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L E O ]S" D A X D E 



^8 7 7/.. 





YOUNG Haywood had just returned from the races. He 
had thrown the reins of his panting horses to the groom 
awaiting him on the pavement. 

The haughty clash of his heel on the heav}^ staircase rang through 
the lofty hall, and as the double step of his companion and him- 
self approached his chamber, the door opened widely, as if in in- 
stinctive obedience to his desire. 

It closed after them ; its oaken violence restrained by a hand 
that guided it noiselessly to the threshold. 

The waxed floor stretched away to the small squares of sunlight 
which had found their way through gables, dormer windows, towers 
and turrets, — and at last lay sleeping on the polished surface. 

Ralph's petted hounds stretched their weary limbs to rest, half 
buried in the mossy roses of a rich rug just spread for their use, 
and young Lord Malvern speedily settled himself in a high backed 
easy chair. 

"Damn this belt!" rang out on the stillness. "March! take 
these pistols ! " 

"Yes sir! pardon ! here are letters sir." And the faithful ser- 
vant took the pistols with one hand, while he proffered, the letters 
with the other. 

"O Jupiter! and all the gods of Olympus! — letters! March 
are you mad ? Bring wine before letters ! — Fill the brimming 
goblet ! Ensuite the dressing room, and then mon valet-de-chani' 
dre^ nC apportez mes billets. ^^ 



Ralph addressed Lord George deferentially. " A gentleman of 
the turf needs have his nerves braced by the spirit of the vine, before 
he undertakes the literary career of perusing missives from ' Vau- 
cluse, and Pedee plantations. Take a bumper yourself, my lord ! 
Ihis wine has seen age ! One should be wiser as well as wittier, 
for Its potations ! " 

Glass after glass was drained to its purple depths, till its effer- 
vescence gleamed in their glowing cheeks. Weariness and fatigue 
were chased away, by the insidious balm which crept through the 
vems, and lulled irritability of nerves. Ideas such as only rank 
and chivalry can sport, were advanced and discussed. 
^ These floated forth on their winy breath like blown bubbles, 
tinged with all the hues of the Iris. The young English lord, and 
the American cavalier had become the Autocrats of all vulgar 
destinies. Races, operas, theatres, universities, thrones, govern- 
ments, principalities and powers were brought upon the docket, 
and each in parliamentary turn were laid on the table." 

"Betting ran high to-day," said Ralph. "A mint of money 
changed hands." 

" Yes ; the day was fine, and the track in good order. These 
races were gotten up by a few mutual friends, not so much for the 
purpose of speculation, as to enjoy a little hearty recreation." 

''Au cojitrairc, the stakes amounted to twenty-five thousand 
doHars ; single purses from two to five thousand dollars." 

" Doubtless ; after a few heats, blood is up ! Races and purses 
are married facts ; but who is the owner of that spiiited silver grey 
stalhon in the diree mile heat?" questioned Lord Malvern. 

"'Greylock' is mine! I am happy to acknowledge myself the 
master of moji hd arabe,'' replied Haywood, proudly. 

" He has fine spirit and action. He passed the winning post a 
full length ahead of his competitor," said his companion, flatter- 

";Aye; my lord land' Greylock's' rider has a superior system 
of jockeying. An English jockey from Epsom races. If money 
would have purchased his swarthy Arab master for 'Greylock's' 
back, I would set the world at defiance. 

" Is he true Arabian blood .? " 

" Pure as the dews distilled on Hermon. Last winter, after 





being dubbed 'Savant' at Z* Universite, and packing books out of 
sight, I took a trip over the Mediterranean to Alexandria, Cairo, 
and the Pyramids. I brought back the beauty, fairly tearing him 
from one of the chiefs of the desert ! " 

" ' Dusty Bay's ' owner was an American 1 " 

" Yes ; a Georgian. ' Dusty Bay ' was shipped to my friend from 
California — fine blood ; trim, flinty limbs ; contesting every inch 
of ground. Lapped ' Greylock ' on the outward stretch, but broke 
badly on the home run." 

" Both came in at a killing gait ; but Ralph, my friend, did you 
observe the dodge of ' Dusty Bay's ' jockey ? He is a live Yankee ! 
He gave 'Greylock's ' jockey a sly, sharp cut over the head, as he 
passed at the dra\\ gate." 

" Holy God ! where were my eyes .'' That cursed Austrian called 
my attention with his rattling tongue ; else the ' live Yankee ' would 
have fallen from his saddle as a blasted fig falls from the branch. 
That would have been his last race ! " 

" But your fleet Arab might have fallen." 

" Nay, Lord George ! my pistol never misses aim. Have had 
experience on the plains, and among the marshes of Carolina! 
Have brought down slave-runaