but she was too kindand yielding. I have always retained the most grateful remembrance of hercare. Thus, though surrounded by good influences, I needed restraint, wherethere was so much indulgence. I have sometimes ventured to excuse myself onthe ground that I was not taught that most necessary of all lessons: thepower of governing myself. The giving up of my own will to the maturedjudgment of others. 

"The part of my life that I wish to bring before you now, is the yearprevious to my marriage. Never had I received an ungentle word from myfather; never in all my waywardness and selfwill did he harshly reprove me. He steadily endeavored to impress on my mind a sense of the constantpresence of God. He would often say, 'Every moment, every hour of ourlives, places its impress on our condition in eternity. Live, then, as didyour mother, in a state of waiting and preparation for that account whichwe must all surely give for the talents entrusted to our care. ' Did I heedhis advice? You will hardly believe me, Alice, when I tell you how I repaidhis tenderness. I was the cause of his death. "

"It could never be, mother, " said Alice, weeping, when she saw the tearsforcing their way down her mother's cheek. "You are excited and distressednow. Do not tell me any more to-night, and forget what I told you. "

Mrs. Weston hardly seemed to hear her. After a pause of a few moments, sheproceeded:

"It was so, indeed. I, his only child, was the cause of his death; I, hischerished and beloved daughter, committed an act that broke his heart, andlaid the foundation of sorrows for me, that I fear will only end with mylife. 

"Alice, I read not long since of a son, the veriest wretch on earth; he wasunwilling to grant his poor aged father a subsistence from his abundance;he embittered the failing years of his life by unkindness and reproaches. One day, after an altercation between them, the son seized his father byhis thin, white hair, and dragged him to the corner of the street. Here, the father in trembling tones implored his pity. 'Stop, oh! stop, my son'he said, 'for I dragged my father here, God has punished me in your sin. '

"Alice, can you not see the hand of a just God in this retribution, and doyou wonder, when you made this acknowledgment to me to-night, the agony ofdeath overcame me? I thought, as I felt His hand laid heavily upon me, mypunishment was greater than I could bear; my sin would be punished in yoursorrow; and naught but sorrow would be your portion as the wife of WalterLee. 

"Do not interrupt me, it is time we were asleep, but I shall soon havefinished what I have to say. My father and Mr. Weston were friends in earlylife, and I was thrown into frequent companionship with my husband, fromthe time when we were very young. His appearance, his talents, hisunvaried gayety of disposition won my regard. For a time, the excess ofdissipation in which he indulged was unknown to us, but on our return toVirginia after an absence of some months in England, it could no longer beconcealed. His own father joined with mine in prohibiting all intercoursebetween us. For a time his family considered him as lost to them and tohimself; he was utterly regardless of aught save what contributed to hisown pleasures. I only mention this to excuse my father in your eyes, shouldyou conclude he was too harsh in the course he insisted I should pursue. Heforbade him the house, and refused to allow any correspondence between us;at the same time he promised that if he would perfectly reform from thelife he was leading, at the end of two years he would permit the marriage. I promised in return to bind myself to these conditions. Will you believeit, that seated on my mother's grave, with my head upon my kind father'sbreast, I vowed, that as I hoped for Heaven I would never break my promise, never see him again, without my father's permission, until the expirationof this period; and yet I did break it. I have nearly done. I left homesecretly. I was married; and I never saw my father's face again. The shockof my disobedience was too hard for him to bear. He died, and in vain haveI sought a place of repentance, though I sought it with tears. 

"I have suffered much; but though I cannot conceal from you that yourfather threw away the best portion of his life, his death was not withouthope. I cling to the trust that his sins were washed away, and his soulmade clean in the blood of the Saviour. Then, by the memory of all that Isuffered, and of that father whose features you bear, whose dying wordsgave testimony to my faithfulness and affection to him, I conjure you toconquer this unfortunate passion, which, if yielded to, will end in yourunceasing misery. 

"There was little of my large fortune left at your father's death; we havebeen almost dependant on your uncle. Yet it has not been dependance; he istoo generous to let us feel that. On your father's death-bed, he was all inall to him--never leaving him; inducing him to turn his thoughts to thefuture opening before him. He taught me where to look for comfort, and borewith me when in my impatient grief I refused to seek it. He took you, thenalmost an infant, to his heart, has cherished you as his own, and now looksforward to the happiness of seeing you his son's wife; will you so cruellydisappoint him?"

"I will do whatever you ask me, dear mother, " said Alice. "I will never seeWalter again, if that will content you. I have already told him that I cannever be to him more than I have always been--a sister. Yet I cannot helploving him. "

"Cannot help loving a man whose very birth is attended with shame, " saidMrs. Weston; "whose passions are ungovernable, who has already treated withthe basest ingratitude his kindest friends? Have you so little pride? Iwill not reproach you, my darling; promise me you will never see Walteragain, after to-morrow, without my knowledge. I can trust you. Oh! give upforever the thought of being his wife, if ever you have entertained it. Time will show you the justice of my fears, and time will bring back yourold feelings for Arthur, and we shall be happy again. "

"I will make you the promise, " said Alice, "and I will keep it; but I willnot deceive Arthur. Ungrateful as I may appear, he shall know all. He willthen love some one more worthy of him than I am. "

"Let us leave the future in the hands of an unerring God, my Alice. Eachone must bear her burden, I would gladly bear yours; but it may not be. Forget all this for a while; let me sleep by you to-night. "

Alice could not but be soothed by the gentle tone, and dear caress. Oh, blessed tie! uniting mother and child. Earth cannot, and Heaven will notbreak it. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

As absurd would it be for one of the small unsettled stars, for whose placeand wanderings we care not, to usurp the track of the Queen of night or ofthe God of day, as for an unpretending writer to go over ground that hasbeen trodden by the master minds of the age. It was in the olden time thatCooper described a dinner party in all its formal, but hospitableperfection. Washington was a guest there, too, though an unacknowledgedone; we cannot introduce him at Exeter, yet I could bring forward there, more than one who knew him well, valuing him not only as a member ofsociety and a hero, but as the man chosen by God for a great purpose. Besides, I would introduce to my readers, some of the residents of L----. Iwould let them into the very heart of Virginia life; and, although I cannotarrogate to it any claims for superiority over other conditions of society, among people of the same class in life, yet, at least, I will not allow aninferiority. As variety is the spice of society, I will show them, thathere are many men of many minds. 

Mark, was a famous waiter, almost equal to Bacchus, who was head man, onsuch occasions. They were in their elements at a dinner party, and thesideboard, and tables, on such an occasion, were in their holiday attire. Astrong arm, a hard brush, and plenty of beeswax, banished all appearance ofuse, and the old servants thought that every article in the room looked asbright and handsome as on the occasion of their young mistress' firstpresiding at her table. The blinds of the windows looking south, werepartly open; the branches of the lemon-tree, and the tendrils of thewhite-jessamine, assisted in shading the apartment, making it fragranttoo. The bird-cages were hung among the branches of the flowers, and thelittle prisoners sang as if they had, at last, found a way of escape totheir native woods; old-fashioned silver glittered on the sideboard, thelarge china punch-bowl maintaining its position in the centre. 

William had gone to the drawing-room to announce the importantintelligence, "Dinner is ready!" and Bacchus looked around the room for thelast time, to see that every thing was, as it should be, snuffing up therich fumes of the soup as it escaped from the sides of the silver-coveredtureen. He perceived that one of the salt-cellars was rather near thecorner of the table, and had only time to rearrange it, when William threwopen the doors. The company entered, and with some delay and formality tooktheir places. We need not wait until the Rev. Mr. Aldie says grace, thoughthat would not detain us long; for the Rev. Mr. Aldie, besides being veryhungry, has a great deal of tact, and believes in short prayers; nor willwe delay to witness the breaking down of the strongholds of precision andultra propriety, that almost always solemnizes the commencement of anentertainment; but the old Madeira having been passed around, we willlisten to the conversation that is going on from different parts of thetable. 

"We have outlived, sir, " said Mr. Chapman, addressing a northern gentlemanpresent, "we have outlived the first and greatest era of our country. Itsinfancy was its greatest era. The spirit of Washington still breathes amongus. One or two of us here have conversed with him, sat at his table, takenhim by the hand. It is too soon for the great principles that animated hiswhole career to have passed from our memory. I am not a very old man, gentlemen and ladies, yet it seems to me a great while since the day ofWashington's funeral. My father called me and my brothers to him, and whileour mother was fastening a band of black crape around our hats, 'My boys, 'said he, 'you have seen the best days of this republic. ' It is so, for asmuch as the United States has increased in size, and power, and wealth, since then, different interests are dividing her. "

"Was Washington a cheerful man?" asked an English gentleman who waspresent, "I have heard that he never laughed. Is it so?"

Miss Janet, who was considered a kind of oracle when personal memories ofWashington were concerned, answered after a moment's pause, "I have seenhim smile often, I never saw him laugh but once. He rode over, oneafternoon, to see a relative with whom I was staying; it was a dark, cloudyday, in November; a brisk wood fire was very agreeable. After some littleconversation on ordinary topics, the gentlemen discussed the politics ofthe times, Washington saying little, but listening attentively to others. 

"The door opened suddenly, and a son of my relative entered, in a noisybustling manner. Passing the gentlemen with a nod, he turned his back tothe fire, putting his hands behind him. 'Father, ' said he, scarcely waitinguntil the sentence that General Washington was uttering, was finished, 'what do you think? Uncle Jack and I shot a duck in the head!' He deserveda reproof for his forwardness; but Washington joined the rest in a laugh, no doubt amused at the estimation in which the youth held himself and UncleJack. The two together, killed a duck, and the boy was boasting of it inthe presence of the greatest man the world ever produced. The poor fellowleft the room, and for a time his sporting talents were joked about morethan he liked. "

After the ladies retired, Mr. Selden proposed the health of the amiableGeorge Washington. 

"Good heavens! sir, " said Mr. Chapman, the veins in his temples swelling, and his whole frame glowing with vexation, "what is that you say? Did everany one hear of a soldier being amiable? No, sir, I will give you a toastthat was drank just before the death of the greatest and best of men. Ipicked up an old newspaper, and laid it aside in my secretary. In it I reada toast worth giving. Fill high, gentlemen--'The man who forgets theservices of George Washington, may he be forgotten by his country and hisGod. '"

Mr. Selden, who possessed in a remarkable degree the amiableness that hehad ascribed to another, swallowed the wine and approved the toast. Mr. Chapman was some time recovering his composure. 

"You intend to leave Virginia very soon, Mr. Lee, " said Mr. Kent, addressing Walter. 

"Very soon, sir, " Walter replied. 

"Where shall you go first?" asked Mr. Kent. 

"I have not decided on any course of travel, " said Walter. "I shall, perhaps, wander toward Germany. "

"We will drink your health, then, " said Mr. Weston. "A pleasant tour, Walter, and a safe return. "

 * * * * *

"You are from Connecticut, I believe, Mr. Perkins?" said Mr. Barbour, "butas you are not an Abolitionist, I suppose it will not be uncourteous todiscuss the subject before you. I have in my memorandum book a copy of alaw of your State, which was in existence at one time, and which refers towhat we have been conversing about. It supports the Fugitive Slave Law, inprospect. At that time you New Englanders held not only negro, but Indianslaves. Let me read this, gentleman. 'Be it enacted by the Governor, Council, and Representatives, in General Court assembled, and by theauthority of the same, that whatsoever negro, mulatto, or Indian servant orservants, shall be wandering out of the bounds of the town or place towhich they belong, without a ticket or pass, in writing, under the hand ofsome Assistant or Justice of the Peace, or under the hand of the master orowner of such negro, mulatto, or Indian servant or servants, shall bedeemed and accounted as runaways, and may be treated as such. And everyperson inhabiting in this colony, finding or meeting with any such negro, mulatto, or Indian servant or servants not having a ticket as aforesaid, ishereby empowered to seize and secure him or them, and bring him or thembefore the next authority, to be examined and returned to his or theirmaster or owner, who shall satisfy the charge accruing thereby. 

"'And all ferrymen within the colony are hereby requested not to suffer anyIndian, mulatto, or negro servant without certificate as aforesaid, to passover their respective ferries by assisting them, directly or indirectly, onthe penalty of paying a fine of twenty shillings for every such offence, tothe owner of such servants. ' In the same act, " continued Mr. Barbour, "afree person who receives any property, large or small, from a slave, without an order from his master, must either make full restitution or beopenly whipped with so many stripes, (not exceeding twenty. )"

"Now, gentlemen, " said Mr. Chapman, who was an impetuous old gentleman, "don't you see those Yankees were close enough in taking care of their ownslaves, and if they could have raised sugar and cotton, or had deemed it totheir advantage to be slaveholders to this day, they'd have had a FugitiveSlave Law long before this. A Daniel would have come to judgment soonereven than the immortal Daniel Webster. "

"Wait a moment, my dear sir, " said Mr. Barbour. "Another paragraph of thesame act provides, 'that if any negro, mulatto, or Indian servant or slave, shall be found abroad from home, in the night season, after nine o'clock, without a special order from his or their master or mistress, it shall belawful for any person or persons to apprehend and secure such negro, mulatto, or Indian servant or slave, so offending, and him, her, or them, bring before the next assistant or justice of the peace, which authorityshall have full power to pass sentence upon such servant or slave, andorder him, her, or them, to be publicly whipped on the _naked_ body, notexceeding ten stripes, &c. '"

"Pretty tight laws you had, sir, " said Mr. Chapman, addressing Mr. Perkins. "A woman could be picked up and whipped, at the report of any body, on thenaked body. Why, sir, if we had such laws here, it would be whipping allthe time, (provided so infamous a law could be carried into execution. )There is one thing certain, you made the most of slavery while you had it. "

"But we have repented of all our misdeeds, " said Mr. Perkins, good-humouredly. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Chapman, "like the boy that stole a penny, and when hefound it wouldn't buy the jack-knife he wanted, he repented, and carried itto the owner. "

"But you must remember the times, my dear sir, " said Mr. Perkins. 

"I do, I do, sir, " said Mr. Chapman. "The very time that you had come forfreedom yourself, you kidnapped the noble sons of the soil, and mademenials of them. I wonder the ground did not cry out against you. Now wehave been left with the curse of slavery upon us, (for it is in somerespects a curse on the negro and the white man, ) and God may see fit toremove it from us. But why don't the Abolitionists buy our slaves, and sendthem to Liberia?"

"That would be against their principles, " said Mr. Perkins. 

"Excuse me, sir, " said Mr. Chapman, "but d----n their principles; it isagainst their pockets. Why don't those who write Abolition books, give theprofits to purchase some of these poor wretches who are whipped to death, and starved to death, and given to the flies to eat up, and burned alive;then I would believe in their principles, or at least in their sincerity. But now the fear is for their pockets. I am a poor man. I own a few slaves, and I will sell them to any Northern man or woman at half-price for what Icould get from a trader, and they may send them to Liberia. Lord! sir, they'd as soon think of buying the d----l himself. You must excuse mystrong language, but this subject irritates me. Not long ago, I was in theupper part of the State of New York, looking about me, for I do look aboutme wherever I am. One morning I got up early, and walked toward the newrailroad that they were constructing in the neighborhood. I chanced to getto the spot just in time to see a little fracas between a stout, burlyIrishman, and the superintendent of the party. 

"'I thought, be Jasus, ' said the Irishman, just as I approached near enoughto hear what was going on, 'that a man could see himself righted in a freecountry. '

"'Go to your work, ' said the superintendent, and if you say another wordabout it, I'll knock you over. '

"'Is it you'll knock me over, you will, ' began the Irishman. 

"He was over in a moment. The superintendent, sir, gave him a blow betweenthe eyes, with a fist that was hard as iron. The man staggered, and fell. Ihelped him up, sir; and I reckon he thought matters might be worse still, for he slowly walked off. 

"'D----d free country, ' he muttered to me, in a kind of confidential tone. 'I thought they only knocked niggers over in Ameriky. Be me soul, but I'llgo back to Ireland. '

"I could not help expressing my astonishment to the superintendent, repeating the Irishman's words, 'I thought only niggers could be knockedover in this country. '

"'Niggers!' said the superintendent, 'I guess if you had to deal withIrishmen, you'd find yourself obliged to knock 'em down. '

"'But don't the laws protect them?' I asked. 

"'Laws! why railroads have to be made, and have to be made the right way. I aint afraid of the laws. I think no more of knocking an Irishman over, sir, than I do of eating my dinner. One is as necessary as the other. '

"Now, " continued Mr. Chapman, "if an Abolitionist sees a slave knockedover, he runs home to tell his mammy; it's enough to bring fire andbrimstone, and hail, and earthquakes on the whole country. A man must havea black skin or his sorrows can never reach the hearts of these gentlemen. They had better look about at home. There is wrong enough there to make afuss about. "

"Well, " said the Englishman, "you had both better come back to the mothercountry. The beautiful words, so often quoted, of Curran, may invite you:'No matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar ofslavery, the moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the altar andthe God sink together in the dust, and he stands redeemed, regenerated, anddisenthralled, by the irresistible genius of universal emancipation. '"

"Thank you, sir, for your invitation, " said Mr. Chapman, "but I'll stay inVirginia. The old State is good enough for me. I have been to England, andI saw some of your redeemed, regenerated, disenthralled people--I sawfeatures on women's faces that haunted me afterward in my dreams. I sawchildren with shrivelled, attenuated limbs, and countenances that were oldin misery and vice--such men, women, and children as Dickens and CharlotteElizabeth tell about. My little grand-daughter was recovering from a severeillness, not long ago, and I found her weeping in her old nurse's arms. 'O!grandpa, ' said she, as I inquired the cause of her distress, 'I have beenreading "The Little Pin-headers. "' I wept over it too, for it was true. No, sir; if I must see slavery, let me see it in its best form, as it exists inour Southern country. "

"You are right, sir, I fear, " said the Englishman. 

"Well, " said Mr. Perkins, "I am glad I am not a slaveholder, for onereason; I am sure I should never get to heaven. I should be knocking brainsout from morning till night, that is if there are brains under all thatmass of wool. Why, they are so slow, and inactive--I should be stumblingover them all the time; though from the specimens I have seen in yourhouse, sir, I should say they made most agreeable servants. "

"My servants are very faithful, " said Mr. Weston, "they have had greatpains taken with them. I rarely have any complaints from the overseer. "

"Your overseers, --that is the worst feature in slavery, " said Mr. Perkins. 

"Why, sir, " said Mr. Chapman, ready for another argument, "you have yoursuperintendents at the North--and they can knock their people down wheneverthey see fit. "

"I beg your pardon, sir, " said Mr. Perkins. "I had forgotten that. "

"Stay a little while with us, " said Mr. Chapman, as Mr. Weston rose to leadthe way to the drawing-room. "You will not find us so bad as you think. Wemay roast a negro now and then, when we have a barbecue, but that will beour way of showing you hospitality. You must remember we are only 'poorheathenish Southerners' according to the best received opinions of some wholive with you in New England. "

 * * * * *

"Alice, " said Mrs. Weston, at a late hour in the evening, when the last ofthe guests were taking their departure, "Walter would like to see you inthe library; but, my love, I wish you would spare yourself and him theuseless pain of parting. "

"I must see him, dear mother, do not refuse me; it is for the lasttime--pray, let me go. "

"If you choose, " and Alice glided away as her mother was interrupted by theleave-taking of some of their visitors. The forms, the courtesies of lifehad no claims upon her now--she was enduring her first sorrow; thefoundation of youth's slight fabric of happiness was yielding beneath hertouch. The dread "nevermore, " that Edgar Poe could not drive from his heartand sight, was oppressing her. She sought him before whom her young hearthad bowed, not the less devotedly and humbly that it was silently andsecretly. It was to be a bitter parting, not as when she watched to thelast Arthur Weston, who was dear to her as ever was brother to a sister, for they had the promise and hope of meeting again; but now there was notear in her eye, no trembling in her frame, and no hope in her heart. Fromthe utmost depth of her soul arose the prophetic voice, "Thou shalt see himno more. "

"Alice, " said Walter, taking her hand between both of his, and gazing ather face, as pale and sad as his own, "it is your mother's wish that fromthis time we should be strangers to each other, even loving as we do; thatour paths on earth should separate, never to meet again. Is it your wishtoo?"

"We must part; you know it, Walter, " said Alice, musingly, looking outupon, but not seeing the calm river, and the stars that gazed upon itswaves, and all the solemn beauty with which night had invested herself. 

"But you love me, Alice; and will you see me go from you forever, withouthope? Will you yourself speak the word that sends me forth a wanderer uponthe earth?" said Walter. 

"What can I do?" said Alice. 

"Choose, Alice, your own destiny, and fix mine. "

"Walter, I cannot leave my mother; I would die a thousand times rather thanbring such sorrow upon her who has known so much. My uncle, too--my morethan father--oh! Walter, I have sinned, and I suffer. "

"You are wise, Alice; you have chosen well; you cling to mother, and home, and friends; I have none of these ties; there is not upon earth a being soutterly friendless as I am. "

"Dear Walter, you have friends, and you can make them; you have wealth, talent, and many gifts from God. Go forth into the world and use them. Letyour noble heart take courage; and in assisting others and making themhappy, you will soon be happy yourself. "

Walter looked at her with surprise: such words were unlike her, whom he hadbeen accustomed to consider a loving and lovely child. But a bitter smilepassed over his countenance, and in a stern voice he said, "And you, Alice, what are you to do?"

"God alone knows, " said Alice, forced into a consideration of her ownsorrow, and resting against a lounge near which she had been standing. Shewept bitterly. Walter did not attempt to restrain her, but stood as ifcontemplating a grief that he could not wish to control. Alice again spoke, "It must come, dear Walter, first or last, and we may as well speak thefarewell which must be spoken--but I could endure my part, if I had thehope that you will be happy. Will you promise me you will try to be?"

"No, Alice, I cannot promise you that; if happiness were in our own power, I would not be looking on you, whom I have loved all my life, for the lasttime. 

"But I will hope, " he continued, "you may be fortunate enough to forget andbe happy. "

"Children, " said Miss Janet--for she had gently approached them--"do youknow when and where happiness is to be found? When we have done all thatGod has given us to do here; and in the heaven, above those stars that arenow looking down upon you. Look upon Alice, Walter, with the hope ofmeeting again; and until then, let the remembrance of her beauty and herlove be ever about you. Let her hear of you as one who deserves the pureaffection of her young and trusting heart. You have lived as brother andsister; part as such, and may the blessing of God be upon both of youforever. "

Walter took Alice in his arms, and kissed her cheek; all sternness andpride had gone from his handsome face, but there was such a look ofhopeless sorrow there, as we would not willingly behold on the countenanceof one so young. 

Cousin Janet led him away, and with words of solemn, deep affection, badehim farewell--words that came again, for a time, unheeded andunwelcomed--words that at the last brought hope and peace to a faintingheart. 

Cousin Janet returned to Alice, whose face lay hidden within her hands:"Alice, darling, " she said, "look up--God is here; forget your own grief, and think of one who suffered, and who feels for all who, like Him, mustbear the burden of mortality. Think of your many blessings, and howgrateful you should feel for them; think of your mother, who for years weptas you, I trust, may never weep; think of your kind uncle, who would die tosave you an hour's pain. Trust the future, with all its fears, to God, andpeace will come with the very effort to attain it. "

"Oh, Cousin Janet, " said Alice, "if Walter were not so lonely; he knows notwhere he is going, nor what he is going to do. "

"It is true, " said Cousin Janet, weeping too; "but we can hope, and trust, and pray. And now, my love, let us join your mother in her room; it is asad parting for her, too, for Walter is dear to us all. "

 * * * * *

Reader! have so many years passed away, that thou hast forgotten thebitterness of thy first sorrow, or is it yet to come? Thinkest thou thereis a way of escape--none, unless thou art young, and Death interpose, saving thee from all sadness, and writing on thy grave, "Do not weep forme, thou knowest not how much of sorrow this early tomb has saved me. "

When were thy first thoughts of death? I do not mean the sight of thecoffin, the pall, or any of its sad accompaniments, but the time when themind first arrested itself with the melancholy convictions of mortality. There was a holiday for me in my young days, to which I looked forward asthe Mohammedan to his Paradise; this was a visit to a country-place, whereI revelled in the breath of the woodbines and sweetbriers, and where I satunder tall and spreading trees, and wondered why towns and cities were everbuilt. The great willows swept the windows of the chamber where I slept, and faces with faded eyes looked upon me from their old frames, by themoonlight, as I fell asleep, after the day's enjoyment. I never tired ofwandering through the gardens, where were roses and sweet-williams, hyacinths and honeysuckles, and flowers of every shape and hue. This wasthe fairy spot of my recollection, for even childhood has its cares, andthere were memories of little griefs, which time has never chased away. There I used to meet two children, who often roamed through the near woodswith me. I do not remember their ages nor their names; they were youngerthough than I. They might not have been beautiful, but I recollect thebright eyes, and that downy velvet hue that is only found on the soft checkof infancy. 

Summer came; and when I went again, I found the clematis sweeping thegarden walks, and the lilies-of-the-valley bending under the weight oftheir own beauty. So we walked along, I and an old servant, stopping toenter an arbor, or to raise the head of a drooping plant, or to pluck asweet-scented shrub, and place it in my bosom. "Where are the littlegirls?" I asked. "Have they come again, too?"

"Yes, they are here, " she said, as we approached two little mounds, coveredover with the dark-green myrtle and its purple flowers. 

"What is here?"

"Child, here are the little ones you asked for. "

Oh! those little myrtle-covered graves, how wonderingly I gazed upon them. There was no thought of death mingled with my meditation; there was, ofquiet and repose, but not of death. I had seen no sickness, no suffering, and I only wondered why those fair children had laid down under the myrtle. I fancied them with the fringed eyelids drooping over the cheeks, and thevelvet hue still there. How much did I know of death? As little as of life!

Time passed with me, and I saw the sorrows of others. Sometimes I thoughtof the myrtle-covered graves, and the children that slept beneath. Oh! howquiet they must be, they utter no cry, they shed no tears. 

Time passed, and an angel slept in my bosom, close to my heart. Need I saythat I was happy when she nestled there? that her voice was music to mysoul, and her smile the very presence of beauty? Need I say it was joy whenshe called me, Mother? Then I lived for the present; all the sorrow that Ihad seen around me, was forgotten. 

God called that angel to her native heaven, and I wept. Now was the mysteryof the myrtle-covered graves open before my sight. I had seen the goingforth of a little life that was part of my own, I remembered the hard sighsthat convulsed that infant breast. I knew that the grave was meant to hidefrom us, silence and pallor, desolation and decay. I was in the world, nolonger a garden of flowers, where I sought from under the myrtle for thebright eyes and the velvet cheeks. I was in the world, and death was theretoo; it was by my side. I gave my darling to the earth, and felt for myselfthe bitterness of tears. 

Thus must it ever be--by actual suffering must the young be persuaded ofthe struggle that is before them--well is it when there is one to say, "Godis here. "

CHAPTER IX. 

We must bring Uncle Bacchus's wife before our readers. She is a tall, dignified, bright mulatto woman, named Phillis; it is with the qualities ofher heart and mind, rather than her appearance, that we have to do. BayardTaylor, writing from Nubia, in Upper Egypt, says:--"Those friends of theAfrican race, who point to Egypt as a proof of what that race has done, arewholly mistaken. The only negro features represented in Egyptian sculptureare those of the slaves and captives taken in the Ethiopian wars of thePharaohs. The temples and pyramids throughout Nubia, as far as Abyssinia, all bear the hieroglyphics of these monarchs. There is no evidence in allthe valley of the Nile that the negro race ever attained a higher degree ofcivilization than is at present exhibited in Congo and Ashantee. I mentionthis, not from any feeling hostile to that race, but simply to controvertan opinion very prevalent in some parts of the United States. "

It seemed impossible to know Phillis without feeling for her sentiments ofthe highest respect. The blood of the freeman and the slave mingled in herveins; her well-regulated mind slowly advanced to a conclusion; but oncemade, she rarely changed it. 

Phillis would have been truly happy to have obtained her own freedom, andthat of her husband and children: she scorned the idea of running away, orof obtaining it otherwise than as a gift from her owner. She was a firmbeliever in the Bible, and often pondered on the words of the angel, "Return and submit thyself to thy mistress. " She had on one occasionaccompanied her master and Mrs. Weston to the North, where she was soonfound out by some of that disinterested class of individuals calledAbolitionists. In reply to the question, "Are you free?" there was but amoment's hesitation; her pride of heart gave way to her inherent love oftruth, "I'll tell no lie, " she answered; "I am a slave!"

"Why do you not _take_ your freedom?" was the rejoinder. "You are in a freestate; they cannot force you to the South, if you will take the offers wemake you, and leave your master. "

"You are Abolitionists, I 'spose?" asked Phillis. 

"We are, " they said, "and we will help you off. "

"I want none of your help, " said Phillis. "My husband and children are athome; but if they wasn't, I am an honest woman, and am not in the habit of_taking_ any thing. I'll never _take_ my freedom. If my master would giveit to me, and the rest of us, I should be thankful. I am not going to beginstealing, and I fifty years of age. "

An eye-witness described the straightening of her tall figure, and theindignant flashing of her eye, also the discomfited looks of her northernfriends. 

I have somewhere read of a fable of Iceland. According to it, lost soulsare to be parched in the burning heat of Hecla, and then cast for ever tocool in its never-thawing snows. Although Phillis could not have quotedthis, her opinions would have applied it. For some reason, it was evidentto her mind (for she had been well instructed in the Bible) that slaverywas from the first ordained as a curse. It might, to her high spirit, havebeen like burning in the bosom of Hecla; but taking refuge amongAbolitionists was, from the many instances that had come to her knowledge, like cooling in its never-thawing snows. 

At the time that we introduced her to the reader, she was the mother oftwelve children. Some were quite young, but a number of them were grown, and all of them, with the exception of one, (the namesake of his father, )inherited their mother's energy of character. She had accustomed them toconstant industry, and unqualified obedience to her directions; and forthis reason, no one had found it necessary to interfere in theirmanagement. 

Pride was a large ingredient in Phillis's composition. Although her husbandpresented one of the blackest visages the sun ever shone upon, Phillisappeared to hold in small esteem the ordinary servants on the plantation. She was constantly chiding her children for using their expressions, andtried to keep them in the house with white people as much as possible, thatthey might acquire good manners. It was quite a grief to her that Bacchushad not a more genteel dialect than the one he used. She had a great dealof family pride; there was a difference in her mind between family servantsand those employed in field labor. For "the quality" she had the highestrespect; for "poor white people" only a feeling of pity. She had some noblequalities, and some great weaknesses; but as a _slave!_ we present her tothe reader, and she must be viewed as such. 

Miss Janet was, in her eyes, perfection. Her children were all the betterfor her kind instructions. Her youngest child, Lydia, a girl of six orseven years old, followed the old lady everywhere, carrying her key andknitting-basket, looking for her spectacles, and maintaining shortconversations in a confidential tone. 

One of Phillis's chiefest virtues was, that she had been able to bringBacchus into subjection, with the exception of his love for an occasionalspree. Spoiled by an indulgent master, his conceit and wilfulness had madehim unpopular with the servants, though his high tone of speaking, and acertain pretension in his manner and dress, was not without its effect. Hewas a sort of patriarch among waiters and carriage-drivers; could tellanecdotes of dinners where Washington was a guest; and had been familiarwith certain titled people from abroad, whose shoes he had had the honor ofpolishing. The only person in whose presence he restrained his braggadociostyle was Phillis. Her utter contempt for nonsense was too evident. Bacchus was the same size as his master, and often fell heir to hiscast-off clothes. A blue dress-coat and buff vest that he thus inherited, had a great effect upon him, bodily and spiritually. Not only did heswagger more when arrayed in them, but his prayers and singing were doublyeffective. He secretly prided himself on a likeness to Mr. Weston, but thismust have been from a confusion of mind into which he was thrown, byconstantly associating himself with Mr. Weston's coats and pantaloons. 

He once said to Phillis, "You might know master was a born gentleman by deway his clothes fits. Dey don't hang about him, but dey 'pears as if deyhad grow'd about him by degrees; and if you notice, dey fits me in de sameway. Pity I can't wear his shoes, dey's so soft, and dey don't creak. Ihates boots and shoes all time creakin, its so like poor white folks whenthey get dressed up on Sunday. I wonders often Miss Anna don't send me noneof master's old ruffled shirts. 'Spose she thinks a servant oughtn't towear 'em. I was a wishin last Sunday, when I gin in my 'sperience inmeetin, that I had one of master's old ruffled shirts on. I know I could a'scoursed them niggers powerful. Its a hard thing to wear a ruffled shirt. Dey sticks out and pushes up to people's chins--I mean people dat aint bornto wear 'em. Master wears 'em as if he was born in 'em, and I could too. Iwish you'd put Miss Janet up to gittin one or two for me. Miss Janet'smighty 'bliging for an ole maid; 'pears as if she liked to see even catshappy. When an ole maid don't hate cats, there aint nothin to be fearedfrom 'em. "

Phillis ruled her husband in most things, but she indulged him in all hiswhims that were innocent. She determined he should have, not an old ruffledshirt, but a new one. She reported the case to Miss Janet, who set two ofher girls to work, and by Saturday night the shirt was made and done up, and plaited. Bacchus was to be pleasantly surprised by it next morningappearing on the top of his chest. 

It happened that on this identical Sunday, Bacchus had (as the best of menwill sometimes) got up wrong foot foremost, and not having taken thetrouble to go back to bed, and get up again, putting the right foot outfirst, he continued in the same unhappy state of mind. He made, as was hiswont, a hasty toilet before breakfast. He wore an old shirt, and a pair ofpantaloons that did not reach much above his hips. One of his slippers hadno instep; the other was without a heel. His grizzly beard made him looklike a wild man of the woods; a certain sardonic expression of countenancecontributed to this effect. He planted his chair on its remaining hind legat the cabin door, and commenced a systematic strain of grumbling before hewas fairly seated in it. 

"I believe in my soul, " Phillis heard him say, "dat ole Aunt Peggy al'arsgits up wrong on a Sabbath mornin. Will any one hear her coughin? My narvesis racked a listenin to her. I don't see what she wants to live for, andshe most a hundred. I believe its purpose to bother me, Sabbath mornins. Here, Phillis, who's this bin here, diggin up my sweet-williams Iplanted?--cuss dese children--"

"The children had nothing to do with it, " said Phillis. "Master wanted someroots to give to Mr. Kent and he asked me for 'em. I dug 'em up and they'reall the better for being thinned out. "

"I wish master'd mind his own business, and not be pryin and pilferin 'boutother people's gardens; givin my flowers to that yallow-headed Abolitioner. I'll speak my mind to him about it, any how. "

"You'd better, " said Phillis, drily. 

"I will so, " said Bacchus; "I'd rather he'd a burned 'em up. Kent's socussed mean, I don't b'lieve he'd 'low his flowers ground to grow in if hecould help hisself. If Miss Nannie'd let him, he'd string them niggers ofhers up, and wallop their gizzards out of 'em. I hate these Abolitioners. Iknows 'em, --I knows their pedigree. "

"Much you know about 'em, " said Phillis, who was shaking the dew drops offher "morning glory. "

"I knows enuff of 'em--I reckon Miss Nannie do, about dis time. De olegentleman did right, any how, when he lef 'em all to her--if he hadn't, datfeller would a sold 'em all off to Georgia 'fore this, and a runn'd off widde money. "

"Well, " said Phillis, "you'd better mind your own affairs; come in and eatyour breakfast, if you want any, for I aint going to keep it standin thereall day, drawing the flies. "

Bacchus kicked his slippers off and stumbled into a chair beside the table. "I'll swar, " said he, after a glance at the fried ham and eggs, "if ever aman had to eat sich cookin as dis. Why didn't you fry 'em a little more?"Phillis not minding him, he condescended to eat them all, and to do justiceto the meal in general. 

"The old fool, " thought Phillis, amused and provoked; "talkin of master'spilferin--never mind, I've put his ruffled shirt out, and he'll get in agood humor when he sees it, I reckon. "

Having finished his breakfast, Bacchus put an enormous piece of tobacco inhis mouth, and commenced sharpening a small-sized scythe, that he called arazor. In doing so, he made a noise like a high-pressure steamboat, now andthen breathing on it, and going in a severe fit of coughing with everyextra exertion. On his table was a broken piece of looking-glass, on thequicksilver side of which, Arthur had, when a child, drawn a horse. Intothis Bacchus gave a look, preparatory to commencing operations. Then, afterdue time spent in lathering, he hewed down at each shave, an amount ofblack tow that was inconceivable. After he had done, he gathered up histraps, and stowed them away in the corner of his chest. 

Phillis sat outside the door, smoking; looking in at the window, occasionally, to observe the effect of the first sight of the new shirt. She saw him turn toward the little red painted bureau, on which she hadlaid out his clean clothes, starting with surprise and pleasure, when hiseye first took in the delightful vision. Cortez, when he stood conqueror ofMexico, did not feel the glow of satisfaction that thrilled throughBacchus's heart as he gently patted the plaited ruffles and examined thewristbands, which were stitched with the utmost neatness. He got weak inthe knees with pleasure, and sat down on the chest in the corner, tosupport with more ease this sudden accession of happiness, while his wifewas reaping a harvest of gratification at the success of her efforts towardhis peace of mind. All at once she saw a change pass over his visage. Bacchus recollected that it would not do for him so suddenly to get into agood humor; besides, he reflected it was no more than Phillis's duty tomake him ruffled shirts, and she ought to have been so doing for the lasttwenty years. These considerations induced him not to show much pleasure onthe occasion, but to pretend he was not at all satisfied with the style andworkmanship of the article in question. 

"Why, lord a massy, " said he, "Phillis, what do you call dis here? t'aint ashirt? at fust I thought 'twas one of Miss Janet's short night gowns you'dbeen a doing up for her. "

Phillis smoked on, looking inquiringly into the distant hills. 

"Phillis, you don't mean me to wear dis here to meetin? T'aint fit. Desewristbands is made out o' cotton, and I b'lieves in my soul Aunt Peggy donedis stitchin widout any spectacles. "

Phillis knocked the ashes out of her pipe, and puffed on. 

"Look here, Phillis, " said Bacchus, going to the door as fast as theuncertain condition of his pantaloons would allow him, "did you 'spose Iwas sich a fool as to wear dis to meetin to-day?"

"Yes, I did, " said Phillis. 

"Why, t'aint fit for a nigger to hoe corn in, its as big as a hay-stack. "

"Have you tried it on?" asked Phillis. 

"T'aint no use, " said Bacchus, "I can tell by de looks. "

"I'm sorry you don't like it, " said Phillis. 

"Like it, " said Bacchus, contemptuously, "why, if it twasn't for thetrouble of going to my chist, I'd wear one of my old ones. Cuss de ruffles, I wish you'd cut 'em off. "

Bacchus went in, and in due time made his appearance in full dress. He worethe blue coat and buff vest, and a pair of white pantaloons, made after theold style. His shoes were as bright as his eyes, and his hat dusted untilit only wanted an entire new nap to make it as good as new. His hair wascombed in a sort of mound in front, and the _tout ensemble_ was astounding. He passed Phillis in a dignified way, as if she were a valuable cat that hewould not like to tread upon. 

Phillis looked after him with a most determined expression of face. If shehad been made out of stone she could not have seemed more resolved. She gotup, however, soon after, and went in to arrange matters after her lord andmaster. 

Bacchus purposely passed Aunt Peggy's cabin, making her a stylish bow. Peggy had taken off her handkerchief, to air her head, her hair standingoff every which way, appearing determined to take her up somewhere, thepoint of destination being a matter of no consequence. She chuckled audiblyas she saw Bacchus. 

"Look at dat ole fool now, wid dat ruffled shirt on; he's gwine to bust disblessed mornin. Look at de way he's got his wool combed up. I b'lieves inmy soul he's got somebody buried up thar. He's a raal ole peacock. Dat'sde way! 'Kase I'm ole and wuthless, no matter 'bout me; and dat ole nigger'lowed to make a fool of hisself, dressin up drunk in a ruffled shirt. Nomatter, I'll be dead and out of der way, fore long. "

Bacchus prayed with great effect this morning, calling himself and thewhole congregation the most dreadful names, with the utmost satisfaction. He made a short address too, warning the servants against sin in general, and a love of finery in particular. On his return he beamed forth uponPhillis like one of her own "morning glories. " The rest of the day he wasbrimful of jokes and religion. 

The next Sunday came around. Phillis smoked outside while Bacchus made histoilet. 

"Phillis, " said the old fellow, blandly, coming to the door, "I don't seemy ruffled shirt out here. "

"High" said Phillis, "I laid your shirt with the rest; but I'll look. Hereit is, " said she, pleasantly, "jest where I put it. "

"Why, whar's the ruffles?"

"I cut 'em off, " said Phillis; "you asked me to. "

Bacchus got weak in the knees again, and had to sit down on the old chest. Not a word escaped his lips; a deep sigh burst from the pent-up boiler ofhis remorse. With an agonized countenance he seized a piece of rag which hehad used as a shaving towel, and wiped away a repentant tear. His soul wassubdued within him. He went to meeting, but declined officiating in anycapacity, pleading a pain in his stomach as an excuse. At dinner he foundit impossible to finish the remaining quarter of a very tough old roosterPhillis had stuffed and roasted for him. At sundown he ate a small-sizedhoe-cake and a tin pan of bonnyclabber; then observing "That he believed hewas put into dis world for nothing but to have trouble, " he took to hisbed. 

Phillis saw that he would be more docile for the rest of his life; for amoment, the thought of restoring the shirt to its original splendoroccurred to her, but she chased it away as if it had been a fox, and tookthe greatest satisfaction in "having given the old fool a lesson that wouldlast him all the days of his life. "

"To you, generous and noble-minded men and women of the South, I appeal, (Iquote the words of a late writer on Abolitionism, when I say, ) Is _man_ever a creature to be trusted with wholly irresponsible power? Can anybodyfail to make the inference, what the practical result will be?"[A] Althoughshe is here speaking of slavery _politically_, can you not apply it tomatrimony in this miserable country of ours? Can we not remodel ourhusbands, place them under our thumbs, and shut up the escape valves oftheir grumbling forever? To be sure, St. Paul exhorts "wives to be obedientto their own husbands, " and "servants to be obedient to their own masters, "but St. Paul was not an Abolitionist. He did not take into considerationthe necessities of the free-soil party, and woman's _rights_. This is theera of mental and bodily emancipation. Take advantage of it, wives andnegroes! But, alas for the former! there is no society formed for _their_benefit; their day of deliverance has not yet dawned, and until its firstgleamings arise in the _east_, they must wear their chains. Except whensome strong-minded female steps forth from the degraded ranks, and assertsher position, whether by giving loose to that unruly member the tongue, orby a piece of management which will give "an old fool a lesson that willlast him all the days of his life. "

CHAPTER X. 

Phillis was at her ironing early in the morning, for she liked to hurry itover before the heat of the day. Her cabin doors were open, and herflowers, which had been watered by a slight rain that fell about daybreak, looked fresh and beautiful. Her house could be hardly called a cabin, forit was very much superior to the others on the plantation, though they wereall comfortable. Phillis was regarded by the Weston family as the mostvaluable servant they owned--and, apart from her services, there werestrong reasons why they were attached to her. She had nursed Mrs. Weston inher last illness, and as her death occurred immediately after Arthur'sbirth, she nourished him as her own child, and loved him quite as well. Hercomfort and wishes were always objects of the greatest consideration to thefamily, and this was proved whenever occasion allowed. Her neatlywhite-washed cottage was enclosed by a wooden fence in good condition--herlittle garden laid out with great taste, if we except the rows ofstiffly-trimmed box which Phillis took pride in. A large willow tree shadedone side of it; and on the other, gaudy sunflowers reared their heads, andthe white and Persian lilacs, contrasted with them. All kinds of smallflowers and roses adorned the front of the house, and you might as wellhave sought for a diamond over the whole place, as a weed. The back of thelot was arranged for the accommodation of her pigs and chickens; and twoenormous peacocks, that were fond of sunning themselves by the front door, were the handsomest ornaments about the place. 

The room in which Phillis ironed, was not encumbered with much furniture. Her ironing-table occupied a large part of its centre, and in the amplefireplace was blazing a fire great enough to cook a repast for a moderatenumber of giants. Behind the back door stood a common pine bedstead, withan enormous bed upon it. How any bedstead held such a bed was remarkable;for Phillis believed there was a virtue in feathers even in the hottestweather, and she would rather have gone to roost on the nearest tree thanto have slept on any thing else. The quilt was of a domestic blue andwhite, her own manufacture, and the cases to the pillows were very whiteand smooth. A little, common trundle bedstead was underneath, and on it wasthe bedding which was used for the younger children at night. The olderones slept in the servants' wing in the house, Phillis making use of twoenormous chests, which were Bacchus's, and her wardrobes, for sleepingpurposes for a couple more. To the right of the bed, was the small chest ofdrawers, over which was suspended Bacchus's many-sided piece of shavingglass, and underneath it a pine box containing his shaving weapons. Severalchairs, in a disabled state, found places about the room, and Phillis'sclothes-horse stood with open arms, ready to receive the white andwell-ironed linen that was destined to hang upon it. On each side of thefireplace was a small dresser, with plates and jars of all sizes andvarieties, and over each were suspended some branches of trees, invitingthe flies to rest upon them. There was no cooking done in this room, therebeing a small shed for that purpose, back of the house; not a spot ofgrease dimmed the whiteness of the floors, and order reigned supreme, marvellous to relate! where a descendant of Afric's daughters presided. 

Lydia had gone as usual to Miss Janet, and several of the other childrenwere busy about the yard, feeding the chickens, sweeping up, and employedin various ways; the only one who ever felt inclined to be lazy, and whowas in body and mind the counterpart of his father, being seated on thedoor step, declaring he had a pain in his foot. 

The adjoining room was the place in which Phillis's soul delighted, thedoor of it being at all times locked, and the key lost in the depths of hercapacious pocket. From this place of retirement it emerged when any of thefamily honored her with their company, especially when attended byvisitors; and after their departure, traces of their feet were carefullysought with keen and anxious eyes, and quickly obliterated with broom andduster. 

This, her sanctum sanctorum, was a roomy apartment with three windows, eachshaded by white cotton curtains. On the floor was a home-made carpet; nohand was employed in its manufacture save its owner's, from the time shecommenced tearing the rags in strips, to the final blow given to the lasttack that confined it to the floor. A very high post bedstead, over whichwere suspended white cotton curtains, gave an air of grandeur to one sideof the room. No one had slept in it for ten years, though it was made withfaultless precision. The quilt over it contained pieces of every calico andgingham dress that had been worn in the Weston family since the Revolution, and in the centre had been transferred from a remnant of curtain calico, aneagle with outstretched wings. The pillow cases were finished off with tapetrimming, Alice's work, at Cousin Janet's suggestion. Over an oldfashioned-mahogany bureau hung an oval looking glass, which was carefullycovered from the flies. An easy chair stood by the window at the foot ofthe bed, which had, like most of the other ancient looking pieces offurniture, occupied a conspicuous place in Mr. Weston's house. Six chairsplanted with unyielding stiffness against the walls seemed to grow out ofthe carpet; and the very high fender enclosed a pair of andirons that anybody with tolerable eyesight could have seen their faces in. 

Over the mantel piece were suspended two pictures. One was a likeness ofMr. Weston, cut in paper over a black surface, with both hands behind him, and his right foot foremost; the other was a picture of the Shepherds inPilgrim's Progress, gazing through a spy-glass at the Celestial city. Alice's first sampler, framed in a black frame, hung on one side of theroom, and over it was a small sword which used to swing by Arthur's side, when receiving lessons in military science from Bacchus, who, in his ownopinion, was another Bonaparte. Into this room Phillis's children gazedwith wondering eyes; and those among the plantation servants who had beenhonored with a sight of it, declared it superior, in every respect, totheir master's drawing room; holding in especial reverence a small table, covered with white, which supported the weight of Phillis's family Bible, where were registered in Arthur's and Alice's handwriting, the births ofall her twelve descendants, as well as the ceremony which united her totheir illustrious father. 

Phillis was ironing away with a good heart, when she was interrupted by asummons to attend her master in the library. She obeyed it with very littledelay, and found Mr. Weston seated in his arm-chair, looking over a notewhich he held in his hand. 

"Come in, Phillis, " he said, in a kind but grave manner. "I want to speakwith you for a few moments; and as I have always found you truthful, I haveno doubt you will be perfectly so on the present occasion. "

"What is it, master?" Phillis said, respectfully. 

"I received a note, yesterday, from Mr. Dawson, about his servant Jim, whoran away three weeks ago. He charges me with having permitted my servantsto shelter him for the night, on my plantation; having certain information, that he was seen leaving it the morning after the severe storm we had aboutthat time. If you know any thing of it, Phillis, I require you to tell itto me; I hardly think any of the other servants had opportunities of doingso, and yet I cannot believe that you would so far forget yourself as to dowhat is not only wrong, but calculated to involve me in seriousdifficulties with my neighbors. "

"I hope you will not be angry with me, master?" said Phillis, "but I can'ttell a lie; I let Jim stay in my room that night, and I've been mightilytroubled about it; I was afeard you would be angry with me, if you heard ofit, and yet, master, I could not help it when it happened. "

"Could not help it! Phillis, " said Mr. Weston. "What do you mean by that?Why did you not inform me of it, that I might have sent him off?"

"I couldn't find it in my heart, sir, " said Phillis, the tears coming inher fine eyes. "The poor creature come in when the storm was at its worst. I had no candle lit; for the lightning was so bright that I hadn't no callfor any other light. Bacchus was out in it all, and I was thinking he wouldbe brought in dead drunk, or dead in earnest, when all at once Jim burstopen the door, and asked me to let him stay there. I know'd he had runaway, and at first I told him to go off, and not be gitting me intotrouble; but, master, while I was sending him off such a streak oflightning come in, and such a crash of thunder, that I thought the Almightyhad heard me turn him out, and would call me to account for it, when Jimand me should stand before him at the Judgment Day. I told Jim he hadbetter go back to his master, that he wouldn't have any comfort, alwayshiding himself, and afeard to show his face, but he declared he would diefirst; and so as I couldn't persuade him to go home agin, I couldn't helpmyself, for I thought it would be a sin and shame, to turn a beast out insuch a storm as that. As soon as the day began to break, and before, too, Iwoke him up, and told him never to come to my cabin again, no matter whathappened. And so, master, I've told you the whole truth, and I am sure youcouldn't have turned the poor wretch out to perish in that storm, nomatter what would have come of it after. "

Phillis had gained confidence as she proceeded, and Mr. Weston heard herwithout interruption. 

"I can hardly blame you, " he then said, "for what you have done; but, Phillis, it must never be repeated. Jim is a great rascal, and if I werehis master I would be glad to be rid of him, but my plantation must notshelter runaway slaves. I am responsible for what my servants do. I shouldbe inclined to hold other gentlemen responsible for the conduct of theirs. The laws of Virginia require the rights of the master to be respected, andthough I shan't make a constable of myself, still I will not allow any suchthing to be repeated. Did Bacchus know it?"

"No, indeed, sir; he hates Jim, and no good, may be, would have come of hisknowing it; besides, he was asleep long after Jim went off, and there wastoo much whiskey in him to depend on what he'd have to say. "

"That will do, Phillis; and see that such a thing never happens again, "said Mr. Weston. 

Phillis went back to her ironing, assured her master was not angry withher. Yet she sighed as she thought of his saying, "see that such a thingnever happens again. " "If it had been a clear night, " she thought withinherself, "he shouldn't have stayed there. But it was the Lord himself thatsent the storm, and I can't see that he never sends another. Anyway itsdone, and can't be helped;" and Phillis busied herself with her work andher children. 

I have not given Phillis's cottage as a specimen of the cabins of thenegroes of the South. It is described from the house of a favorite servant. Yet are their cabins generally, healthy and airy. Interest, as well as awish for the comfort and happiness of the slave, dictates an attention tohis wants and feelings. "Slavery, " says Voltaire, "is as ancient as war;war as human nature. " It is to be wished that _truth_ had some suchintimate connection with human nature. Who, for instance, could readwithout an indignant thought, the following description from the pen ofMrs. Stowe: "They (their cabins) were rude shells, destitute of any piecesof furniture, except a heap of straw, foul with dirt, spread confusedlyover the floor. " "The small village was alive with no inviting sounds;hoarse, guttural voices, contending at the handmills, where their morsel ofhard corn was yet to be ground into meal to fit it for the cake that was toconstitute their only supper. " But such statements need no denial; the veryappearance of the slaves themselves show their want of truth. Look at theirsound and healthy limbs, hear the odd, but sweet and musical song thatarrests the traveler as he goes on his way; listen to the ready jest whichis ever on his lips, and see if the slavery which God has permitted in allages to exist, is as is here described; and judge if our fair Southern landis tenanted by such fiends as they are represented to be, by those who aretrying to make still worse the condition of a mass of God's creatures, bornto a life of toil, but comparative freedom from care. If it be His willthat men should be born free and equal, that will is not revealed in theBible from the time of the patriarchs to the present day. There aredirections there for the master and the slave. When the period ofemancipation advances, other signs of the times will herald it, besides theuncalled-for interference, and the gross misrepresentations, of the men andwomen of the North. 

Sidney Smith said of a man, who was a great talker, that a few flashes ofsilence would make a great improvement in him. So of the Abolition cause, afew flashes of truth would make it decidedly more respectable. 

CHAPTER XI. 

"Come, Alice, " said Mr. Barbour, "I hear, not the trump of war, but thesoul-inspiring scrape of the banjo. I notice the servants always choose thewarmest nights to dance in. Let us go out and see them. "

"We'll go to the arbor, " said Alice; "where we will be near enough to seeUncle Bacchus's professional airs. Ole Bull can't exceed him in thatrespect. "

"Nor equal him, " said Mr. Barbour. "Bacchus is a musician by nature; histime is perfect; his soul is absorbed in his twangs and flourishes. "

"I must come, too, " said Mr. Weston. "You are afraid of the night air, Cousin Janet?"

"Never mind me, " said Cousin Janet; "I'll sit here and fan myself. "

"And as I prefer music, especially the banjo, at a distance, I will staytoo, " said Mrs. Weston. 

Aunt Phillis was smoking outside her door, her mind divided betweenspeculations as to what had become of Jim, and observations on theservants, as they were collecting from every direction, to join in thedancing or to find a good seat to look on. 

The first sound of the banjo aroused Bacchus the younger from his dreams. He bounded from his bed on the chest, regardless of the figure he cut inhis very slight dishabille, and proceeded to the front door, _set_, as hismother would have said, on having his own way. 

"Oh, mammy, " he said, "dare's de banjo. "

"What you doin here?" said Phillis. "Go long to bed this minute, 'fore Itake a switch to you. "

"Oh, mammy, " said the boy, regardless of the threat in his enthusiasticstate of mind, "jist listen, daddy's gwine to play 'Did you ever see thedevil?'"

"Will any body listen to the boy? If you don't go to bed"--

"Oh, mammy, _please_ lem me go. Dare's Jake, he's gwine to dance. Massasaid I'd beat Jake dancin one o' dese days. "

"High, " said Phillis; "where's the sore foot you had this morning?"

"Its done got well. It got well a little while ago, while I was asleep. "

"Bound for you; go long, " said Phillis. 

Bacchus was about to go, without the slightest addition to his toilet. 

"Come back here, " said Phillis, "you real cornfield nigger; you goin therenaked?"

The boy turned back, and thrust his legs in a pair of pants, with twine forsuspenders. His motions were much delayed, by his nervous state ofagitation, the consequence of the music which was now going on in earnest. 

He got off finally, not without a parting admonition from his mother. 

"Look here, " said she, "if you don't behave yourself, I'll skin you. "

Allusion to this mysterious mode of punishment had the effect of soberingthe boy's mind in a very slight degree. No sooner was he out of hismother's sight than his former vivacity returned. 

His father, meanwhile, had turned down a barrel, and was seated on it. Every attitude, every motion of his body, told that his soul, forgetful ofearth and earthly things, had withdrawn to the regions of sound. He kickedhis slippers off keeping time, and his head dodged about with every turn ofthe quick tune. A stranger, not understanding the state of mind into whicha negro gets after playing "The devil among the tailors, " would havesupposed he was afflicted with St. Vitus's dance. The mistake would soonhave been perceived, for two of the boys having tired themselves out withmanoeuvres of every kind, were obliged to sit down to get some breath, and Bacchus fell into a sentimental mood, after a little tuning up. 

It was uncertain in what strain he would finally go off. First came a barthat sounded like Auld Lang Syne, then a note or two of Days of Absence, then a turn of a Methodist hymn, at last he went decidedly into "Nelly wasa lady. " The tune of this William had learned from Alice singing it to thepiano. He begged her to teach him the words. She did so, telling him of thechorus part, in which many were to unite. Bacchus prepared anaccompaniment; a number of them sang it together. William sang the solos. He had a remarkably good voice and fine taste; he therefore did justice tothe sweet song. When the full but subdued chorus burst upon the ear, everyheart felt the power of the simple strain; the master with his educatedmind and cultivated taste, and the slave with the complete power ofenjoyment with which the Creator has endowed him. 

Hardly had the cadence of the last note died away, when "Shout, shout, thedevil's about, " was heard from a stentorian voice. Above the peals oflaughter with which the words were received, rose Jake's voice, "Come on, ole fiddler, play somefin a nigger kin kick up his heels to; what's de useof singing after dat fashion; dis aint no meetin. "

"What'll you have, Jake?" said Bacchus. 

"What'll I have? Why, I never dances to but one tune, " and Jake started thefirst line of "Oh, plantation gals, can't you look at a body, " whileBacchus was giving a prelude of scrapes and twangs. Jake made a circle ofsomersets, and come down on his head, with his heels in the air, goingthrough flourishes that would have astonished an uninitiated observer. Asit was, Jake's audience were in a high condition of enjoyment. They werein a constant state of expectation as to where he would turn up, or whatwould be the nature of the next caper. Now, he cut the pigeon-wing for alength of time that made the spectators hold their breath; then he would, so to speak, stand on his hands, and with his feet give a push to thebarrel where Uncle Bacchus was sitting, and nearly roll the old manunderneath. One moment he is dancing with every limb, making the mostcurious contortions of his face, rolling out his tongue, turning his eyeswrong side out. Suddenly, he stretches himself on the grass, snoring to adegree that might be heard at almost any distance. Starting up, he snapshis fingers, twirls round, first on one foot, and then on the other, tillfeeling the time approaching when he must give up, he strikes up again:

 "Shout, shout, the devil's about; Shut the door and keep him out, "

leaps frog over two or three of the servants' shoulders, disappearing fromamong them in an immoderate state of conceit and perspiration. 

Bacchus is forced at this crisis to put down the banjo and wipe his facewith his sleeve, breathing very hard. He was thinking he wouldn't get nearso tired if he had a little of the "Oh, be joyful" to keep up his spirits, but such aspirations were utterly hopeless at the present time: gettingtipsy while his master, and Mr. Barbour, and Alice were looking at him, wasquite out of the question. He made a merit of keeping sober, too, on theground of setting a good example to the young servants. He consoled himselfwith a double-sized piece of tobacco, and rested after his efforts. Hispromising son danced Juba at Mr. Weston's particular request, and wasrewarded by great applause. 

A little courting scene was going on at this time, not far distant. Esther, Phillis's third daughter, was a neat, genteel-looking servant, entirelyabove associating with "common niggers, " as she styled those who, beingconstantly employed about the field, had not the advantage of being calledupon in the house, and were thus very deficient in manners and appearancefrom those who were so much under the eye of the family. Esther, like hermother, was a great Methodist. Reading well, she was familiar with theBible, and had committed to memory a vast number of hymns. These, she andher sister, with William, often sung in the kitchen, or at her mother'scabin. Miss Janet declared it reminded her of the employment of the saintsin heaven, more than any church music she had ever heard; especially whenthey sang, "There is a land of pure delight. "

That heart must be steeled against the sweet influences of the Christianreligion, which listens not with an earnest pleasure to the voice of theslave, singing the songs of Zion. No matter how kind his master, or howgreat and varied his comforts, he is a slave! His soul cannot, on earth, beanimated to attain aught save the enjoyment of the passing hour. Why needhe recall the past? The present does not differ from it--toil, toil, however mitigated by the voice of kindness. Need he essay to penetrate thefuture? it is still toil, softened though it be by the consideration whichis universally shown to the feelings and weaknesses of old age. Yet has theCreator, who placed him in this state, mercifully provided for it. Theslave has not the hopes of the master, but he is without many of his cares. He may not strive after wealth, yet he is always provided with comfort. Ambition, with its longings for fame, and riches, and power, neverstimulates his breast; that breast is safe from its disappointments. Hisenjoyments, though few, equal his expectations. His occupations, thoughservile, resemble the mass of those around him. His eye can see thebeauties of nature; his ear drinks in her harmonies; his soul contentitself with what is passing in the limited world around him. Yet, he is aslave! And if he is ever elevated above his condition, it is when praisingthe God of the white man and the black; when, with uplifted voice, he singsthe songs of the redeemed; when, looking forward to the invitation which hehopes to receive, "Come in, thou servant of the Lord. "

Christian of the South, remember who it was that bore thy Saviour's cross, when, toiling, and weary, and fainting beneath it, he trod the hill ofCalvary. Not one of the rich, learned, or great; not one of thineancestors, though thou mayest boast of their wealth, and learning, andheroic acts--it was a black man who relieved him of his heavy burden; Simonof Cyrene was his name. 

Christian of the North, canst thou emancipate the Southern slave? Canstthou change his employments, and elevate his condition? Impossible. Bewarethen, lest thou add to his burden, and tighten his bonds, and deprive himof the simple enjoyments which are now allowed him. 

 * * * * *

Esther, seated on the steps of a small porch attached to the side of thehouse, was mentally treating with great contempt the amusements of theother servants. She had her mother's disposition, and disliked any thinglike noisy mirth, having an idea it was not genteel; seeing so little of itin her master's family. She was an active, cheerful girl, but free from anything like levity in her manner. 

She had a most devoted admirer in the neighborhood; no less a personagethan Mrs. Kent's coachman. His name was Robert, after Mrs. Kent's father. Assuming the family name, he was known as Robert Carter. Phillis called hima harmless goose of a fellow, and this gives the best idea of hischaracter. He understood all about horses, and nothing else, if we exceptthe passion of love, which was the constant subject of his conversation. Hehad made up his mind to court Esther, and with that in view he dressedhimself in full livery, as if he were going to take his mistress an airing. He asks Mrs. Kent's permission to be married, though he had not theslightest reason to suppose Esther would accept him, with a confidence andself-exultation that man in general is apt to feel when he has determinedto bestow himself upon some fortunate fair one. He went his way, passingthe dancers without any notice, and going straight to that part of thehouse where he supposed he should find Esther. 

Esther received him with politeness, but with some reserve; not having achair to offer him, and not intending him to take a seat on the stepsbeside her, she stood up, and leaned against the porch. 

They talked a little of the weather, and the health of the differentmembers of their respective families, during which, Robert took theopportunity to say, "His master, (Mr. Kent) had a bilious attack, and hewished to the Lord, he'd never get better of it. " Finally, he undid one ofthe buttons of his coat, which was getting too small for him, and drawing along breath, proceeded to lay himself (figuratively) at Esther's feet. 

He did not come to the point at once, but drove round it, as if there mightbe some impediment in the way, which, though it could not possibly upsetthe whole affair, might make a little unnecessary delay. Esther thought hewas only talking nonsense, as usual, but when he waxed warm and energeticin his professions, she interrupted him with, "Look here, Robert, you'reout of your head, aint you?"

"No deed, Miss Esther, but I'm dying in love with you. "

"The best thing you can do, is to take yourself home, " said Esther. "I hopeyou're sober. "

"I was never soberer in my life, " said Robert, "but the fact is, MissEsther, I'm tired of a bachelor's life; 'pears as if it wasn'trespectable, and so I'm thinking of settling down. "

"You want settling down, for true, " said Esther. 

"I'm mighty happy to hear you say so, " said Robert, "and if you'll onlymention what time it'll be agreeable to you to make me the happiest man inVirginny, I'le speak to Uncle Watty Harkins about performing the ceremony, without you prefer a white minister to tie the knot. "

"Robert, " said Esther, "you're a born fool; do you mean to say you want meto marry you?"

"Certainly, Esther; I shouldn't pay you no attentions, if I didn't mean toact like a gentleman by you. "

"Well, I can tell you, " said Esther, "I wouldn't marry you, to save yourlife. "

"You ain't in earnest, Esther?"

"Indeed I am, " said Esther, "so you better not be coming here on any suchfool's errand again. "

"Why, Esther, " said Robert, reproachfully, "after my walking home frommeeting with you, and thinking and dreaming about you, as I have for thislong time, aint you going to marry me?"

"No, I aint, " said Esther. 

"Then I'll bid you good night; and look here, Esther, to-morrow, mistresswill lose one of her most valuable servants, for I shall hang myself. "

Esther went up the steps, and shut the door on him, internally marvellingat the impudence of men in general; Robert, with a strong inclination toshed tears, turned his steps homeward. He told Mrs. Kent, the next morning, that he had come to the conclusion not to be married for some time yet, women were so troublesome, and there was no knowing how things would turnout. Mrs. Kent saw he was much dejected, and concluded there were sourgrapes in the question. 

After due consideration, Robert determined not to commit suicide; he didsomething equally desperate. He married Mrs. Kent's maid, an ugly, thick-lipped girl, who had hitherto been his especial aversion. He couldnot though, entirely erase Esther's image from his heart--always feeling atendency to choke, when he heard her voice in meeting. 

Esther told her mother of the offer she had had, and Phillis quite agreedwith her, in thinking Robert was crazy. She charged "Esther to know whenshe was well off, and not to bring trouble upon herself by getting married, or any such foolishness as that. "

CHAPTER XII. 

"I tell you what, Abel, " said Arthur Weston, "the more I think about youNorthern people, the harder it is for me to come to a conclusion as to whatyou are made of. "

"Can't you experiment upon us, Arthur; test us chemically?"

"Don't believe you could be tested, " said Arthur, "you are such a slipperyset. Now here is a book I have been looking over, called Annals of Salem, by Joseph B. Felt, published in 1827. On the 109th page it says: 'CaptainPierce, of the ship Desire, belonging to this port, was commissioned totransport fifteen boys and one hundred women, of the captive Pequods, toBermuda, and sell them as slaves. He was obliged, however, to make forProvidence Island. There he disposed of the Indians. He returned fromTortugas the 26th of February following, with a cargo of cotton, tobacco, salt, and negroes. ' In the edition of 1849, this interesting fact isomitted. Now, was not that trading in human bodies and souls in earnest?First they got all they could for those poor captive Pequods, and theytraded the amount again for negroes, and some _et ceteras_. You are thevery people to make a fuss about your neighbours, having been soexcessively righteous yourselves. No wonder that the author left it out ina succeeding edition. I am surprised he ever put it in at all. "

"It seems more like peddling with the poor devils than any thing else, "said Abel. "But you must remember the _spirit of the age_, Arthur, as Mr. Hubbard calls it?"

"Yes, " said Arthur, "I forgot that; but I wonder if Mr. Hubbard excuses theconduct of England to her colonies in consideration of the spirit of theage--_that_ allowed taxation and all of her other forms of oppression, Isuppose. It is a kind of charity that covers a multitude of sins. But I wassaying, " continued Arthur, "that I could not make you out. While they werecarrying on two kinds of slave trade, they were discussing in Boston thepropriety of women's wearing veils, having lectures about it. Let me readto you. 'Mr. Cotton, though while in England of an opposite opinion on thissubject, maintained that in countries where veils were to be a sign ofsubmission, they might be properly disused. But Mr. Endicott took differentground, and endeavored to retain it by general argument from St. Paul. Mr. Williams sided with his parishioner. Through his and others' influence, veils were worn abundantly. At the time they were the most fashionable, Mr. Cotton came to preach for Mr. Skelton. His subject was upon wearing veils. He endeavored to prove that this was a custom not to be tolerated. Theconsequence was, that the ladies became converts to his faith in thisparticular, and for a long time left off an article of dress, whichindicated too great a degree of submission to the lords of creation. ' Didyou ever hear of such a set of old meddlers, lecturing and preaching aboutwomen's dressing. I suppose the men wore petticoats at that timethemselves. "

"If they did, " said Abel, "I am very glad they have turned them over tothe other sex since, as they are worn in the number which the presentfashion requires. I should think they would be very uncomfortable. But, Arthur, I heard such a good story the other day, about Lawyer Page. Hefights bravely with his tongue for other people's rights, but he daren'tsay his soul's his own before his wife. Well, when that affair came outabout Morton's whipping his wife, as he was going to the Courthouse, Pagesaid to old Captain Caldwell, 'Do you know, captain, that before all thefacts were out in this case about Morton, they actually had it in everydirection that it was I who had whipped my wife. ' 'Now Page, ' said the oldcaptain, 'you know that's no such thing; for every body in New Haven iswell aware that when there was any flogging going on in the matrimonialline, in your house, it was you that came off the worst. ' Page did not saya word. "

"I am glad I am not yoked with one of your New Haven belles, if turning aJerry Sneak is to be the consequence, " said Arthur. 

"This marrying is a terrible necessity, Arthur, " said Abel. "I don't knowhow I'll be supported under it when my time comes; but after all, I thinkthe women get the worst of it. There were not two prettier girls in NewHaven than my sisters. Julia, who has been married some eight or nineyears, was really beautiful, and so animated and cheerful; now she has thatwife-like look of care, forever on her countenance. Her husband is alwaysreproaching her that that little dare devil of a son of hers does not keephis clothes clean. The other evening I was at their house, and they werehaving a little matrimonial discussion about it. It seems little Charliehad been picked up out of the mud in the afternoon, and brought in in sucha condition, that it was sometime before he could be identified. Afterbeing immersed in a bathing tub it was ascertained that he had not a cleansuit of clothes; so the young gentleman was confined to his chamber forthe rest of the evening, in a night gown. This my brother-in-law considereda great hardship, and they were talking the matter over when I went in. 

"'Why don't you make the boy clothes enough, Julia?' said he. 

"'I am forever making and forever mending, ' said Julia; 'but it isimpossible to keep that young one clean. He had twelve pairs of pantaloonsin the wash last week, and the girl was sick, and I had to iron themmyself. I guess if you had all the trouble I have with him, you would puthim to bed and make him stay there a week. '

"'I tell you what it is, good people, ' said I, 'when I go courting I intendto ask the lady in the first place if she likes to make boys' clothes. Ifshe says No, I shan't have her, no matter what other recommendations shemay possess. '

"'She'll be sure to give you the mitten for your impudence, ' said Julia. Then, there is my pretty sister Harriet, quilting quilts, trimmingnightcaps, and spoiling her bright eyes making her wedding-clothes; after awhile she'll be undergoing some of the troubles of the married state, whichwill lengthen her face. The men get the best of it, decidedly; for theyhave not all the petty annoyances a woman must encounter. What do you thinkabout it, Arthur?"

"I hardly know, " said Arthur. "I have been in love ever since I could tellmy right hand from my left. I have hardly ever looked forward to marriage;my time has been so much occupied here, that when I get a few moments forreflection, my thoughts go back to Alice, and the happy years I have passedwith her, rather than to anticipations of any kind. I suppose I shall findout, though, and then you may profit by my experience. "

"You will have a sad experience with those niggers of yours, I am afraid, Arthur, " said Abel. "Our people are determined never to let them alone. Iwonder you do not employ white hands upon the plantation, and have donewith any trouble about the matter. "

"What would be done with the slaves in the mean time?" said Arthur. 

"Set 'em free, " said Abel; "colonize, or hang 'em all. "

"The latter is the more practicable suggestion, " said Arthur. "As tosetting them free, they could not remain in Virginia afterward if I werewilling to do so: there is a law against it. Colonizing them would beequally difficult, for the most of them would refuse to go to Africa; andif I have not the right to hold them slaves, I certainly have not a rightto force them into another country. Some of them would be willing and gladto come to the North, but some would object. My father set a house-servantfree; he was absent a year, and returned voluntarily to his old condition. Mark had got some Abolition notions in his head, and my father told him hemight have his free papers, and go: I have told you the result. The factis, Abel, you Yankees don't stand very well with our slaves. They seem toconsider you a race of pedlars, who come down upon them in small bodies fortheir sins, to wheedle away all their little hoardings. My father hasseveral times brought servants to New York, but they have never run awayfrom him. I think Virginia would do well without her colored people, because her climate is moderate, and white labor could be substituted. Butit is not so with the more Southern States. I would like to see a Louisianasun shining upon your New England States for a while--how quickly you wouldfit out an expedition for Africa. It is the mere accident of climate thatmakes your States free ones. "

"I suppose so, " said Abel. "A great many of your slaves run away throughthe year, don't they?"

"No, indeed, " said Arthur; "comparatively, very few. Just before I came toNew Haven, I went to pass a few weeks at a plantation belonging to afamily with whom we were intimate. One of the sons and I went on the river, two of the servants rowing us. I said to one of them, a large fat negro, 'What's your name, uncle?' 'Meschach, sir, ' he said. 'Meschach, ' said I;'why, you ought to have two brothers, one named Shadrach and the otherAbednego. ' 'So I had, sir. ' 'Well, what has become of them?' said I. 'Shadrach, he's dead, ' he answered. 'And where is Abednego?' said I. 'He'sgone, too, ' he replied, in a low voice. My friend gave me a look, and toldme afterwards that Abednego had ran away, and that his family considered ita disgrace, and never spoke of him. I hear of a negro boy who absconded, and when he was found and being brought home, an old washerwoman watchedhim as he went up the street. 'La, ' said she, 'who'd a thought he'd abeginned to act bad so young, ' But let us leave off Abolition and take awalk. Our cigars are out and we will resume the subject to-morrowafternoon, when we light some more. "

 * * * * *

"Now, " said Abel, "having a couple of particularly good cigars, where didwe leave off?"

"Its too warm for argument, " said Arthur, watching the curling of the graysmoke as it ascended. 

"We need not argue, " said Abel; "I want to catechize you. "

"Begin. "

"Do you think that the African slave-trade can be defended?"

"No, assuredly not. "

"Well, " said Abel, "how can you defend your right to hold slaves asproperty in the United States?"

"Abel, " said Arthur, "when a Yankee begins to question there is no reasonto suppose he ever intends to stop. I shall answer your queries from theviews of Governor Hammond, of Carolina. They are at least worthy ofconsideration. What right have you New England people to the farms you arenow holding?"

"The right of owning them, " said Abel. 

"From whom did you get them?" asked Arthur. 

"Our fathers. "

"And how did they get them?"

"From the Red men, their original owners. "

"Well, " said Arthur, "we all know how these transactions were conducted allover the country. We wanted the lands of the Red men, and we took them. Sometimes they were purchased, sometimes they were wrested; always, the Redmen were treated with injustice. They were driven off, slaughtered, andtaken as slaves. Now, God as clearly gave these lands to the Red men as hegave life and freedom to the African. Both have been unjustly taken away. "

"But, " said Abel, "we hold property in land, you in the bodies and souls ofmen. "

"Granted, " said Arthur; "but we have as good a right to our _property_ asyou to yours--we each inherit it from our fathers. You must know thatslaves were recognized as _property_ under the constitution, John Q. Adams, speaking of the protection extended to the peculiar interests of South, makes these remarks: 'Protected by the advantage of representation on thisfloor, protected by the stipulation in the constitution for the recovery offugitive slaves, protected by the guarantee in the constitution to ownersof this _species of property_, against domestic violence. ' It wasconsidered in England as any other kind of commerce; so that you cannotdeny our right to consider them as property now, as well as then. "

"But can you advocate the enslaving of your fellow man?" said Abel. 

"No, " said Arthur, "if you put the question in that manner; but if you cometo the point, and ask me if I can conscientiously hold in bondage slaves inthe South, I say yes, without the slightest hesitation. I'll tell you why. You must agree with me, if the Bible allow slavery there is no sin it. Now, the Bible does allow it. You must read those letters of Governor Hammond toClarkson, the English Abolitionist. The tenth commandment, your mothertaught you, no doubt: 'thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's house, thoushalt not covet thy neighbor's wife nor his _man-servant_ nor his_maid-servant_, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thyneighbor's. ' These are the words of God, and as such, should be obeyedstrictly. In the most solemn manner, the man-servant and the maid-servantare considered the _property_ of thy neighbor. Generally the word isrendered slave. This command includes all classes of servants; there is theHebrew-brother who shall go out in the seventh year, and the hired-servantand those 'purchased from the heathen round about, ' who were to be bondmenforever. In Leviticus, speaking of the 'bondmen of the heathen which shallbe round about' God says, 'And ye shall take them for an inheritance, foryour children after you, to inherit them for a possession they shall beyour bondmen forever. ' I consider that God permitted slavery when he madelaws for the master and the slave, therefore I am justified in holdingslaves. In the times of our Saviour, when slavery existed in its worstform, it was regarded as one of the conditions of human society; it isevident Abolition was not shadowed forth by Christ or his apostles. 'Dounto all men as ye would have them do unto you, ' is a general command, inducing charity and kindness among all classes of men; and does notauthorize interference with the established customs of society. If, according to this precept of Christ, I am obliged to manumit my slaves, youare equally forced to purchase them. If I were a slave, I would have mymaster free me; if you were a slave, and your owner would not give youfreedom, you would have some rich man to buy you. From the early ages ofthe world, there existed the poor and the rich, the master and the slave. 

"It would be far better for the Southern slaves, if our institution, asregards them, were left to 'gradual mitigation and decay, which time _may_bring about. The course of the Abolitionists, while it does nothing todestroy this institution, greatly adds to its hardships. ' Tell me that'man-stealing' is a sin, and I will agree with you, and will insist thatthe Abolitionists are guilty of it. In my opinion, those who considerslavery a sin, challenge the truth of the Bible. 

"Besides, Abel, " continued Arthur, "what right have you to interfere? YourNorthern States abolished slavery when it was their interest to do so: letus do the same. In the meantime, consider the condition of these dirtyvagabonds, these free blacks, who are begging from me every time I go intothe street. I met one the other day, who had a most lamentable state ofthings to report. He had rheumatism, and a cough, and he spit blood, and hehad no tobacco, and he was hungry, and he had the toothache. I gave himtwenty-five cents as a sort of panacea, and advised him to travel South andget a good master. He took the money, but not the advice. "

"But, Arthur, the danger of insurrection; I should think it would interferegreatly with your comfort. "

"We do not fear it, " said Arthur. "Mobs of any kind are rare in theSouthern country. We are not (in spite of the bad qualities ascribed to usby the Abolitionists) a fussy people. Sometimes, when an Abolitionist comesalong, we have a little fun with him, the negroes enjoying it exceedingly. Slaveholders, as a general thing, desire to live a peaceful, quiet life;yet they are not willing to have their rights wrested from them. "

"One great disadvantage in a slaveholding community is, that you are apt tobe surrounded by uneducated people, " said Abel. 

"We do not educate our slaves, " said Arthur; "but you do not presume to saythat we do not cultivate our minds as assiduously as you do yours. Ourstatesmen are not inferior to yours in natural ability, nor in theimprovement of it. We have far more time to improve ourselves than you, asa general thing. When you have an opportunity of judging, you will nothesitate to say, that our women can bear to be compared with yours in everyrespect, in their intellect, and refinement of manners and conversation. Our slaves are not left ignorant, like brutes, as has been charged upon us. Where a master feels a religious responsibility, he must and does cause tobe given, all necessary knowledge to those who are dependent upon him. Imust say, that though we have fewer sects at the South, we have moregenuine religion. You will think I am prejudiced. Joining the church hereis, in a great measure, a form. I have formed this opinion from my ownobservation. With us there must be a proper disregard of the customs of theworld; a profession of religion implying a good deal more than a mereprofession. Look at the thousand new and absurd opinions that have agitatedNew England, while they never have been advanced with us. There isUnitarianism, that faith that would undermine the perfect structure of theChristian religion; that says Christ is a man, when the Scriptures stylehim 'Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, ThePrince of Peace. ' Why, it is hardly tolerated at the South. Have you anyright to claim for yourself superior holiness? None whatever. 

"There never was any thing so perfectly false (I cannot help referring toit again, ) as that religion is discouraged among our slaves. It isprecisely the contrary. Most of them have the same opportunities ofattending worship as their owners. They generally prefer the Methodist andBaptist denominations; they worship with the whites, or they have exclusiveoccasions for themselves, which they prefer. They meet on the plantationsfor prayer, for singing, or for any religious purpose, when they choose;the ladies on the plantations instruct them in the Bible, and how to readit. Many of them are taught to write. 

"Religion seems to be a necessary qualification of the female mind--I thinkthis, because I have been so fortunate in those of our own family. Mymother died soon after my birth; her friends often dwell on the early pietyso beautifully developed in her character. We have a relative, an old maid, who lives with us; she forgets her own existence, laboring always for thegood of others. My aunt is a noble Christian woman, and Alice has notbreathed such an atmosphere in vain. We have a servant woman named Phillis, her price is far above rubies. Her industry, her honesty, her attachment toour family, exceeds every thing. I wish Abolitionists would imitate one ofher virtues--humility. I know of no poetry more beautiful than the hymnsshe sang to me in my infancy; her whole life has been a recommendation ofthe religion of the Bible. I wish my chance of Heaven were half as good ashers. She is a slave here, but she is destined to be a saint hereafter. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

The evening is drawing on again at Exeter, and Alice and her mother are ina little sitting room that opens on the porch. Mrs. Weston is fanning herdaughter, who has been suffering during the day from headache. Miss Janetis there, too, and for a rare occurrence, is idle; looking from the windowat the tall peaks of the Blue Ridge upon which she has gazed for many ayear. Little Lydia stands by her side, her round eyes peering into MissJanet's face, wondering what would happen, that she should be unemployed. They are awaiting Mr. Weston's return from an afternoon ride, to meet atthe last and most sociable meal of the day. 

"Miss Janet, " said Lydia, "aint Miss Alice white?"

"Very pale, " said Miss Janet, looking at Alice; then, with a sigh, turningto the mountains again. 

"What makes her so white?" asked Lydia, in an under tone. 

"She has had a headache all day. Be quiet, child, " said Miss Janet. 

After a moment, Lydia said, "I wish I could have de headache all de time. "

"What do you say such a foolish thing as that for, Lydia?"

"'Kase I'd like to be white, like Miss Alice. " Miss Janet did not reply. Again Lydia spoke, "If I was to stay all time in de house, and never go inde sun, would I git white?"

"No--no--foolish child; what gives you such ideas?"

There was another pause. Mrs. Weston fanned Alice, who, with closed eyes, laid languidly on the lounge. 

"Miss Janet, " said Lydia, speaking very softly, "who made delightning-bugs?"

"God made them, " said Miss Janet. 

"Did God make de nanny-goats, too?"

"You know that God made every thing, " said Miss Janet. "I have often toldyou so. "

"He didn't make mammy's house, ma'am; I seed de men makin it. "

"No; man makes houses, but God made all the beautiful things in nature. Hemade man, and trees, and rivers, and such things as man could not make. "

Lydia looked up at the sky. The sun had set, and the moon was coming forth, a few stars glistened there. Long, fleecy clouds extended over the arch ofheaven, and some passing ones for a moment obscured the brightness thatgilded the beautiful scene. 

"Miss Janet, " said Lydia, "its mighty pretty there; but 'spose it was tofall. "

"What was to fall?"

"De sky, ma'am. "

"It cannot fall. God holds it in its place. "

Another interval and Lydia said: "Miss Janet, 'spose God was to die, den desky would broke down. "

"What put such a dreadful thought into your head, child?" said Miss Janet. "God cannot die. "

"Yes, ma'am, he kin, " said Lydia. 

"No, he cannot. Have I not often told you that God is a spirit? He createdall things, but he never was made; he cannot die. "

Lydia said inquiringly, "Wasn't Jesus Christ God, ma'am?"

"Yes, he was the Son of God, and he was God. "

"Well, ma'am, he died onct, dat time de Jews crucified him--dat time deground shook, and de dead people got up--dat time he was nailed to decross. So, ma'am, if God died onct, couldn't he die agin?"

Miss Janet, arousing herself from her reverie, looked at the child. Thereshe stood, her eyes fixed upon the sky, her soul engaged in solving thismysterious question. Her little hands hung listlessly by her side; therewas no beauty in her face; the black skin, the projecting lips, the heavyfeatures, designated her as belonging to a degraded race. Yet the soul waslooking forth from its despised tenement, and eagerly essaying to graspthings beyond its reach. 

"Could he die agin, Miss Janet?" asked Lydia. 

Poor child! thought Miss Janet, how the soul pinioned and borne down, longsto burst its chains, and to soar through the glorious realms of light andknowledge. I thought but now that there was no more for me to do here; thattired of the rugged ascent, I stood as it were on the tops of thosemountains, gazing in spirit on the celestial city, and still not called toenter in. Now, I see there is work for me to do. Thou art a slave, Lydia;yet God has called thee to the freedom of the children that he loves; thouart black, yet will thy soul be washed white in the blood of the Lamb; thouart poor, yet shalt thou be made rich through Him who, when on earth, waspoor indeed. Jesus, forgive me! I murmured that I still was obliged tolinger. Oh! make me the honored instrument of good to this child, and whenthou callest me hence, how gladly will I obey the summons. 

"Lydia, " she said, "the Son of God died for us all, for you and for me, buthe was then in the form of man. He died that we might live; he never willdie again. He rose from the dead, and is in heaven, at the right hand ofGod. He loves you, because you think about him. "

"He don't love me like he do Miss Alice, 'kase she's so white, " said Lydia. 

"He loves all who love him, " said Miss Janet, "whether they are black orwhite. Be a good child, and he will surely love you. Be kind and obligingto everybody; be industrious and diligent in all you have to do; obey yourmother and father, and your master. Be truthful and honest. God hates aliar, and a deceitful person. He will not take care of you and love you, unless you speak the truth. Sometimes you try to deceive me. God will notbe your friend if you deceive any one. And now go to your mother, she willput you to bed. "

Lydia made a curtsey, and said, "Good-night, ma'am. " She went to Mrs. Weston, and bade her good-night too. Then turning toward Alice, she gazedwonderingly at her pale face. 

"Is you got de headache now, Miss Alice?"

"Not much, " said Alice, gently. 

"Good night, miss, " said Lydia, with another curtesy, and she softly leftthe room. "Oh, mammy, " she said, as she entered her mother's cabin, "MissJanet say, if I'm a good child, God will love me much as he loves MissAlice, if I is black. Miss Alice is so white to-night; you never see'd herlook as white as she do to-night. "

 * * * * *

Mr. Weston alighted from his horse, and hurried to the sitting-room, "Haveyou waited tea for me?" he said. "Why did you do so? Alice, darling, isyour head better?"

"A great deal, uncle, " said Alice. "Have you had a pleasant ride?"

"Yes; but my child, you look very sick. What can be the matter with you?Anna, did you send for the doctor?"

"No--Alice objected so. "

"But you must send for him--I am sure she is seriously ill. "

"There is nothing the matter with me, but a headache, " said Alice. "Aftertea, I will go to bed, and will be well in the morning. "

"God grant you may, my sweet one. What has come over you?"

"Tea is ready, " said Cousin Janet. "Let us go in to it, and then haveprayers, and all go to bed early. Why Cousin Weston, you are getting quitedissipated in your old age; coming home to tea at this hour; I suppose Ishall begin such practices next. "

Miss Janet's suggestion of retiring early, was followed. Phillis came in tosee how Alice's head was, and recommended brown paper and vinegar. She madeno comment on her appearance, but did not wonder that Lydia was struck withthe expression of her countenance. There was an uneasiness that was foreignto it; not merely had the glow of health departed, there was something inits place, strange there. It was like the storm passing over the beautifullake; the outline of rock, and tree, and surface, is to be seen, but itstranquil beauty is gone; and darkness and gloom are resting where has beenthe home of light, and love, and beauty. 

Alice undressed and went to bed; her mother raised all the windows, put outthe candle, and laid down beside her. Hoping that she would fall asleep, she did not converse, but Alice after a few minutes, called her. 

"What is it, Alice?"

"Did you hear what Cousin Janet said to Lydia, to-night, mother? God hatesthose who deceive. "

"Why think of that now, my love?"

"Because it refers to me. She did not mean it for me, but it came home tomy heart. "

"To _your_ heart? That has always been truth and candor itself. Try andbanish such thoughts. If you were well, fancies like these would not affectyou. "

"They are not fancies, they are realities, " said Alice. She sighed andcontinued, "Am I not deceiving the kind protector and friend of mychildhood? Oh, mother, if he knew all, how little would he love me! AndArthur, can it be right for me to be engaged to him, and to deceive him, too?"

"Dear Alice, how often have we talked about this, and hoped you weresatisfied as to the propriety of being silent on the subject at present. Your uncle's health is very feeble; he is subject to sudden and alarmingattacks of sickness, and easily thrown into a state of agitation thatendangers his life. Would you run such a risk? What a grief would it be tohim to know that the hopes of years were to be destroyed, and by one whomhe had nursed in his own bosom as a child. Poor Arthur, too! away from homeso long--trusting you with such confidence, looking forward with delight tothe time of his return, could you bear thus to dash his dearest prospectsto the earth?"

"But he must know it, mother. I could not marry him with a lie in my righthand. "

"It will not be so, Alice; you cannot help loving Arthur, above all men, when you are with him; so noble, so generous, so gifted with all that iscalculated to inspire affection, you will wonder your heart has everwavered. "

"But it has, " said Alice; "and he must know all. "

"Of course, " said Mrs. Weston; "nothing would justify your having anyreserve with him, but this is not the time for explanation. If I believedthat you really and truly loved Walter, so as to make it impossible for youto forget him and return Arthur's affection; if I thought you could not oneday regard Arthur as he deserves, I would not wish you to remain silent fora day. It would be an injustice, and a sin, to do so. Yet I feel assuredthat there is no such danger. 

"A woman, Alice, rarely marries her first love, and it is well that it isso. Her feelings, rather than her judgment, are then enlisted, and bothshould be exercised when so fearful a thing as marriage is concerned. Youhave been a great deal with Walter, and have always regarded him tenderly, more so of late, because the feelings strengthen with time, and Walter'ssituation is such as to enlist all your sympathies; his fascinatingappearance and interesting qualities have charmed your affections. You seehim casting from him the best friends he has ever had, because he feelscondemned of ingratitude in their society. He is going forth on the voyageof life, alone, you weep as any sister would, to see him thus. I do notblame him for loving you; but I do censure him in the highest degree, forendeavoring to win more than a sister's regard from you, in return; it wasselfish and dishonorable. More than all, I blame myself for not foreseeingthis. You said yesterday, you could not bear the thought of being separatedfrom Arthur. You do not know your own heart, many a woman does not, untiltime has been her teacher; let it be yours. Cousin Janet has thus advisedyou; be guided by us, and leave this thing to rest for a while; you willhave reason to rejoice in having done so. Would you leave me for Walter, Alice?"

"No, mother. How could you ask me?"

"Then trust me; I would not answer for your uncle's safety were we to speakto him on this subject. How cruel to pain him, when a few months mayrestore us to the hopes and happiness which have been ours! Do what isright, and leave the future to God. "

"But how can I write to Arthur, when I know I am not treating him as Iwould wish him to treat me?"

"Write as you always have; your letters have never been very sentimental. Arthur says you write on all subjects but the one nearest his heart. If youhad loved him as I thought you did, you never would have allowed another tousurp his place. But we cannot help the past. Now dear child, composeyourself; I am fatigued, but cannot sleep until you do. "

Alice, restless for a while, at last fell asleep, but it was not the restthat brings refreshment and repose. Her mother watched her, as with herhand now pressed on her brow, now thrown on the pillow, she slept. Hermind, overtaxed, tried even in sleep to release itself of its burden. Thewish to please, and the effort to do right, was too much for her sensitiveframe. It was like the traveler unaccustomed to fatigue and change, forcedto commence a journey, unassured of his way, and ignorant of hisdestination. 

Her mother watched her--a deep hue was settled under her eyelashes, theveins in her temple were fearfully distinct, and a small crimson spotrested on her cheek. She watched her, by the moonlight that glanced overevery part of the room. She listened to her heavy breathing, and lightlytouched her dry and crimson lips. She stroked the long luxuriant curls, that appeared to her darker than they ever had before. She closed thenearest window, lest there should be something borne on the breath ofnight, to disturb the rest of the beloved one. But, mother! it will not do;the curse of God is still abroad in the world, the curse on sin. It falls, like a blighting dew, on the loveliest and dearest to our hearts. It is byour side and in our path. It is among the gay, the rich, the proud, and thegifted of the earth; among the poor, the despised, the desolate andforsaken. It darkens the way of the monarch and the cottager, of the maidenand the mother, of the master and the slave. Alas! since it poisoned theflowers in Eden, and turned the children of God from its fair walks, it isabroad in the world--the curse of God on sin. 

There is a blessing, too, within the reach of all. He who bore the curse, secured the blessing. Son of God! teach us to be like thee; give us of thyspirit, that we may soften to each other the inevitable ills of life. Prepare us for that condition to which we may aspire; for that assemblywhere will be united the redeemed of all the earth, where will rejoiceforever in thy presence those of all ages and climes, who looked up fromthe shadow of the curse, to the blessing which thou didst obtain, with thylatest sigh, on Calvary!

CHAPTER XIV. 

After Phillis left Mrs. Weston's room, she was on her way to her cabin, when she noticed Aunt Peggy sitting alone at the door. She was rather ahomebody; yet she reproached herself with having neglected poor old Peggy, when she saw her looking so desolate and dejected. She thought to pay her avisit, and bidding her good evening, sat down on the door-step. "Time oldpeople were in bed, Aunt Peggy, " said she; "what are you settin up for, allby yourself?"

"Who's I got to set up wid me?" said Aunt Peggy. 

"Why don't you go to bed, then?" asked Phillis. 

"Can't sleep, can't sleep, " said Aunt Peggy; "aint slep none dese two, three nights; lays awake lookin at de moon; sees people a lookin in dewinder at me, people as I aint seen since I come from Guinea; hears strangenoises I aint never heard in dis country, aint never hearn sence I comefrom Guinea. "

"All notions, " said Phillis. "If you go to sleep, you'll forget them all. "

"Can't go to sleep, " said Aunt Peggy; "somefin in me won't sleep; somefin Inever felt afore. It's in my bones; mebbe Death's somewhere in theneighborhood. "

"I reckon you're sick, Aunt Peggy, " said Phillis; "why didn't you let meknow you wasn't well?"

"Aint sick, I tell you, " said Aunt Peggy, angrily; "nothin the matter widme. 'Spose you think there's nothin bad about, 'cep what comes to me. "

Phillis was astonished at her words and manner, and looked at her intently. Most of the servants on the plantation stood in awe of Aunt Peggy. Herhaving been brought from Africa, and the many wonders she had seen there;her gloomy, fitful temper; her tall frame, and long, skinny hands and arms;her haughty countenance, and mass of bushy, white hair. Phillis did notwonder most people were afraid of her. Besides, Peggy was thought to havethe power of foresight in her old age. The servants considered her a sortof witch, and deprecated her displeasure. Phillis had too much sense forthis; yet there was one thing that she had often wondered at; that was, that Aunt Peggy cared nothing about religion. When employed in the family, she had been obliged to go sometimes to church: since she had been old, andleft to follow her own wishes, she had never gone. Miss Janet frequentlyread the Bible, and explained it to her. Alice, seated on a low stool bythe old woman's side, read to her scenes in the life of Christ, upon whichservants love to dwell. But as far as they could judge, there were no goodimpressions left on her mind. She never objected, but she gave them noencouragement. This Phillis had often thought of; and now as she sat withher, it occurred to her with overwhelming force. "Death's about somewhere, "said Aunt Peggy. "I can't see him, but I feels him. There's somefin herebelongs to him; he wants it, and he's gwine to have it. "

"'Pears to me, " said Phillis, "Death's always about. Its well to be readyfor him when he 'comes; 'specially we old people. "

"Always ole people, " said Aunt Peggy, "you want to make out that Death'salways arter ole people. No such thing. Look at the churchyard, yonder. Seeany little graves thar? Plenty. Death's always arter babies; 'pears like heloves 'em best of all. "

"Yes, " said Phillis, "young people die as well as old, but 'taint no harmto be ready. You know, Aunt Peggy, we aint never ready till our sins isrepented of, and our souls is washed in the blood of Jesus. People oughtto think of that, old and young, but they don't. "

"Death loves young people, " said Aunt Peggy; "always arter 'em. See how hetook young Mr. William Jones, thar, in town, and he healthy and strong, widhis young bride; and his father and mother old like me. See how he tooklittle George Mason, not long ago, that Uncle Geoffrey used to bring homewid him from town, setting on de horse, before him. Didn't touch his olegrandmother; she's here yet. Tell you, Death loves 'em wid de red cheeksand bright eyes. "

Phillis did not reply, and the old woman talked on as if to herself. 

"Thinks thar's nothin bad but what comes to niggers; aint I had nufftrouble widout Death. I aint forgot de time I was hauled away from home. Cuss him, 'twas a black man done it; he told me he'd smash my brains out ifI made a sound. Dragged along till I come to de river; thar he sold me. Iwas pushed in long wid all de rest of 'em, crying and howlin--gwine awayfor good and all. Thar we was, chained and squeezed together; dead or live, all one. Tied me to a woman, and den untied me to fling her into desea--dead all night, and I tied to her. Come long, cross de great sea; moredied, more flung to de sharks. No wonder it thundered and lightened, and dewaves splashed in, and de captain prayed. Lord above! de captain prayed, when he was stealin and murderin of his fellow-creeturs. We didn't go down, we got safe across. Some went here, some went thar, and I come long wid derest to Virginny. Ever sence, workin and slavin; ever sence, sweatin anddrivin; workin all day, workin all night. "

"You never worked a bit in the night time, Aunt Peggy, " said Phillis; "andyou know it. "

"Worked all time, " said Aunt Peggy, "niggers aint made for nothin else. Now, kase Death's somewhar, wantin somefin, thinks it must be me. "

"I didn't say 'twas you, Aunt Peggy, " said Phillis. 

"Wants somefin, " said Aunt Peggy. "Tell you what, Phillis, " and shelaughed, "wants Miss Alice. "

"What's come over you?" said Phillis, looking at her, terrified. "There'snothing the matter with Miss Alice but a headache. "

"Headache!" said Aunt Peggy, "that's all?" and she laughed again. "Think Ididn't see her yesterday? Whars the red cheeks?--white about her lips, black about her eyes; jist like Mistis when she was gwine fast, and deyoung baby on her arm. Death wants Miss Alice--aint arter me. "

"Aint you ashamed to talk so about Miss Alice, when she's always coming toyou, bringing you something, and trying to do something for you?" saidPhillis. "You might as well sit here and talk bad of one of the angelsabove. "

"Aint talking bad of her, " said Aunt Peggy; "aint wishin her no harm. Ifthere is any angels she's as good as any of 'em; but it's her Death'sarter, not me; look here at my arms--stronger than yourn--" and she heldout her sinewy, tough arm, grasping her cane, to go in the house. 

Phillis saw she was not wanted there, and looking in to be assured thatNancy (Aunt Peggy's grand-daughter, who lived with her to take care ofher, ) was there, went home and thought to go to bed. But she found nodisposition to sleep within her. Accustomed, as she was, to Aunt Peggy'sfault finding, and her strange way of talking, she was particularlyimpressed with it to-night. 'Twas so strange, Phillis thought, that sheshould have talked about being stolen away from Guinea, and things thathappened almost a hundred years ago. Then her saying, so often that, "Deathwas about. " Phillis was no more nervous than her iron tea-kettle, but nowshe could not feel right. She sat down by the door, and tried to composeherself. Every one on the plantation was quiet; it seemed to her the nightgot brighter and brighter, and the heavens more crowded with stars than shehad ever seen them. She looked at her children to see if they all werewell, and then gave a glance at old Bacchus, who was snoring loud enough towake the dead. She shook him heartily and told him to hush his clatter, butshe might as well have told a twenty-four pounder to go off without makinga noise. Then she sat down again and looked at Alice's window, and couldnot avoid seeing Aunt Peggy's house when she turned in that direction; thusshe was reminded of her saying, "Death was about and arter somefin. "Wondering what had come over her, she shut the door and laid down withoutundressing herself. 

She slept heavily for several hours, and waked with the thought of AuntPeggy's strange talk pressing upon her. She determined not to go to bedagain, but opened the door and fixed the old rush-bottomed chair within it. Bacchus, always a very early riser, except on Sunday, was still asleep;having had some sharp twinges of the rheumatism the day before, Phillishoped he might sleep them off; her own mind was still burdened with anunaccountable weight. She was glad to see the dawning of "another blueday. "

Before her towered, in their majestic glory, Miss Janet's favoritemountains, yet were the peaks alone distinctly visible; the twilight onlystrong enough to disclose the mass of heavy fog that enveloped them. Thestars had nearly all disappeared, those that lingered were sadly palingaway. How solemn was the stillness! She thought of the words of Jacob, "Surely God is here!"--the clouds were flying swiftly beneath the arch ofHeaven, as if from God's presence. Many thoughts were suggested to her bythe grandeur of the scene, for my reader must remember, that an admirationof the glories of nature is not unfrequently a characteristic of anuneducated mind. Many verses of Scripture occurred to her, "From the risingof the sun, unto the going down of the same, the Lord's name be praised. The Lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens. Who islike unto the Lord our God, who dwelleth on high? Who humbleth himself tobehold the things that are in Heaven, and in the earth. " The soul of theslave-woman rejoiced in the Lord, her Maker and her Redeemer. 

Gradually a soft light arose above the mountains; the fog becametransparent through its influence. A red hue gilded the top of the mist, and slowly descended toward it, as it sank away. All the shadows of thenight were disappearing, at the command once given, "Let there be light, "and re-obeyed at the birth of every day. Phillis's heart warmed withgratitude to God who had given to her a knowledge of himself. She thoughtof her many mercies, her health, her comforts, and the comparativehappiness of each member of her family; of the kindness of her master andthe ladies; all these considerations affected her as they never had before, for gratitude and love to God ever inspires us with love and kindness toour fellow creatures. 

Her thoughts returned to Alice, but all superstitious dread was gone; AuntPeggy's strange wanderings no longer oppressed her; her mind was in itsusual healthy state. "The good Lord is above us all, " she said, "and MissAlice is one of his children. " She saw the house door open, and Williamcoming toward her on his way to the stable. It was without any agitationthat she asked what was the matter? "Miss Alice is very sick, " saidWilliam, "and I am going for the doctor. "

"I am glad I happened to be here, " said Phillis, "may be they want me. "

"You better not go in now, " said William, "for she's asleep. Miss Annatold me to walk very easy, for she would not have her waked for all theworld. "

So Phillis, seeing Aunt Peggy's door open, thought she would step over andfind out if the old lady had slept off her notions. 

Aunt Peggy's cabin had two rooms, in one of which, she and hergranddaughter slept, in the other Nancy cooked and washed, and occupiedherself with various little matters. Nancy had been up a short time and wasmixing some Indian bread for their breakfast. She looked surprised, athaving so early a visitor. 

"How is your grandmother, child?" said Phillis; "did she sleep well?"

"Mighty well, " said Nancy. "She aint coughed at all as I heard, since shewent to bed. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear it, " said Phillis, "for I thought she was going tobe sick, she was so curious last night. "

"She didn't complain, any way, " said Nancy, going on with her breadmaking, so Phillis got up to go home. As she passed the door of the other room, shecould but stop to look in at the hard, iron features of the old creature, as she lay in slumber. Her long black face contrasted most remarkably withthe white pillow on which it was supported, her hair making her head lookdouble its actual size, standing off from her ears and head. One long blackarm lay extended, the hand holding to the side of the bed. Somethingimpelled Phillis to approach. At first she thought of her grumblingdisposition, her bitter resentment for injuries, most of which werefanciful, her uncompromising dislike to the servants on the plantation. Shealmost got angry when she thought "the more you do for her, the more shecomplains. " Then she recalled her talk the night before; of her being tornaway from her mother, and sold off, tied to a dead woman, and the storm andthe sharks; a feeling of the sincerest pity took the place of her firstreflections, and well they did--for the next idea--Phillis' knees knockedtogether, and her heart beat audibly, for what was before her?

What but death! with all his grimness and despair, looking forth from thewhite balls that were only partially covered with the dark lids--showinghis power in the cold hands whose unyielding grasp had closed in thestruggle with him. Setting his seal on brow and lips, lengthening theextended form, that never would rouse itself from the position in which themighty conqueror had left it, when he knew his victory was accomplished. What but death, indeed! For the heart and the pulse were still forever, andthe life that had once regulated their beatings, had gone back to the Giverof life. 

The two slave women were alone together. She who had been, had gone withall her years, her wrongs, and her sins, to answer at the bar of her Maker. The fierce and bitter contest with life, the mysterious curse, the dealingsof a God with the children of men. Think of it, Oh! Christian! as you gazeupon her. The other slave woman is with the dead. She is trembling, as inthe presence of God. She knows he is everywhere, even in the room of death. _She_ is redeemed from the slavery of sin, and her regenerate soul looksforward to the rest that remaineth to the people of God. She "submitsherself to an earthly master, " knowing that the dispensation of God hasplaced her in a state of servitude. Yet she trusts in a Heavenly Masterwith childlike faith, and says, "May I be ready when he comes and calls forme. "

Phillis was perfectly self-possessed when she went back to the kitchen. "Nancy, " she said, "didn't you think it was strange your grandmother sleptso quiet, and laid so late this morning? She always gets up so early. "

"I didn't think nothin about it, " said Nancy, "for I was 'sleep myself. "

"Well there's no use putting it off, " said Phillis. "I might as well tellyou, first as last. She's dead. "

"Dead, what do you mean?" said Nancy. 

"I mean she's dead, " said Phillis, "and cold, and very likely has been so, for most of the night. Don't be frightened and make a noise, for Miss Aliceis very sick, and you're so near the house. "

Nancy went with her to the other room. A child would have known there wasno mistake about death's being there, if the idea had been suggested to it. Nancy was in a moment satisfied that such was the case, but she shed veryfew tears. She was quite worn out taking care of the old woman, and theother servants were not willing to take their turns. They said they"couldn't abide the cross, ill-natured old thing. "

Phillis went home for a few moments, and returned to perform the lastoffices. All was order and neatness under her superintendence; and they whoavoided the sight of Aunt Peggy when alive, stood with a solemn awe besideher and gazed, now that she was dead. 

All but the children. Aunt Peggy was dead! She who had been a kind ofscarecrow in life, how terrible was the thought of her now! The severestthreat to an unruly child was, "I will give you to Aunt Peggy, and let herkeep you. " But to think of Aunt Peggy in connection with darkness, andsilence, and the grave, was dreadful indeed. All day the thought of herkept them awed and quiet; but as evening drew on, they crept close to theirmothers' side, turning from every shadow, lest she should come forth fromit. Little Lydia, deprived of Miss Janet's company in consequence ofAlice's sickness, listened to the pervading subject of conversation allday, and at night dreamed that the old woman had carried her off to the topof the highest of the mountains that stood before them; and there she satscowling upon her, and there, they were to be forever. 

When the next afternoon had come, and the body was buried, and all hadreturned from the funeral, Phillis locked up the vacant cabin. Nancy wasto be employed in the house, and sleep in the servants' wing. Then Phillisrealized that death had been there, and she remembered once more, AuntPeggy's words, "He's arter somefin, wants it, and he's gwine to have it;but it ain't me. "

There is one thing concerning death in which we are apt to be sceptical, and that is, "Does he want me?"

CHAPTER XV. 

Aunt Peggy's funeral was conducted quietly, but with that respect to thedead which is universal on Southern plantations. There was no hurry, noconfusion. Two young women remained with the corpse during the nightpreceding the burial; the servants throughout the plantation had holiday, that they might attend. At Mr. Weston's request, the clergyman of theEpiscopal church in X read the service for the dead. He addressed theservants in a solemn and appropriate manner. Mr. Weston was one of theaudience. Alice's sickness had become serious; Miss Janet and her motherwere detained with her. The negroes sung one of their favorite hymns, "Life is the time to serve the Lord, "

their fine voices blending in perfect harmony. Mr. Caldwell took for histext the 12th verse of the 2d chapter of Thessalonians, "That ye would walkworthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and his glory. "

He explained to them in the most affectionate and beautiful manner, that_they_ were called unto the kingdom and glory of Christ. He dwelt on theglories of that kingdom, as existing in the heart of the believer, incitinghim to a faithful performance of the duties of life; as in the world, promoting the happiness and welfare of all mankind, and completed inheaven, where will be the consummation of all the glorious things that thehumble believer in Jesus has enjoyed by faith, while surrounded by thetemptations and enduring the trials of the world. He told them _they_ wereall called. Christ died for all; every human being that had heard of Jesusand his atonement, was called unto salvation. He dwelt on the efficacy ofthat atonement on the solemn occasion when it was made, on the perfectpeace and reconciliation of the believer. He spoke of the will of God, which had placed them in a condition of bondage to an earthly master; whohad given them equal hope of eternal redemption with that master. Hereminded them that Christ had chosen his lot among the poor of this world;that he had refused all earthly honor and advantage. He charged them toprofit by the present occasion, to bring home to their hearts the unwelcometruth that death was inevitable. He pointed to the coffin that containedthe remains of one who had attained so great an age, as to make her anobject of wonder in the neighborhood. Yet her time had come, like a thiefin the night. There was no sickness, no sudden failing, nothing unusual inher appearance, to intimate the presence of death. God had given her a longtime of health to prepare for the great change; he had given her everyopportunity to repent, and he had called her to her account. He chargedthem to make their preparation now closing, by bringing before their mindsthat great day when the Judge of the earth would summon before him everysoul he had made. None could escape his all-piercing eye; the king and hissubject, the rich and the poor the strong and the weak, the learned and theignorant the white and the colored, the master and his slave! each torender his or her account for the deeds done in the body. 

The servants were extremely attentive, listening with breathless interestas he enlarged upon the awful events of the Judgment. Many a tear fell, many a heart throbbed, many a soul stretched forth her wings toward thekingdom and glory which had been the clergyman's theme. 

After he concluded, their attention was absorbed by the preparation toremove the body to its final resting place. The face was looked upon, thencovered; the coffin lid screwed down; strong arms lifting and bearing it tothe bier. Nancy and Isaac, her only relatives, were near the coffin, andMr. Weston and the clergyman followed them. The rest formed in longprocession. With measured step and appropriate thought they passed theircabins toward the place used for the interment of the slaves on theplantation. 

They had gone a little way, when a full, rich female voice gently broke inupon the stillness; it was Phillis's. Though the first line was sung in alow tone, every one heard it. 

 "Alas! and did my Saviour bleed!"

They joined in, following the remains of their fellow-servant, andcommemorating the sufferings of one who became as a servant, that He mightexalt all who trust in Him. 

It might be there was little hope for the dead, but not less sufficient theAtonement on Calvary, not less true that for each and all "did he devotethat sacred head;" that for pity which he felt for all, "He hung upon the tree: Amazing pity, grace unknown! And love beyond degree!"

While the voices swept through the air, a tribute of lowly hearts ascendedto God. 

They had now reached the burial ground; all was in readiness, and the mendeposited their burden in the earth. Deep and solemn thought was portrayedon every face; music had softened their feelings, and the reflectionssuggested by the hymn prepared them for kind sentiments toward the dead, though no one had loved her in life. The first hard clod that rattled onthe coffin, opened the fountain of their tears; she who had been the objectof their aversion was gone from them forever; they could not now show herany kindness. How many a heart reproached itself with a sneering word, hasty anger, and disdainful laugh. But what was she now? dust and ashes. They wept as they saw her hidden from their eyes, turning from the gravewith a better sense of their duties. 

Reader, it is well for the soul to ponder on the great mystery, Death! Isthere not a charm in it? The mystery of so many opposite memories, thestrange union of adverse ideas. The young, the old, the gay, the proud, thebeautiful, the poor, and the sorrowful. Silence, darkness, repose, happiness, woe, heaven and hell. Oh! they should come now with a startlingsolemnity upon us all, for while I write, the solemn tolling of the bellswarns me of a nation's grief; it calls to millions--its sad resonance isechoed in every heart. 

HENRY CLAY IS DEAD! Well may the words pass from lip to lip in thethronged street. The child repeats it with a dim consciousness of somegreat woe; it knows not, to its full extent, the burden of the words itutters. The youth passes along the solemn sentence; there is a throb in hisenergetic heart, for he has seen the enfeebled form of the statesman as itglided among the multitude, and has heard his voice raised for hiscountry's good; he is assured that the heart that has ceased to beat glowedwith all that was great and noble. 

The politician utters, too, the oft-repeated sound--Henry Clay is dead!Well may he bare his breast and say, for _what_ is my voice raised wherehis has been heard? Is it for my country, or for my party and myself? Menof business and mechanics in the land, they know that one who everdefended their interests is gone, and who shall take his place? Themother--tears burst from her eyes, when looking into her child's face, shesays, Henry Clay is dead! for a nation's freedom is woman's incalculableblessing. She thinks with grief and gratitude of him who never ceased tocontend for that which gives to her, social and religious rights. 

Henry Clay is dead! His body no longer animated with life; his spirit goneto God. How like a torrent thought rushes on, in swift review, of hiswonderful and glorious career. His gifted youth, what if it were attendedwith the errors that almost invariably accompany genius like his! Has he inthe wide world an enemy who can bring aught against him? Look at hispatriotism, his benevolence, his noble acts. Recall his energy, hiscalmness, his constant devotion to the interests of his country. Look, above all, at his patience, his humility, as the great scenes of life werereceding from his view, and futurity was opening before him. Hear of thechildlike submission with which he bowed to the Will that ordained for hima death-bed, protracted and painful. "Lead me, " he said to a friend, "whereI want to go, to the feet of Jesus. "

Listen to the simplicity with which he commended his body to his friends, and his spirit, through faith in Jesus Christ, to his God. Regard him inall his varied relations of Christian, patriot, statesman, husband, father, _master_, and friend, and answer if the sigh that is now rending the heartof his country is not well merited. 

Yes! reader, thoughts of death are useful to us all, whether it be by thegrave of the poor and humble, or when listening to the tolling of the bellwhich announces to all that one who was mighty in the land has beensummoned to the judgment seat of God. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Mr. Weston and Phillis returned to the sick-room from the funeral. Feverwas doing its work with the fair being, the beloved of many hearts, who wasunconscious of aught that was passing around her. There was a startlinglight from the depths of her blue eyes; their natural softness ofexpression gone. The crimson glow had flushed into a hectic; the hot breathfrom her parted lips was drying away their moisture. The rich, mournfultones of her voice echoed in sad wailing through the chambers; itconstantly and plaintively said Mother! though that mother answered in vainto its appeal. The air circulated through the room, bearing the odor of thewoods, but for her it had no reviving power; it could not stay the beatingsof her pulse, nor relieve the oppression of her panting bosom. Oh! whatbeauty was about that bed of sickness. The perfect shape of every feature, the graceful turn of the head, the luxuriant auburn hair, the contour ofher rounded limbs. There was no vacancy in her face. Alas! visions ofsorrow were passing in her mind. A sad intelligence was expressed in everyglance, but not to the objects about her. The soul, subdued by thesuffering of its tenement, was wandering afar off, perchance endeavoring todive into the future, perchance essaying to forget the past. 

What says that vision of languishing and loveliness to the old man whoseeyes are fixed in grief upon it? "Thou seest, O Christian! the uselessnessof laying up thy treasures here. Where are now the hopes of half thylifetime, where the consummation of all thy anxious plans? She who has beenlike an angel by thy side, how wearily throbs her young heart! Will sheperpetuate the name of thy race? Will she close thine eyes with her lovinghand? Will she drop upon thy breast a daughter's tear?"

What does the vision say to thee, oh! aged woman? "There is still more forthee to do, more for thee to suffer. It is not yet enough of this mortalstrife! Thou mayest again see a fair flower crushed by the rude wind ofdeath; perchance she may precede thee, to open for thine entrance theeternal gates!"

And what to thee, thou faithful servant?

"There are tears in thine eye, and for me. For me! Whom thou thoughtestabove a touch of aught that could bring sorrow or pain. Thou seest, notalone on thy doomed race rests a curse; the fierce anger of God, denouncedagainst sin--the _curse_, falls upon his dearest children. I must, likeyou, abide by God's dealing with the children of men. But we shall beredeemed. "

What to thee, oh, mother? Thou canst not read the interpretation--a cloudof darkness sweeps by thy soul's vision. Will it pass, or will it rest uponthee forever?

Yet the voice of God speaks to each one; faintly it may be to the mother, but even to her. There is a rainbow of hope in the deluge of her sorrow;she sees death in the multitude that passes her sight, but there is anotherthere, one whose form is like unto the Son of God. She remembers how Hewept over Lazarus, and raised him from the dead; oh! what comfort to placeher case in his pitying bosom!

Many were the friends who wept, and hoped, and prayed with them. Full ofgrief were the affectionate servants, but most of all, Phillis. 

It was useless to try and persuade her to take her usual rest, to remindher of her children, and her cares; to offer her the choice morsel to tempther appetite, the refreshing drink she so much required. She wanted nothingbut to weep with those who wept--nor rest, nor food, nor refreshing. 

 * * * * *

It is universal, the consideration that is shown to the servants at theSouth, as regards their times of eating and of rest. Whatever may haveoccurred, whatever fatigue the different members of the family may feelobliged to undergo, a servant is rarely called upon for extra attendance. In the Northern country the whole labor of a family is frequently performedby one female, while five or six will do the same amount of work in theSouth. A servant at the South is rarely called upon at night; only in casesof absolute necessity. Negroes are naturally sleepy-headed--they like tosit up late at night, --in winter, over a large fire, nodding and bumpingtheir heads against each other, or in summer, out of doors; but they takemany a nap before they can get courage to undress and go regularly to bed. They may be much interested in a conversation going on, but it is noviolation of their code of etiquette to smoke themselves to sleep whilelistening. Few of the most faithful servants can keep awake well enough tobe of real service in cases of sickness. There is a feeling among theirowners, that they work hard during the day and should be allowed more restthan those who are not obliged to labor. "Do not disturb servants when theyare eating, " is the frequent charge of a Southern mother, "they have not agreat many pleasures within their reach; never do any thing that willlessen their comforts in the slightest degree. " Mrs. Weston, even in herown deep sorrow, was not unmindful of others; she frequently tried toinduce Phillis to go home, knowing that she must be much fatigued. "Icannot feel tired, Phillis; a mother could not sleep with her only child asAlice is; I do not require the rest that you do. "

"You needs it more, Miss Anna, though you don't think so now. I can takecare of myself. Unless you drive me away, I shan't go until God's will bedone, for life or death. "

Miss Janet often laid down and slept for an hour or two, and returnedrefreshed to the sick chamber. Her voice retained its cheerfulness and keptMrs. Weston's heart from failing. "Hope on, Anna, " she would say, "as longas she breathes we must not give her up; how many have been thoughtentirely gone, and then revived. We must hope, and God will do the rest. "

This "hoping on" was one great cause of Cousin Janet's usefulness during along life; religion and reason alike demand it of us. Many grand and nobleactions have been done in the world, that never could have beenaccomplished without hoping on. When we become discouraged, how heavy thetask before us; it is like drooping the eyes, and feebly putting forth thehands to find the way, when all appears to us darkness; but let the eye belifted and the heart hope on, and there is found a glimmering of lightwhich enables the trembling one to penetrate the gloom. Alice's symptomshad been so violent from the first, her disease had progressed so rapidly, that her condition was almost hopeless; ere Mr. Weston thought of thepropriety of informing Arthur of her condition. The first time it occurredto him, he felt convinced that he ought not to delay. He knew that Arthurnever could be consoled, if Alice, his dearly loved, his affianced wife, should die without his having the consolation of a parting word or look. Heasked Cousin Janet her opinion. 

She recalled all that had passed previous to Alice's illness. As she lookedinto Mr. Weston's grieved and honest face, the question suggesteditself, --Is it right thus, to keep him in ignorance? She only wavered amoment. Already the traces of agitation caused by his niece's illness, werevisible in his flushed face and nervous frame; what then might be theresult of laying before him a subject in which his happiness was so nearlyconcerned? Besides, she felt convinced that even should Alice improve, thesuffering which had been one cause of her sickness, might be renewed withdouble force if suggested by Arthur's presence. 

"I know, my dear cousin, " she said, "it will be a terrible grief to Arthur, should Alice be taken from us, yet I think you had better not write. Dr. Lawton says, that a very short time must decide her case; and were theworst we fear to occur, Arthur could not reach here in time to see her withany satisfaction. If he lose her, it will probably be better for him toremember her in health and beauty. "

Mr. Weston trembled, and burst into tears. "Try and not give way, " saidMiss Janet again; "we are doing all we can. We must hope and pray. I feel agreat deal of hope. God is so merciful, he will not bring this stroke uponyou in your old age, unless it is necessary. Why do you judge for him? Heis mighty to save. 'The Lord on high, is mightier than the noise of manywaters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea. ' Think of His mercy andpower to save, and trust in Him. "

In these most trying scenes of life, how little do we sympathize with thephysician. How much oppressed he must feel, with the charge upon him. He isthe adviser--to him is left the direction of the potions which may be thehealing medicine or the deadly poison. He may select a remedy powerful tocure, he may prescribe one fatal to the invalid. How is he to draw the niceline of distinction? he must consider the disease, the constitution, theprobable causes of the attack. His reputation is at stake--hishappiness--for many eyes are turned to him, to read an opinion he may notchoose to give in words. 

If he would be like the great Healer, he thinks not only of the bodilysufferings that he is anxious to assuage, but of the immortal soul on theverge of the great Interview, deciding its eternal destiny. He trembles tothink, should he fail, it may be hurried to its account. If he be a friend, how do the ties of association add to his burden. Here is one whom he hasloved, whose voice he is accustomed to hear; shall he, through neglect ormismanagement, make a void in many hearts? Shall he, from want of skill, bring weeping and desolation to a house where health and joy have been?Alice was very dear to Dr. Lawton, she was the companion of his daughters;he had been accustomed to regard her as one of them; he was untiring in hisattendance, but from the first, had feared the result. Mrs. Weston hadconcealed nothing from him, she knew that he considered a physician boundin honour to know the affairs of a family only among themselves--she had noreserves, thus giving him every assistance in her power, in conducting thecase. She detailed to him, explicitly, all that might have contributed toproduce it. 

"You know, my dear madam, " the doctor said, "that at this season we have, even in our healthy country, severe fevers. Alice's is one of the usualnature; it could have been produced by natural causes. We cannot say, itmay be that the circumstances you have been kind enough to confide to me, have had a bad effect upon her. The effort to do right, and the fear lestshe should err, may have strained her sensitive mind. She must have feltmuch distress in parting with Walter, whom she has always loved as abrother. You have only done your duty. I should not like to see a daughterof mine interested in that young man. I fear he inherits his father'sviolent passions, yet his early training may bring the promised blessing. Alice has that sort of mind, that is always influenced by what is passingat the time; remember what a child she was when Arthur left. There are nomore broken hearts now-a-days--sometimes they bend a little, but they canbe straightened again. If Alice gets well, you need not fear the future;though you know I disapprove of cousins marrying. "

"Doctor, " said Mrs. Weston, "I know you have not given her up!"

"I never give anybody up, " said the doctor. "Who will say what God intendsto do? I trust she will struggle through. Many a storm assails the fairship on her first voyage over the seas. She may be sadly tossed about withthe wind and waves; but may breast it gallantly, and come back safe, afterall. We must do what we can, and hope for the best. " These wordsstrengthened the mother's heart to watch and hope. 

The doctor laid down to sleep for an hour or two in the afternoon. CousinJanet, Mrs. Weston, and Phillis kept their watch in silence. The lattergently fanned Alice, who lay gazing, but unconscious; now lookinginquiringly into her mother's face, now closing her eyes to every thing. There was no tossing or excitement about her, _that_ was over. Her cheekwas pale, and her eyes languid and faded. One would not have believed, tohave looked upon her, how high the fever still raged. Suddenly she repeatedthe word that had often been on her lips--"Mother. " Then, with an effort toraise herself, she sank back upon her pillow, exhausted. A sorrowful look, like death, suffused itself over her countenance. Ah! how throbbed thosehearts! Was the dreaded messenger here?

"Miss Anna, " whispered Phillis, "she is not gone, her pulse is no lower; itis the same. "

"Is it the same? are you sure?" said Mrs. Weston, who, for a few moments, had been unable to speak, or even to place her finger on the pulse. 

"It is no worse, if you'll believe me, " said Phillis; "it may be a littlebetter, but it is no worse. "

"Had I not better wake the doctor?" said Mrs. Weston, who hardly knew whatto believe. 

Miss Janet gently touched the wrist of the invalid. 

"Do not wake him, my dear; Phillis is right in saying she is no worse; itwas a fainting, which is passing away. See! she looks as usual. Give herthe medicine, it is time; and leave her quiet, the doctor may be disturbedto-night. "

The night had passed, and the morning was just visible, as symptoms of thesame nature affected the patient. Dr. Lawton had seen her very late atnight, and had requested them to awaken him should there be any change inher appearance or condition. Oh, how these anxious hearts feared and hopedthrough this night. What might it bring forth; joy or endless weeping?

This dread crisis past, and what would be the result?

"Doctor, " said Phillis, gently awaking him, "I'm sorry to disturb you. MissAlice has had another little turn, and you'd better see her. "

"How is her pulse?" said the doctor, quickly. "Is it failing?"

"'Pears to me not, sir; but you can see. "

They went to the room, and the doctor took Alice's small wrist, and lightlyfelt her pulse. Then did the mother watch his face, to see its writing. What was there?

Nothing but deep attention. The wrist was gently laid down, and thedoctor's hand passed lightly over the white arm. Softly it touched theforehead, and lay beneath the straying curl. There is no expression yet;but he takes the wrist again, and, laying one hand beneath it, he touchesthe pulse. Softly, like the first glance of moonlight on the dark waters, asmile is seen on that kind face. There is something else besides the smile. Large tears dropped from the physician's eyes; tears that he did not thinkto wipe away. He stooped towards the fragile sufferer, and gently as themorning air breathes upon the drooping violet, he kissed her brow. "Alice, sweet one, " he said, "God has given you to us again. "

Where is that mother? Has she heard those cheering words? She hears them, and is gone; gone even from the side of her only one. The soul, when thereis too much joy, longs for God. She must lay her rich burden at themercy-seat. Now, that mother kneels, but utters no word. The incense of herheart knows no language and needs none; for God requires it not. Thesacrifice of praise from a rejoicing heart, is a grateful offering that heaccepts. 

"Miss Anna, " said Phillis, with trembling voice, but beaming eye, "go tobed now; days and nights you have been up. How can you stand it? The doctorsays she is a great deal better, but she may be ill for a good while yet, and you will give out. I will stay with her if you will take a sleep. "

"Sleep;" said Mrs. Weston. "No, no, faithful Phillis not yet; joy is toonew to me. God for ever bless you for your kindness to me and my child. Youshall go home and sleep, and to-night, if she continue to do well, I willtrust her with you, and take some rest myself. "

Mr. Weston awoke to hear glad tidings. Again and again, through the longday, he repeated to himself his favorite Psalm, "Praise the Lord, oh mysoul. "

Miss Janet's joy, deep but silent, was visible in her happy countenance. Nor were these feelings confined to the family; every servant on the estatemade his master's joy his own. They sorrowed with him when he sorrowed, butnow that his drooping head was lifted up, many an honest face regarded himwith humble congratulation, as kindly received as if it had come from thehighest in the land. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Alice steadily, though slowly, improved; and Phillis again employed herselfwith her children and her work. Things had gone on very well, with one ofher daughter's constant superintendence; but Bacchus had taken advantage ofbeing less watched than usual, and had indulged a good deal, declaring tohimself that without something to keep up his spirits he should die, thinking about Miss Alice. Phillis, lynx-eyed as she always was, saw thatsuch had been the case. 

It was about a week after Alice commenced to improve, that Phillis went toher house in the evening, after having taken charge of her for severalhours, while Mrs. Weston slept. Alice was very restless at night, and Mrs. Weston generally prepared herself for it, by taking some repose previously;this prevented the necessity of any one else losing rest, which, now thatAlice was entirely out of danger, she positively refused to permit. AsPhillis went in the door, Lydia was on her knees, just finishing the littlenightly prayer that Miss Janet had taught her. She got up, and as she wasabout to go to bed, saw her mother, and bade her good night. 

"Good night, and go to bed like a good child. Miss Alice says you may cometo see her again to-morrow, " Phillis replied. 

Lydia was happy as a queen with this promise. Aunt Phillis took her pipe, and her old station outside the door, to smoke. Bacchus had his old, crazy, broken-backed chair out there already, and he was evidently resolvingsomething in his mind of great importance, for he propped the chair farback on its one leg, and appeared to be taking the altitude of themountains in the moon, an unfailing sign of a convulsion of some kind inthe inner man. 

"Phillis, " said he, after a long silence, "do you know, it is my opinionthat that old creature, " pointing with his thumb to Aunt Peggy's house, "isso long used to grumblin' and fussin', that she can't, to save her life, lie still in her grave. "

"What makes you think so?" said Phillis. 

"Bekase, I believes in my soul she's back thar this minute. "

"People that drink, Bacchus, can't expect nothin' else than to be troubledwith notions. I was in hopes Aunt Peggy's death would have made you afeeredto go on sinning. 'Stead of that, when we was all in such grief, and didn'tknow what was comin' upon us, you must go drinking. You'd better a beenpraying, I tell you. But be sure your 'sin will find you out' some day orother. The Lord above knows I pray for you many a time, when I'm hard atwork. My heart is nigh breaking when I think where the drunkards will be, when the Lord makes up his jewels. They can't enter the kingdom of Heaven;there is no place for them there. Why can't you repent? 'Spose you die in adrunken fit, how will I have the heart to work when I remember where you'vegot to; 'where the worm never dieth, and the fire is not quenched. '"

Bacchus was rather taken aback by this sudden appeal, and he moved uneasilyin his chair; but after a little reflection, and a good long look at themoon, he recovered his confidence. 

"Phillis, " said he, "do you b'lieve in sperrits?"

"No, I don't, " said Phillis, drily, "of no kind. "

Bacchus was at a loss again; but he pretended not to understand her, andgiving a hitch to his uncertain chair, he got up some courage, and said, doggedly, "Well, I do. "

"I don't, " said Phillis, positively, "of no kind. "

Bacchus was quite discomposed again, but he said in an appealing voice tohis wife, "Phillis, I couldn't stand it; when Miss Alice was so low, youwas busy, and could be a doin somethin for her; but what could I do? Here Isot all night a cryin, a thinkin about her and young master. I 'spected fortrue she was gwine to die; and my blessed grief! what would have come of usall. Master Arthur, he'd a come home, but what would be the use, and shedead and gone. Every which way I looked, I think I see Miss Alice going upto Heaven, a waving her hand good-by to us, and we all by ourselves, weepinand wailin. 'Deed, Phillis, I couldn't stand it; if I hadn't had a littlewhiskey I should a been dead and cold afore now. "

"You'll be dead and cold afore long with it, " said Phillis. 

"I couldn't do nothing but cry, Phillis, " said Bacchus, snuffing andblowing his nose; "and I thought I might be wanted for somethin, so I jesttook a small drop to keep up my strength. "

Phillis said nothing. She was rather a hard-hearted woman where whiskey wasconcerned; so she gave Bacchus no encouragement to go on excusing himself. 

"I tell you why I believes in ghosts, " said Bacchus, after a pause. "I'vesee'd one. "

"When?" said Phillis. 

"I was telling you that while Miss Alice was so ill, " said Bacchus, "I usedto set up most of de night. I don't know how I kep up, for you know niggerstakes a sight of sleep, 'specially when they aint very young, like me. Well, I thought one time about Miss Alice, but more about old Aunt Peggy. You know she used to set outside de door thar, very late o' nights. It'peared like I was 'spectin to see her lean on her stick, and come outevery minute. Well, one night I was sure I hear somethin thar. I listened, and then somethin gin a kind o' screech, sounded like de little niggerswhen Aunt Peggy used to gin 'em a lick wid her switch. Arter a while I seede curtain lifted up. I couldn't see what it was, but it lifted it up. Ihearn some more noise, and I felt so strange like, that I shut de door to, and went to bed. Well, I seed dat, and heard it for two or three nights. Iwas gettin scared I tell you; for, Phillis, there's somethin awful inthinkin of people walking out of their graves, and can't get rest eventhar. I couldn't help comin, every night, out here, 'bout twelve o'clock, for that's time sperrits, I mean ghosts, is so uneasy. One night, de verynight Miss Alice got better, I hearn de screech an de fuss, and I seed decurtain go up, and pretty soon what do you think I saw. I'm tellin' you nolie, Phillis. I seed two great, red eyes, a glarin out de winder; a glarinright at me. If you believe me, I fell down out of dis very cheer, and whenI got up, I gin one look at de winder, and thar was de red eyes glarinagin, so I fell head-foremost over de door step, tryin to get in quick, andthen when I did get in, I locked de door. My soul, wasn't I skeered. Inever looked no more. I seen nuff dat time. "

"Your head was mighty foolish, " said Phillis, "and you just thought you sawit. "

"No such thing. I saw de red eyes--Aunt Peggy's red eyes. "

"High!" said Phillis, "Aunt Peggy hadn't red eyes. "

"Not when she was 'live?" said Bacchus. "But thar's no knowin what kind ofeyes sperrits gets, 'specially when they gets where it aint verycomfortable. "

"Well, " said Phillis, "these things are above us. We've got our work to do, and the Lord he does his. I don't bother myself about ghosts. I'm trying toget to heaven, and I know I'll never get there if I don't get ready whileI'm here. Aunt Peggy aint got no power to come back, unless God sends her;and if He sends her, its for some good reason. You better come in now, andkneel down, and ask God to give you strength to do what is right. We've gotno strength but what He gives us. "

"I wish you'd pray loud to-night, " said Bacchus; "for I aint felt easy oflate, and somehow I can't pray. "

"Well, I can't do much, but I can ask God to give us grace to repent of oursins, and to serve him faithfully, " said Phillis. 

And they both kneeled down, and prayer went forth from an earnest heart;and who shall say that a more welcome offering ascended to His ear in thattime of prayer, than the humble but believing petition of the slave!

Phillis was of a most matter-of-fact disposition, and possessed, as anaccompaniment, an investigating turn of mind; so, before any one wasstirring in her cottage, she dressed herself, and took from a nail alarge-sized key, that was over the mantel-piece. She hung it to her littlefinger, and made straight for Aunt Peggy's deserted cabin. She grantedherself a search-warrant, and determined to find some clue to Bacchus'smarvellous story. Her heart did not fail her, even when she put the key inthe lock, for she was resolved as a grenadier, and she would not haveturned back if the veritable red eyes themselves had raised the cottoncurtain, and looked defiance. The lock was somewhat out of repair, requiring a little coaxing before she could get the key in, and then it wassome time before she succeeded in turning it; at last it yielded, and withone push the door flew open. 

Now Phillis, anxious as she was to have the matter cleared up, did not careto have it done so instantaneously, for hardly had she taken one step inthe house before she, in the most precipitous manner, backed two or threeout of it. 

At first she thought Aunt Peggy herself had flown at her, and she couldhardly help calling for assistance, but making a great effort to recoverher composure, she saw at a glance that it was Aunt Peggy's enormous blackcat, who not only resembled her in color, but disposition. Jupiter, forthat was the cat's name, did not make another grab, but stood with hisback raised, glaring at her, while Phillis, breathing very short, sunk intoAunt Peggy's chair and wiped the cold perspiration from her face with herapron. 

"Why, Jupiter, " said Phillis, "is this you? How on earth did I happen toforget you. Your eyes is red, to be sure, and no wonder, you poor, half-starved creature. I must a locked you up here, the day after thefuneral, and I never would a forgot you, if it hadn't been my mind was sotaken up with Miss Alice. Why, you're thin as a snake, --wait a minute andI'll bring you something to eat. "

Jupiter, who had lived exclusively on mice for a fortnight, was evidentlysubdued by the prospects of an early breakfast. The apology Phillis hadmade him seemed not to be without its effect, for when she came back, witha small tin pan of bread and milk, and a piece of bacon hanging to a fork, his back was not the least elevated, and he proceeded immediately to thehearth where the provender was deposited, and to use an inelegantWesternism, "walked into it;" Phillis meanwhile going home, perfectlysatisfied with the result of her exploration. Bacchus's toilet wascompleted, he was just raising up from the exertion of putting on hisslippers, when Phillis came in, laughing. 

This was an unusual phenomenon, so early in the morning, and Bacchus wasslightly uneasy at its portent, but he ventured to ask her what was thematter. 

"Nothing, " said Phillis, "only I've seen the ghost. "

"Lord! what?"

"The ghost!" said Phillis, "and its got red eyes, too, sure enough. "

"Phillis, " said Bacchus, appealingly, "you aint much used to jokin, and Iknow you wouldn't tell an ontruth; what do you mean?"

"I mean, " said Phillis, "that the very ghost you saw, and heardscreeching, with the red eyes glarin at you through the window, I've seenthis morning. "

"Phillis, " said Bacchus, sinking back in his chair, "'taint possible! Whatwas it a doin?"

"I can tell you what its doing now, " said Phillis, "its eating bread andmilk and a piece of bacon, as hard as it can. Its eyes is red, to be sure, but I reckon yours would be red or shut, one, if you'd a been nigh afortnight locked up in an empty house, with now and then a mouse to eat. Why, Bacchus, how come it, you forgot old Jupiter? I was too busy to thinkabout cats, but I wonder nobody else didn't think of the poor animal. "

"Sure enough, " said Bacchus, slowly recovering from his astonishment, "itsold Jupiter--why I'd a sworn on the Bible 'twas Aunt Peggy's sperrit. Well, I do b'lieve! that old cat's lived all this time; well, he aint no cat anyhow--I always said he was a witch, and now I knows it, that same oldJupiter. But, Phillis, gal, I wouldn't say nothin at all about it--we'llhave all dese low niggers laughin at us. "

"What they going to laugh at me about?" said Phillis. "I didn't see noghost. "

"Well, its all de same, " said Bacchus, "they'll laugh at me--and man andwife's one--'taint worth while to say nothin 'bout it, as I see. "

"I shan't say nothing about it as long as you keep sober; but mind, you gopitching and tumbling about, and I aint under no kind of promise to keepyour secret. And its the blessed truth, they'd laugh, sure enough, at you, if they did know it. "

And the hint had such a good effect, that after a while, it was reportedall over the plantation that Bacchus "had give up drinkin, for good andall. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

It was in answer to Arthur's letter, expressing great anxiety to hear fromhome, in consequence of so long a time having passed without his receivinghis usual letters, that Mr. Weston wrote him of Alice's illness. She wasthen convalescing, but in so feeble and nervous a condition, that Dr. Lawton advised Arthur's remaining where he was--wishing his patient to bekept even from the excitement of seeing so dear a relative. Mr. Westoninsisted upon Arthur's being contented with hearing constantly of herimprovement, both from himself and Mrs. Weston. This, Arthur consented todo; but in truth he was not aware of the extent of the danger which hadthreatened Alice's life, and supposed it to have been an ordinary fever. With what pleasure did he look forward, in his leisure moments, to the timewhen it would be his privilege always to be near her; and to induce thetedious interval to pass more rapidly, he employed himself with hisstudies, as constantly as the season would allow. He had formed a sincereattachment to Abel Johnson, whose fine talents and many high qualities madehim a delightful companion. Mr. Hubbard was a connection of youngJohnson's, and felt privileged often to intrude himself upon them. Itreally was an intrusion, for he had at present a severe attack of theAbolition fever, and he could not talk upon any other subject. This wasoften very disagreeable to Arthur and his friend, but still it became afrequent subject of their discussion, when Mr. Hubbard was present, andwhen they were alone. 

In the mean time, the warm season was passing away, and Alice did notrecover her strength as her friends wished. No place in the country couldhave been more delightful than Exeter was at that season; but still itseemed necessary to have a change of scene. September had come, and it wastoo late to make their arrangements to go to the North, and Alice added tothis a great objection to so doing. A distant relation of Mr. Weston, avery young girl, named Ellen Graham, had been sent for, in hopes that herlively society would have a good effect on Alice's unequal spirits; andafter much deliberation it was determined that the family, with theexception of Miss Janet, should pass the winter in Washington. Miss Janetcould not be induced to go to that Vanity Fair, as she called it; and ifproper arrangements for her comfort could not be made, the project wouldhave to be given up. After many proposals, each one having an unanswerabledifficulty, the old lady returned from town one day, with a very satisfiedcountenance, having persuaded Mrs. Williams, a widow, and her daughter, topass the winter at Exeter with her. Mrs. Williams was a much valued friendof the Weston family, and as no objection could be found to thisarrangement, the affair was settled. Alice, although the cause of the move, was the only person who was indifferent on the subject. Ellen Graham, youngand gay as she was, would like to have entered into any excitement thatwould make her forget the past. She fancied it would be for her happiness, could the power of memory be destroyed. She had not sufficient of theexperience of life to appreciate the old man's prayer, "Lord, keep mymemory green. "

Ellen at an early age, and an elder brother, were dependent, not forcharity, but for kindness and love, on relatives who for a long time felttheir guardianship a task. They were orphans; they bore each other companyin the many little cares of childhood; and the boy, as is not unusual insuch a case, always looked to his sister for counsel and protection, notfrom actual unkindness, but from coldness and unmerited reproof. Theynever forgot their parting with their mother--the agony with which sheheld them to her bosom, bitterly reflecting they would have no suchresting-place in the cold world, in which they were to struggle. 

Yet they were not unkindly received at their future home. Their uncle andaunt, standing on the piazza, could not without tears see the delicatechildren in their deep mourning, accompanied only by their aged andrespectable colored nurse, raise their eyes timidly, appealing to them forprotection, as hand in hand they ascended the steps. It was a large anddreary-looking mansion, and many years had passed since the pictures of thestiff looking cavalier and his smiling lady, hanging in the hall, hadlooked down upon children at home there. The echoes of their own voicesalmost alarmed the children, when, after resting from their journey, theyexplored the scenes of their future haunts. On the glass of the largewindow in the hall, were the names of a maiden and her lover, descendedfrom the cavaliers of Virginia. This writing was cut with a diamond, andthe children knew not that the writing was their parents'. The little oneswalked carefully over the polished floors; but there seemed nothing in allthey saw to tell them they were welcome. They lifted the grand piano thatmaintained its station in one of the unoccupied rooms of the house; but thekeys were yellow with age, and many of them soundless--when at last one ofthem answered to the touch of Ellen's little hand, it sent forth such aghostly cry that the two children gazed at each other, not knowing whetherto cry or to laugh. 

Children are like politicians, not easily discouraged; and Ellen's "Comeon, Willy, " showed that she, by no means, despaired of finding something toamuse them. They lingered up stairs in their own apartment, Williampointing to the moss-covered rock that lay at the foot of the garden. 

"Willy, Willy, come! here is something, " and Willy followed her through along passage into a room, lighted only by the rays that found entrancethrough a broken shutter. "Only see this, " she continued, laying her handon a crib burdened with a small mattress and pillow; "here too, " and shepointed to a little child's hat that hung over it, from which drooped threesmall plumes. "Whose can they be?"

"Come out o' here, children, " said the nurse, who had been seeking them. "Your aunt told me not to let you come into this part of the house; thiswas her nursery once, and her only child died here. "

The children followed their nurse, and ever afterward the thought of deathwas connected with that part of the house. Often as they looked in theiraunt's face they remembered the empty crib and the drooping plumes. 

Time does not always fly with youth; yet it passed along until Ellen hadattained her sixteenth year, and William his eighteenth year. Ellen sharedall her brother's studies, and their excellent tutor stored their mindswith useful information. Their uncle superintended their education, withthe determination that it should be a thorough one. William did not intendstudying a profession; his father's will allowed him to decide betweenthis, or assuming, at an early age, the care of his large estate, withsuitable advisers. 

Ellen made excellent progress in all her studies. Her aunt was anxious sheshould learn music, and wished her to go to Richmond or to Alexandria forthat purpose, but Ellen begged off; she thought of the old piano and itscracked keys, and desired not to be separated from her brother, professingher dislike to any music, but her old nurse's Methodist hymns. 

William was tall and athletic for his age, passionate when roused byharshness or injustice, but otherwise affectionate in his disposition, idolizing his sister. His uncle looked at him with surprise when he saw himassume the independence of manner, which sat well upon him; and his auntsometimes checked herself, when about to reprove him for the omission ofsome unimportant form of politeness, which in her days of youth wasessential. Ellen dwelt with delight upon the approaching time, when shewould be mistress of her brother's establishment, and as important as shelonged to be, on that account. Though she looked upon her uncle's house asa large cage, in which she had long fluttered a prisoner, she could not butfeel an affection for it; her aunt and uncle often formal, and uselesslyparticular, were always substantially kind. It was a good, though not acheerful home, and the young look for joy and gaiety, as do the flowers forbirds and sunshine. Ellen was to be a ward of her uncle's until she was ofage, but was to be permitted to reside with her brother, if she wished, from the time he assumed the management of his estate. 

The young people laid many plans for housekeeping. William had not any loveaffair in progress, and as yet his sister's image was stamped on all hisprojects for the future. 

Two years before Ellen came to Exeter, William stood under his sister'swindow, asking her what he should bring her from C----, the neighboringtown. "Don't you want some needles, " he said, "or a waist ribbon, or somecandy? make haste, Ellen; if I don't hurry, I can't come home to-night. "

"I don't want any thing, Willie; but will you be sure to return to-night? Inever sleep well when you are away. Aunt and I are going on Tuesday toC----; wait and we will stay all night then. "

"Oh, no, " said William, "I must go; but you may depend upon my being back:I always keep my promises. So good-by. "

Ellen leaned from the window, watching her handsome brother as he rode downthe avenue leading into the road He turned in his saddle, and bowed toher, just before he passed from her sight. 

"Oh, mammy, " she said to her attendant, for she had always thusaffectionately addressed her; "did you ever see any one as handsome asWillie?"

"Yes, child, " she replied, "his father was, before him. You both look likeyour father; but Master Willie favors him more than you do. Shut down thewindow, Miss Ellen, don't you feel the wind? A strong March wind aint goodfor nobody. Its bright enough overhead to-day, but the ground is mightydamp and chilly. There, you're sneezin; didn't I tell you so?"

Late in the same day Ellen was seated at the window, watching her brother'sreturn; gaily watching, until the shadows of evening were resting on hisfavorite rocks. Then she watched anxiously until the rocks could no longerbe seen; but never did he come again, though hope and expectation lingeredabout her heart until despair rested there in their place. 

William was starting on horseback, after an early dinner at the tavern inC----. As he put his foot in the stirrups, an old farmer, who had justdriven his large covered wagon to the door, called to him. 

"You going home, Mr. William?" said he. 

"Yes, I am; but why do you ask me?"

"Why, how are you going to cross Willow's Creek?" asked the old man. 

"On the bridge, " said William, laughing; "did you think I was going to jumpmy horse across?"

"No, but you can't cross the bridge, " said the farmer, "for the bridge isbroken down. "

"Why, I crossed it early this morning, " said William. 

"So did I, " said the farmer, "and, thank God, I and my team did not go downwith it. But there's been a mighty freshet above, and Willow's Creek issomething like my wife--she's an angel when she aint disturbed, but she'sthe devil himself when any thing puts her out. Now, you take my advice, andstay here to-night, or at any rate don't get yourself into danger. "

"I must go home to-night, " said William; "I have promised my sister to doso. I can ford the creek;" and he prepared again to start. 

"Stop, young man, " said the farmer, solemnly, "you mind the old saying, 'Young people think old people fools, but old people know young people arefools. ' I warn you not to try and ford that creek to-night; you might aswell put your head in a lion's mouth. Havn't I been crossing it these fiftyyears? and aint I up to all its freaks and ways? Sometimes it is as quietas a wearied baby, but now it is foaming and lashing, as a tiger afterprey. You'd better disappoint Miss Ellen for one night, than to bring awhole lifetime of trouble upon her. Don't be foolhardy, now; your horsecan't carry you safely over Willow's Creek this night. "

"Never fear, farmer, " said William. "I can take care of myself. "

"May the Lord take care of you, " said the farmer, as he followed the youth, dashing through the town on his spirited horse. "If it were not for thiswagon-load, and there are so many to be clothed and fed at home, I wouldfollow you, but I can't do it. "

William rode rapidly homeward. The noonday being long passed, the skieswere clouding over, and harsh spring winds were playing through the woods. 

William enjoyed such rides. Healthy, and fearing nothing, he was a strangerto a feeling of loneliness. Alternately singing an old air, and thenwhistling with notes as clear and musical as a flute, he at last came insight of the creek which had been so tranquil when he crossed it in themorning. There was an old house near, where lived the people who receivedthe toll. A man and his wife, with a large family of children, poorpeople's inheritance, had long made this place their home, and they wereacquainted with all the persons who were in the habit of traveling thisway. 

William, whom they saw almost daily, was a great favorite with thechildren. Not only did he pay his toll, but many a penny and sixpence tothe small folks besides, and he was accustomed to receive a welcome. 

Now the house was shut up. It had rained frequently and heavily during themonth, and the bright morning, which had tempted the children out to play, was gone, and they had gathered in the old house to amuse themselves asthey could. 

The bridge had been partly carried away by the freshet. Some of the beamswere still swinging and swaying themselves with restless motion. The creekwas swollen to a torrent. The waters dashed against its sides, in theirhaste to go their way. The wind, too, howled mournfully, and the old treesbent to and fro, nodding their stately heads, and rustling their branchesagainst each other. 

"Oh, Mr. William, is it you?" said the woman, opening the door. "Get offyour horse, and come in and rest; you can't go home to-night. "

"Yes, I can though, " said William, "I have often forded the creek, andthough I never saw it as it is now, yet I can get safely over it, I amsure. "

"Don't talk of such things, for the Lord's sake, " said Mrs. Jones. "Why, myhusband could not ford the creek now, and you're a mere boy. "

"No matter for that, " said William. "I promised my sister to be at hometo-night, and I must keep my word. See how narrow the creek is here!Good-by, I cannot wait any longer, it is getting dark. "

"Don't, try it, please don't, Mr. William, " again said Mrs. Jones. All thechildren joined her, some entreating William, others crying out at thedanger into which their favorite was rushing. 

"Why, you cowards, " cried William, "you make more noise than the creekitself. Here's something for gingerbread. " None of the children offered topick up the money which fell among them, but looked anxiously afterWilliam, to see what he was going to do. 

"Mr. William, " said Mrs. Jones, "come back; look at the water a roaring andtossing, and your horse is restless already with the noise. Don't throwyour life away; think of your sister. "

"I'm thinking of her, good Mrs. Jones. Never fear for me, " said he, lookingback at her with a smile, at the same time urging his horse toward the edgeof the creek, where there was a gradual descent from the hill. 

As Mrs. Jones had said, the horse had already become restless, he wasimpatiently moving his head, prancing and striking his hoofs against thehard ground. William restrained him, as he too quickly descended the path, and it may be the young man then hesitated, as he endeavored to check him, but it was too late. The very check rendered him more impatient; springingaside from the path he dashed himself from rock to rock. William saw hisdanger, and with a steady hand endeavored to control the frightened animal. This unequal contest was soon decided. The nearer the horse came to thewater the more he was alarmed, --at last he sprang from the rock, and he andhis rider disappeared. 

"Oh, my God!" said Mrs. Jones, "he is gone. The poor boy; and there is noone to help him. " She at first hid her eyes from the appalling scene, andthen approached the creek and screamed as she saw the horse struggling andplunging, while William manfully tried to control him. Oh! how beat herheart, as with uplifted hands, and stayed breath, she watched for theissue--it is over now. 

"Hush! hush! children, " said their mother, pale as death, whose triumph shehad just witnessed. "Oh! if your father had been here to have savedhim--but who could have saved him? None but thou, Almighty God!" and shekneeled to pray for, she knew not what. 

"Too late, too late!" yet she knelt and alternately prayed and wept. 

Again she gazed into the noisy waters--but there was nothing there, andthen calling her frightened and weeping children into the house, shedetermined to set forth alone, for assistance--for what?

 * * * * *

Oh! how long was that night to Ellen, though she believed her brotherremained at C----. She did not sleep till late, and sad the awakening. Voices in anxious whispers fell upon her ear; pale faces and weeping eyes, were everywhere around her--within, confusion; and useless effort without. Her uncle wept as for an only son; her aunt then felt how tenderly she hadloved him, who was gone forever. The farmer, who had warned him at thetavern-door, smote his breast when he heard his sad forebodings wererealized. The young and the old, the rich and the poor, assembled for daysabout the banks of the creek, with the hopes of recovering the body, butthe young rider and his horse were never seen again. Ah! Ellen was anorphan now--father, mother, and friend had he been to her, the lost one. Often did she lay her head on the kind breast of their old nurse, and prayfor death. 

As far as was in their power, her uncle and aunt soothed her in her grief. But the only real comfort at such a time, is that from Heaven, and Ellenknew not that. How could she have reposed had she felt the protection ofthe Everlasting Arms!

But time, though it does not always heal, must assuage the intensity ofgrief; the first year passed after William's death, and Ellen felt a wishfor other scenes than those where she had been accustomed to see him. Shehad now little to which she could look forward. 

Her chief amusement was in retiring to the library, and reading oldromances, with which its upper shelves were filled; this, under othercircumstances, her aunt would have forbidden, but it was a relief to seeEllen interested in any thing, and she appeared not to observe her thusemploying herself. 

So Ellen gradually returned to the old ways; she studied a little, andassisted her industrious aunt in her numerous occupations. As of old, heraunt saw her restlessness of disposition, and Ellen felt rebellious andirritable. With what an unexpected delight, then, did she receive from heraunt's hands, the letters from Mrs. Weston, inviting her to come at once toExeter, and then to accompany them to Washington. She, without anydifficulty, obtained the necessary permission, and joyfully wrote to Mrs. Weston, how gladly she would accept the kind invitation. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

There was an ancient enmity between Jupiter and Bacchus. While the formerwas always quiet when Phillis came to see his mistress during her life, Bacchus never went near him without his displaying symptoms of the greatestirritation; his back was invariably raised, and his claws spread out readyfor an attack on the slightest provocation. Phillis found it impossible toinduce the cat to remain away from Aunt Peggy's house; he would stand onthe door-step, and make the most appalling noises, fly into the windows, scratch against the panes, and if any children approached him to try andcoax him away, he would fly at them, sending them off in a disabledcondition. Phillis was obliged to go backward and forward putting him intothe house and letting him out again. This was a good deal of trouble, andhis savage mood continuing, the servants were unwilling to pass him, declaring he was a good deal worse than Aunt Peggy had ever been. Finally, a superstitious feeling got among them, that he was connected in some waywith his dead mistress, and a thousand absurd stories were raised inconsequence. Mr. Weston told Bacchus that he was so fierce that he might dosome real mischief, so that he had better be caught and drowned. Thecatching was a matter of some moment, but Phillis seduced him into a bag byputting a piece of meat inside and then dexterously catching up the bag anddrawing the string. It was impossible to hold him in, so Bacchus fastenedthe bag to the wheelbarrow, and after a good deal of difficulty, he got himdown to the river under the bridge, and threw him in. He told Phillis whenhe got home, that he felt now for the first time as if Aunt Peggy wasreally dead, and they all might hope for a little comfort. Twenty-fourhours after, however, just as the moon was rising, Bacchus was takencompletely by surprise, for Jupiter passed him with his back raised, andproceeded to the door of his old residence, commencing immediately a mostvociferous demand to be admitted. 

Bacchus was speechless for some moments, but at last made out to callPhillis, who came to the door to see what was the trouble. "Look thar, "said he, "you want to make me b'lieve that aint ole Aunt Peggy'swraith--ground can't hold her, water can't hold him--why I drowned himdeep--how you 'spose he got out of that bag?"

Phillis could not help laughing. "Well, I never did see the like--the cathas scratched through the bag and swam ashore. "

"I b'lieves you, " said Bacchus, "and if you had throw'd him into the fire, he wouldn't a got burned; but I tell you, no cat's a gwine to get thebetter of me--I'll kill Jupiter, yet. "

Phillis, not wanting the people aroused, got the key, and unlocked thedoor, Jupiter sprang in, and took up his old quarters on the hearth, wherehe was quiet for the night. In the morning she carried some bread and milkto him, and told Bacchus not to say any thing about his coming back to anyone, and that after she came home from town, where she was going onbusiness for Mrs. Weston, they would determine what they would do. ButBacchus secretly resolved to have the affair settled before Phillis shouldreturn, that the whole glory of having conquered an enemy should belong tohim. 

Phillis was going on a number of errands to L----, and she expected to bedetained all day, for she understood shopping to perfection, and she wentcharged with all sorts of commissions; besides, she had to stop to see oneor two sick old colored ladies of her acquaintance, and she told Mrs. Weston she might as well make a day of it. Thus it was quite evening whenshe got home--found every thing had been well attended to, children in bed, but Bacchus among the missing, though he had promised her he would notleave the premises until her return. 

Now, if there is a severe trial on this earth, it is for a wife (of anycolor) who rarely leaves home, --to return after a day of business andpleasure, having spent all the money she could lay her hands on, havingdined with one friend and taken a dish of tea and gossiped with another--toreturn, hoping to see every thing as she expected, and to experience thebitter disappointment of finding her husband gone out in spite of the mostsolemn asseverations to the contrary. Who could expect a woman to preserveher composure under such circumstances?

Poor Phillis! she was in such spirits as she came home. How pretty theflowers look! She thought, after all, if I am a slave, the Lord is mightygood to me. I have a comfortable home, and a good set of children, and myold man has done so much better of late--Phillis felt really happy; andwhen she went in, and delivered all her parcels to the ladies, and wascongratulated on her success in getting precisely the desired articles, herheart was as light as a feather. She thought she would go and see how allwent on at home, and then come back to the kitchen and drink a cup of goodtea, for the family had just got through with theirs. 

What a disappointment, then, to find any thing going wrong. It was not thatBacchus's society was so entirely necessary to her, but the idea of hishaving started on another spree. The fear of his being brought homesometime to her dead, came over her with unusual force, and she actuallyburst into tears. She had been so very happy a few minutes before, that shecould not, with her usual calmness, make the best of every thing. Sheforgot all about the pleasant day she had passed; lost her wish for a cupof tea; and passing even her pipe by, with a full heart she took her seatto rest at the door. For some time every thing seemed to go wrong with her. All at once she found out how tired she was. Her limbs ached, and her armhurt her, where she had carried the basket. She had a great many troubles. She had to work hard. She had more children than anybody else to botherher; and when she thought of Bacchus she felt very angry. He might as wellkill himself drinking, at once, for he was nothing but a care and disgraceto her--had always been so, and most likely would be so until they wereboth under the ground. 

But this state of mind could not last long. A little quiet, rest, andthought had a good effect. She soon began again to look at the bright sideof things, and to be ashamed of her murmuring spirit. "Sure enough he haskept very sober of late, and I can't expect him to give it up entirely, allof a sudden. I must be patient, and go on praying for him. " She thoughtwith great pity of him, and her heart being thus subdued, her mindgradually turned to other things. 

She looked at Aunt Peggy's house, and wondered if the old woman was betteroff in another world than she was in this; but she checked the forbiddenspeculation. And next she thought of Jupiter, and with this recollectioncame another remembrance of Bacchus and his antipathy both to the mistressand her cat. All at once she recalled Bacchus's determination to killJupiter, and the strange ferocity the animal evinced whenever Bacchus wentnear him; and she got up to take the key and survey the state of things atthe deserted house. There was no key to be found; and concluding some onehad been after Jupiter, she no longer delayed her intention of finding outwhat had occurred in that direction. She found the key in the door, butevery thing was silent. With some caution she opened it, rememberingJupiter's last unexpected onset; when, looking round by the dim light, sheperceived him seated opposite Aunt Peggy's big chest, evidently watchingit. On hearing the door open, though, he got up and raised his back, on thedefensive. 

Phillis, having an indefinable feeling that Bacchus was somehow or otherconnected with the said elevation, looked carefully round the room, but sawnothing. Gradually the chest lid opened a little way, and a sepulchralvoice, issuing from it, uttered in a low tone these words:

"Phillis, gal, is that you?"

The cat looked ready to spring, and the chest lid suddenly closed again. But while Phillis was recovering herself the lid was cautiously opened, andBacchus's eyes glaring through the aperture. The words were repeated. 

"Why, what on earth?" said the astonished woman: "Surely, is that you, Bacchus?"

"It is, surely, " said Bacchus; "but put that devil of a tiger out of deroom, if you don't want me to die dis minute. "

Phillis's presence always had an imposing effect upon Jupiter; and as sheopened the door to the other room, and called him in, he followed herwithout any hesitation. 

She shut him in, and then hurried back to lift up the chest lid, to releaseher better half. 

"Why, how, " said she, as Bacchus, in a most cramped condition endeavored toraise himself, "did the lid fall on you?"

"No, " groaned Bacchus. "Are you sure de middle door's shut. Let me git outo' dis place quick as possible, for since ole Peggy left, de ole boyhisself has taken up his abode here. 'Pears as if I never should gitstraight agin. "

"Why, look at your face, Bacchus, " said his wife. "Did Jupiter scratch youup that way. "

"Didn't he though? Wait till I gits out of reach of his claws, and I'lltell you about it;" and they both went out, Phillis locking the door tokeep Jupiter quiet, that night at least. After having washed the blood offhis face and hands, and surveyed himself with a dismal countenance in thelooking-glass, Bacchus proceeded to give an account of his adventure. 

After dinner he thought he would secure Jupiter, and have him effectuallydone for before Phillis came back. He mustered up all his courage, andunlocking the house, determined to catch and tie him, then decide on a modeof death that would be effectual. He had heard some officer from Mexicodescribe the use of the lasso, and it occurred to him to entrap Jupiter inthis scientific manner. But Jupiter was an old bird; he was not to becaught with chaff. Bacchus's lasso failed altogether, and very soon the catbecame so enraged that Bacchus was obliged to take a three-legged stool, and act on the defensive. He held the stool before his face, and whenJupiter made a spring at him, he dodged against him with it. Two or threeblows excited Jupiter's anger to frenzy, and after several efforts hesucceeded in clawing Bacchus's face in the most dreadful manner, so that itwas with the greatest difficulty he could clear himself. Desperate withpain and fright, he looked for some way of escape. The door was shut, andJupiter, who seemed to be preparing for another attack, was between him andit. He had but one resource, and that was to spring into Aunt Peggy's greatchest, and close the lid to protect himself from another assault. 

Occasionally, when nearly suffocated, he would raise the lid to breathe, but Jupiter immediately flew at him in such a furious manner, that he sawit would be at the risk of his life to attempt to escape, and he wasobliged to bide his time. What his meditations were upon while in thechest, would be hard to decide; but when once more protected by the shadowof his own roof, he vowed Jupiter should die, and be cut in pieces beforehe was done with him. 

Phillis went to Miss Janet, and gave her an account of the whole affair, with Bacchus's permission, and the kind old lady came to him with somehealing ointment of her own manufacture, and anointed his wounds. 

William was sent for; and the result of the discussion was, that he and hisfather should, early next morning, shoot the much dreaded cat effectually. 

This resolution was carried into effect in the following manner. Philliswent a little in advance with a large bowl of bread and milk, and enticedJupiter to the hearth. As he was very hungry, he did not perceive Williamentering with a very long gun in his hand, nor even Bacchus, his ancientenemy, with a piece of sticking-plaster down his nose and across hisforehead. 

William was quite a sportsman. He went through all the necessaryformalities. Bacchus gave the word of command in a low voice: Make ready, take aim, fire--bang, and William discharged a shower of shot intoJupiter's back and sides. He gave one spring, and all was over, Bacchuslooking on with intense delight. 

As in the case of Aunt Peggy, now that his enemy was no more, Bacchusbecame very magnanimous. He said Jupiter had been a faithful old animal, though mighty queer sometimes, and he believed the death of Aunt Peggy hadset him crazy, therefore he forgave him for the condition in which he hadput his face, and should lay him by his mistress at the burial-ground. Lydia begged an old candle-box of Miss Janet, for a coffin, and assistedher father in the other funeral arrangements. With a secret satisfactionand a solemn air, Bacchus carried off the box, followed by a number ofblack children, that Lydia had invited to the funeral. They watched Bacchuswith great attention while he completed his work, and the whole partyreturned under the impression that Aunt Peggy and Jupiter were perfectlysatisfied with the morning's transactions. 

CHAPTER XX. 

The time had come to leave home, and the Westons had but one more evening. Neither Mr. Weston nor Alice were well, and all hoped the change wouldbenefit them. They were to travel in their own carriage, and thepreparations were completed. The three ladies' maids were to go by thestage. Miss Janet had a number of things stowed away in the carriage, whichshe thought might be useful, not forgetting materials for a lunch, and alittle of her own home-made lavender, in case of a headache. The pleasureof going was very much lessened by the necessity of leaving the dear oldlady, who would not listen to their entreaties to accompany them. "You, with your smooth cheeks and bright eyes, may well think of passing a winterin Washington; but what should I do there? Why, the people would say I hadlost my senses. No, we three ladies will have a nice quiet time at Exeter, and I can go on with my quilting and patchwork. You see, Miss Alice, thatyou come back with red cheeks. The birds and the flowers will be glad tosee you again when the spring comes. "

"Ring the bell, Alice, " said Mr. Weston. "I must know how Mr. Mason'slittle boy is. I sent Mark shortly after dinner; but here he is. Well, Mark, I hope the little fellow is getting well?"

"He is _receased_, sir, " said Mark, solemnly. 

"He is what?" said Mr. Weston. "Oh! ah! he is dead--I understand you. Well, I am truly sorry for it. When did he die?"

"Early this morning, sir, " said Mark. "Have you any more orders to give, sir? for as I am to be up mighty early in the morning, I was thinking ofgoing to bed when you are done with me. "

"Nothing more, " said Mr. Weston; and Mark retired. 

"Mark, " continued Mr. Weston, "has the greatest propensity for using hardwords. His _receased_ means deceased. He was excessively angry with Bacchusthe other day for interfering with him about the horses. 'Nobody, ' said he, 'can stand that old fellow's airs. He's got so full of tomposity, that hemakes himself disagreeable to everybody. ' By _tom_posity, I suppose you allknow he meant pomposity. Bacchus is elated at the idea of going with us. Ihope I shall not have any trouble with him. "

"Oh! no, uncle, " said Alice; "he is a good old fellow, and looks soaristocratic with his gray hair and elegant bows. Ellen and I will have totake him as a beau when you are out. Aunt Phillis says, that he haspromised her not to drink a drop of any thing but water, and she seems tothink that he has been so sober lately that he will keep his word. "

"It is very doubtful, " said Mr. Weston; "but the fact is he would betroublesome with his airs and his _tomposity_ were I to leave him; so Ihave no choice. "

"Dear Alice, " said Ellen, fixing her large dark eyes on her; "how can Iever be grateful enough to you?"

"For what?" asked Alice. 

"For getting sick, and requiring change of air, which is the first cause ofmy being here on my way to the great metropolis. Whoever likes a plantationlife is welcome to it; but I am heartily sick of it. Indeed, Miss Janet, good as you are, you could not stand it at uncle's. Ten miles from aneighbor--just consider it! Uncle disapproves of campmeetings andbarbecues; and aunt is sewing from morning till night; while I am requiredto read the Spectator aloud. I have a mortal grudge against Addison. "

"But, my dear, " said Miss Janet, "you must remember you are to return toyour uncle's, and you must not learn to love the great world too much. "

"Perhaps, " said Mr. Barbour, who was much depressed at the approachingparting, "Miss Ellen may not mean to return to her uncle's. A young ladywith good looks, and a heavy purse, will be found out in Washington. Shewill just suit a great many there--clerks with small salaries, army andnavy men with expensive habits; and foreign attachés, who, being nothing intheir own country, turn our young ladies' heads when they come here. "

"So you think I am destined for no other fate than to pay afortune-hunter's debts. Thank you, Mr. Barbour!"

"The fact is, Mr. Barbour wants you himself, Ellen, and he is afraidsomebody will carry you off. He will pay us a visit this winter, I expect, "said Mrs. Weston. 

"Well, " said Ellen laughingly, "I'd rather take up with him than to go backto my old life, now that I see you are all so happy here. "

"But your aunt and uncle, " said Miss Janet, "you must not feel unkindlytoward them. "

"No, indeed, " said Ellen, "they are both good and kind in their way, butuncle is reserved, and often low-spirited. Aunt is always talking of thenecessity of self-control, and the discipline of life. She is anaccomplished teaze. Why, do you know, " continued Ellen, laughingly, as sheremoved Miss Janet's hand from her mouth, the old lady thus playfullyendeavoring to check her, "after I had accepted Mrs. Weston's kindinvitation, and mammy and I were busy packing, aunt said I must not be toosanguine, disappointments were good for young people, and that somethingmight occur which would prevent my going. I believe I should have diedoutright, if it had turned out so. "

"And so, " said Mr. Barbour, "to get rid of a dull home, you are determinedto fly in the face of fate, and are going to Washington after a husband. Ah! Miss Ellen, beware of these young men that have nothing but theirwhiskers and their epaulettes. Let me tell you of a young friend of mine, who would marry the man of her choice, in spite of the interference of herfriends, and one April morning in the honey moon they were seenbreakfasting under a persimmon tree. However, as you are a young lady offortune, you will always be sure of coffee and hot rolls; your good fatherhas made such a sensible will, that the principal never can be touched. Howmany fine fortunes would have been saved, if Southerners had taken suchprecautions long ago. You will have a fine time young ladies, you must keepan account of your conquests, and tell me of them when you come back. "

"Its only Ellen who is going in search of love adventures, Mr. Barbour, "said Alice. 

"Make yourself easy, Mr. Barbour, " said Ellen. "I mean to have a delightfultime flirting, then come back to marry you, and settle down. Mammy says Ican't help getting good, if I live near Miss Janet. "

"Well, I will wait for you, " said Mr. Barbour. "And now Alice, sing me asweet old Scotch song. Sing, ''Twas within half a mile of Edinburgh town'. "

"I can't come quite so near it as that, " said Alice, "but I will sing''Twas within a mile. '" She sang that, and then "Down the burn Davie. " ThenMiss Janet proposed 'Auld lang syne, ' in which they all joined; in singingthe chorus, Mr. Barbour, as usual, got very much excited, and Alice alittle tired, so that the music ceased and Alice took her seat by her uncleon the sofa. 

"Miss Janet, " said Mr. Barbour, "you look better than I have seen you for along time. "

"Thank you, " said Miss Janet. "Mr. Washington asked me the other day if Iwere ever going to die. I suppose, like Charles II. , I ought to apologizefor being so long in dying; but I am so comfortable and happy with myfriends, that I do not think enough of the journey I soon must take toanother world. How many comforts I have, and how many kind friends! I feelnow that we are about to be separated, that I should thank you all for yourgoodness to me, lest in the Providence of God we should not meet again. Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have, my poor thanks are mostgratefully offered. "

"Oh! Cousin Janet, " said Alice, with her eyes full of tears, "why will younot go with us; your talking so makes me dread to part with you. "

"My darling, we must all try to get to Heaven, where there are no partings. I cannot be a great while with you; remember, I am eighty-five years old. But I will not grieve you. We will, I trust, all meet here in the spring. God is here, and He is in the great city; we are all safe beneath His care. Next summer He will bring Arthur home again. "

"Partings should be as short as possible, " said Mr. Barbour. "So I mean toshake hands with everybody, and be off. Young ladies, be generous; do notcarry havoc and desolation in your train; take care of your uncle, and comeback again as soon as possible. "

He then took a friendly leave of Mr. And Mrs. Weston, and mounted his horseto return home. 

"What a nice old beau Mr. Barbour would make, " said Ellen, "with his fineteeth and clear complexion. I wonder he never married. "

"Upon my word!" said Miss Janet, "you will be wondering next, why I nevermarried. But know, Miss Ellen, that Mr. Barbour once had a romanticlove-affair--he was to have been married to a lovely girl, but death enviedhim his bride, and took her off--and he has remained true to her memory. Itwas a long time before he recovered his cheerfulness. For two years he wasthe inmate of an asylum. "

"Poor old gentleman, " said Ellen. "I do believe other people besides mehave trouble. "

"Ah! when you look around you, even in the world, which you anticipate withso much pleasure, you will see many a smiling face that tries to hide asad and aching heart; a heart that has ached more painfully than yours. "

"No, " said Ellen, looking up from the ottoman at Miss Janet's feet, whereshe was seated; and then bursting into tears. "Oh! thoughtless andfrivolous as I am, I shall never forget _him_. If you knew how I have weptand suffered, you would not wonder I longed for any change that would makeme forget. "

"Dear child, " said Miss Janet, laying her hand on that young head, "I didnot mean to reprove you. When God brings sorrow on the young, they mustbear it with resignation to his will. He delights in the happiness of hiscreatures, and it is not against his will that the young should enjoy theinnocent pleasures of life. Then go you and Alice into the world, but benot of the world, and come back to your homes strengthened to love themmore. Cousin Weston has the Bible opened, waiting for us. "

 * * * * *

In the mean time, Bacchus has received a good deal of wholesome advice fromPhillis, while she was packing his trunk, and in return, he has made hermany promises. He expresses the greatest sorrow at leaving her, declaringthat nothing but the necessity of looking after his master induces him todo so, but he is secretly anticipating a successful and eventful campaignin Washington. All the servants are distressed at the prospect of thefamily being away for so long a time; even old Wolf, the house-dog, hasrepeatedly rubbed his cold nose against Alice's hand, and looked with themost doleful expression into her beautiful face; but dogs, like theirmasters, must submit to what is decreed, and Wolf, after prayers, went offpeaceably with William to be tied up, lest he should attempt, as usual, tofollow the carriage in the morning. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

You are very much mistaken in your estimate of the character of aVirginian, if you suppose he allows himself, or his horses, to be drivenpost-haste, when there is no urgent necessity for it. It is altogetherdifferent with a Yankee; there is no enjoyment for him from the time hestarts on a journey until he reaches the end of it. He is bound to be in ahurry, for how knows he but there may be a bargain depending, and he mayreach his destination in time to whittle successfully for it. 

The Westons actually lingered by the way. There were last looks to be takenof home, and its neighborhood; there were partings to be given to manyobjects in nature, dear from association, as ancient friends. Now, the longline of blue hills stands in bold relief against the hazy sky--now, thehills fade away and are hid by thick masses of oak and evergreen. Here, thePotomac spreads her breast, a mirror to the heavens, toward its low banks, the broken clouds bending tranquilly to its surface. There, the riverturns, and its high and broken shores are covered with rich and twiningshrubbery, its branches bending from the high rocks into the water, whilethe misty hue of Indian summer deepens every tint. 

Fair Alice raises her languid head, already invigorated by the delightfulair and prospect. The slightest glow perceptible is making its way to herpale cheek, while the gay and talkative Ellen gazes awhile at the sceneryaround her, then leans back in the carriage, closes her brilliant eyes, andyields, oh! rare occurrence, to meditation. 

Two days are passed in the journey, and our party, arrived safely atWillard's, found their comfortable apartments prepared for them, and theirservants as glad of their arrival as if they had been separated a year, instead of a day. 

And now, dear reader, I do not intend discussing Washington society. Itmust be a more skilful pen than mine that can throw a sun of light uponthis chaos of fashionable life, and bring forth order and arrangement. Weare only here for relaxation and change of air, and when our invalids feeltheir good effects, we must return with them to their quiet, but notunuseful life. 

There were many preparations to be made, for our young ladies proposed toenter into the gayeties of the season. Ellen was to throw off her mourning, and her old nurse begged her and Alice "to buy a plenty of nice newclothes, for they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion. "They both agreed with her, for they were determined to be neither unnoticednor unknown among the fair ones of the Union who were congregated at thecapital. 

Do not be astonished; there is already a tinge of red beneath the brownlashes on Alice's cheek. And as for her heart, oh! that was a great dealbetter, too; for it has been found by actual experiment, that diseases ofthe heart, if treated with care, are not fatal any more than any othercomplaints. Mrs. Weston grew happier every day; and as to Alice's uncle, hehardly ever took his eyes off her, declaring that there must be somethingmarvellously strengthening in the atmosphere of our much abused city; whileAlice, hearing that Walter Lee was mixing in all the gayeties of Richmond, already began to question her attachment to him, and thinking of Arthur'slong-continued and devoted affection, trembled lest she should have castaway the love of his generous heart. 

Mr. Weston often felt the time hang heavily upon him, though he saw manyvalued friends. He would not have exchanged the life of a country gentlemanfor all the honors that politics could offer to her favorite votary; andfor the ordinary amusements which charmed Alice and Ellen, even inadvance, the time had come for him to say, "I have no pleasure in them. "But thinking of Alice's health only, and, above all, anxious that hermarriage with his son should be consummated during his lifetime, nosacrifice appeared to him too great to make. 

The weather was still delightful, and as the soirées, assemblies, andmatinées had not yet commenced, a party was formed to go to Mount Vernon. The day fixed upon was a brilliant one, in the latter part of November. Anumber of very agreeable persons boarding in the hotel were to accompanythem. Bacchus was exceedingly well pleased at the prospect. "'Deed, MissAlice, " he said, "I is anxious to see de old gentleman's grave; he was afine rider; the only man as ever I seed could beat master in de saddle. "Mark objected to his carriage and horses being used over such rough roads, so a large omnibus was engaged to carry the whole party, Mark and Bacchusgoing as outriders, and a man in a little sort of a carry-all having chargeof all the eatables, dishes, plates, &c. , which would be required. Thecompany were in good spirits, but they found traveling in the State ofVirginia was not moving over beds of roses. Where are such roads to befound? Except in crossing a corduroy road in the West, where can one hopeto be so thoroughly shaken up? I answer, nowhere! And have I not a right toinsist, for my native State, upon all that truth will permit? Am I not adaughter of the Old Dominion, a member of one of the F. F. V's? Did not mygrandfather ride races with General Washington? Did not my father wearcrape on his hat at his funeral? Let that man or woman inclined to deny methis privilege, go, as I have, in a four-horse omnibus to Mount Vernon. Lethim rock and twist over gullies and mud-holes; let him be tumbled andjostled about as I was, and I grant you he will give up the point. 

Our party jogged along. At last the old gates were in sight, and theragged little negroes stood ready to open them. Here we should begin to bepatriotic, but do not fear being troubled with a dissertation on thisworn-out subject. I will not even observe that by the very gate that wasopened for the Westons did the Father of his country enter; for it would bea reflection on the memory of that great and good man to suppose that hewould have put his horse to the useless trouble of jumping the fence, whenthere was such a natural and easy way of accomplishing his entrance. Ellen, however, declared "that she firmly believed those remarkable-lookingchildren that opened the gates, were the same that opened them forWashington; at any rate, their clothes were cut after the same pattern, ifthey were not the identical suits themselves. "

There was a gentleman from the North on the premises when they arrived. Hejoined the party, introduced himself, and gave information that he wastaking, in plaster, the house, the tomb, and other objects of interestabout the place, for the purpose of exhibiting them. He made himself bothuseful and agreeable, as he knew it was the best way of getting alongwithout trouble, and he was very talkative and goodnatured. But some, asthey approached the grave, observed that Mr. Weston, and one or two others, seemed to wish a certain quietness of deportment to evince respect for thehallowed spot, and the jest and noisy laugh were suddenly subdued. Had itbeen a magnificent building, whose proportions they were to admire anddiscuss; had a gate of fair marble stood open to admit the visitor; hadeven the flag of his country waved where he slept, they could not have feltso solemnized--but to stand before this simple building, that shelters hissarcophagus from the elements; to lean upon unadorned iron gates, whichguarded the sacred spot from intrusion; to look up and count the littlebirds' nests in the plastered roof, and the numberless hornets that havemade their homes there too; to pluck the tendrils of the wild grapes thatcluster here--this simple grandeur affected each one. He was again in lifebefore them, steadily pursuing the great work for which he was sent, andnow, reposing from his labor. 

And then they passed on to the old, empty grave. It was decaying away, yawning with its open mouth as if asking for its honored tenement. Ellengazed down and sprang in, and ere the others could recover from theirastonishment, or come forward to offer her assistance, she looked up in herbeauty from the dark spot where she was standing. 

"Let me get out alone, " said she; "I have such a prize;" and she held inher hand a bird's nest, with its three little white eggs deposited therein. 

"Oh! Ellen, " said Mrs. Weston, robbing a bird's nest. "Put it back, mydear. "

"No, indeed, Mrs. Weston, do not ask me. Think of my finding it inWashington's grave. I mean to have it put on an alabaster stand, and aglass case over it, and consider it the most sacred gem I possess. There, Uncle Bacchus, keep it for me, and don't crush the eggs. "

"I won't break 'em, Miss Ellen, " said Bacchus, whose thoughts were apt torun on "sperrits. " "I thought for certain you had see'd de old gentleman'sghost, and he had called you down in dat dark hole. But thar aint no dangerof his comin back agin, I reckon. 'Pears as if it hadn't been long since Ifollowed him to dis very grave. "

"What!" said the Northern gentleman, "were niggers allowed to attendWashington's funeral?"

"Colored people was, sir, " said Bacchus, in a dignified manner. "We aintmuch used to being called niggers, sir. We calls ourselves so sometimes, but gentlemen and ladies, sir, mostly calls us colored people, or servants. General Washington hisself, sir, always treated his servants withpoliteness. I was very well acquainted with them, and know'd all about thegeneral's ways from them. "

Mr. Weston could not but smile at the reproof Bacchus had given. He turnedand apologized to the gentleman for his servant's talkativeness, saying hewas an old and much indulged servant. 

They turned away from that empty grave. The young girls round whom so manyaffections clustered; the fond and anxious mother; the aged andaffectionate relative; the faithful and valued servant--turned away fromthat empty grave. When will stay the tumultuous beatings of their hearts?When will they sleep in the shadow of the old church? Each heart askeditself, When?

Ere they left this hallowed spot, Mr. Weston addressed a gentleman wholingered with him. This gentleman was an Abolitionist, but he acknowledgedto Mr. Weston that he had found a different state of things at the Southfrom what he expected. 

"Sir, " said he to Mr. Weston, "there is a melancholy fascination in thishollow, deserted grave. It seems to be typical of the condition in whichour country would be, should the spirit that animated Washington no longerbe among us. "

Mr. Weston smiled as he answered, "Perhaps it is good for you to be here, to stand by the grave of a slaveholder, and ask yourself 'Would I dare hereutter the calumnies that are constantly repeated by the fanatics of myparty?' On this spot, sir, the Abolitionist should commune with his ownheart, and be still. Well was it said by one of your own statesmen, 'Mydoctrines on the slavery question are those of my ancestors, modified bythemselves, as they were in an act of Confederation. In this one respectthey left society in the political condition in which they found it. Areform would have been fearful and calamitous. A political revolution withone class was morally impracticable. Consulting a wise humanity, theysubmitted to a condition in which Providence had placed them. They settledthe question in the deep foundations of the Constitution. ' Would you then, sir, destroy the fabric, by undermining the Constitution? Alas! this wouldbe the consequence, were it possible to carry out the views of theAbolition party. "

 * * * * *

The beautiful words of Harrison G. Otis, delivered in Faneuil Hall, Boston, Aug. 22d, 1835, would have been appropriate here, too. Speaking of theformation of Anti-slavery Societies, he said, "Suppose an article had beenproposed to the Congress that framed the instrument of Confederation, proposing that the Northern States should be at liberty to formAnti-slavery Associations, and deluge the South with homilies upon slavery, how would it have been received? The gentleman before me apostrophized theimage of Washington. I will follow his example, and point to the portraitof his associate, Hancock, which is pendant by its side. Let us imagine aninterview between them, in the company of friends, just after one hadsigned the commission for the other; and in ruminating on the lights andshadows of futurity, Hancock should have said, 'I congratulate my countryupon the choice she has made, and I foresee that the laurels you gained inthe field of Braddock's defeat, will be twined with those which shall beearned by you in the war of Independence; yet such are the prejudices in mypart of the Union against slavery, that although your name and services mayscreen you from opprobrium, during your life, your countrymen, whenmillions weep over your tomb, will be branded by mine as man-stealers andmurderers; and the stain of it consequently annexed to your memory. '"

But, alas! the Abolitionist will not reflect. He lives in a whirlpool, whither he has been drawn by his own rashness. What to him is the love ofcountry, or the memory of Washington? John Randolph said, "I should havebeen a French Atheist had not my mother made me kneel beside her as shefolded my little hands, and taught me to say, 'Our Father. '" Rememberthis, mothers in America; and imprint upon the fair tablet of your youngchild's heart, a reverence for the early institutions of their country, andfor the patriots who moulded them, that "God and my country" may be themotto of their lives. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

"Alice, " said Mrs. Weston, as they sat together one morning, before it wastime to dress for dinner, "if you choose, I will read to you the last partof Cousin Janet's letter. You know, my daughter, of Walter's gay course inRichmond, and it is as I always feared. There is a tendency to recklessnessand dissipation in Walter's disposition. With what a spirit of deepthankfulness you should review the last few months of your life! I havesometimes feared I was unjust to Walter. My regret at the attachment forhim which you felt at one time, became a personal dislike, which Iacknowledge, I was wrong to yield to; but I think we both acted naturally, circumstanced as we were. Dear as you are to me, I would rather see youdead than the victim of an unhappy marriage. Love is not blind, as manysay. I believe the stronger one's love is, the more palpable the errors ofits object. It was so with me, and it would be so with you. That you haveconquered this attachment is the crowning blessing of my life, even shouldyou choose never to consummate your engagement with Arthur. I will, atleast, thank God that you are not the wife of a man whose violent passions, even as a child, could not be controlled, and who is destitute of a sparkof religious principle. I will now read you what Cousin Janet says. 

 "'I have received a long letter from Mr. C. , the Episcopal clergyman in Richmond, in answer to mine, inquiring of Walter. All that I feared is true. Walter is not only gay, but dissipated. Mr. C. Says he has called to see him repeatedly, and invited him to his house, and has done all that he could to interest him in those pleasures that are innocent and ennobling; but, alas! it is difficult to lay aside the wine cup, when its intoxicating touch is familiar to the lips, and so of the other forbidden pleasures of life. To one of Walter's temperament there is two-fold danger. Walter is gambling, too, and bets high; he will, of course, be a prey to the more experienced ones, who will take advantage of his youth and generosity to rob him. For, is a professed gambler better than a common thief?

 "'It is needless for me to say, I have shed many tears over this letter. Tears are for the living, and I expect to shed them while I wear this garment of mortality. Can it be that in this case the wise Creator will visit the sins of the father upon the child? Are are all my tears and prayers to fail? I cannot think so, while He reigns in heaven in the same body with which He suffered on earth. In the very hand that holds the sceptre is the print of the nails; under the royal crown that encircles His brow, can still be traced the marks of the thorns. He is surely, then, touched with a feeling of our infirmities, and He will in the end, bring home this child of my love and my adoption. I often say to myself, could I see Alice and Arthur and Walter happy, how happy should I be! I would be more than willing to depart; but there would be still a care for something in this worn-out and withered frame. It will be far better to be with Jesus, but He will keep me here as long as He has any thing for me to do. The dear girls! I am glad they are enjoying themselves, but I long to see them again. I hope they will not be carried away by the gay life they are leading. I shall be glad when they are at their home duties again. 

 "'It will be well with Arthur and Alice; you know old maids are always the best informed on other people's love affairs. When Arthur left home Alice felt only a sisterly affection for him; when Walter went away it was really no more for him either, but her kind heart grieved when she saw him so situated: and sympathy, you know, is akin to love. She must remember now the importance that attaches itself to an engagement of marriage, and not give Arthur any more rivals. She was off her guard before, as her feeling an affection for Arthur was considered rather too much a matter of course; but she cannot fail at some future day to return his devoted affection. In the mean time, the young people are both, I trust, doing well. Arthur, so long in another section of his own dear country, will be less apt to be unduly prejudiced in favor of his own; and Alice will only mingle in the gay world enough to see the vanity of its enjoyments. She will thus be prepared to perform with fidelity the duties that belong to her position as the wife of a country gentleman. No wonder that my spectacles are dim and my old eyes aching after this long letter. Love to dear Cousin Weston, to the girls, to yourself, and all the servants. 

 "'From COUSIN JANET. '

 "'Phillis says she has not enough to do to keep her employed. She has not been well this winter; her old cough has returned, and she is thinner than I ever saw her. Dr. L. Has been to see her several times, and he is anxious for her to take care of herself. She bids me say to Bacchus that if he have broken his promise, she hopes he will be endowed with strength from above to keep it better in future. How much can we all learn from good Phillis!'"

Alice made no observation as her mother folded the letter and laid it onher dressing table; but there lay not now on the altar of her heart a sparkof affection for one, who for a time, she believed to be so passionatelybeloved. The fire of that love had indeed gone out, but there had lingeredamong its embers the form and color of its coals--these might have beenrekindled, but that was past forever. The rude but kind candor thatconveyed to her the knowledge of Walter's unworthiness had dissolved itsvery shape; the image was displaced from its shrine. Walter was indeedstill beloved, but it was the affection of a pure sister for an erringbrother; it was only to one to whom her soul in its confiding trust andvirtue could look up, that she might accord that trusting devotion andreverence a woman feels for the chosen companion of her life. 

And this, I hear you say, my reader, is the awakening of a love dream sopowerful as to undermine the health of the sleeper--so dark as to cast aterror and a gloom upon many who loved her; it is even so in life, andwould you have it otherwise? Do you commend that morbid affection whichclings to its object not only through sorrow, but sin? through sorrow--butnot in sin. Nor is it possible for a pure-minded woman to love unworthilyand continue pure. 

This Alice felt, and she came forth from her struggle stronger and moreholy; prizing above all earthly things the friends who had thus cleared forher her pathway, and turning with a sister's love, which was all indeed shehad ever known, to that one who, far away, would yet win with hisunchanging affection her heart to his own. 

Walter Lee's case was an illustration of the fact that many young men areled into dissipation simply from the want of proper occupation. There wasin him no love of vice for itself; but disappointed in securing Alice'sconsent to his addresses, and feeling self-condemned in the effort to winher affections from Arthur, he sought forgetfulness in dissipation andexcitement. He fancied he would find happiness in the ball-room, thetheatre, the midnight revel, and at the gambling table. Have you not met inthe changing society of a large city, one whose refined and gentle mannerstold of the society of a mother, a sister, or of some female friend whosememory, like an angel's wing, was still hovering around him? Have you notpitied him when you reflected that he was alone, far away from such goodinfluences? Have you not longed to say to him, I wish I could be to youwhat _she_ has been, and warn you of the rocks and quicksands against whichyou may be shipwrecked. 

There were many who felt thus towards Walter; his strikingly handsome faceand figure, his grace and intelligence, with a slight reserve that gave acharm to his manner. To few was his history familiar; the world knew of hisname, and to the world he was an object of importance, for gold stamps itsowner with a letter of credit through life. 

Walter launched into every extravagance that presented itself. He wasflattered, and invited to balls and parties; smiles met him at every step, and the allurements of the world dazzled him, as they had many a previousvictim. Sometimes, the thought of Alice in her purity and truth passed likea sunbeam over his heart; but its light was soon gone. She was not for him;and why should he not seek, as others had done, to drown all care? Then thethought of Cousin Janet, good and holy Cousin Janet, with her Bible in herhand, and its sacred precepts on her lips, would weigh like a mountain onhis soul; but he had staked all for pleasure, and he could not lose therace. 

It is not pleasant to go down, step after step, to the dark dungeon ofvice. We will not follow Walter to the revel, nor the gaming-table. We willclose our ears to the blasphemous oaths of his companions, to theimprecations on his own lips. The career of folly and of sin was destinedto be closed; and rather would we draw a veil over its every scene. Step bystep, he trod the path of sin, until at last, urged by worldly and falsefriends to a quarrel, commenced on the slightest grounds, he challenged onewho had really never offended him; the challenge was accepted, andthen--Walter Lee was a murderer! He gazed upon the youthful, noblecountenance; he felt again and again the quiet pulse, weeping when he sawthe useless efforts to bring back life. 

He was a murderer, in the sight of God and man! for he had been taught thatHe who gave life, alone had the power to take it away. He knew that Godwould require of him his brother's blood. He knew, too, that though thefalse code of honor in society would acquit him, yet he would be branded, even as Cain. He could see the finger of scorn pointed towards him; hecould hear men, good men, say, "There is Walter Lee, who killed a man in aduel!"

Ah! Cousin Janet, not in vain were your earnest teachings. Not in vain hadyou sung by his pillow, in boyhood, of Jesus, who loved all, even hisenemies. Not in vain had you planted the good seed in the ground, andwatered it. Not in vain are you now kneeling by your bedside, imploring Godnot to forsake forever the child of your prayers. Go to your rest in peace, for God will yet bring him home, after all his wanderings; for Walter Lee, far away, is waking and restless; oppressed with horror at his crime, flying from law and justice, flying from the terrors of a burdenedconscience--he is a murderer!

Like Cain, he is a wanderer. He gazes into the depths of the dark sea he iscrossing; but there is no answering abyss in his heart, where he can losethe memory of his deed. He cannot count the wretched nights of watching, and of thought. Time brings no relief, change no solace. When the soul inits flight to eternity turns away from God, how droop her wings! She has nostar to guide her upward course; but she wanders through a strange land, where all is darkness and grief. 

He traversed many a beautiful country; he witnessed scenes of grandeur; hestood before the works of genius and of art; he listened to music, sweetlike angels' songs; but has he peace? Young reader, there is no peacewithout God. Now in this world, there is many a brow bending beneath theweight of its flowers. Could we trace the stories written on many hearts, how would they tell of sorrow! How many would say, in the crowded and noisyrevel, "I have come here to forget; but memory will never die!"

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Alice and Ellen, accompanied by Mrs. Weston, and some gentlemen from theirsection of the country, were to attend a private ball, expected to be oneof the most brilliant of the season. Mr. Weston, not feeling well, retiredearly, preferring to listen to the young ladies' account of the evening, after his breakfast and newspaper the next morning. When they were ready togo, they came into Mr. Weston's parlor, to obtain his commendation on theirtaste. Mrs. Weston was there awaiting them; and her own appearance was toostriking to be passed over without notice. She was still really a handsomewoman, and her beauty was greatly enhanced by her excellent taste in dress. Her arms, still round and white, were not uncovered. The rich lace sleeves, and the scarf of the same material that was thrown over her handsome neckand shoulders, was far more becoming than if she had assumed the bare armsand neck which was appropriate to her daughter. Her thick dark hair wassimply put back from her temples, as she always wore it, contrastingbeautifully with the delicate white flowers there. Her brocade silk, fitting closely to her still graceful figure, and the magnificent diamondpin that she wore in her bosom; the perfect fitness of every part of herapparel gave a dignity and beauty to her appearance, that might haveinduced many a gay lady who mixes, winter after winter, in the amusementsof our city, to go and do likewise. When youth is gone forever, it isbetter to glide gracefully into middle age; and if half the time andthought that is expended on the choice of gay colors and costly material, were passed in properly arranging what is suitable to age and appearance, the fashionable assemblies of the present day would not afford suchspectacles, as cannot fail both to pain and amuse. 

Mr. Weston turned to the door as it opened, expecting the girls to enter;and a little impatient, too, as it was already half-past ten o'clock. Thegentlemen had been punctual to their appointed hour of ten, but declaredthat three quarters of an hour was an unusually short time to be keptwaiting by ladies. Ellen came first, her tall but well-proportioned figurearrayed in a rose-colored silk of the most costly material. She wore anecklace and bracelet of pearl, and a string of the same encircled herbeautifully-arranged hair. The rich color that mantled in her cheeksdeepened still more, as she acknowledged the salutation of the gentlemen;but Alice, who entered immediately after her, went at once to her uncle, and putting her hand in his, looked the inquiry, "Are you pleased with me?"No wonder the old man held her hand for a moment, deprived of the power ofanswering her. She stood before him glowing with health again, the corallips parted with a smile, awaiting some word of approval. The deep-blueeyes, the ivory skin, the delicately-flushed cheeks, the oval face, theauburn curls that fell over brow and temple, and hung over the rounded andbeautiful shoulders; the perfect arm, displayed in its full beauty by theshort plain sleeve; the simple dress of white; the whole figure, so fairand interesting, with no ornaments to dim its youthful charms; but oneflower, a lily, drooping over her bosom. The tears gathered in his largeeyes, and drawing her gently towards him, he kissed her lips. "Alice, mybeloved, " he said, "sweetest of God's earthly gifts, you cannot be alwaysas fair and young as you are now; but may God keep your heart as pure andchildlike, until he take you to the Heaven which is your destiny. " Beforeany one could reply, he had bowed to the rest of the company and left theroom; and even Alice, accustomed as she was to his partial affection, feltsolemnized at the unusual earnestness with which he had addressed her; butMrs. Weston hurried them off to the scene of fashion and splendor whichthey had been anticipating. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Weston was about to retire, when Bacchus suddenly entered the room, preceded by a slight knock. He was very much excited, and evidently hadinformation of great importance to communicate. 

"Master, " said he, without waiting to get breath, "they're all got took. "

"What is the matter, Bacchus?"

"Nothing, sir, only they're all cotched, every mother's son of 'em. "

"Of whom are you speaking?"

"Of them poor misguided niggers, sir, de Abolitioners got away; but they'reall cotched now, and I'm sorry 'nuff for 'em. Some's gwine to be sold, andsome's gwine to be put in jail; and they're all in the worst kind oftrouble. "

"Well, Bacchus, it serves them right; they knew they were not free, andthat it was their duty to work in the condition in which God had placedthem. They have nobody to blame but themselves. "

"'Deed they is--'scuse me for contradictin you--but there's them as is toblame a heap. Them Abolitioners, sir, is the cause of it. They wouldn't letthe poor devils rest until they 'duced them to go off. They 'lowed, theywould get 'em off, and no danger of their being took agin. They had theimperance, sir, to 'suade those poor deluded niggers that they were bornfree, when they knowed they were born slaves. I hadn't no idea, sir, theywas sich liars; but I've been up to de place whar the servants is, and itsheart-breaking to hear 'em talk. Thar's Simon, that strapping big youngman, as drives Mrs. Seymour's carriage; they got him off. He's a crying upthar, like a baby a month old. He's been a hidin and a dodgin for aweek--he's nigh starved. And now he's cotched, and gwine to be sold. He's araal spilt nigger: his master dressed him like a gentleman, and he hadnothin to do all day but to drive de carriage; and he told me hisself, whenhe was out late at night wid de young ladies, at parties, he never was wokein de mornin, but was 'lowed to sleep it out, and had a good hot breakfastwhen he did wake. Well, they got him off. They made out he'd go to thegreat Norrurd, and set up a trade, or be a gentleman, may be; and like asnot they told him he stood a good chance of being President one of desedays. They got him off from his good home, and now he's done for. He'sgwine to be sold South to-morrow. He's a beggin young Mr. Seymour up tharnot to sell him, and makin promises, but its no use; he's goin South. I binhearin every word he said to his young master. 'Oh, Master George, ' sayshe, 'let me off dis time. I didn't want to go till the Abolitioners told meyou had no right to me, kase God had made me free; and you, they said, wasno better than a thief, keepin me a slave agin natur and the Bible too. '"

"'But, Simon, ' said young Mr. Seymour, 'you stole a suit of my new clotheswhen you went off; and you got money, too, from Mrs. Barrett, saying I hadsent you for it. How came you to do that?'

"'I will 'fess it all, sir, ' said Simon, 'and God knows I'm speakin truth. I took de suit of clothes. The Abolitioner, he said I'd be a gentleman whenI got North, and I must have somethin ready to put on, to look like one. Sohe said you'd always had the use of me, and twasn't no harm for me to takede suit, for I was 'titled to it for my sarvices. He axed me if any bodyowed my mistis money, as I know'd of. I told him, yes, Mrs. Barrett did, and mistis often sent me after it without any order, for she know'd I'dbring it straight to her. Now, my boy, said the Abolitioner, dis money isyourn--its your wages. You've got a better right to it than ever yourmistis had. You can't start on a journey without money; so you go to dislady and tell her you was sent for money by your mistis, and you keep demoney for your own use. Here's de money, ' said he, 'Master George, take itto mistis, and tell her de truth. '

"'Damn the rascals, ' says young Mr. Seymour, 'they're not content withman-stealing, but they're stealing money and clothes, and every thing theycan lay their hands upon. So much for your Abolition friends, Simon, ' sayshe. 'I wish you joy of them. They've brought you to a pretty pass, and lostyou as good a home as ever a servant had. '

"'Oh, master, ' said Simon, 'won't you take me back? Indeed I will befaithful. '

"'Can't trust you, Simon, ' said Mr. Seymour; 'besides, none of yourfellow-servants want you back. You have no relations. My mother bought you, when you was a little boy, because she knew your mother; and after she diedyou were knocked about by the other servants. My sister taught you how toread the Bible, and you have been a member of the Methodist church. If youwas a poor ignorant fellow, that didn't know what was right, I would takeyou back; but you've done this wid your eyes open. Our servants say theywants no runaways to live 'long o' them. Now, if you can get any of yourAbolition friends to buy you, and take you North, and make a gentleman ofyou, I'll sell you to them; but they wouldn't give a fip to keep you fromstarving. I am sorry its so, but I can't take you back. ' He said these verywords, sir. He felt mighty bad, sir; he talked husky, but he went out. Simon called after him, but he didn't even look back; so I know Simon'sgoin for true. "

"I am really sorry for the servants, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, "but theywon't take warning. I'm told that since Abolitionists have come to live inWashington, and have been going among the colored people, that it is almostimpossible to employ an honest servant; it is on this account that theIrish are so much employed. Some years ago the families had no trouble withtheir domestics, but Abolition has ruined them. What a wretched lookingclass they are, too! lazy and dirty; these are the consequences of takingbad advice. "

"Well, master, " said Bacchus, "I wish to de Lord we could take 'em all toVirginny, and give 'em a good coat of tar and feathers; thar's all themfeathers poor Aunt Peggy had in them barrels. We aint got no call for 'emat home. I wish we could put 'em to some use. I wouldn't like no better funthan to spread de tar on neat, and den stick de feathers on close andthick. "

"Well, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, "its near bedtime, and I am not well; soI will retire. "

"Certainly, master; you must 'scuse me, I'm afeard I've kep you up; I feltmightily for them poor creaturs, thar. Lor', master, I aint nigh so weaklyas you, and think I nussed you, and used to toat you on my back when youwas a little boy. You was mighty fat, I tell you--I used to think my backwould bust, sometimes, but I'm pretty strong yet. 'Pears like I could toatyou now, if I was to try. "

"Not to-night, thank you, Bacchus. Though if any thing should occur to makeit necessary, I will call you, " said Mr. Weston. 

Bacchus slept in a kind of closet bedroom off his master's, and he went inaccordingly, but after a few moments returned, finding Mr. Weston in bed. 

"Will you have any thing, sir?"

"Nothing, to-night. "

"Well, master, I was thinkin to say one thing more, and 'tis, if deseAbolitioners, dat has so much larnin, if they only had some of the Biblelarnin my wife has, how much good 'twould do 'em. My wife says, 'God puther here a slave, and she's a gwine to wait for Him to set her free; if heaint ready to do so till he calls her to Heaven, she's willin to wait. 'Lord, sir, my wife, she sets at de feet of Jesus, and larns her Bible. Ireckon de Abolitioners aint willin to do that; they don't want to get solow down; 'pears as if they aint willin to go about doin good like Jesusdid, but they must be puttin up poor slaves to sin and sorrow. Well, they've got to go to their account, any how. "

Bacchus finally retired, but it was with difficulty he composed himself tosleep. He was still mentally discussing that great subject, Abolition, which, like a mighty tempest, was shaking the whole country. All at once itoccurred to him "that it wouldn't do no good to worry about it, " so hesettled himself to sleep. A bright idea crossed his mind as he closed hiseyes upon the embers that were fading on the hearth in his master's room;in another moment he was reposing, in utter oblivion of all things, whetherconcerning his own affairs or those of the world in general. 

The next morning, just as Mr. Weston had finished his paper, Bacchus camein with a pair of boots, shining astonishingly. "I believe, " said Mr. Weston, "I won't put them on yet, our ladies have not come down tobreakfast, and its hardly time, for it is but half-past nine o'clock; Ithink it must have been morning when they came home. "

"Yes sir, " said Bacchus; "they aint awake yet, Aunt Marthy tells me. "

"Well, let them sleep. I have breakfasted, and I will sit here and enjoythis good fire, until they come. "

Bacchus lingered, and looked as if he could not enjoy any thing thatmorning. 

"Any thing the matter, Bacchus?" said Mr. Weston. 

"Well, " said Bacchus, "nothin more I 'spose than what I had a right toexpect of 'em. Simon's got to go. I done all I could for him, but it aintnothin, after all. "

"What could you do?" said Mr. Weston. 

"Well, master, I was nigh asleep last night, when all at once I thought'bout dis here Abolition gentleman, Mr. Baker, that boards long wid us. Now, thinks I, he is a mighty nice kind of man, talks a heap 'bout God andthe Gospel, and 'bout our duty to our fellow-creaturs. I know'd he had asight of money, for his white servant told me he was a great man in Boston, had a grand house thar, his wife rode in elegant carriages, and hischildren has the best of every thing. So, I says to myself, he aint likethe rest of 'em, he don't approve of stealing, and lying, and the like o'that; if he thinks the Southern gentlemen oughter set all their niggersfree, why he oughter be willin to lose just a little for one man; so I wentstraight to his room to ask him to buy Simon. "

"That was very wrong, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, sternly. "Don't you knowyour duty better than to be interfering in the concerns of these people? Iam excessively mortified. What will this gentleman think of me?"

"Nothin', master, " said Bacchus. "Don't be oneasy. I told him I come to axhim a favor on my own 'sponsibility, and that you didn't know nothin' aboutit. Well, he axed me if I wanted a chaw of tobacco. 'No sir, ' says I, 'butI wants to ax a little advice. ' 'I will give you that with pleasure, ' sayshe. 

"'Mr. Baker, ' says I, 'I understands you think God made us all, white andcolored, free and equal; and I knows you feels great pity for de poorslaves that toils and frets in de sun, all their lives like beasts, andlays down and dies like beasts, clean forgot like 'em too. I heard you sayso to a gentleman at de door; I thought it was mighty kind of you toconsider so much 'bout them of a different color from your own. I heard yousay it was de duty of de gentlemen of de South to set their slaves free, if it did make 'em poor, kase Jesus Christ, he made hisself poor to set usall free. Warn't dat what you said, sir?'

"'Exactly, ' says he. 'I didn't know you had such a good memory. '

"'Now, Mr. Baker, ' says I, 'you're a Christian yourself, or you couldn'ttalk dat way. I know Christians must like to make other people happy;they're bound to, for their Master, Christ, did. Well, sir, all de poorcreturs dat de Abolitionists got off is cotched--they're gwine to be sold, and thar's one young man thar, that had a good home and a good mistis, andhim they 'suaded off, and now he's gwine to be sold South, whar he'll toiland sweat in de hot sun. Now, Mr. Baker, if de Southern gentlemen's duty'sso plain to you, that they oughter make themselves poor, to make theirslaves free and happy, surely you'll buy this one poor man who is frettin'hisself to death. It won't make you poor to buy jist this one; his mastersays he'll sell him to any Abolitioner who'll take him to the greatNorrurd, and have him teached. Buy him, sir, for de Lord's sake--de poorfellow will be so happy; jist spend a little of your money to make dat onepoor cretur happy. God gave it all to you, sir, and he aint gave none to depoor slaves, not even gave him his freedom. You set dis one poor fellerfree, and when you come to die, it will make you feel so good to thinkabout it; when you come to judgment, maybe Christ may say, "You made dispoor man free, and now you may come into de kingdom and set down wid meforever. " Oh! sir, ' says I, 'buy him, de Lord will pay you back, you won'tlose a copper by him. '"

"Well, " said Mr. Weston, "what did he say?"

"Why, sir, " said Bacchus, "he got up and stood by de fire, and warmedhisself, and says he, 'Ole felur, if I'd a had de teaching of you, I'd alarned you to mind your own business. I'll let you know I didn't come toWashington to buy niggers. ' 'Here, ' says he, to dat white nigger thatwaits on him, 'Next time dis feller wants me, tell him to go 'bout hisbusiness. '

"'Good mornin' sir, ' says I, 'I shan't trouble you agin. May de Lord sendbetter friends to de slaves than de like of you. '"

"Well, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, "you did very wrong, and I hope you willnot again take such a liberty with any person. You see for yourself what anAbolitionist is. I wish those poor runaways had had some such experience, it would have saved them from the trouble they are now in. "

"Yes, indeed, master. I've been down thar agin, to-day. I went right early;thar's an ole woman thar that tried to run away. She's gwine too, and sheleaves her husband here. She aint a cryin, though, her heart's too full fortears. Oh! master, " said Bacchus, sighing deeply, "I think if you'd seedher, you'd do more than the Abolitioners. "

 * * * * *

In the afternoon Mr. Weston usually walked out. He did not dine with theladies at their late hour, as his complaint, dyspepsia, made it necessaryfor him to live lightly and regularly. Bacchus attended him in his walks, and many a person turned back to look upon the fine-looking old gentlemanwith his gold-headed cane, and his servant, whose appearance was asagreeable as his own. Bacchus was constantly on the lookout for his master, but he managed to see all that was going on too, and to make manycriticisms on the appearance and conduct of those he met in his rambles. 

Bacchus followed his master, and found that he was wending his steps to theplace where the arrested runaways were confined. This was very agreeable tohim, for his heart was quite softened towards the poor prisoners, and hehad an idea that his master's very presence might carry a blessing withit. "Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston, as they were going in, "you need not pointout the servants to me. I will observe for myself, and I do not wish to beconspicuous. "

There were a great many lounging about, and looking round there. Some wereconsidering the scene as merely curious; some were blaming the slaves; sometheir masters, some the Abolitionists. There was confusion and constantgoing in and out. But though the countenances of the runaways expresseddifferent emotions, it was evident that one feeling had settled in eachbreast, and that was, there was no hope that any thing would occur torelieve them from their undesirable position. 

Mr. Weston easily recognized Simon, from Bacchus's description. He had aboyish expression of disappointment and irritation on his countenance, andhad evidently been recently weeping. There were several men, one or two ofthem with bad faces, and one, a light mulatto, had a fine open countenance, and appeared to be making an effort not to show his excessivedisappointment. In the corner sat the woman, on a low bench--her head wasbent forward on her lap, and she was swaying her body slightly, keepingmotion with her foot. 

"What is the woman's name, Bacchus?" asked Mr. Weston in a low tone. 

"I axed her dis mornin, sir. Its Sarah--Sarah Mills. "

Mr. Weston walked up nearer to her, and was regarding her, when shesuddenly looked up into his face. Finding herself observed, she made aneffort to look unconcerned, but it did not succeed, for she burst intotears. 

"I'm sorry to see you here, Sarah, " said Mr. Weston, "you look toorespectable to be in such a situation. " Sarah smoothed down her apron, butdid not reply. "What induced you to run away? You need not be afraid toanswer me truthfully. I will not do you any harm. "

"My blessed grief!" said Bacchus. "No, master couldn't do no harm to aflea. "

"Hush, Bacchus, " said Mr. Weston. 

There was something in Mr. Weston's appearance that could not be mistaken. The woman gave him a look of perfect confidence, and said--

"I thought I could better myself, sir. "

"In what respect? Had you an unkind master?" said Mr. Weston. 

"No, " said the woman, "but my husband I was afear'd might be sold, and Ithought I could make so much money at the North, that I could soon help himto buy himself. He's a barber, sir, lives on the Avenue, and his master, when he was young, had him taught the barber's trade. Well, his master toldhim some time ago that he might live to himself, and pay him so much amonth out o' what he made, but seemed as if he couldn't get along to do it. My husband, sir, drinks a good deal, and he couldn't do it on that account;so, a year or two ago his master sent for him, and told him that he wasworthless, and unless he could buy himself in three years he would sellhim. He said he might have himself for five hundred dollars, and he couldhave earned it, if he hadn't loved whiskey so, but 'pears as if he can't dowithout that. We aint got no children, thank God! so when the Abolitionistsadvised me to go off, and told me they would take care of me until I gotout of my master's reach, and I could soon make a sight of money to buy myhusband, I thought I would go; and you see, sir, what's come of it. "

Sarah tried to assume the same look of unconcern, and again she weptbitterly. 

"I don't mean to reproach you, now that you are in trouble, " said Mr. Weston, "but you colored people in this city have got into bad hands. Godhas made you slaves, and you should be willing to abide by his will, especially if he give you a good master. "

"Yes, sir, it was mighty hard though, to think of my poor husband's beingsold, --he and I don't belong to the same person. "

"So, I suppose, " said Mr. Weston; "but you have only made your conditionworse. "

"Yes, sir; but I didn't think things would turn out so. The Abolitionistssaid they would see that I got off free. "

"They ought to be cotched, and tied up, and have a good whaling besides, "said Bacchus, indignantly. 

"'Taint no use wishin 'em harm, " said Sarah; "the Lord's will be done, " atthe same time her pale lips quivered with emotion. 

Mr. Weston paused a few moments in deep thought, then went into the otherroom. When he returned, she was sitting as when he first entered, her faceburied in her lap. 

"Sarah, " he said, and she looked up as before, without any doubt, in hisopen countenance, "are you a good worker?"

"I am, at washin and ironin. I have been makin a good deal for my masterthat way. "

"Well, " said Mr. Weston, "if I were to purchase you, so as you could benear your husband, would you conduct yourself properly; and if I wish it, endeavor to repay me what I have given for you?"

Such a thought had not entered the despairing woman's mind. She wasimpressed with the idea that she should never see her husband again; otherthings did not effect her. It was necessary, therefore, for Mr. Weston torepeat what he had said before she comprehended his meaning. When she heardand understood, every energy of her soul was aroused. Starting from herseat, she clasped her hands convulsively together; her face becamedeathlike with agitation. 

"Would I, sir? Oh! try me! Work! what is work if I could be near my poorhusband as long as I can. Buy me, sir, only for Jesus' sake, buy me. I willwork day and night to pay you, and the blessing of God Almighty will payyou too, better than any money I could earn. "

Bacchus, the tears rolling down his cheeks, looked earnestly at hismaster's face. 

"Buy her, master, buy her, for the love of God, " he said. 

"Sarah, " said Mr. Weston, "I do not like to be in a public place; do not, therefore, become excited, and say any thing that will draw observation tome. I have bought you, and I will not require you to repay me. Come to meto-night, at Willard's, and I will give you your free papers; I will seealso what I can do for your husband. In the mean time, Bacchus will helpyou take your things from this place. Stay here though a few moments, untilhe gets me a carriage to go home in, and he will return to you. "

Sarah perfectly understood that Mr. Weston wanted no thanks at that time. With streaming eyes, now raised to heaven--now to her benefactor, she heldher peace. Mr. Weston gladly left the dreadful place. Bacchus assisted himto a hack, and then came back to fulfil his directions as regards thewoman. 

Oh! noble heart, not here thy reward! Thy weak and trembling frame atteststoo well that the scene is too trying to afford thee pleasure. TheAll-seeing Eye is bent upon thee, and thine own ear will hear thecommendation from the lips of Christ: "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto theleast of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me. " Nor thou alone! Manya generous act is done by the slaveholder to the slave. God will rememberthem, though here they be forgotten or unknown. 

We need not dwell on the unhoped-for meeting between Sarah and her husband, nor on Bacchus's description of it to his master. It suffices to close therelation of this incident by saying, that at night Sarah came to receivedirections from Mr. Weston; but in their place he gave her the necessaryfree papers. "You are your own mistress, now, Sarah, " said he. "I hope youwill prove yourself worthy to be so. You can assist your husband to pay forhimself. If you are honest and industrious, you cannot fail to do well. "

Sarah's heart overflowed with unlooked-for happiness. She thanked Mr. Weston over and over again, until, fearing to be troublesome, she withdrew. Bacchus went as far as the corner, and promised to look in upon herself andhusband, repeatedly; which he did. He impressed his new acquaintances witha proper sense of his own importance. With the exception of one grand spreethat he and Sarah's husband had together, the three enjoyed a very pleasantand harmonious intercourse during the remainder of the Westons' stay atWashington. 

 * * * * *

The gay winter had passed, and spring had replaced it; but night afternight saw the votaries of fashion assembled, though many of them lookedrather the worse for wear. Ellen and Alice tired of scenes which varied solittle, yet having no regular employment, they hardly knew how to cease theround of amusements that occupied them. Ellen said, "Never mind, Alice, wewill have plenty of time for repentance, and we might as well quaff to thelast drop the cup of pleasure, which may never be offered to our lipsagain. " Very soon they were to return to Virginia, and now they proposedvisiting places of interest in the neighborhood of the city. 

One morning, after a gay party, and at a later hour than usual, the threeladies entered the breakfast-room. Mr. Weston was waiting for them. "Well, young ladies, " he said, "I have read my paper, and now I am ready to hearyou give an account of your last evening's triumphs. The winter's campaignis closing; every little skirmish is then of the greatest importance. Howdo you all feel?"

"I do not know how I feel, uncle, " said Alice, languidly. 

"Alice has expressed my feelings exactly, and Mrs. Weston's too, I fancy, "said Ellen. 

Mr. Weston smiled, but said he should not excuse them from their promise ofgiving him a faithful description of the scene. 

"Well, my dear sir, " said Ellen, "I have a decided talent for description;but remember, Mrs. Weston, my genius must not be cramped. Do not break thethread of my discourse by 'Ellen, do not talk so!' A Washington party iswhat you have called it, Mr. Weston, a skirmish. You remember how the windblew last night. When we reached Mr. ----'s front door, the people hadcollected in such crowds in the hall, to get a little air, that it wasfully ten minutes before we could get in. We had the benefit of a strongharsh breeze playing about our undefended necks and shoulders. As soon aswe were fairly in, though, we were recompensed for our sufferings in thisrespect. We went from the arctic to the torrid zone; it was like an Augustday at two o'clock. 

"We tried to make our way to the lady of the house, but understood, after along search, that she had been pushed by the crowd to the third story; andbeing a very fat person, was seen, at the last accounts, seated in arocking-chair, fanning herself violently, and calling in vain forice-cream. After a while we reached the dancing-room, where, in a veryconfined circle, a number were waltzing and Polka-ing. As this is aforbidden dance to Alice and me, we had a fine opportunity of taking notes. Mrs. S. Was making a great exhibition of herself; she puffed and blew as ifshe had the asthma; her ringlets streamed, and her flounces flew. I wasimmensely anxious for the little lieutenant her partner. He was invisibleseveral times; lost in the ringlets and the flounces. There were people ofall sizes and ages dancing for a wager. I thought of what our good bishoponce said: 'It was very pretty to see the young lambs gambolling about;but when the old sheep began to caper too, he'd rather not look on. ' Therewas poor old Mr. K. , with his red face and his white hair, and his heelsflying in every direction. (I am ashamed of you for laughing at Mr. K. , Mrs. Weston, when I am trying to impress upon Alice's mind the folly ofsuch a scene. ) I dare say Mr. K. 's wife was at that very moment, fivehundred miles off, darning her children's stockings. 

"All the people did not dance the Polka, " continued Ellen; "and I wasdazzled with the pretty faces, and the wise-looking heads. Mr. Webster wasthere, with his deep voice, and solemn brow, and cavernous eyes; and closeup to him, where she could not move or breathe, there was a young face, beautiful and innocent as a cherub's, looking with unfeigned astonishmentupon the scene. There was Gen. Scott, towering above everybody; and Mr. Douglass, edging his way, looking kindly and pleasantly at every one. Therewere artists and courtiers; soldiers and sailors; foolish men, beautifulwomen, and sensible women; though I do not know what they wanted there. There were specimens of every kind in this menagerie of men and women. DearMr. Weston, I have not quite done. There was a lady writer, with a fadedpink scarf, and some old artificial flowers in her hair. There was _a sheAbolitionist too_; yes, a genuine female Abolitionist. She writes for theAbolition papers. She considers Southerners heathens; looks pityingly atthe waiters as they hand her ice-cream. She wants Frederick Douglass to bethe next President, and advocates amalgamation. I am quite out of breath;but I must tell you that I looked at her and thought Uncle Bacchus wouldjust suit her, with his airs and graces; but I do not think she is stylishenough for him. "

"But, my dear, " said Mrs. Weston, "you forget Bacchus has a wife and twelvechildren. "

"That is not of the least consequence, my dear madam, " said Ellen; "I canimagine, when a woman approves of amalgamation, she is so lost to everysense of propriety that it makes no difference to her whether a man ismarried or not. Now, Alice, I resign my post; and if you have any thing tosay I will give you the chair, while I run up to my room and write aunt agood long letter. "

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"The afternoon is so delightful, " said Mr. Weston, "that we had better takeour ride to the Congress burial ground. Your time is short, young ladies;you cannot afford to lose any of it, if all your plans are to be carriedout. "

The ladies gladly agreed to go, and were not long in their preparation. Mark was a perfect prince of a driver. When the ladies had occasion to gointo the country, he entreated them to hire a carriage, but he was alwaysready to display his handsome equipage and horses in the city, especiallyon the Avenue. 

He drove slowly this afternoon, and Mrs. Weston remembered, as sheapproached Harper's, that she had one or two purchases to make. Fearing itmight be late on their return, she proposed getting out for a few moments. 

A stream of gayly-dressed people crowded the pavements. The exquisiteweather had drawn them out. Belles with their ringlets and sun-shades, andbeaux with canes and curled moustaches. Irish women in tawdry finery, and_ladies_ of color with every variety of ornament, and ridiculous imitationof fashion. Now and then a respectable-looking negro would pass, turningout of the way, instead of jostling along. 

"Truly, " said Mr. Weston, "Pennsylvania Avenue is the great bazaar ofAmerica. Here are senators and members--three and four walking arm in arm. Here are gay young men, dressed in the latest style; here is the army andnavy button; old people and young children with their nurses; foreignersand natives; people of every shade and hue. There is our President, walkingunattended, as a republican president should walk. And see! there are anumber of Indians, noble-looking men, and a white boy throwing a stone atthem. I wish I had the young rascal. On our right, in their carriages, arethe wives and children of the rich; while, scattered about, right and left, are the representatives of the poor. But what is this, coming along theside-walk?"

The girls put their heads out of the window, and saw a colored man, sauntering along in an impudent, dont-carish manner. His dress--indeed hiswhole appearance--was absurd. He wore a stylish, shiny black hat; the rimslightly turned up in front, following the direction of the wearer's nose, which had "set its affections on things above. " His whiskers were immense;so were his moustaches, and that other hairy trimming which it is thefashion to wear about the jaws and chin; and for which I know no bettername than that which the children give--goatee; a tremendous shirt collar;brass studs in his bosom; a neck handkerchief of many colors, the ends ofwhich stood out like the extended wings of a butterfly; a gorgeous watchchain; white kid gloves; pantaloons of a large-sized plaid, and fitting sovery tightly that it was with the greatest difficulty he could put out hisfeet; patent leather gaiter-boots, and a cane that he flourished right andleft with such determined strokes, that the children kept carefully out ofhis way. Several persons looked back to wonder and laugh at this strangefigure, the drollery of which was greatly enhanced by his limber style ofwalking, and a certain expression of the whole outer man, which said, "Whosays I am not as good as anybody on this avenue; Mr. Fillmore, or any oneelse?"

Now it happened, that walking from the other direction toward thisrepresentative of the much-injured colored race, was a stranger, who hadcome to Washington to look about him. He was from Philadelphia, but notthinking a great deal of what he saw in our capital on a former visit, hehad quite made up his mind that there was nothing to make it worth hiswhile to come again; but hearing of the convalescing turn the city hadtaken since the immortal supporters of the Compromise and the FugitiveSlave law had brought comparative harmony and peace, where there had beennought but disorder and confusion, he suddenly fancied to come and see forhimself. He was not an Abolitionist, nor a Secessionist, nor one of thoseunfortunate, restless people, who are forever stirring up old difficulties. He had an idea that the Union ought to be preserved in the first place; andthen, whatever else could be done to advance the interests of the humanrace in general, without injury to our national interests, should beattended to. He was always a good-tempered man, and was particularlypleasant this afternoon, having on an entire new suit of clothes, eacharticle, even the shirt-collar, fitting in the most faultless manner. 

As he walked along, he noticed the colored man advancing towards him, andobserved, too, what I forgot to mention, that he held a cigar, and everynow and then put it to his mouth, emitting afterwards a perfect cloud ofsmoke. 

The thought occurred to him that the man did not intend to turn out of theway for anybody, and as they were in a line, he determined not to deviateone way or the other, but just observe what this favorite of fashion woulddo. They walked on, and in a minute came up to each other, the colored mannot giving way in the least, but bumping, hat, goatee, cane, cigar, andall, against our Philadelphian, who, with the greatest coolness andpresence of mind, doubled up his fist and giving the colored Adonis twoblows with it, (precisely on the middle brass stud which confined hisfrilled shirt-bosom, ) laid him full length upon the pavement. 

"Now, " said the Philadelphian, "you've had a lesson; the next time you seea gentleman coming along, turn out of the way for him, and you'll save yournew clothes. " Without another glance at the discomfited beau, who wasbrushing his plaid pantaloons with his pocket-handkerchief, and mutteringsome equivocal language that would not do here, he went on his way to seethe improvements about the City Hall. 

Mark's low laugh was heard from the driver's seat, and Bacchus, who waswaiting to open the carriage door for Mr. Weston, stood on the first step, and touching his hat, said, with a broad grin, "Dat's de best thing we'veseen sence we come to Washington. Dat beats Ole Virginny. "

Mrs. Weston came from the store at the same moment, and Bacchus gallantlylet down the steps, and, after securing the door, took his place besideMark, with the agility of a boy of sixteen. 

Mr. Weston, much amused, described the scene. Mrs. Weston declared "itserved him right; for that the negroes were getting intolerable. "

"I can hardly believe, " she said, "the change that has been made in theirappearance and conduct. They think, to obtain respect they must beimpertinent. This is the effect of Abolition. "

"Yes, " said Mr. Weston, "this is Abolition. I have thought a great deal onthe condition of the negroes in our country, of late. I would like to seeevery man and woman that God has made, free, could it be accomplished totheir advantage. I see the evils of slavery, it is sometimes a curse on themaster as well as the slave. 

"When I purchased Sarah; when I saw those grieving, throbbing souls, myown was overwhelmed with sympathy for them. This is slavery, I said tomyself. Poor creatures, though you have done wrong, how severe yourpunishment; to be separated from all that your life has had to make itpleasant, or even tolerable. This is slavery indeed, and where is the man, come from God, who will show us a remedy? I look at the free blacks of theNorth and South. I say again, this is Abolition! How worthless, howdegraded they are, after they imbibe these ridiculous notions. When Ibehold the Southern country, and am convinced that it is _impossible_ tomanumit the slaves, I conclude that here, at least, they are in theirnatural condition. Heretofore, I feel that I have only done my duty inretaining mine, while I give them every means of comfort, and innocentenjoyment, that is in my power. Now I have seen the result of the Abolitionefforts, I am _more_ convinced that my duty has been, and will be, as Ihave said. Could they be colonized from Virginia, I would willingly consentto it, as in our climate, white labor would answer; but _farther_ South, _only the negro_ can labor, and this is an unanswerable objection to ourSouthern States becoming free. Those servants that are free, the benevolentand generous Abolitionists ought to take North, build them colleges, andmake good to them all the promises they held out as baits to allure themfrom their owners and their duties. "

Mr. Weston found he had not two very attentive listeners in the youngladies, for they were returning the many salutations they received, andmaking remarks on their numerous acquaintances. The carriage began slowlyto ascend Capitol Hill, and they all remarked the beautiful prospect, towhich Washingtonians are so much accustomed that they are too apt not tonotice it. Their ride was delightful. It was one of those lovely springdays when the air is still fresh and balmy, and the promise of a summer'ssun lights up nature so joyfully. 

There were many visitors at the burial-ground, and there had been severalfunerals that day. A woman stood at the door of the house, at the entranceof the cemetery, with a baby in her arms; and another child of two yearsold was playing around a large bier, that had been left there until itshould be wanted again. 

Mrs. Weston met with an acquaintance, soon after they entered the ground, and they stopped to converse, while Mr. Weston and the younger ladieswalked on. Near a large vault they stopped a moment, surprised to see twoor three little boys playing at marbles. They were ruddy, healthy-lookingboys, marking out places in the gravel path for the game; shooting, laughing, and winning, and so much occupied that if death himself had comealong on his pale horse, they would have asked him to wait a while tillthey could let him pass, if indeed they had seen him at all. Mr. Westontried to address them several times, but they could not attend to him untilthe game was completed, when one of them sprang upon the vault and began tocount over his marbles, and the others sat down on a low monument to rest. 

"Boys, " said Mr. Weston, "I am very sorry to see you playing marbles in aburial-ground. Don't you see all these graves around you?"

"We don't go on the dead people, " said an honest-faced little fellow. "Yousee the grass is wet there; we play here in the walk, where its nice anddry. "

"But you ought to play outside, " said Mr. Weston. "This is too sacred aplace to be made the scene of your amusements. "

"We don't hurt any body, " said the largest boy. "When people are dead theydon't hear nothin; where's the harm?"

"Well, " said Mr. Weston, "there's one thing certain, none of you have anyfriends buried here. If you had, you would not treat them so unkindly. "

"My mother is buried over yonder, " said the boy on the vault; "and if Ithought there was any thing unkind in it, I would never come here to playagain. "

"You are a good boy, " said Mr. Weston. "I hope you will keep your word. Ifyou were buried there, I am sure your mother would be very sad and quiet byyour grave. "

The boy drew the string to his bag, and walked off without looking back. 

"I wish, " said Mr. Weston, "you would all follow his example. We shouldalways be respectful in our conduct, when we are in a burial-ground. "

As soon as they were gone, the boys laughed and marked out another game. 

Mrs. Weston joined her party, and they went towards the new portion of thecemetery that is so beautifully situated, near the river. 

"I think, " said Mr. Weston, "this scene should remind us of ourconversation this morning. If Washington be the meeting-place of allliving, it is the grand cemetery of the dead. Look around us here! We seemonuments to Senators and Members; graves of foreigners and strangers;names of the great, the rich, the powerful, men of genius and ambition. Strewed along are the poor, the lowly, the unlearned, the infant, and thelittle child. 

"Read the inscriptions--death has come at last, watched and waited for; orhe has come suddenly, unexpected, and undesired. There lies an author, abride, a statesman, side by side. A little farther off is that simple, butbeautiful monument. "

They approached, and Alice read the line that was inscribed around a crosssculptured in it, "Other refuge have I none!" Underneath was her name, "Angeline. "

"How beautiful, how much more so in its simplicity than if it had beenornamented, and a labored epitaph written upon it, " said Mr. Weston. "Heretoo are members of families, assembled in one great family. As we walkalong, we pass mothers, and husbands, and children; but in life, they wholie here together, were possibly all strangers. "

"What is that large vault open to-day for?" said Ellen, to a man who seemedto have some charge in the place. 

"That is the public receptacle, " said the man. "We are obliged to air itvery often, else we could never go in and out with the coffins we putthere. There's a good many in there now. "

"Who is there?" said Mr. Weston. 

"Well, " said the man, "Mrs. Madison is there, for one, and there are someother people, who are going to be moved soon. Mrs. Madison, she's going tobe moved, too, some time or another, but I don't know when. "

Ellen stooped down and looked in, but arose quickly and turned away. Twogentlemen were standing near observing her, and one of them smiled as shestepped back from the vault. Mr. Weston knew this person by sight; he was aclergyman of great talent, and almost equal eccentricity, and often gaveoffence by harshness of manner, when he was only anxious to do good to thecause in which his heart was absorbed. 

"Ah! young ladies, " he said, looking kindly at them both, "this is a goodplace for you to come to. You are both beautiful, and it may be wealthy;and I doubt not, in the enjoyments of the passing season, you haveforgotten all about death and the grave. But, look you! in there, lies themortal remains of Mrs. Madison. What an influence she had in this gaysociety, which you have doubtless adorned. Her presence was the guaranteeof propriety, as well as of social and fashionable enjoyment; the verycontrast that she presented to her husband made her more charming. Alwaysanxious to please, she was constantly making others happy. She gaveassistance and encouragement to all, when it was in her power. She had morepolitical influence than any woman in our country has had, before or since. But think of her now! You could not bear to approach the coffin thatcontains her remains. Where is her beauty--and her grace and talent? Ah!young ladies, " he continued, "did she rightly use those talents?"

"It is hardly a fair question to ask now, " said Mr. Weston. "Let us treadlightly o'er the ashes of the dead. "

"Let the living learn a lesson from the dead, " said the clergyman, sternly. "You are leading, it may be, a heartless life of pleasure, but, youngladies, forget not this grave. She could not escape it, nor will you. Pausefrom your balls, and your theatres, and your gay doings, and ask, what isthe end of it all. Trifle not with the inestimable gift of life. Be notdead while you live. Anticipate not the great destroyer. Hear the appeal ofone who was once the idol of every heart; she speaks to you from the grave, 'Even as I am, shalt thou be!'"

He turned from them, and wandered over the ground. Mr. Weston led the wayto the carriage, and Ellen and Alice thought, that if a lesson of life wasto be learned in the gay ball of the night before, a still more necessaryone was found in the cemetery which they were now leaving, as the shadowsof the evening were on the simple monument and the sculptured slab, andtheir silent tenants slept on, undisturbed by the gambols of thoughtlesschildren, or the conversation of the many who came to visit their abode. 

 * * * * *

The next morning, Bacchus brought no letter for Mr. Weston, but one foreach lady; for Ellen from her aunt, for Alice from Arthur, and CousinJanet's handwriting was easily recognized on the outside of Mrs. Weston's. Hardly had the girls arisen from the table to take theirs' to their roomsfor a quiet perusal, when an exclamation from Mrs. Weston, detained them. 

"Is anything the matter at home, Anna?" said Mr. Weston, "Is CousinJanet--?"

"Cousin Janet is well, my dear brother, " said Mrs. Weston. "I was verythoughtless, but our dear neighbor, Mrs. Kent, is no more. "

"Can it be possible?" said Mr. Weston, much agitated. "Read the letteraloud. "

Mrs. Weston, turned to the beginning, and read aloud, "MY DEAR ANNA:

 "The time is near which will bring you all in health and happiness, I trust, to your home; and could you see how lovely it looks, I think you would be tempted to fix upon an earlier day. You see how selfish I am, but I confess that I quite count the days, as a child does to Christmas, and am ashamed of my impatience. 

 "Throughout the winter I had no care. My kind friends did all the housekeeping, and the servants in the house, and on the plantation, were so faithful, that I feel indebted to all who have made my time so easy; and your absence has not, I am sure, been attended with any ill effects, without you find me a little cross and complaining, and Mr. Barbour out of his senses with joy, on your return. Good Mr. Barbour! he has superintended and encouraged the servants, and visited us forlorn ladies frequently, so that he must come in for a portion of our thanks too. 

 "You will perhaps think I ought only to write you cheerful news, but it is best to let you know as well as I can, the condition that you will find us in, on your return. Phillis is the only one of us, whose concerns are of any immediate importance, but I am sorry to have to tell you that she is now seriously indisposed. Her cough has never really yielded--her other symptoms have varied; but for the last few weeks, her disease has not only progressed, but assumed a certain form. She is in consumption, and has no doubt inherited the disease from her mother. 

 "I have, throughout the winter, felt great anxiety about her, and have not permitted her to work, though sometimes I found it hard to prevent her. Her children have been constantly with her; indeed, I have passed a great deal of my own time in her cabin, which, under Martha's superintendence, is so neat and comfortable. 

 "You will all perhaps blame me that I have not been thus plain with you before, but Dr. Lawton said it was not necessary, as she has never been in any immediate danger, and Phillis would not consent to my doing so. She wanted you to enjoy yourselves, and Alice to have a good chance to regain her health. 'No doubt, Miss Janet, ' she said, 'the Lord will spare me to see them yet, and I have every thing I want now--they couldn't stop my pains any more than you, and I feel that I am in the Lord's hands, and I am content to be. ' She has not been confined to her bed, but is fast losing strength, though from my window now I see her tying up her roses, that are beginning to bud. Some other hand than hers will care for them when another Spring shall come. 

 "Her nights are very restless, and she is much exhausted from constant spitting of blood; the last week of pleasant weather has been of service to her, and the prospect of seeing you all at home gives her the most unfeigned pleasure. 

 "I have even more painful intelligence to give you. Our young neighbor, Mrs. Kent, has done with all her trials, and I trust they sanctified her, in preparation for the early and unexpected death which has been her lot. You are not yet aware of the extent of her trials. A fortnight ago her little boy was attacked with scarlet fever, in its most violent form. From the first moment of his illness his case was hopeless, and he only suffered twenty-four hours. I went over as soon as I heard of his death; the poor mother's condition was really pitiable. She was helpless in her sorrow, which was so unexpected as to deprive her at first of the power of reason. The Good Shepherd though, had not forgotten her--he told her that he had taken her little lamb, and had gently folded it in his bosom, and that he would wander with it in the lovely pastures of Paradise. She was soon perfectly reconciled to the sad dispensation; sad indeed, for the child was her only earthly solace. Victim of an unhappy marriage, the dear engaging little boy was a great consolation to her, and his amusement and instruction occupied her mind, and passed away happily many a weary hour. 

 "She insisted upon attending the funeral, and I accompanied her. Mr. Kent was with her, too, much distressed, for this hard man loved his child, and keenly felt his loss. 

 "She got out of the carriage to hear the funeral service read, and was calm until they took up the coffin to lower it into the grave. Then it was impossible to control her. Placing her arms upon it, she looked around appealingly to the men; and so affected were they, that they turned from her to wipe away their own tears. Her strength gave way under the excitement, and she was carried, insensible, to the carriage, and taken home. 

 "I found her very feverish, and did not like to leave her, thinking it probable that she might also have the disease which had carried off her child. Before night she became really ill, and Dr. Lawton pronounced her complaint scarlet fever. The disease was fearfully rapid, and soon ended her life. She was, I think, well prepared to go. Her solemn and affectionate farewell to her husband cannot fail to make an impression upon him. 

 "I shall have a great deal to tell you of her when you return. The past winter has been a sad one; a constant coolness existing between her and her husband. A short time ago he was brutally striking that faithful old man of her father's, Robert, and Mrs. Kent interfered, insisting upon Robert's returning to his cabin, and in his presence forbidding Mr. Kent again to raise his hand against one servant on the plantation; Mr. Carter's will, allowing Mr. Kent no authority over his servants, and commending them to his daughter's kindness and care, showed great discrimination of character. This, though, has been a constant source of irritation to Mr. Kent, and he has never been kind to the people. Mrs. Kent, usually so timid, was roused into anger by his treatment of Robert, and interfered, as I have related to you. She told me of this, and said how unhappy it had made her, though she could not blame herself. Since then there has only been a formal politeness between them; Mr. Kent not forgiving his wife for the part she took against him. Poor little woman! Robert had been her father's faithful nurse in his long illness, and I do not wonder at her feelings on seeing him struck. 

 "Yesterday the will was read, and Dr. Lawton, who was present, informed us of the result. Mrs. Kent has left most of her property to her husband, but her servants free! The plantation is to be sold, and the proceeds expended in preparing those who are willing to go to Liberia, or where they choose; as they cannot, manumitted, remain in Virginia. The older servants, who prefer staying in Virginia as they are, she has left to you, with an allowance for their support, considering you as a kind of guardian; for in no other way could she have provided for their staying here, which they will like better. 

 "Who would have thought she could have made so wise a will?

 "Dr. Lawton says that Mr. Kent showed extreme anger on hearing it read. He intends returning to the North, and his $30, 000 will be a clear gain, for I am told he had not a cent when he married her. 

 "Write me when you have fixed the time for your return, and believe me, with love to all, "Your affectionate relative, JANET WILMER. "

Bacchus entered in time to hear the latter part of this letter. He had hismaster's boots in his hands. When Mrs. Weston stopped reading, he said, "That's good; bound for Mister Kent. I'm glad he's gwine, like Judas, tohis own place. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

The carriage was slowly ascending the road to the old church, a familiarand dear object to each member of the Weston family. A village churchyardfills up so gradually, that one is not startled with a sudden change. Mr. Weston looked from the window at the ivy, and the gothic windows, and thefamily vault, where many of his name reposed. 

The inmates of the carriage had been conversing cheerfully, but as theyapproached the point where they would see home, each one was occupied withhis or her musings. Occasionally, a pleasant word was exchanged, on theappearance of the well-known neighborhood, the balmy air, and the manyshades of green that the trees presented; some of them loaded with whiteand pink blossoms, promising still better things when the season shouldadvance. 

Alice leaned from the window, watching for the first glimpse of thewell-remembered house. She greeted every tree they passed with a livelylook, and smiled gaily as the porter's lodge presented itself. The gates ofit flew open as the carriage approached, and Exeter in its beauty met theirview. "Oh, uncle, " she said, turning from the window, "look! look! Is thereany place in the world like this?"

"No, indeed, Alice;" and he took a survey of the home which had been soblessed to him. "How beautiful every thing looks! and how we will enjoy it, after a crowded, noisy hotel. Anna, you are not sorry to see its familiarface again. Ellen, my darling, we have not forgotten you--Exeter is yourhome, too; you are as welcome as any of us. Why, you look sober; notregretting Washington already?"

"No sir, " said Ellen, "I was thinking of other things. "

"Well, " said Mrs. Weston, "we must look very happy this evening. I wonder, Ellen, Mr. Barbour has not met us. "

"I suppose, " said Alice, laughing, "he is too much agitated at the thoughtof meeting Ellen again--he will be over this evening, I dare say. "

"I am sorry I can't keep my word with Mr. Barbour, " said Ellen, "but I haveconcluded to marry Abel Johnson, on Arthur's recommendation, and I oughtnot to give good Mr. Barbour any false expectations. "

"You must know, dear uncle, " said Alice, "that Ellen and Arthur have beencarrying on a postscript correspondence in my letters, and Arthur hasturned matchmaker, and has been recommending Abel Johnson to Ellen. Theyhave fallen in love with each other, without having met, and that was thereason Ellen was so hard-hearted last winter. "

"Ah! that is the reason. But you must take care of these Yankee husbands, Miss Ellen, if Mr. Kent be a specimen, " said Mrs. Weston. 

"I am quite sure, " said Alice, "Arthur would not have such a friend. "

Mr. Weston smiled, and looked out again at home. They were rapidlyapproaching the gates, and a crowd of little darkies were holding them openon each side. "I wish Arthur were here, " said he. "How long he has beenaway! I associate him with every object about the place. "

Alice did not answer; Arthur was in her thoughts. This was his home, everyobject with which she was surrounded breathed of him. She had thought of itas her home, but she had no right here--she was really only a guest. Thethought was new and painful to her. Could the whole of her past existencehave been dreamed away?--had she indeed no claim to the place she lovedbest on earth--was she dependant on the will of others for all the gay andjoyous emotions that a few moments before filled her breast? She thoughtagain of Arthur, of his handsome appearance, his good and generous heart, his talents, and his unchanging love to her--of Walter, and of all withwhich he had had to contend in the springtime of his life. Of his faults, his sin, and his banishment; of his love to her, too, and the delusionunder which she had labored, of her returning it. Arthur would, ere long, know it all, and though he might forgive, her proud spirit rebelled at theidea that he would also blame. 

She looked at her uncle, whose happy face was fixed on the home of hisyouth and his old age--a sense of his protecting care and affection cameover her. What might the short summer bring? His displeasure, too--thenthere would be no more for her, but to leave Exeter with all its happiness. 

Poor child! for, at nearly nineteen, Alice was only a child. Thepossibility overpowered her, she leant against her uncle's bosom, and weptsuddenly and violently. 

"Alice, what is the matter?" said her mother. "Are you ill?"

"What _is_ the matter?" said her uncle, putting his arm around her, andlooking alarmed. 

"Nothing at all, " said Alice, trying to control herself. "I was onlythinking of all your goodness to me, and how I love you. "

"Is that all, " said Mr. Weston, pressing her more closely to his bosom. "Why, the sight of home has turned your little head. Come, dry up yourtears, for my old eyes can distinguish the hall door, and the servantsabout the house collecting to meet us. "

"I can see dear Cousin Janet, standing within--how happy she will be, " saidMrs. Weston. 

"Well, " said Ellen, "I hope Abel will make a fuss over me, for nobody elseever has. "

"If you are to be married, " said Alice, smiling through her tears, "youmust have his name changed, or always call him Mr. Johnson. "

"Never, " said Ellen. "I have a perfect passion for the name of Abel. Therewas a picture in my room of Abel lying down, and Cain standing, holding theclub over him. Whenever I got into a passion when I was a child, mammy usedto take me to the picture and say, 'Look there, honey, if you don't learnhow to get the better of your temper, one of these days you will get in apassion like Cain and kill somebody. Just look at him, how ugly heis--because he's in such a rage. ' But I always looked at Abel, who was somuch prettier. I have no doubt Abel Johnson looks just as he does in thepicture. "

They were about to pass through the gates leading to the grounds; some ofthe servants approached the carriage, and respectfully bowing, said, 'Welcome home, master, ' but passed on without waiting to have thesalutation returned. Mrs. Weston guessed the cause of there not being ageneral outbreak on the occasion of their return. Miss Janet had spoken toa number of the servants, telling them how unable Mr. Weston was to bearany excitement, and that he would take the earliest opportunity of seeingthem all at their cabins. As he was much attached to them and might feel agood deal at the meeting after so long a separation, it would be better notto give him a noisy welcome. 

She had, however, excepted the children in this prohibition, for Miss Janethad one excellent principle in the management of children, she neverforbade them doing what she knew they could not help doing. Thus, as thecarriage passed the lodge, a noisy group of small-sized darkies were makinga public demonstration. "Massa's come home, " says one. "I sees Miss Alice, "says another. "I sees Miss Anna, too, " said a third, though, as yet, not aface was visible to one of them. They put their heads out of the carriage, notwithstanding, to speak to them, and Alice emptied a good-sized basket ofsugar-plums, which she had bought for the purpose, over their heads. 

"Take care, Mark, " said Mr. Weston, "don't cut about with that whip, whileall these children are so near. "

"If I didn't, sir, " said Mark, "some of 'em would a been scrunched underthe carriage wheels 'fore now. These little niggers, " he muttered betweenhis teeth, "they're always in the way. I wish some of 'em would get runover. " Mark's wife was not a very amiable character, and she had never hadany children. 

"Hurrah! daddy, is that you?" said an unmistakeable voice proceeding fromthe lungs of Bacchus the younger. "I been dansin juba dis hole blessedday--I so glad you come. Ask mammy if I aint?"

"How is your mother, Bacchus?" said Mr. Weston, looking out the window. 

"Mammy, she's well, " said the young gentleman; "how's you, master?"

"Very well, I thank you, sir, " said Mr. Weston. "Go down there and helppick up the sugar-plums. "

Bacchus the elder, now slid down from the seat by Mark, and took a shortcut over to his cabin. 

"Poor Aunt Phillis!" said Mrs. Weston, looking after him, "I hope she willget well. "

"Ah!" said Mr. Weston, "I had forgotten Phillis on this happy day. There issomething, you see, Anna, to make us sigh, even in our happiest moments. 

"But you shall not sigh, dearest uncle, " said Alice, kissing his hand, "forAunt Phillis will get well now that we are all back. Oh, there is CousinJanet, and little Lydia--I wish the carriage would stop. "

"You are the most perfect child I ever saw, Alice, " said Mrs. Weston. "Ithink you are out of your senses at the idea of getting home. "

The carriage wheeled round, and William let down the steps, with a facebright as a sunflower. Miss Janet stood at the top of the portico steps, inher dove-colored gown, and her three-cornered handkerchief, with open arms. Alice bounded like a deer, and was clasped within them. Then Mrs. Weston, then Ellen; and afterwards, the aged relatives warmly embraced each other. Little Lydia was not forgotten, they all shook hands with her, but Alice, who stooped to kiss her smooth, black cheek. William was then regularlyshaken hands with, and the family entered the large, airy hall, and wereindeed at home. 

Here were collected all the servants employed about the house, each in aSunday dress, each greeted with a kind word. Alice shook hands with themtwo or three times over, then pointing to the family pictures, which werearranged along the hall, "Look at them, uncle, " said she; "did you ever seethem so smiling before?"

They went to the drawing-room, all but Alice, who flew off in anotherdirection. 

"She is gone to see Phillis, " said Mr. Weston, gazing after her. "Well, Iwill rest a few moments, and then go too. "

Never did mother hold to her heart a child dearer to her, than Phillis, when she pressed Alice to her bosom. Alice had almost lived with her, whenshe, and Walter, and Arthur were children. Mrs. Weston knew that she couldnot be in better hands than under the care of so faithful and respectable aservant. Phillis had a large, old clothes' basket, where she kept the toys, all the little plates and cups with which they played dinner-party, thedolls without noses, and the trumpets that would not blow. Her childrenwere not allowed to touch them when the owners were not there, but theytook a conspicuous part in the play, being the waiters and ladies' maidsand coach-drivers of the little gentlemen and Alice. After Walter andArthur went away, Alice was still a great deal with Phillis, and she, regarding her as Arthur's future wife, loved her for him as well as forherself. Alice loved Phillis, too, and all her children, and theyconsidered her as a little above mortality. Bacchus used to insist, whenshe was a child, that she never would live, she was _too good_. When, during her severe illness, Phillis would go to her cabin to look around, Bacchus would greet her with a very long face, and say, "I told you so. Iknow'd Miss Alice would be took from us all. " Since her recovery, he hadstopped prophesying about her. 

"Aunt Phillis, " said Alice, "you don't look very sick. I reckon you _will_work when you ought not. Now I intend to watch you, and make you mind, sothat you will soon be well. "

"I am a great deal better than I was, Miss Alice, but there's no knowing;howsomever, I thank the Lord that he has spared me to see you once more. Iwant to give Master time to talk to Miss Janet a little while, then I amgoing in to see him and Miss Anna. "

"Oh! come now, " said Alice, "or he will be over here. "

Phillis got up, and walked slowly to the house, Alice at her side, andBacchus stumping after her. As they went in, Alice tripped on first, andopened the drawing-room door, making way for Phillis, who looked with ahappy expression of face towards her master. 

"Is this you, Phillis?" said Mr. Weston, coming forward, and taking herhand most kindly. Mrs. Weston and Ellen got up to shake hands with her, too. "I am very glad to find you so much better than I expected, " continuedMr. Weston; "you are thin, but your countenance is good. I hope you willget perfectly well, now that we are going to have summer weather. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Phillis. "I am a great deal better. Thank God, youall look so well, Miss Anna and all. Miss Janet began to be mightylonesome. I've been a great trouble to her. "

"No, you have not, " said Miss Janet; "you never were a trouble to any one. "

"Master, " said Bacchus, "I think the old ooman looks right well. She aintnigh so bad as we all thought. I reckon she couldn't stand my bein away solong; she hadn't nobody to trouble her. "

"You will never give her any more trouble, " said Alice. "Aunt Phillis, youdon't know how steady Uncle Bacchus has been; he is getting quite atemperance man. "

"Old Nick got the better of me twice, though, " said Bacchus. "I did think, master, of tryin to make Phillis b'lieve I hadn't drank nothin dis winter;but she'd sure to find me out. There's somefin in her goes agin a lie. "

"But that was doing very well, " said Alice; "don't you think so, AuntPhillis? Only twice all through the winter. "

"Its an improvement, honey, " said Phillis; "but what's the use of gettingdrunk at all? When we are thirsty water is better than any thing else; andwhen we aint thirsty, what's the use of drinking?"

Phillis had been sitting in an arm-chair, that Mrs. Weston had placed forher. When she first came in, her face was a little flushed from pleasure, and the glow might have been mistaken as an indication of health. Theemotion passed, Mrs. Weston perceived there was a great change in her. Shewas excessively emaciated; her cheek-bones prominent, her eyes large andbright. The whiteness of her teeth struck them all. These symptoms, and thedifficulty with which she breathed, were tokens of her disease. She becamemuch fatigued and Miss Janet advised her to go home and lie down. "Theyshan't tell you of their grand doings to-night, Phillis, " she said; "foryou have been excited, and must keep quiet. In the morning you will be ableto listen to them. Don't tell any long stories, Bacchus, " she continued. "Dr. Lawton wants her to keep from any excitement at night, for fear sheshould not sleep well after it. All you travelers had better go to bedearly, and wake up bright in the morning. "

Alice went home with Phillis, and came back to welcome Mr. Barbour, who hadjust arrived. The happy evening glided away; home was delightful to thereturned family. 

Bacchus gave glowing descriptions of scenes, in which he figured largely, to the servants; and Bacchus the younger devoutly believed there had notbeen so distinguished a visitor to the metropolis that winter, as hisrespected father. 

Dr. Lawton came regularly to see Phillis, who frequently rallied. Hercheerfulness made her appear stronger than she was; but when Alice wouldtell her how well she looked, and that the sight of Arthur would completeher recovery, she invariably answered, "I want to see him mightily, child;but about my gettin well, there's no telling. God only knows. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"Do sit down, my dear cousin, " said Miss Janet to Mr. Weston, who waswalking up and down the drawing-room. "Here, in August, instead of beingquiet and trying to keep cool, you are fussing about, and heating yourselfso uselessly. "

"I will try, " said Mr. Weston, smiling, and seating himself on the sofa;but you must recollect that for three years I have not seen my only son, and that now he is coming home to stay. I cannot realize it; it is too muchhappiness. We are so blessed, Cousin Janet, we have so much of this world'sgood, I sometimes tremble lest God should intend me to have my portionhere. "

"It is very wrong to feel so, " said Cousin Janet; "even in this world, Hecan give his beloved rest. "

"But am I one of the beloved?" asked Mr. Weston, thoughtfully. 

"I trust so, " said Cousin Janet. "I do not doubt it. How lamentable wouldbe your situation and mine, if, while so near the grave, we were deprivedof that hope, which takes from it all its gloom. "

"Are you talking of gloom?" said Mrs. Weston, "and Arthur within a fewmiles of us? It is a poor compliment to him. I never saw so many happyfaces. The servants have all availed themselves of their afternoon'sholiday to dress; they look so respectable. Esther says they have gone tothe outer gate to welcome Arthur first; Bacchus went an hour ago. Even poorAunt Phillis has brightened up. She has on a head-handkerchief and apronwhite as snow, and looks quite comfortable, propped up by two or threepillows. 

"Arthur will be sadly distressed to see Phillis, though he will not realizeher condition at first. The nearer her disease approaches its consummation, the brighter she looks. "

"It seems but yesterday, " said Mr. Weston, "that Phillis sat at her cabindoor, with Arthur (a baby) in her arms, and her own child, almost the sameage, in the cradle near them. She has been no eye-servant. Faithfully hasshe done her duty, and now she is going to receive her reward. I never canforget the look of sympathy which was in her face, when I used to go to hercabin to see my motherless child. She always gave Arthur the preference, putting her own infant aside to attend to his wants. Phillis is by nature aconscientious woman; but nothing but the grace of God could have given herthe constant and firm principle that has actuated her life. But thisexample of Christian excellence will soon be taken from us; her days arenumbered. Her days _here_ are numbered; but how blessed the eternity!Sometimes, I have almost reproached myself that I have retained a womanlike Phillis as a slave. She deserves every thing from me: I have alwaysfelt under obligations to her. "

"You have discharged them, " said Mrs. Weston. "Phillis, though a slave, hashad a very happy life; she frequently says so. This is owing, in a greatmeasure, to her own disposition and rectitude of character. Yet she has hadevery thing she needed, and a great deal more. You have nothing with whichto reproach yourself. "

"I trust not, " said Mr. Weston. "I have endeavored, in my dealings with myservants, to remember the All-seeing eye was upon me, and that to Him whoplaced these human beings in a dependant position, would I have to rendermy account. Ah! here are the girls. Alice, we had almost forgotten Arthur;you and Ellen remind us of him. "

"Really, " said Ellen, "I am very unhappy; I have no lover to expect. Yousee that I am arrayed in a plain black silk, to show my chagrin because Mr. Johnson could not come now. Alice has decked herself so that Arthur canread her every thought at the first glance. She has on her blue barčgedress, which implies her unvarying constancy. Then--"

"I did not think of that, " said Alice, blushing deeply, and looking down ather dress; "I only--"

"Miss Alice, " said Lydia, "I hears somethin. "

"No, no, " said Miss Janet, looking from the window, "there is nothing--"

"Deed the is, " said Lydia. "Its Mas' Arthur's horse, I know. "

Mr. Weston went out on the porch, and the ladies stood at the windows. Thevoices of the servants could be distinctly heard. From the nature of thesound, there was no doubt they were giving a noisy welcome to their youngmaster. 

"He _is_ coming, " said Miss Janet, much agitated; "the servants would notmake that noise were he not in sight. "

"I hear the horses, too, " said Ellen; "we will soon see him where the roadturns. "

"There he comes, " said Mrs. Weston. "It must be Arthur. William is withhim; he took a horse for Arthur to the stage house. "

The father stood looking forward, the wind gently lifting the thin whitehair from his temples; his cheek flushed, his clear blue eye beaming withdelight. The horseman approached. The old man could not distinguish hisface, yet there was no mistaking his gay and gallant bearing. The spiritedand handsome animal that bore him flew over the gravelled avenue. Only afew minutes elapsed from the time he was first seen to the moment when thefather laid his head upon his son's shoulder; and while he was clasped tothat youthful and manly heart experienced sensations of joy such as are notoften felt here. 

Alice had known, too, that it was he. But when we long to be assured ofhappiness, we are often slow to believe. It was not until her eyes coulddistinguish every feature that her heart said, "It is Arthur. " Then all wasforgotten--all timidity, all reserve--all, save that he was the dearlyloved brother of her childhood; the being with whom her destiny had longbeen associated. She passed from the drawing-room to the porch as healighted from his horse, and when his father released him from a longembrace, Arthur's eyes fell upon the dear and unchanged countenance, fixedupon him with a look of welcome that said more than a thousand words. 

 * * * * *

"Aunt, " said Arthur, a week after his return, as he sat with Mrs. Westonand Alice in the arbor, "before you came, Alice had been trying to persuademe that she had been in love with Walter; but I can't believe it. "

"I never did believe it for a moment. She thought she was, and she wasseized with such a panic of truth and honor that she made a greatcommotion; insisted on writing to you, and making a full confession; wantedto tell her uncle, and worry him to death; doing all sorts of desperatethings. She actually worked herself into a fever. It was all a fancy. "

"I have too good an opinion of myself to believe it, " said Arthur. 

"I am sorry, " said Alice, "for it is true. It is a pity your vanity cannotbe a little diminished. "

"Why, the fact is Alice, I remember Uncle Bacchus's story about GeneralWashington and his servant, when the general's horse fell dead, or ratherthe exclamation made by the servant after relating the incident: 'Master, _he_ thinks of everything. ' I do too. When we were children, no matter howbad Walter was, you took his part. I remember once he gave William such ablow because he stumbled over a wagon that he had been making, and brokeit. I asked him if he were not ashamed to do so, and you said, 'Hush, Arthur, he feels bad; if you felt as sorry as he does, you would behavejust in the same way. ' So, the fact is, last summer you saw he _felt bad_, and your tender heart inundated with sympathy. "

"That was it, " said Mrs. Weston; "it was a complete inundation. "

"You are not in love with him now, are you, Alice?" said Arthur, smiling. 

"No, indeed, " said Alice, "I am not in love with him, or you either--ifbeing in love is what it is described in novels. I never have palpitationof the heart, never faint away, and am not at all fond of poetry. I shouldmake a sad heroine, I am such a matter-of-fact person. "

"So as you make a good wife, " said Arthur, "no matter about being aheroine. "

"A planter's wife has little occasion for romance, " said Mrs. Weston; "herduties are too many and too important. She must care for the health andcomfort of her family, and of her servants. After all, a hundred servantsare like so many children to look after. "

"Ellen would make an elegant heroine, " said Alice. "She was left an orphanwhen very young; had an exacting uncle and aunt; was the belle of themetropolis; had gay and gallant lovers; is an heiress--and has fallen inlove with a man she never saw. To crown all, he is not rich, so Ellen cangive him her large fortune to show her devotion, and they can go all overthe world together, and revel in romance and novelty. "

"Well, " said Arthur, "I will take you all over the world if you wish it. When will you set out, and how will you travel? If that is all you complainof in your destiny, I can easily change it. "

"I do not complain of my destiny, " said Alice, gaily. "I was onlycontrasting it with Ellen's. I shall be satisfied never to leave Exeter, and my migrations need not be more extended than were Mrs. Primroses's, 'from the green room to the brown. ' Poor Walter! I wish he would fall inlove with some beautiful Italian, and be as happy as we are. "

"Do not fear for Walter, " said Mrs. Weston. "He will take care of himself;his last letter to Cousin Janet was very cheerful. I shall have to diminishyour vanity, Alice, by telling you Walter will never 'die for love of AliceWeston. ' He will be captivated some day with a more dashy lady, if not anItalian countess. I have no doubt he will eventually become a resident ofEurope. A life of repentance will not be too much for a man whose hands arestained with the blood of his fellowman. The day is past in our country, and I rejoice to say it, when a duellist can be tolerated. I always shudderwhen in the presence of one, though I never saw but one. "

Mr. Weston now entered, much depressed from a recent interview withPhillis. This faithful and honored servant was near her departure. Angelswere waiting at the throne of the Eternal, for his command to bear herpurified spirit home. 

 * * * * *

The master and the slave were alone. No eye save their Maker's looked uponthem; no ear save his, heard what passed between them. 

Mr. Weston was seated in the easy chair, which had been removed from theother room, and in which his wife had died. 

Phillis was extended on a bed of death. Her thin hands crossed on herbosom, her eyes fearfully bright, a hectic glow upon her cheek. 

"Master, " she said, "you have no occasion to feel uneasy about that. I havenever had a want, I nor the children. There was a time, sir, when I wasrestless about being a slave. When I went with you and Miss Anna away fromhome, and heard the people saying colored people ought to be free, it mademe feel bad. I thought then that God did not mean one of his creatures tobe a slave; when I came home and considered about it, I would often be putout, and discontented. It was wicked, I know, but I could not help it for awhile. 

"I saw my husband and children doing well and happy, but I used to say tomyself, they are slaves, and so am I. So I went about my work with a heavyheart. When my children was born, I would think 'what comfort is it to givebirth to a child when I know its a slave. ' I struggled hard though, withthese feelings, sir, and God gave me grace to get the better of them, for Icould not read my Bible without seeing there was nothing agin slaverythere; and that God had told the master his duty, and the slave his duty. You've done your duty by me and mine, sir; and I hope where I have comeshort you will forgive me, for I couldn't die in peace, without I thoughtyou and I was all right together. "

"Forgive you, Phillis, " said Mr. Weston, much affected. "What have I toforgive? Rather do I thank you for all you have done for me. You were afriend and nurse to my wife, and a mother to my only child. Was everservant or friend so faithful as you have been!"

Phillis smiled and looked very happy. "Thank you, master, " she said, "frommy heart. How good the Lord is to me, to make my dying bed so easy. It putsme in mind of the hymn Esther sings. She's got a pleasant voice, hasn'tshe, sir?

 'And while I feel my heart-strings break, How sweet the moments roll! A mortal paleness on my cheek And glory in my soul. '

"Oh! master, its sweet for me to die, for Jesus is my friend; he makes allabout me friends too, for it seems to me that you and Miss Janet, and allof you are my friends. Poor Bacchus! he takes on sadly about me; he alwayswas a tender-hearted soul. Master, when I am gone, I know you will be goodto him and comfort him, but, please sir, do something else. Talk to him, and pray for him, and read the blessed Book to him! Oh! if he would onlygive up liquor! I trust in the Lord he will live and die a sober man, elseI know we'll never meet again. We won't be on the same side at the JudgmentSeat. There's no drunkards in that happy place where I am going fast. Nodrunkards in the light of God's face--no drunkards at the blessed feet ofJesus. "

"I think Bacchus has perfectly reformed, " said Mr. Weston, "and you mayfeel assured that we will do every thing for his soul as well as his body, that we can. But, Phillis, have you no wishes to express, as regards yourchildren?"

Phillis hesitated--"My children are well off, " she said; "they have a goodmaster; if they serve him and God faithfully they will be sure to do well. "

"If there is any thing on your mind, " said Mr. Weston, "speak it withoutfear. The distinction between you and me as master and slave, I consider nolonger existing. You are near being redeemed from my power, and the powerof death alone divides you from your Saviour's presence. That Saviour whoseexample you have tried to follow, whose blood has washed your soul from allits sin. I am much older than you, and I live in momentary expectation ofmy summons. We shall soon meet, I hope, in that happy place, where thedistinctions of this world will be forgotten. I have thought of you a greatdeal, lately, and have been anxious to relieve your mind of every care. Itis natural that a mother, about to leave such a family as you have, shouldhave some wishes regarding them. 

"I have thought several times, " continued Mr. Weston, "of offering to setyour children free at my death, and I will do so if you wish. You must beaware that they could not remain in Virginia after they were manumitted. In the Middle and Northern states free blacks are in a degraded condition. There is no sympathy for or with them. They have no more rights than theyhave as slaves with us, and they have no one to care for them when they aresick or in trouble. You have seen a good deal of this in your occasionalvisits to the North. In Washington, since the Abolitionists haveintermeddled there, the free blacks have become intolerable; they live fromday to day in discomfort and idleness. I mean as a general thing; thereare, of course, occasional exceptions. Bacchus is too old to take care ofhimself; he would not be happy away from Exeter. Consider what I say toyou, and I will be guided by your wishes as regards your children. 

"They might go to Liberia; some of them would be willing, no doubt. I havetalked to William, he says he would not go. Under these circumstances theywould be separated, and it is doubtful whether I would be doing you or thema favour by freeing them. Be perfectly candid, and let me know yourwishes. "

"As long as you, or Master Arthur and Miss Alice live, they would be betteroff as they are, " said Phillis. 

"I believe they would, " said Mr. Weston, "but life and death cannot be toomuch considered in connection with each other. I must soon go. I am onlylingering at the close of a long journey. Arthur will then have control, and will, I am certain, make his servants as happy as he can. My family isvery small; you are aware I have no near relations. I have made my will, and should Arthur and Alice die without children, I have left all myservants free. Your children I have thus provided for. At my death they arefree, but I would not feel justified in turning them into the world withoutsome provision. The older children can take care of themselves; they areuseful and have good principles. I have willed each one of them to be freeat the age of twenty years. Thus, you see, most of them will soon be free, while none will have to wait very long. In the mean time they will be welltaught and cared for. My will is made, and all the forms of law attendedto. Arthur and Alice are very much pleased with it. Your older childrenknow it; they are very happy, but they declare they will never leave Exeteras long as there is a Weston upon it. [B] And now, Phillis, are yousatisfied? I shall experience great pleasure in having been able to relieveyou of any anxiety while you have so much pain to bear. "

"Oh! master, " said Phillis, "what shall I say to you? I haven't nolearning. I am only a poor, ignorant woman. I can't thank you, master, as Iought. My heart is nigh to bursting. What have I done that the Lord is sogood to me. He has put it into your heart to make me so happy; Thank you, master, and God for ever bless you. "

The tears streamed down her cheeks, as Mr. Weston arose to go. Esther hadcome to see if her mother wanted any thing. 

"Master, " said Phillis, "wait one moment--there's nothing between me andHeaven now. Oh! sir, I shall soon be redeemed from all sin and sorrow. Ithink I see the glory that shines about the heavenly gates. I have neverfelt myself ready to go until now, but there is nothing to keep me. TheLord make your dying bed as easy as you have mine. "

Mr. Weston endeavored to compose himself, but was much agitated. "Phillis, "he said, "you have deserved more than I could ever do for you. If any thingshould occur to you that I have not thought of, let me know, it shall, ifpossible, be done. Would you like again to see Mr. Caldwell, and receivethe communion?"

"No, master, I thank you. You and Miss Janet, and Miss Anna, and poorBacchus, took it with me last week, and I shall soon be where there willbe no more need to remind me of the Lamb that was slain; for I shall bewith him; I shall see him as he is. And, master, we will all meet there. Wewill praise him together. "

Esther was weeping; and Mr. Weston, quite overcome, left the room. 

"Esther, child, " said Phillis, "don't do so. There's nothing but glory andpeace. There's no occasion for tears. God will take care of you all here, and will, I hope and pray, bring you to heaven at last. Poor master! Tothink he is so distressed parting with me. I thought I should have stood byhis dying bed. The Lord knows best. "

"Mother, " said Esther, "will you take this medicine--it is time?"

"No, honey. No more medicine; it won't do me no good. I don't wantmedicine. Jesus is what I want. He is all in all. "

 * * * * *

Reader! have you ever stood by the dying bed of a slave? It may be not. There are those who are often there. The angels of God, and One who isabove the angels. One who died for all. He is here now. Here, where standweeping friends--here, where all is silence. You may almost hear theangel's wings as they wait to bear the redeemed spirit to its heavenlyabode. Here, where the form is almost senseless, the soul flutteringbetween earth and heaven. Here, where the Spirit of God is over-shadowingthe scene. 

"Master, " said Phillis, "all is peace. Jesus is here. I am going home. Youwill soon be there, and Miss Janet can't be long. Miss Anna too. Bacchus, the good Lord will bring you there. I trust in Him to save you. Mychildren, God bless them, little Lydia and all. "

"Master Arthur, " said she, as Arthur bent over her, "give my love to MasterWalter. You and Miss Alice will soon be married. The Lord make you happy. God bless you, Miss Ellen, and make you his child. Keep close, children toJesus. Seems as if we wasn't safe when we can't see him. I see him now; heis beckoning me to come. Blessed Jesus! take me--take me home. "

Kind master, weep not. She will bear, even at the throne of God, witness tothy faithfulness. Through thee she learned the way to heaven, and it may besoon she will stand by thee again, though thou see her not. She may be oneof those who will guide thee to the Celestial City; to the company of theredeemed, where will be joy forever. Weep not, but see in what peace aChristian can die. Watch the last gleams of thought which stream from herdying eyes. Do you see any thing like apprehension? The world, it is true, begins to shut in. The shadows of evening collect around her senses. A darkmist thickens, and rests upon the objects which have hitherto engaged herobservation. The countenances of her friends become more and moreindistinct. The sweet expressions of love and friendship are no longerintelligible. Her ear wakes no more at the well-known voice of herchildren, and the soothing accents of tender affection die away unheardupon her decaying senses. To her the spectacle of human life is drawing toits close, and the curtain is descending which shuts out this earth, itsactors, and its scenes. She is no longer interested in all that is doneunder the sun. Oh! that I could now open to you the recesses of her soul, that I could reveal to you the light which darts into the chambers of herunderstanding. She approaches that world which she has so long seen infaith. The imagination now collects its diminished strength, and the eye offaith opens wide. 

"Friends! do not stand thus fixed in sorrow around this bed of death. Whyare you so still and silent? Fear not to move; you cannot disturb thevisions that enchant this holy spirit. She heeds you not; already she seesthe spirits of the just advancing together to receive a kindred soul. Sheis going to add another to the myriads of the just, that are every momentcrowding into the portals of heaven. She is entering on a noble life. Already she cries to you from the regions of bliss. Will you not join herthere? Will you not taste the sublime joys of faith? There are seats foryou in the assembly of the just made perfect, in the innumerable company ofangels, where is Jesus, the Mediator of the New Covenant, and God, theJudge of all. "

CONCLUDING REMARKS. 

I must be allowed to quote the words of Mrs. Harriet B. Stowe:

"The writer has often been (or will be) inquired of by correspondents fromdifferent parts of the country, whether this narrative is a true one; andto these inquiries she will give one general answer. The separate incidentsthat compose the narrative are to a very great extent authentic, occurring, many of them, either under her own observation, or that of her personalfriends. She or her friends have observed characters the counterpart ofalmost all that are here introduced; and many of the sayings are word forword as heard herself, or reported to her. "

Of the planter Legree, (and, with the exception of Prof. Webster, such awretch never darkened humanity, ) she says:

"Of him her brother wrote, he actually made me feel of his fist, which waslike a blacksmith's hammer or a nodule of iron, telling me that it wascalloused with knocking down niggers. "

Now as a parallel to this, I will state a fact communicated to me by aclergyman, (a man of great talent, and goodness of character, and undoubtedveracity, ) that a superintendent of Irishmen, who were engaged on aNorthern railroad, told him he did not hesitate to knock any man down thatgave him the least trouble; and although the clergyman did not "examine hisfist and pronounce it like a blacksmith's hammer, " yet, I have not theslightest doubt it was "calloused with knocking down Irishmen. " At anyrate, I take the license of the writers of the day, and say it was. 

Mrs. Stowe goes on to say, "That the tragical fate of Tom also has too manytimes had its parallel, there are living witnesses all over our land totestify. " Now it would take the smallest portion of common sense to knowthat there is no witness, dead or living, who could testify to such a fact, save a _false witness_. This whole history is an absurdity. No master wouldbe fool enough to sell the best hand on his estate; one who directed, andsaved, and managed for him. No master would be brutish enough to sell theman who had nursed him and his children, who loved him like a son, _evenfor urgent debt_, had he another article of property in the wide world. ButMr. Shelby does so, according to Mrs. Stowe, though he has a great manyother servants, besides houses and lands, &c. Preposterous!

And such a saint as Uncle Tom was, too! One would have thought his master, with the opinion he had of his religious qualifications, would have kepthim until he died, and then have sold him bone after bone to the RomanCatholics. Why, every tooth in his head would have brought its price. St. Paul was nothing but a common man compared with him, for St. Paul had beenwicked once; and even after his miraculous conversion, he felt that sin wasstill impelling him to do what he would not. But not so with Uncle Tom! Hewas the very perfection of a saint. Well might St. Clare have proposedusing him for a family chaplain, or suggested to himself the idea ofascending to heaven by Tom's skirts. Mrs. Stowe should have carried out oneof her ideas in his history, and have made him Bishop of Carthage. I havenever heard or read of so perfect a character. All the saints and martyrsthat ever came to unnatural deaths, could not show such an amount ofexcellence. I only wonder he managed to stay so long in this world of sin. 

When, after fiery trials and persecutions, he is finally purchased by a Mr. Legree, Mrs. Stowe speaks of the horrors of the scene. She says though, "itcan't be helped. " Did it ever occur to her, that Northerners might goSouth, and buy a great many of these slaves, and manumit them? They do goSouth and buy them, but they keep them, and work them as slaves too. Agreat deal of this misery _might_ be helped. 

Tom arrives at Legree's plantation. How does he fare? Sleeps on a littlefoul, dirty straw, jammed in with a lot of others; has every night towardmidnight enough corn to stay the stomach of one small chicken; and isthrown into a most dreadful state of society--men degraded, and womendegraded. We will pass over scenes that a woman's pen should neverdescribe, and observe the saint-like perfection of Tom. He was, orconsidered himself, a missionary to the negroes, evidently liked hissufferings, and died, by choice, a martyr's death. He made the mostastonishing number of conversions in a short time, and of characters worsethan history records. So low, so degraded, so lost were the men and womenwhose wicked hearts he subdued, that their conversion amounted to nothingless than miracles. No matter how low, how ignorant, how depraved, the verysight of Tom turned them into advanced, intelligent Christians. 

Tom's lines were indeed cast in a sad place. I have always believed thatthe Creator was everywhere; but we are told of Legree's plantation "TheLord never visits these parts. " This might account for the desperatewickedness of most of the characters, but how Tom could retain his holinessunder the circumstances is a marvel to me. His religion, then, depended onhimself. Assuredly he was more than a man!

Legree had several ways of keeping his servants in order--"they were burnedalive; scalded, cut into inch pieces; set up for the dogs to tear, or hungup and whipped to death. " Now I am convinced that Mrs. Stowe must have acredulous mind; and was imposed upon. She never could have conceived suchthings with all her talent; the very conception implies a refinement ofcruelty. She gives, however, a mysterious description of a certain "placeway out down by the quarters, where you can see a black blasted tree, andthe ground all covered with black ashes. " It is afterward intimated thatthis was the scene of a negro burned alive. Reader, you may depend, it wasa mistake; that's just the way a tree appears when it has been struck bylightning. Next time you pass one, look at it. I have not the slightestdoubt that this was the way the mistake was made. We have an occasional wagat the South, and some one has practised upon a soft-hearted New Englanderin search of horrors; this is the result. She mentions that the ashes wereblack. Do not infer from this that it must have been a black man or negro. But I will no longer arraign your good sense. It was not, take my word forit, as Mrs. Stowe describes it, some poor negro "tied to a tree, with aslow fire lit under him. "

Tom tells Legree "he'd as soon die as not. " Indeed, he proposes whipping, starving, burning; saying, "it will only send him sooner where he wants togo. " Tom evidently considers himself as too good for this world; and aftermaking these proposals to his master, he is asked, "How are you?" Heanswers: "The Lord God has sent his angel, and shut the lion's mouth. "Anybody can see that he is laboring under a hallucination, and fancieshimself Daniel. Cassy, however, consoled him after the style of Job'sfriends, by telling him that his master was going "to hang like a dog athis throat, sucking his blood, bleeding away his life drop by drop. "

In what an attitude, O Planters of the South, has Mrs. Stowe taken yourlikenesses!

Tom dies at last. How could such a man die? Oh! that he would live foreverand convert all our Southern slaves. He did not need any supporting graceon his deathbed. Hear him--"The Lord may help me, or not help, but I'llhold on to him. "

I thought a Christian could not hold on to the Lord without help. "Ye canof yourself do nothing. " But Tom is an exception--to the last he isperfect. All Christians have been caught tripping sometimes, but Tom neveris. He is "bearing everybody's burdens. " He might run away, but he willnot. He says, "The Lord has given me a work among these yer poor souls, andI'll stay with 'em, and bear my cross with 'em to the end. " Christianreader, we must reflect. We know where to go for _one_ instance of humanperfection, where the human and the Divine were united, but we know not ofanother. 

Tom converts Cassy, a most infamous creature from her own accounts, and weare to sympathize with her vileness, for she has no other traits ofcharacter described. Tom converts her, but I am sorry to see she stealsmoney and goods, and fibs tremendously afterwards. We hope the rest of hisconverts did him more credit. 

The poor fellow dies at last--converting two awful wretches with hisexpiring breath. The process of conversion was very short. "Oh! Lord, giveme these two more souls, I pray. " That prayer was answered. 

The saddest part of this book would be, (if they were just, ) the inferencesto be drawn from the history of this wretch, Legree. Mrs. Stowe says, "Hewas rocked on the bosom of a mother, cradled with prayer and pious hymns, his now seared brow bedewed with the waters of baptism. In early childhood, a fair-haired woman had led him, at the sound of Sabbath bells, to worshipand to pray. Far in New England that mother had trained her only son withlong unwearied love and patient prayers. " Believe it not, Christian mother, North or South! Thou hast the promises of Scripture to the contrary. Rockthy babe upon thy bosom--sing to him sweet hymns--carry him to thebaptismal font--be unwearied in love--patient in prayers; he will never besuch a one. He may wander, but he will come back; do thy duty by him, andGod will not forget his promises. "He is not man that he will lie; nor theson of man that he will repent. "

Legree is a Northerner. Time would fail me to notice all the crimes withwhich Southern men and women are charged; but their greatness and numberprecludes the possibility of their being believed. According to Mrs. Stowe, mothers do not love their beautiful children at the South. The husbandshave to go to New England and bring back old maids to take care of them, and to see to their houses, which are going to rack and ruin under theirwives' surveillance. Oh! these Southern husbands, a heart of stone mustpity them. 

Then again, Southern planters keep dogs and blood-hounds to hunt upnegroes, tear women's faces, and commit all sorts of _doggish_ atrocities. Now I have a charitable way of accounting for this. I am convinced, too, this is a misapprehension; and I'll tell you why. 

I have a mortal fear of dogs myself. I always had. No reasoning, noscolding, ever had the slightest effect upon me. I never passed one on myway to church with my prayer-book in my hand, without quaking. If they wagtheir tails, I look around for aid. If they bark, I immediately give myselfup for lost. I have died a thousand deaths from the mere accident ofmeeting dogs in the street. I never did meet one without believing that itwas his destiny to give my children a step-mother. In point of fact, Iwould like to live in a world without dogs; but as I cannot accomplishthis, I console myself by living in a house without one. I always expect myvisitors to leave their dogs at home; they may bring their children, butthey must not bring their dogs. I wish dogs would not even look in mybasement windows as they pass. 

I am convinced therefore, that some Northerner has passed a plantation atthe South, and seen dogs tied up. Naturally having a horror of dogs, he haslet his imagination loose. After a great deal of mental exercise, thebrain jumps at a conclusion, "What are these dogs kept here for?" Theanswer is palpable: "To hunt niggers when they run away. " Reader, imitatemy charity; it is a rare virtue where white faces are concerned. 

All the rest of Mrs. Stowe's horrors can be accounted for satisfactorily. It is much better to try and find an excuse for one's fellow-creatures thanto be always calling them "story-tellers, " and the like. I am determined tobe charitable. 

But still it is misrepresentation; for if they took proper means, theywould find out the delusions under which they labor. 

Abolitionists do not help their cause by misrepresentation. It will do wellenough, in a book of romance, to describe infants torn from the arms oftheir shrieking mothers, and sold for five and ten dollars. It tells well, for the mass of readers are fond of horrors; but it is not true. It is on apar with the fact stated, that masters advertise their slaves, and offerrewards for them, dead or alive. How did the snows of New England ever givebirth to such brilliant imaginations!

Family relations are generally respected; and when they are not, it is oneof the evils attendant on an institution which God has permitted in allages, for his inscrutable purposes, and which he may in his good time doaway with. 

The Jews ever turn their eyes and affections toward Jerusalem, as theirhome; so should the free colored people in America regard Liberia. Africa, once their mother country, should, in its turn, be the country of theiradoption. 

As regards the standard of talent among negroes, I fancy it has beenexaggerated; though no one can, at present, form a just conclusion. Slaveryhas, for ages, pressed like a band of iron round the intellect of thecolored man. Time must do its work to show what he is, without a likehindrance. 

The instance mentioned in "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " of a young mulatto, GeorgeHarris, inventing a machine, is _very solitary_. The negroes, like a goodmany of their owners, are opposed to innovations. They like the good oldway. The hot sun under which they were born, and the hotter one thatlighted the paths of their ancestors, prejudices them against any neweffort. I think, _when they do get in Congress_, they will vote foragricultural against manufacturing interests. I am sure they would ratherpick cotton than be confined to the din and dust of a factory. An old negroprefers to put his meal bags in a covered wagon, and drive them to marketat his leisure, with his pocket full of the tobacco he helped to raise, andthe whole country for a spit-box, to being whirled away bodily in arailroad car, in terror of his life, deaf with the whistling and thepuffing of the engine. When Liberia or Africa does become a great nation, (Heaven grant it may soon, ) they will require many other buildings there, before a patent office is called for. 

George Harris is a _natural_ Abolitionist, with a dark complexion. He is aremarkable youth in other respects, though I should first consider theenormous fact of George's master appropriating to himself the benefit ofhis servant's cleverness. Even with a show of right this may be a meantrick, but it is the way of the world. A large portion of New England menare at this time claiming each other's patents. I know of an instance downEast, for Southerners can sometimes "tak notes, and prent 'em too. " Agentleman took a friend to his room, and showed him an invention for whichhe was about to apply for a patent. The friend walked off with his hands inhis pocket; his principles had met, and passed an appropriation bill; theinvention had become his own--in plain English, he stole it. Washington isalways full of people claiming each other's brains. The lawyers at thePatent Office have their hands full. They must keep wide awake, too. Eachinventor, when he relates his grievances, brings a witness to maintain hisclaim. There is no doubt that, after a while, there will be those who cantestify to the fact of having seen the idea as it passed through theinventor's mind. The way it is settled at present is this--whoever can paythe most for the best lawyer comes off triumphantly! Poor George is not theonly smart fellow in the world outdone by somebody better off than himself. 

George positively refuses to hear the Bible quoted. He believes in a higherlaw, no doubt, Frederic Douglas being editorial expounder; a sort of Mosesof this century, a little less meek, though, than the one who instructedthe Israelites. George won't hear the Bible; he prefers, he says, appealingto the Almighty himself. This makes me fear his Abolitionist friends arenot doing right by him; putting him up to shooting, and turning Spanishgentleman, and all sorts of vagaries; to say nothing of disobeying the lawsof the country. No one blames him, though, for escaping from a hard master;at least, I do not. 

It would be a grand thing to stand on the shore of a new country, and seebefore you, _free_, every slave and prisoner on the soil of the earth; tohear their Te Deum ascend to the listening heavens. Methinks the sun wouldstand still, as it did of old, and earth would lift up her voice, and leadthe song of her ransomed children; but, alas! this cannot be yet--the timeis not come. Oppression wears her crown in every clime, though it issometimes hidden from the gaze of her subjects. 

George declares he knows more than his master; "he can read and writebetter;" but his logic is bad. He thus discusses the indications ofProvidence. A friend reminds him of what the apostle says, "Let every manabide in the condition in which he is called, " and he immediately uses thissimile: "I wonder, Mr. Wilson, if the Indians should come, and take you aprisoner, away from your wife and children, and want to keep you all yourlife hoeing corn for them, if you'd think it your duty to abide in thatcondition in which you were called. I rather think, that you'd think thefirst stray horse you could find an indication of Providence--shouldn'tyou?"

This does not apply to slavery. A man born a slave, in a country whereslavery is allowed by law, should feel the obligation of doing his dutywhile a slave; but Mr. Wilson, carried off by Indians, would feel as if hehad been called to a state of life previous to the one in which he was sounfortunate to be doomed, while he was among savages. 

George goes on to say--"Let any man take care that tries to stop me, for Iam desperate, and I'll fight for my liberty. You say your fathers did it:if it was right for them, it is right for me. "

Too fast, George! You are out in your history, too. Your master must be aremarkably ignorant man if you know more than he. Our glorious ancestorswere never condemned to slavery, they nor their fathers, by God himself. Neither have they ever been considered in the light of runaways; they cameoff with full permission, and having _honestly_ and _honorably_ attainedtheir liberties, they fought for them. 

Besides being of a prettier complexion, and coming of a better stock thanyou, they were _prepared_ to be free. There is a great deal in that. 

Then, those very ancestors of ours--ah! there's the rub--(and the ancestorsof the Abolitionists, too, ) they got us and you into this difficulty--thinkof it! They had your ancestors up there in New England, until they foundyou were so lazy, and died off so in their cold climate, that it _did notpay to keep you_. So I repeat to you the advice of Mr. Wilson, "Be careful, my boy; don't shoot anybody, George, unless--well--you'd better not shoot, I reckon; at least, I wouldn't hit anybody, you know. "

As regards the practice of marking negroes in the hand, I look upon it asone of the imaginary horrors of the times--delusion like spiritualrappings, got up out of sheer timidity of disposition, though I have heardof burning old women for witches in New England, and placing a scarletletter on the bosom of some unhappy one, who had already sorrow and sinenough to bear. 

It won't do; the subject has, without doubt, been duly investigatedalready. I'd be willing (were I not opposed to betting) to bet my bestcollar and neck ribbon, that a committee of investigation has beenappointed, consisting of twelve of Boston's primmest old maids, and theyhave been scouring the plantations of the South, bidding the negroes holdout their hands, (not as the poor souls will at first suppose, that theymay be crossed with a piece of silver, ) and that they are now returning, crest-fallen, to their native city, not having seen a branded hand in alltheir journeying. Could aught escape _their_ vigilance? But they will saythey saw a vast number, and that will answer the purpose. 

(Ah! Washington Irving, well mayest thou sigh and look back at the ladiesof the Golden Age. "These were the honest days, in which every woman stayedat home, read the Bible, and wore pockets. " These days are for ever gone. Prophetic was thy lament! Now we may wear pockets--but, alas! we neitherstay at home, nor read our Bible. We form societies to reform the world, and we write books on slavery!)

Talking of our ancestors, George, in the time of the Revolution, (by-the-by, yours were a set of dear, honest old creatures, for there wereno Abolitionists then among us, ) reminds me of an anecdote about GeorgeWashington and a favorite servant. Billy Lee was an honest, faithful man, and a first-rate groom, and George Washington--you need not blush to be anamesake of his, though he was a slaveholder. 

The two were in a battle, the battle of Monmouth, the soldiers fightinglike sixty, and Billy Lee looking on at a convenient distance, takingcharge of a led horse, in case Washington's should be shot from under him. 

O, but it was a hot day! Washington used to recall the thirst and thesuffering attendant upon the heat, (thinking of the soldiers' suffering, and not of his own. ) As for Billy Lee, if he did not breathe freely, heperspired enough so to make up for it. I warrant you he was anxious for thebattle to be over, and the sun to go down. But there he stood, true assteel--honest, old patriot as he was--quieting the horse, and watching hisnoble master's form, as proud and erect it was seen here and there, directing the troops with that union of energy and calmness for which hewas distinguished. Washington's horse fell under him, dying from excessiveheat; but hear Billy Lee describe it:

"Lord! sir, if you could a seen it; de heat, and dust, and smoke. Decannons flyin, and de shot a whizzin, and de dust a blowing, and de horses'heels a kickin up, when all at onct master's horse fell under him. Itwarn't shot--bless your soul, no. It drapped right down dead wid de heat. Master he got up. I was scared when I see him and de horse go; but mastergot up. He warn't hurt; couldn't hurt him. 

"Master he got up, looked round at me. 'Billy, ' says he, 'give me the otherhorse, and you take care of the new saddle on this other poor fellow. '

"Did you ever hear de like?" added Billy Lee, "thinking of de saddle whende balls was a flyin most in our eyes. But it's always de same wid master. He thinks of every thing. "

I agree with the humane jurist quoted by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe: "Theworst use you can put a man to is to hang him. " She thinks slavery is worsestill; but when "I think of every thing, " I am forced to differ from her. 

The most of our Southern slaves are happy, and kindly cared for; and forthose who are not, there is hope for the better. But when a man is hung upby the neck until he is dead, he is done for. As far as I can see, there isnothing that can be suggested to better his condition. 

I have no wish to uphold slavery. I would that every human being that Godhas made were free, were it in accordance with His will;--free bodily, freespiritually--"free indeed!"

Neither do I desire to deny the evils of slavery, any more than I woulddeny the evils of the factory system in England, or the factory andapprenticeship system in our own country. I only assert the necessity ofthe existence of slavery at present in our Southern States, and that, as ageneral thing, the slaves are comfortable and contented, and their ownershumane and kind. 

I have lived a great deal at the North--long enough to see acts ofoppression and injustice there, which, were any one so inclined, might bewrought into a "living dramatic reality. "

I knew a wealthy family. All the labor of the house was performed by a"poor relation, " a young and delicate girl. I have known servants struck bytheir employers. At the South I have never seen a servant struck, though Iknow perfectly well such things are done _here_ and _everywhere_. Can wejudge of society by a few isolated incidents? If so, the learned professorsof New England borrow money, and when they do not choose to pay, theymurder their creditors, and cut them in pieces! or men kill their sleepingwives and children!

Infidelity has been called a magnificent lie! Mrs. Stowe's "livingdramatic reality" is nothing more than an interesting falsehood; nor oughtto be offered, as an equivalent for truth, the genius that pervades herpages; rather it is to be lamented that the rich gifts of God should be somisapplied. 

Were the exertions of the Abolitionists successful, what would be theresult? The soul sickens at the thought. Scenes of blood and horror--thedesolation of our fair Southern States--the final destruction of thenegroes in them. This would be the result of immediate emancipation here. What has it been elsewhere? Look at St. Domingo. A recent visitor theresays, "Though opposed to slavery, I must acknowledge that in this instancethe experiment has failed. " He compares the negroes to "a wretchedgibbering set, from their appearance and condition more nearly allied tobeasts than to men. " Look at the free colored people of the North and inCanada. 

I have lived among them at the North, and can judge for myself. Their"friends" do not always obtain their affection or gratitude. A coloredwoman said to me, "I would rather work for any people than theAbolitionists. They expect us to do so much, and they say we ought to workcheaper for them because they are 'our friends. '" Look at them in Canada. An English gentleman who has for many years resided there, and who hasrecently visited Washington, told me that they were the most miserable, helpless human beings he had ever seen. In fact he said, "They werenuisances, and the people of Canada would be truly thankful to see them outof their country. " He had never heard of "a good missionary" mentioned byMrs. Stowe, "whom Christian charity has placed there as a shepherd to theoutcast and wandering. " He had seen no good results of emancipation. On oneoccasion he hired a colored man to drive him across the country. 

"How did you get here?" he said to the man. "Are you not a runaway?"

"Yes, sir, " the man replied. "I came from Virginny. "

"Well, of course you are a great deal happier now than when you were aslave?"

"No, sir; if I could get back to Virginny, I would be glad to go. " Helooked, too, as if he had never been worse off than at that time. 

The fact is, liberty like money is a grand thing; but in order to be happy, we must know how to use it. 

It cannot always be said of the fugitive slave, --

 "The mortal puts on immortality, When mercy's hand has turned the golden key, And mercy's voice hath said, Rejoice, thy soul is free. "

The attentive reader will perceive that I am indebted to Mrs. Stowe for theapplication of this and other quotations. 

The author of Uncle Tom's Cabin speaks of good men at the North, who"receive and educate the oppressed" (negroes). I know "lots" of good menthere, but none good enough to befriend colored people. They seem to me tohave an unconquerable antipathy to them. But Mrs. Stowe says, _she_educates them in her own family with her own children. I am glad to hearshe feels and acts kindly toward them, and I wish others in her region ofcountry would imitate her in this respect; but I would rather _my_ childrenand negroes were educated at different schools, being utterly opposed toamalgamation, root and branch. 

She asks the question, "_What_ can any individual do?" Strange that any oneshould be at a loss in this working world of ours. 

Christian men and women should find enough to occupy them in theirfamilies, and in an undoubted sphere of duty. 

Let the people of the North take care of their own poor. 

Let the people of the South take care of theirs. 

Let each remember the great and awful day when they must render a finalaccount to their Creator, their Redeemer, and their Judge. 

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THE ILLUSTRATED CONCORDANCE, In one volume, royal 8vo. 

A new, full, and complete Concordance; illustrated with monumental, traditional, and oriental accounts, a more valuable work than eitherButterworth, Cruden, or any other similar book in the language. 

The value of a Concordance is now generally understood; and those who haveused one, consider it indispensable in connection with the Bible. Some ofthe many advantages the Illustrated Concordance has over all the others, are, that it contains near two hundred appropriate engravings; it isprinted on fine white paper, with beautiful large type. 

Price One Dollar. 

 * * * * *

LIPPINCOTT'S EDITION OF

BAGSTER'S COMPREHENSIVE BIBLE. 

In order to develope the peculiar nature of the Comprehensive Bible, itwill only be necessary to embrace its more prominent features. 

1st. The SACRED TEXT is that of the Authorized Version, and is printed fromthe edition corrected and improved by Dr. Blaney, which, from its accuracy, is considered the standard edition. 

2d. The VARIOUS READINGS are faithfully printed from the edition of Dr. Blaney, inclusive of the translation of the proper names, without theaddition or diminution of one. 

3d. In the CHRONOLOGY, great care has been taken to fix the date of theparticular transactions, which has seldom been done with any degree ofexactness in any former edition of the Bible. 

4th. The NOTES are exclusively philological and explanatory, and are nottinctured with sentiments of any sect or party. They are selected from themost eminent Biblical critics and commentators. 

It is hoped that this edition of the Holy Bible will be found to containthe essence of Biblical research and criticism, that lies dispersed throughan immense number of volumes. 

Such is the nature and design of this edition of the Sacred Volume, which, from the various objects it embraces, the freedom of its pages from allsectarian peculiarities, and the beauty, plainness, and correctness of thetypography, that it cannot fail of proving acceptable and useful toChristians of every denomination. 

In addition to the usual references to parallel passages, which are quitefull and numerous, the student has all the marginal readings, together witha rich selection of _Philological, Critical, Historical, Geographical_, andother valuable notes and remarks, which explain and illustrate the sacredtext. Besides the general introduction, containing valuable essays on thegenuineness, authenticity, and inspiration of the Holy Scriptures, andother topics of interest, there are introductory and concluding remarks toeach book--a table of the contents of the Bible, by which the differentportions are so arranged as to read in an historical order. 

Arranged at the top of each page is the period in which the prominentevents of sacred history took place. The calculations are made for the yearof the world before and after Christ, Julian Period, the year of theOlympiad, the year of the building of Rome, and other notations of time. Atthe close is inserted a Chronological Index of the Bible, according to thecomputation of Archbishop Ussher. Also, a full and valuable index of the_subjects_ contained in the Old and New Testaments, with a careful analysisand arrangement of texts under their appropriate subjects. 

Mr. Greenfield, the editor of this work, and for some time previous to hisdeath the superintendent of the editorial department of the British andForeign Bible Society, was a most extraordinary man. In editing theComprehensive Bible, his varied and extensive learning was called intosuccessful exercise, and appears in happy combination with sincere pietyand a sound judgment. The Editor of the Christian Observer, alluding tothis work, in an obituary notice of its author, speaks of it as a work of"prodigious labour and research, at once exhibiting his varied talents andprofound erudition. "

 * * * * *

LIPPINCOTT'S EDITION OF

THE OXFORD QUARTO BIBLE. 

The Publishers have spared neither care nor expense in their edition of theBible; it is printed on the finest white vellum paper, with large andbeautiful type, and bound in the most substantial and splendid manner, inthe following styles: Velvet, with richly gilt ornaments; Turkey superextra, with gilt clasps; and in numerous others, to suit the taste of themost fastidious. 

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

"In our opinion, the Christian public generally will feel under greatobligations to the publishers of this work for the beautiful taste, arrangement, and delicate neatness with which they have got it out. Theintrinsic merit of the Bible recommends itself; it needs no tinsel ornamentto adorn its sacred pages. In this edition every superfluous ornament hasbeen avoided, and we have presented us a perfectly chaste specimen of theBible, without note or comment. It appears to be just what is needed inevery family--'the _unsophisticated_ word of God. '

"The size is quarto, printed with beautiful type, on white, sized vellumpaper, of the finest texture and most beautiful surface. The publishersseem to have been solicitous to make a perfectly unique book, and they haveaccomplished the object very successfully. We trust that a liberalcommunity will afford them ample remuneration for all the expense andoutlay they have necessarily incurred in its publication. It is a standardBible. 

"The publishers are Messrs. Lippincott, Grambo & Co. , No. 14 North Fourthstreet, Philadelphia. "--_Baptist Record. _

"A beautiful quarto edition of the Bible, by L. , G. & Co. Nothing canexceed the type in clearness and beauty; the paper is of the finesttexture, and the whole execution is exceedingly neat. No illustrations orornamental type are used. Those who prefer a Bible executed in perfectsimplicity, yet elegance of style, without adornment, will probably neverfind one more to their taste. "--_M. Magazine_. 

"A beautiful quarto edition of the Bible, by L. , G. & Co. Nothing can exceedthe type in clearness and beauty; the paper is of the finest texture, andthe whole execution is exceedingly neat. No illustrations or ornamentaltype are used. Those who prefer a Bible executed in perfect simplicity, yetelegance of style, without adornment, will probably never find one more totheir taste. "--_M. Magazine. _

 * * * * *

LIPPINCOTT'S EDITIONS OF

THE HOLY BIBLE. 

SIX DIFFERENT SIZES, Printed in the best manner, with beautiful type, on the finest sized paper, and bound in the most splendid and substantial styles. Warranted to becorrect, and equal to the best English editions, at much less price. To behad with or without plates; the publishers having supplied themselves withover fifty steel engravings, by the first artists. 

Baxter's Comprehensive Bible, Royal quarto, containing the various readings and marginal notes;disquisitions on the genuineness, authenticity, and inspiration of the HolyScriptures; introductory and concluding remarks to each book; philologicaland explanatory notes; table of contents, arranged in historical order; achronological index, and various other matter; forming a suitable book forthe study of clergymen, Sabbath-school teachers, and students. 

In neat plain binding, from $4. 00 to $5. 00. --In Turkey morocco, extra, giltedges, from $8. 00 to $12. 00. --In do. , with splendid plates, $10. 00 to$15. 00. --In do. , bevelled side, gilt clasps and illuminations, $15. 00 to$25. 00. 

The Oxford Quarto Bible, Without note or comment, universally admitted to be the most beautifulBible extant. In neat plain binding, from $4. 00 to $5. 00. --In Turkeymorocco, extra, gilt edges, $8. 00 to $12. 00. --In do. , with steelengravings, $10. 00 to $15. 00. --In do. , clasps, &c. , with plates andilluminations, $15. 00 to $25. 00. --In rich velvet, with gilt ornaments, $25. 00 to $50. 00. 

Crown Octavo Bible, Printed with large clear type, making a most convenient hand Bible forfamily use. 

In neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1. 50. --In English Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $1. 00 to $2. 00. --In do. , imitation, &c. , $1. 50 to $3. 00. --Indo. , clasps, &c. , $2. 50 to 56. 00. --In rich velvet, with gilt ornaments, $5. 00 to $10. 00. 

The Sunday-School Teacher's Polyglot Bible, with Maps, &c. , In neat plain binding, from 60 cents to $1. 00. --In imitation gilt edge. $1. 00 to $1. 50. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 75 to $2. 25. --In do. Do. , withclasps, $2. 50 to $3. 75. --In velvet, rich gilt ornaments, $3. 50 to $8. 00. 

The Oxford 18mo. , or Pew Bible, In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1. 00. --In imitation gilt edge, $1. 00 to $1. 50. --In Turkey super extra, $1. 75 to $2. 25. --In do. Do. , withclasps, $2. 50 to $3. 75. --In velvet, rich gilt ornaments, $3. 50 to $8. 00. 

Agate 32mo. Bible, Printed with larger type than any other small or pocket edition extant. 

In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1. 00. --In tucks, or pocket-bookstyle, 75 cents to $1. 00. --In roan, imitation gilt edge, $1. 00 to$1. 50. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 00 to $2. 00. --In do. Do. Gilt clasps, $2. 50 to $3. 50. --In velvet, with rich gilt ornaments, $3. 00 to $7. 00. 

32mo. Diamond Pocket Bible;

The neatest, smallest, and cheapest edition of the Bible published. 

In neat plain binding, from 30 to 50 cents. --In tucks, or pocket-bookstyle, 60 cents to $1. 00. --In roan, imitation gilt edge, 75 cents to$1. 25. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 00 to $1. 50. --In do. Do. Gilt clasps, $1. 50 to $2. 00. --In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $2. 50 to $6. 00. 

CONSTANTLY ON HAND, A large assortment of BIBLES, bound in the most splendid and costly styles, with gold and silver ornaments, suitable for presentation; ranging in pricefrom $10. 00 to $100. 00. 

A liberal discount made to Booksellers and Agents by the Publishers. 

 * * * * *

ENCYCLOPĘDIA OF RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE;

OR, DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE, THEOLOGY, RELIGIOUS BIOGRAPHY, ALL RELIGIONS, ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY, AND MISSIONS. 

Designed as a complete Book of Reference on all Religious Subjects, andCompanion to the Bible; forming a cheap and compact Library of ReligiousKnowledge. Edited by Rev. J. Newton Brown. Illustrated by wood-cuts, maps, and engravings on copper and steel. In one volume, royal 8vo. Price, $4. 00. 

 * * * * *

Lippincott's Standard Editions of

THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER, IN SIX DIFFERENT SIZES, ILLUSTRATED WITH A NUMBER OF STEEL PLATES AND ILLUMINATIONS. COMPREHENDINGTHE MOST VARIED AND SPLENDID ASSORTMENT IN THE UNITED STATES. 

THE ILLUMINATED OCTAVO PRAYER-BOOK, Printed in seventeen different colours of ink, and illustrated with anumber of Steel Plates and Illuminations; making one of the most splendidbooks published. To be had in any variety of the most superb binding, ranging in prices. 

In Turkey, super extra, from $5. 00 to $8. 00. --In do. Do. , with clasps, $6. 00 to $10. 00. --In do. Do. , bevelled and panelled edges, $8. 00 to$15. 00. --In velvet, richly ornamented, $12. 00 to $20. 00. 

8vo. 

In neat plain binding, from $1. 50 to $2. 00. --In imitation gilt edge, $2. 00to $3. 00. --In Turkey, super extra, $2. 50 to $4. 50. --In do. Do. , withclasps, $3. 00 to $5. 00. --In velvet, richly gilt ornaments, $5. 00 to $12. 00. 

16mo. 

Printed throughout with large and elegant type. 

In neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1. 50. --In Turkey morocco, extra, with plates, $1. 75 to $3. 00. --In do. Do. , with plates, clasps, &c. , $2. 50to $5. 00. --In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $4. 00 to $9. 00. 

18mo. 

In neat plain binding, from 25 to 75 cents. --In Turkey morocco, withplates, $1. 25 to $2. 00. --In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $3. 00 to$8. 00. 

32mo. 

A beautiful Pocket Edition, with large type. 

In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1. 00. --In roan, imitation giltedge, 75 cents to $1. 50. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 25 to $2. 00. --In do. Do. , gilt clasps, $2. 00 to $3. 00. --In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $3. 00 to $7. 00. 

32mo. , Pearl type. 

In plain binding, from 25 to 37 1-2 cents. --Roan, 37 1-2 to 50cents. --Imitation Turkey, 50 cents to $1. 00. --Turkey, super extra, withgilt edge. $1. 00 to $1. 50. --Pocket-book style, 60 to 75 cents. 

PROPER LESSONS. 

18mo. 

A BEAUTIFUL EDITION, WITH LARGE TYPE. 

In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1. 00. --In roan, imitation giltedge, 75 cents to $1. 50. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 50 to $2. 00. --In do. Do. , gilt clasps, $2. 50 to $3. 00. --In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $3. 00 to $7. 00. 

THE BIBLE AND PRAYER-BOOK, In one neat and portable volume. 

32mo. , in neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1. 00. --In imitation Turkey, $1. 00 to $1. 50. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 50 to $2. 50. 

18mo. , in large type, plain, $1. 75 to $2. 50. --In imitation, $1. 00 to$1. 75. --In Turkey, super extra, $1. 75 to $3. 00. Also, with clasps, velvet, &c. &c. 

 * * * * *

The Errors of Modern Infidelity Illustrated and Refuted. 

BY S. M. SCHMUCKER, A. M. 

In one volume, 12mo. ; cloth. Just published. 

We cannot but regard this work, in whatever light we view it in referenceto its design, as one of the most masterly productions of the age, andfitted to uproot one of the most fondly cherished and dangerous of allancient or modern errors. God must bless such a work, armed with his owntruth, and doing fierce and successful battle against black infidelity, which would bring His Majesty and Word down to the tribunal of humanreason, for condemnation and annihilation. --_Alb. Spectator_

 * * * * *

The Clergy of America:

CONSISTING OF

ANECDOTES ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE CHARACTER OF MINISTERS OF RELIGION IN THEUNITED STATES, BY JOSEPH BELCHER, D. D. , Editor of "The Complete Works of Andrew Fuller, " "Robert Hall, " &c. 

"This very interesting and instructive collection of pleasing and solemnremembrances of many pious men, illustrates the character of the day inwhich they lived, and defines the men more clearly than very elaborateessays. "--_Baltimore American_. 

"We regard the collection as highly interesting, and judiciouslymade. "--_Presbyterian_. 

 * * * * *

JOSEPHUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS, FAMILY EDITION. 

BY THE LATE WILLIAM WHISTON, A. M. 

FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION, COMPLETE. 

One volume, beautifully illustrated with Steel Plates, and the onlyreadable edition published in this country. 

As a matter of course, every family in our country has a copy of the HolyBible; and as the presumption is that the greater portion often consult itspages, we take the liberty of saying to all those that do, that the perusalof the writings of Josephus will be found very interesting and instructive. 

All those who wish to possess a beautiful and correct copy of this valuablework, would do well to purchase this edition. It is for sale at all theprincipal bookstores in the United States, and by country merchantsgenerally in the Southern and Western States. 

Also, the above work in two volumes. 

 * * * * *

BURDER'S VILLAGE SERMONS;

Or, 101 Plain and Short Discourses on the Principal Doctrines of theGospel. 

INTENDED FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES, SUNDAY-SCHOOLS, OR COMPANIES ASSEMBLEDFOR RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION IN COUNTRY VILLAGES. 

BY GEORGE BURDER. 

To which is added to each Sermon, a Short Prayer, with some General Prayersfor Families, Schools. &c. , at the end of the work. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

These sermons, which are characterized by a beautiful simplicity, theentire absence of controversy, and a true evangelical spirit, have gonethrough many and large editions, and been translated into several of thecontinental languages. "They have also been the honoured means not only ofconverting many individuals, but also of introducing the Gospel intodistricts, and even into parish Churches, where before it was comparativelyunknown. "

"This work fully deserves the immortality it has attained. "

This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work: and when we saythat it should be found in the possession of every family, we onlyreiterate the sentiments and sincere wishes of all who take a deep interestin the eternal welfare of mankind. 

 * * * * *

FAMILY PRAYERS AND HYMNS, ADAPTED TO FAMILY WORSHIP, AND

TABLES FOR THE REGULAR READING OF THE SCRIPTURES, By Rev. S. C. WINCHESTER, A. M. , Late Pastor of the Sixth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia; and thePresbyterian Church at Natchez, Miss. 

One volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

SPLENDID LIBRARY EDITIONS. 

ILLUSTRATED STANDARD POETS. 

ELEGANTLY PRINTED, ON FINE PAPER, AND UNIFORM IN SIZE AND STYLE. 

The following Editions of Standard British Poets are illustrated withnumerous Steel Engravings, and may be had in all varieties of binding. 

BYRON'S WORKS. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

INCLUDING ALL HIS SUPPRESSED AND ATTRIBUTED POEMS; WITH SIX BEAUTIFULENGRAVINGS. 

This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London edition ofMr. Murray, and made complete by the addition of more than fifty pages ofpoems heretofore unpublished in England. Among these there are a numberthat have never appeared in any American edition; and the publishersbelieve they are warranted in saying that this is _the most completeedition of Lord Byron's Poetical Works_ ever published in the UnitedStates. 

THE POETICAL WORKS OF MRS. HEMANS. 

Complete in one volume, octavo; with seven beautiful Engravings. 

This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved likeness ofMrs. Hemans, on steel, and contains all the Poems in the last London andAmerican editions. With a Critical Preface by Mr. Thatcher, of Boston. 

"As no work in the English language can be commended with more confidence, it will argue bad taste in a female in this country to be without acomplete edition of the writings of one who was an honour to her sex and tohumanity, and whose productions, from first to last, contain no syllablecalculated to call a blush to the cheek of modesty and virtue. There is, moreover, in Mrs. Hemans's poetry, a moral purity and a religious feelingwhich commend it, in an especial manner, to the discriminating reader. Noparent or guardian will be under the necessity of imposing restrictionswith regard to the free perusal of every production emanating from thisgifted woman. There breathes throughout the whole a most eminent exemptionfrom impropriety of thought or diction; and there is at times a pensivenessof tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions, which tells ofa soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things, to divine communings with beings of a purer world. "

MILTON, YOUNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND COLLINS'S POETICAL WORKS. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 

COWPER AND THOMSON'S PROSE AND POETICAL WORKS. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

Including two hundred and fifty Letters, and sundry Poems of Cowper, neverbefore published in this country; and of Thomson a new and interestingMemoir, and upwards of twenty new Poems, for the first time printed fromhis own Manuscripts, taken from a late Edition of the Aldine Poets, nowpublishing in London. 

WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 

The distinguished Professor Silliman, speaking of this edition, observes:"I am as much gratified by the elegance and fine taste of your edition, asby the noble tribute of genius and moral excellence which these delightfulauthors have left for all future generations; and Cowper, especially, isnot less conspicuous as a true Christian, moralist and teacher, than as apoet of great power and exquisite taste. "

 * * * * *

THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, MONTGOMERY, LAMB, AND KIRKE WHITE. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 

The beauty, correctness, and convenience of this favourite edition of thesestandard authors are so well known, that it is scarcely necessary to add aword in its favour. It is only necessary to say, that the publishers havenow issued an illustrated edition, which greatly enhances its former value. The engravings are excellent and well selected. It is the best libraryedition extant. 

CRABBE, HEBER, AND POLLOK'S POETICAL WORKS. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. 

A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language withreference to these valuable editions:--

"Mr. Editor:--I wish, without any idea of puffing, to say a word or twoupon the 'Library of English Poets' that is now published at Philadelphia, by Lippincott, Grambo & Co. It is certainly, taking into consideration theelegant manner in which it is printed, and the reasonable price at which itis afforded to purchasers, the best edition of the modern British Poetsthat has ever been published in this country. Each volume is an octavo ofabout 500 pages, double columns, stereotyped, and accompanied with fineengravings and biographical sketches; and most of them are reprinted fromGalignani's French edition. As to its value, we need only mention that itcontains the entire works of Montgomery, Gray, Beattie, Collins, Byron, Cowper, Thomson, Milton, Young, Rogers, Campbell, Lamb, Hemans, Heber, Kirke White, Crabbe, the Miscellaneous Works of Goldsmith, and othermasters of the lyre. The publishers are doing a great service by theirpublication, and their volumes are almost in as great demand as thefashionable novels of the day; and they deserve to be so: for they arecertainly printed in a style superior to that in which we have before hadthe works of the English Poets. "

No library can be considered complete without a copy of the above beautifuland cheap editions of the English Poets; and persons ordering all or any ofthem, will please say Lippincott, Grambo & Co. 's illustrated editions. 

 * * * * *

A COMPLETE

Dictionary of Poetical Quotations:

COMPRISING THE MOST EXCELLENT AND APPROPRIATE PASSAGES IN THE OLD BRITISHPOETS; WITH CHOICE AND COPIOUS SELECTIONS FROM THE BEST MODERN BRITISH ANDAMERICAN POETS. 

EDITED BY SARAH JOSEPHA HALE. 

 As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, So poets live upon the living light Of Nature and of Beauty. 

 _Bailey's Festus. _

Beautifully illustrated with Engravings. In one super-royal octavo volume, in various bindings. 

The publishers extract, from the many highly complimentary notices of theabove valuable and beautiful work, the following:

"We have at last a volume of Poetical Quotations worthy of the name. Itcontains nearly six hundred octavo pages, carefully and tastefully selectedfrom all the home and foreign authors of celebrity. It is invaluable to awriter, while to the ordinary reader it presents every subject at aglance. --_Godey's Lady's Book_. 

"The plan or idea of Mrs. Hale's work is felicitous. It is one for whichher fine taste, her orderly habits of mind, and her long occupation withliterature, has given her peculiar facilities; and thoroughly has sheaccomplished her task in the work before us. "--_Sartain's Magazine_. 

"It is a choice collection of poetical extracts from every English andAmerican author worth perusing, from the days of Chaucer to the presenttime. "--_Washington Union_. 

"There is nothing negative about this work; it is _positively_good. "--_Evening Bulletin_. 

 * * * * *

THE DIAMOND EDITION OF BYRON. 

THE POETICAL WORKS OF LORD BYRON, WITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. 

COMPLETE IN ONE NEAT DUODECIMO VOLUME, WITH STEEL PLATES. 

The type of this edition is so perfect, and it is printed with so muchcare, on fine white paper, that it can be read with as much ease as most ofthe larger editions. This work is to be had in plain and superb binding, making a beautiful volume for a gift. 

"_The Poetical Works of Lord Byron_, complete in one volume; published byL. , G. & Co. , Philadelphia. We hazard nothing in saying that, take italtogether, this is the most elegant work ever issued from the Americanpress. 

"'In a single volume, not larger than an ordinary duodecimo, the publishershave embraced the whole of Lord Byron's Poems, usually printed in ten ortwelve volumes; and, what is more remarkable, have done it with a type soclear and distinct, that, notwithstanding its necessarily small size, itmay be read with the utmost facility, even by failing eyes. The book isstereotyped; and never have we seen a finer specimen of that art. Everything about it is perfect--the paper, the printing, the binding, allcorrespond with each other; and it is embellished with two fine engravings, well worthy the companionship in which they are placed. 

"'This will make a beautiful Christmas present. '

"We extract the above from Godey's Lady's Book. The notice itself, we aregiven to understand, is written by Mrs. Hale. 

"We have to add our commendation in favour of this beautiful volume, a copyof which has been sent us by the publishers. The admirers of the noble bardwill feel obliged to the enterprise which has prompted the publishers todare a competition with the numerous editions of his works already incirculation; and we shall be surprised if this convenient travellingedition does not in a great degree supersede the use of the large octavoworks, which have little advantage in size and openness of type, and aremuch inferior in the qualities of portability andlightness. "--_Intelligencer_. 

 * * * * *

THE DIAMOND EDITION OF MOORE. 

(CORRESPONDING WITH BYRON. )

THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS MOORE, COLLECTED BY HIMSELF. 

COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. 

This work is published uniform with Byron, from the last London edition, and is the most complete printed in the country. 

 * * * * *

THE DIAMOND EDITION OF SHAKSPEARE, (COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, )

INCLUDING A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. 

UNIFORM WITH BYRON AND MOORE. 

THE ABOVE WORKS CAN BE HAD IN SEVERAL VARIETIES OF BINDING. 

 * * * * *

GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE. 

IN TWO VOLUMES, OCTAVO. 

BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH 385 PLATES. 

CONTAINING A HISTORY OF THE EARTH, ANIMALS, BIRDS, AND FISHES; FORMING THEMOST COMPLETE NATURAL HISTORY EVER PUBLISHED. 

This is a work that should be in the library of every family, having beenwritten by one of the most talented authors in the English language. 

"Goldsmith can never be made obsolete while delicate genius, exquisitefeeling, fine invention, the most harmonious metre, and the happiestdiction, are at all valued. "

 * * * * *

BIGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY

Of Animals, Birds, Fishes, Reptiles, and Insects. Illustrated with numerousand beautiful Engravings. By JOHN BIGLAND, author of a "View of the World. ""Letters on Universal History, " &c. Complete in 1 vol. , 12 mo. 

 * * * * *

THE POWER AND PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES. 

THE UNITED STATES; Its Power and Progress. 

BY GUILLAUME TELL POUSSIN, LATE MINISTER OF THE REPUBLIC OF FRANCE TO THE UNITED STATES. 

FIRST AMERICAN, FROM THE THIRD PARIS EDITION. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY EDMOND L. DU BARRY, M. D. , SURGEON U. S. NAVY. 

In one large octavo volume. 

 * * * * *

SCHOOLCRAFT'S GREAT NATIONAL WORK ON THE INDIAN TRIBES OF THE UNITEDSTATES, WITH BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS. 

HISTORICAL AND STATISTICAL INFORMATION

RESPECTING THE

HISTORY, CONDITION AND PROSPECTS

OF THE

Indian Tribes of the United States. 

COLLECTED AND PREPARED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE BUREAU OF INDIAN AFFAIRS, PER ACT OF MARCH 3, 1847, BY HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT, LL. D. 

ILLUSTRATED BY S. EASTMAN, CAPT. U. S. A. 

PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY OF CONGRESS. 

 * * * * *

THE AMERICAN GARDENER'S CALENDAR, ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE AND SEASONS OF THE UNITED STATES. 

Containing a complete account of all the work necessary to be done in theKitchen Garden, Fruit Garden, Orchard, Vineyard, Nursery, Pleasure-Ground, Flower Garden, Green-house, Hot-house, and Forcing Frames, for every monthin the year; with ample Practical Directions for performing the same. 

Also, general as well as minute instructions for laying out or erectingeach and every of the above departments, according to modern taste and themost approved plans; the Ornamental Planting of Pleasure Grounds, in theancient and modern style; the cultivation of Thorn Quicks, and other plantssuitable for Live Hedges, with the best methods of making them, &c. Towhich are annexed catalogues of Kitchen Garden Plants and Herbs; Aromatic, Pot, and Sweet Herbs; Medicinal Plants, and the most important Grapes, &c. , used in rural economy; with the soil best adapted to their cultivation. Together with a copious Index to the body of the work. 

BY BERNARD M'MAHON. 

Tenth Edition, greatly improved. In one volume, octavo. 

 * * * * *

THE USEFUL AND THE BEAUTIFUL;

OR, DOMESTIC AND MORAL DUTIES NECESSARY TO SOCIAL HAPPINESS, BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. 

16mo. Square cloth. Price 50 and 75 cents. 

 * * * * *

THE FARMER'S AND PLANTER'S ENCYCLOPĘDIA, The Farmer's and Planter's Encyclopędia of Rural Affairs. 

BY CUTHBERT W. JOHNSON. 

ADAPTED TO THE UNITED STATES BY GOUVERNEUR EMERSON. 

Illustrated by seventeen beautiful Engravings of Cattle, Horses, Sheep, thevarieties of Wheat, Barley, Oats, Grasses, the Weeds of Agriculture. &c. ;besides numerous Engravings on wood of the most important implements ofAgriculture, &c. 

This standard work contains the latest and best information upon allsubjects connected with farming, and appertaining to the country; treatingof the great crops of grain, hay, cotton, hemp, tobacco, rice, sugar, &c. &c. ; of horses and mules; of cattle, with minute particulars relating tocheese and butter-making; of fowls, including a description ofcapon-making, with drawings of the instruments employed; of bees, and theRussian and other systems of managing bees and constructing hives. Longarticles on the uses and preparation of bones, lime, guano, and all sortsof animal, mineral, and vegetable substances employed as manures. Descriptions of the most approved ploughs, harrows, threshers, and everyother agricultural machine and implement; of fruit and shade trees, foresttrees, and shrubs; of weeds, and all kinds of flies, and destructive wormsand insects, and the best means of getting rid of them; together with athousand other matters relating to rural life, about which information isso constantly desired by all residents of the country. 

IN ONE LARGE OCTAVO VOLUME. 

 * * * * *

MASON'S FARRIER--FARMERS' EDITION. 

Price, 62 cents. 

THE PRACTICAL FARRIER, FOR FARMERS:

COMPRISING A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NOBLE AND USEFUL ANIMAL, THE HORSE;

WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES; AND AN APPENDIX, Containing Recipes for Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, &c. &c. 

BY RICHARD MASON, M. D. , Formerly of Surry County. Virginia. 

In one volume, 12mo. ; bound in cloth, gilt. 

 * * * * *

MASON'S FARRIER AND STUD-BOOK--NEW EDITION. 

THE GENTLEMAN'S NEW POCKET FARRIER:

COMPRISING A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NOBLE AND USEFUL ANIMAL, THE HORSE;

WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE. 

BY RICHARD MASON, M. D. , Formerly of Surry County, Virginia. 

To which is added, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES; and AN APPENDIX, containingRecipes for Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, &c. &c. ; with Annals of the Turf, American Stud-Book. Rules for Training, Racing, &c. 

WITH A SUPPLEMENT, Comprising an Essay on Domestic Animals, especially the Horse; with Remarkson Treatment and Breeding; together with Trotting and Racing Tables, showing the best time on record at one, two, three and four mile heats;Pedigrees of Winning Horses, since 1839, and of the most celebratedStallions and Mares; with useful Calving and Lambing Tables. By J. S. SKINNER, Editor now of the Farmer's Library, New York, &c. &c. 

 * * * * *

HINDS'S FARRIERY AND STUD-BOOK--NEW EDITION. 

FARRIERY, TAUGHT ON A NEW AND EASY PLAN:

BEING

A Treatise on the Diseases and Accidents of the Horse;

With Instructions to the Shoeing Smith, Farrier, and Groom; preceded by aPopular Description of the Animal Functions in Health, and how these are tobe restored when disordered. 

BY JOHN HINDS, VETERINARY SURGEON. 

With considerable Additions and Improvements, particularly adapted to thiscountry, BY THOMAS M. SMITH, Veterinary Surgeon, and Member of the London Veterinary Medical Society. 

WITH A SUPPLEMENT, BY J. S. SKINNER. 

The publishers have received numerous flattering notices of the greatpractical value of these works. The distinguished editor of the AmericanFarmer, speaking of them, observes:--"We cannot too highly recommend thesebooks, and therefore advise every owner of a horse to obtain them. "

"There are receipts in those books that show how _Founder_ may be cured, and the traveller pursue his journey the next day, by giving a _tablespoonof alum_. This was got from Dr. P. Thornton, of Montpelier, Rappahannockcounty, Virginia, as founded on his own observation in several cases. "

"The constant demand for Mason's and Hinds's Farrier has induced thepublishers, Messrs. Lippincott, Grambo & Co. , to put forth new editions, with a 'Supplement' of 100 pages by J. S. Skinner, Esq. We should havesought to render an acceptable service to our agricultural readers, bygiving a chapter from the Supplement, 'On the Relations between Man and theDomestic Animals, especially the Horse, and the Obligations they impose;'or the one on 'The Form of Animals;' but that either one of them wouldoverrun the space here allotted to such subjects. "

"Lists of Medicines, and other articles which ought to be at hand aboutevery training and livery stable, and every Farmer's and Breeder'sestablishment, will be found in these valuable works. "

 * * * * *

TO CARPENTERS AND MECHANICS. 

Just Published. 

A NEW AND IMPROVED EDITION OF

THE CARPENTER'S NEW GUIDE, BEING A COMPLETE BOOK OF LINES FOR

CARPENTRY AND JOINERY;

Treating fully on Practical Geometry, Saffu's Brick and Plaster Groms, Niches of every description, Sky-lights, Lines for Roofs and Domes: with agreat variety of Designs for Roofs, Trussed Girders, Floors, Domes, Bridges. &c. , Angle Bars for Shop Fronts, &c. , and Raking Mouldings. 

ALSO, Additional Plans for various Stair-Cases, with the Lines for producing theFace and Falling Moulds never before published, and greatly superior tothose given in a former edition of this work. 

BY WILLIAM JOHNSON, ARCHITECT, OF PHILADELPHIA. 

The whole founded on true Geometrical Principles; the Theory and Practicewell explained and fully exemplified, on eighty-three copper plates, including some Observations and Calculations on the Strength of Timber. 

BY PETER NICHOLSON, Author of "The Carpenter and Joiner's Assistant, " "The Student's Instructorto the Five Orders, " &c. 

Thirteenth Edition. One volume. 4to. , well bound. 

 * * * * *

A DICTIONARY OF SELECT AND POPULAR QUOTATIONS, WHICH ARE IN DAILY USE. 

TAKEN FROM THE LATIN, FRENCH, GREEK, SPANISH AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES. 

Together with a copious Collection of Law Maxims and Law Terms, translatedinto English, with Illustrations, Historical and Idiomatic. 

NEW AMERICAN EDITION, CORRECTED, WITH ADDITIONS. 

One volume, 12mo. 

This volume comprises a copious collection of legal and other terms whichare in common use, with English translations and historical illustrations;and we should judge its author had surely been to a great "Feast ofLanguages, " and stole all the scraps. A work of this character should havean extensive sale, as it entirely obviates a serious difficulty in whichmost readers are involved by the frequent occurrence of Latin, Greek, andFrench passages, which we suppose are introduced by authors for a mere showof learning--a difficulty very perplexing to readers in general. This"Dictionary of Quotations, " concerning which too much cannot be said in itsfavour, effectually removes the difficulty, and gives the reader anadvantage over the author; for we believe a majority are themselvesignorant of the meaning of the terms they employ. Very few truly learnedauthors will insult their readers by introducing Latin or French quotationsin their writings, when "plain English" will do as well; but we will notenlarge on this point. 

If the book is useful to those unacquainted with other languages, it is noless valuable to the classically educated as a book of reference, andanswers all the purposes of a Lexicon--indeed, on many accounts, it isbetter. It saves the trouble of tumbling over the larger volumes, to whichevery one, and especially those engaged in the legal profession, are veryoften subjected. It should have a place in every library in the country. 

 * * * * *

RUSCHENBERGER'S NATURAL HISTORY, COMPLETE, WITH NEW GLOSSARY

THE ELEMENTS OF NATURAL HISTORY, EMBRACING ZOOLOGY, BOTANY AND GEOLOGY: FORSCHOOLS, COLLEGES AND FAMILIES. 

BY W. S. W. RUSCHENBERGER, M. D. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

WITH NEARLY ONE THOUSAND ILLUSTRATIONS, AND A COPIOUS GLOSSARY. 

Vol. I. Contains _Vertebrate Animals_. Vol. II. Contains _InvertebrateAnimals, Botany, and Geology_. 

 * * * * *

A Beautiful and Valuable Presentation Book. 

THE POET'S OFFERING. 

EDITED BY MRS. HALE. 

With a Portrait of the Editress, a Splendid Illuminated Title-Page, andTwelve Beautiful Engravings by Sartain. Bound in rich Turkey Morocco, andExtra Cloth, Gilt Edge. 

To those who wish to make a present that will never lose its value, thiswill be found the most desirable Gift-Book ever published. 

"We commend it to all who desire to present a friend with a volume not onlyvery beautiful, but of solid intrinsic value. "--_Washington Union_. 

"A perfect treasury of the thoughts and fancies of the best English andAmerican Poets. The paper and printing are beautiful, and the binding rich, elegant, and substantial; The most sensible and attractive of all theelegant gift-books we have seen. "--_Evening Bulletin_. 

"The publishers deserve the thanks of the public for so happy a thought, sowell executed. The engravings are by the best artists, and the otherportions of the work correspond in elegance. "--_Public Ledger_. 

"There is no book of selections so diversified and appropriate within ourknowledge. "--_Pennsylv'n_. 

"It is one of the most valuable as well as elegant books ever published inthis country. "--_Godey's Lady's Book_. 

"It is the most beautiful and the most useful offering ever bestowed on thepublic. No individual of literary taste will venture to be withoutit. "--_The City Item_. 

 * * * * *

THE YOUNG DOMINICAN;

OR, THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION, AND OTHER SECRET SOCIETIES OF SPAIN. 

BY M. V. DE FEREAL. 

WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, BY M. MANUEL DE CUENDIAS, TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 

ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY SPLENDID ENGRAVINGS BY FRENCH ARTISTS

One volume, octavo. 

 * * * * *

SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. 

A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY;

Or, The Production, Distribution and Consumption of Wealth. 

BY JEAN BAPTISTE SAY. 

FIFTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, BY C. C. BIDDLE, ESQ. 

In one volume, octavo. 

It would be beneficial to our country if all those who are aspiring tooffice, were required by their constituents to be familiar with the pagesof Say. 

The distinguished biographer of the author, in noticing this work, observes: "Happily for science, he commenced that study which forms thebasis of his admirable Treatise on _Political Economy_; a work which notonly improved under his hand with every successive edition, but has beentranslated into most of the European languages. "

The Editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, observes, that"he is the most popular, and perhaps the most able writer on PoliticalEconomy, since the time of Smith. "

 * * * * *

LAURENCE STERNE'S WORKS, WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR:

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 

WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVED BY GILBERT AND GIHON, FROMDESIGNS BY DARLEY. 

One volume, octavo; cloth, gilt. 

To commend or to criticise Sterne's Works, in this age of the world, wouldbe all "wasteful and extravagant excess. " Uncle Toby--Corporal Trim--theWidow--Le Fevre--Poor Maria--the Captive--even the Dead Ass, --this is allwe have to say of Sterne; and in the memory of these characters, histories, and sketches, a thousand follies and worse than follies are forgotten. Thevolume is a very handsome one. 

 * * * * *

THE MEXICAN WAR AND ITS HEROES;

BEING

A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE MEXICAN WAR, EMBRACING ALL THE OPERATIONS UNDER GENERALS TAYLOR AND SCOTT. 

WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF THE OFFICERS. 

ALSO, AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA AND NEW MEXICO, Under Gen. Kearny, Cols. Doniphan and Fremont. Together with NumerousAnecdotes of the War, and Personal Adventures of the Officers. Illustratedwith Accurate Portraits, and other Beautiful Engravings. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

NEW AND COMPLETE COOK-BOOK. 

THE PRACTICAL COOK-BOOK, CONTAINING UPWARDS OF

ONE THOUSAND RECEIPTS, Consisting of Directions for Selecting, Preparing, and Cooking all kinds ofMeats, Fish, Poultry, and Game; Soups, Broths, Vegetables, and Salads. Also, for making all kinds of Plain and Fancy Breads, Pastes, Puddings, Cakes, Creams, Ices, Jellies, Preserves, Marmalades, &c. &c. &c. Togetherwith various Miscellaneous Recipes, and numerous Preparations for Invalids. 

BY MRS. BLISS. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

The City Merchant; or The Mysterious Failure. 

BY J. B. JONES, AUTHOR OF "WILD WESTERN SCENES, " "THE WESTERN MERCHANT, " &c. 

ILLUSTRATED WITH TEN ENGRAVINGS. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

EL PUCHERO; or, A Mixed Dish from Mexico. 

EMBRACING GENERAL SCOTT'S CAMPAIGN, WITH SKETCHES OF MILITARY LIFE IN FIELDAND CAMP; OF THE CHARACTER OF THE COUNTRY, MANNERS AND WAYS OF THE PEOPLE, &c. 

BY RICHARD M'SHERRY, M. D. , U. S. N. , LATE ACTING SURGEON OF REGIMENT OF MARINES. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS. 

 * * * * *

MONEY-BAGS AND TITLES:

A HIT AT THE FOLLIES OF THE AGE. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF JULES SANDEAU. 

BY LEONARD MYERS. 

One volume, 12mo. 

"'_Money-Bags and Titles_' is quite a remarkable work, amounts to a kindlyexposure of the folly of human pride, and also presents at once the eviland the remedy. If good-natured ridicule of the impostures practised by aset of self-styled reformers, who have nothing to lose, and to whom changemust be gain--if, in short, a delineation of the mistaken ideas whichprevent, and the means which conduce to happiness, be traits deserving ofcommendation, --the reader will find much to enlist his attention and winhis approbation in the pages of this unpretending, but truly meritoriouspublication. "

 * * * * *

WHAT IS CHURCH HISTORY?

A VINDICATION OF THE IDEA OF HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS, BY PHILIP SCHAF. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

DODD'S LECTURES. 

DISCOURSES TO YOUNG MEN. 

ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS HIGHLY INTERESTING ANECDOTES. 

BY WILLIAM DODD, LL. D. , CHAPLAIN IN ORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY GEORGE THE THIRD. 

FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ENGRAVINGS. 

One volume, 18mo. 

 * * * * *

THE IRIS:

AN ORIGINAL SOUVENIR. 

With Contributions from the First Writers in the Country. 

EDITED BY PROF. JOHN S. HART. 

With Splendid Illuminations and Steel Engravings. Bound in Turkey Moroccoand rich Papier Mache Binding. 

IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. 

Its contents are entirely original. Among the contributors are names wellknown in the republic of letters; such as Mr. Boker, Mr. Stoddard, Prof. Moffat, Edith May, Mrs. Sigourney, Caroline May, Mrs. Kinney, Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Pease, Mrs. Swift, Mr. Van Bibber, Rev. Charles T. Brooks, Mrs. Dorr, Erastus W. Ellsworth, Miss E. W. Barnes, Mrs. Williams, Mary Young, Dr. Gardette, Alice Carey, Phebe Carey, Augusta Browne, Hamilton Browne, Caroline Eustis, Margaret Junkin, Maria J. B. Browne, Miss Starr, Mrs. Brotherson, Kate Campbell, &c. 

 * * * * *

GEMS FROM THE SACRED MINE;

OR, HOLY THOUGHTS UPON SACRED SUBJECTS. 

BY CLERGYMEN OF THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH. 

EDITED BY THOMAS WYATT, A. M. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL STEEL ENGRAVINGS. 

The contents of this work are chiefly by clergymen of the Episcopal Church. Among the contributors will be found the names of the Right Rev. BishopPotter, Bishop Hopkins, Bishop Smith, Bishop Johns, and Bishop Doane; andthe Rev. Drs. H. V. D. Johns, Coleman, and Butler; Rev. G. T. Bedell, M'Cabe, Ogilsby, &c. The illustrations are rich and exquisitely wrought engravingsupon the following subjects:--"Samuel before Eli, " "Peter and John healingthe Lame Man, " "The Resurrection of Christ, " "Joseph sold by his Brethren, ""The Tables of the Law. " "Christ's Agony in the Garden, " and "The Flightinto Egypt. " These subjects, with many others in prose and verse, are ablytreated throughout the work. 

 * * * * *

HAW-HO-NOO:

OR, THE RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

BY CHARLES LANMAN, Author of "A Summer in the Wilderness, " &c. In one volume, 12mo. 

"In the present book, '_Haw-ho-noo_, ' (an Indian name, by the way, forAmerica, ) the author has gathered up some of the relics of his formertours, and added to them other interesting matter. It contains a number ofcarefully written and instructive articles upon the various kinds of fishin our country, whose capture affords sport for anglers; reminiscences ofunique incidents, manners, and customs in different parts of the country;and other articles, narrative, descriptive, and sentimental. In asupplement are gathered many curious Indian legends. They are related withgreat simplicity and clearness, and will be of service hereafter to thepoem makers of America. Many of them are quite beautiful. "--_NationalIntelligencer_. 

 * * * * *

LONZ POWERS; Or, The Regulators. 

A ROMANCE OF KENTUCKY. 

FOUNDED ON FACTS. 

BY JAMES WEIR, ESQ. 

IN TWO VOLUMES. 

The scenes, characters, and incidents in these volumes have been copiedfrom nature, and from real life. They are represented as taking place atthat period in the history of Kentucky, when the Indian, driven, after manya hard-fought field, from his favourite hunting-ground, was succeeded by arude and unlettered population, interspersed with organized bands ofdesperadoes, scarcely less savage than the red men they had displaced. Theauthor possesses a vigorous and graphic pen, and has produced a veryinteresting romance, which gives us a striking portrait of the times hedescribes. 

 * * * * *

THE WESTERN MERCHANT. 

A NARRATIVE, Containing useful Instruction for the Western Man of Business, who makeshis Purchases in the East. Also, Information for the Eastern Man, whoseCustomers are in the West. Likewise, Hints for those who design emigratingto the West. Deduced from actual experience. 

BY LUKE SHORTFIELD, A WESTERN MERCHANT. 

One volume, 12mo. 

This is a new work, and will be found very interesting to the CountryMerchant, &c. &c. 

A sprightly, pleasant book, with a vast amount of information in a veryagreeable shape. Business, Love, and Religion are all discussed, and manyproper sentiments expressed in regard to each. The "moral" of the work issummed up in the following concluding sentences: "Adhere steadfastly toyour business; adhere steadfastly to your first love; adhere steadfastly tothe church. "

 * * * * *

A MANUAL OF POLITENESS, COMPRISING THE

PRINCIPLES OF ETIQUETTE AND RULES OF BEHAVIOUR

IN GENTEEL SOCIETY, FOR PERSONS OF BOTH SEXES. 

18mo. , with Plates. 

 * * * * *

Book of Politeness. 

THE GENTLEMAN AND LADY'S

BOOK OF POLITENESS AND PROPRIETY OF DEPORTMENT

DEDICATED TO THE YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES. 

BY MADAME CELNART. 

Translated from the Sixth Paris Edition, Enlarged and Improved. 

Fifth American Edition. 

One volume, 18mo. 

 * * * * *

THE ANTEDILUVIANS; Or, The World Destroyed. 

A NARRATIVE POEM, IN TEN BOOKS. 

BY JAMES M'HENRY, M. D. 

One volume, 18mo. 

 * * * * *

Bennett's (Rev. John) Letters to a Young Lady, ON A VARIETY OF SUBJECTS CALCULATED TO IMPROVE THE HEART, TO FORM THEMANNERS, AND ENLIGHTEN THE UNDERSTANDING. 

"That our daughters may be as polished corners of the temple. "

The publishers sincerely hope (for the happiness of mankind) that a copy ofthis valuable little work will be found the companion of every young lady, as much of the happiness of every family depends on the proper cultivationof the female mind. 

 * * * * *

THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK:

OR, PRACTICAL HINTS FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER. 

One volume, 18mo. 

This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises on theculture and discipline of the female mind, which has hitherto beenpublished in this country; and the publishers are very confident, from thegreat demand for this invaluable little work, that ere long it will befound in the library of every young lady. 

 * * * * *

THE AMERICAN CHESTERFIELD:

Or, "Youth's Guide to the Way to Wealth, Honour, and Distinction" &c. 18mo. 

CONTAINING ALSO A COMPLETE TREATISE ON THE ART OF CARVING. 

"We most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to generalattention: but to young persons particularly, as one of the best works ofthe kind that has ever been published in this country. It cannot be toohighly appreciated, nor its perusal be unproductive of satisfaction andusefulness. "

 * * * * *

SENECA'S MORALS. 

BY WAY OF ABSTRACT TO WHICH IS ADDED, A DISCOURSE UNDER THE TITLE OF ANAFTER-THOUGHT. 

BY SIR ROGER L'ESTRANGE, KNT. 

A new, fine edition; one volume, 18mo. 

A copy of this valuable little work should be found in every familylibrary. 

 * * * * *

NEW SONG-BOOK. 

Grigg's Southern and Western Songster;

BEING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF THE MOST FASHIONABLE SONGS, MANY OF WHICH AREORIGINAL. 

In one volume, 18mo. 

Great care was taken, in the selection, to admit no song that contained, inthe slightest degree, any indelicate or improper allusions; and with greatpropriety it may claim the title of "The Parlour Song-Book, or Songster. "The immortal Shakspeare observes--

 "The man that hath not music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils. "

 * * * * *

ROBOTHAM'S POCKET FRENCH DICTIONARY, CAREFULLY REVISED, AND THE PRONUNCIATION OF ALL THE DIFFICULT WORDS ADDED. 

 * * * * *

THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, GENTLEMAN. 

COMPRISING THE HUMOROUS ADVENTURES OF

UNCLE TOBY AND CORPORAL TRIM. 

BY L. STERNE. 

Beautifully Illustrated by Darley. Stitched. 

 * * * * *

A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY. 

BY L. STERNE. 

Illustrated as above by Darley. Stitched. 

The beauties of this author are so well known, and his errors in style andexpression so few and far between, that one reads with renewed delight hisdelicate turns, &c. 

 * * * * *

THE LIFE OF GENERAL JACKSON, WITH A LIKENESS OF THE OLD HERO. 

One volume, 18mo. 

 * * * * *

LIFE OF PAUL JONES. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

WITH ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS

BY JAMES HAMILTON. 

The work is compiled from his original journals and correspondence, andincludes an account of his services in the American Revolution, and in thewar between the Russians and Turks in the Black Sea. There is scarcely anyNaval Hero, of any age, who combined in his character so much of theadventurous, skilful and daring, as Paul Jones. The incidents of his Lifeare almost as startling and absorbing as those of romance. His achievementsduring the American Revolution--the fight between the Bon Homme Richard andSerapis, the most desperate naval action on record--and the alarm intowhich, with so small a force, he threw the coasts of England andScotland--are matters comparatively well known to Americans; but theincidents of his subsequent career have been veiled in obscurity, which isdissipated by this biography. A book like this, narrating the actions ofsuch a man, ought to meet with an extensive sale, and become as popular asRobinson Crusoe in fiction, or Weems's Life of Marion and Washington, andsimilar books, in fact. It contains 400 pages, has a handsome portrait andmedallion likeness of Jones, and is illustrated with numerous original woodengravings of naval scenes and distinguished men with whom he was familiar. 

 * * * * *

THE GREEK EXILE;

Or, A Narrative of the Captivity and Escape of Christophoros PlatoCastanis, DURING THE MASSACRE ON THE ISLAND OF SCIO BY THE TURKS TOGETHERWITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES IN GREECE AND AMERICA. 

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF, Author of an Essay on the Ancient and Modern Greek Languages;Interpretation of the Attributes of the Principal Fabulous Deities; TheJewish Maiden of Scio's Citadel; and the Greek Boy in the Sunday-School. 

One volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

THE YOUNG CHORISTER;

Collection of New and Beautiful Tunes, adapted to the use ofSabbath-Schools, from some of the most distinguished composers; togetherwith many of the author's compositions. 

EDITED BY MINARD W. WILSON. 

 * * * * *

CAMP LIFE OF A VOLUNTEER, A Campaign in Mexico; Or, A Glimpse at Life In Camp. 

BY "ONE WHO HAS SEEN THE ELEPHANT. "

 * * * * *

Life of General Zachary Taylor, COMPRISING A NARRATIVE OF EVENTS CONNECTED WITH HIS PROFESSIONAL CAREER, AND AUTHENTIC INCIDENTS OF HIS EARLY YEARS. 

BY J. REESE FRY AND R. T. CONRAD. 

With an original and accurate Portrait, and eleven elegant illustrations, by Darley. 

In one handsome 12mo. Volume. 

"It is by far the fullest and most interesting biography of General Taylorthat we have ever seen. "--_Richmond (Whig) Chronicle_. 

"On the whole, we are satisfied that this volume is the most correct andcomprehensive one yet published. "--_Hunt's Merchants' Magazine_. 

"The superiority of this edition over the ephemeral publications of the dayconsists in fuller and more authentic accounts of his family, his earlylife, and Indian wars. The narrative of his proceedings in Mexico is drawnpartly from reliable private letters, but chiefly from his own officialcorrespondence. "

"It forms a cheap, substantial, and attractive volume, and one which shouldbe read at the fireside of every family who desire a faithful and true lifeof the Old General. "

 * * * * *

GENERAL TAYLOR AND HIS STAFF:

Comprising Memoirs of Generals Taylor, Worth, Wool, and Butler; Cols. May, Cross, Clay, Hardin, Yell, Hays, and other distinguished Officers attachedto General Taylor's Army. Interspersed with

NUMEROUS ANECDOTES OF THE MEXICAN WAR, and Personal Adventures of the Officers. Compiled from Public Documents andPrivate Correspondence. With

ACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

GENERAL SCOTT AND HIS STAFF:

Comprising Memoirs of Generals Scott, Twiggs, Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, Lane, Cadwalader, Patterson, and Pierce; Cols. Childs, Riley, Harney, and Butler; and other distinguished officers attached to GeneralScott's Army. 

TOGETHER WITH

Notices of General Kearny, Col. Doniphan, Col. Fremont, and other officersdistinguished in the Conquest of California and New Mexico; and PersonalAdventures of the Officers. Compiled from Public Documents and PrivateCorrespondence. With

ACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In one volume, 12mo. 

 * * * * *

THE FAMILY DENTIST, INCLUDING THE SURGICAL, MEDICAL AND MECHANICAL TREATMENT OF THE TEETH. 

Illustrated with thirty-one Engravings. 

By CHARLES A. DU BOUCHET, M. D. , Dental Surgeon. 

In one volume, 18mo. 

 * * * * *

MECHANICS FOR THE MILLWRIGHT, ENGINEER AND MACHINIST, CIVIL ENGINEER, ANDARCHITECT:

CONTAINING

THE PRINCIPLES OF MECHANICS APPLIED TO MACHINERY

Of American models, Steam-Engines, Water-Works, Navigation, Bridge-building, &c. &c. By

FREDERICK OVERMAN, Author of "The Manufacture of Iron, " and other scientific treatises. 

Illustrated by 150 Engravings. In one large 12mo. Volume. 

 * * * * *

WILLIAMS'S TRAVELLER'S AND TOURIST'S GUIDE

Through the United States, Canada, &c. 

This book will be found replete with information, not only to thetraveller, but likewise to the man of business. In its preparation, anentirely new plan has been adopted, which, we are convinced, needs only atrial to be fully appreciated. 

Among its many valuable features, are tables showing at a glance the_distance_, _fare_, and _time_ occupied in travelling from the principalcities to the most important places in the Union; so that the questionfrequently asked, without obtaining a satisfactory reply, is here answeredin full. Other tables show the distances from New York, &c. , to domesticand foreign ports, by sea; and also, by way of comparison, from New Yorkand Liverpool to the principal ports beyond and around Cape Horn, &c. , aswell as _via_ the Isthmus of Panama. Accompanied by a large and accurateMap of the United States, including a separate Map of California, Oregon, New Mexico and Utah. Also, a Map of the Island of Cuba, and Plan of theCity and Harbor of Havana; and a Map of Niagara River and Falls. 

 * * * * *

THE LEGISLATIVE GUIDE:

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FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: Uncle Tom's Cabin. ]

[Footnote B: A number of slaves have been manumitted recently at theSouth--in one instance more than half preferred to remain in slavery in NewOrleans, to going to the North. ]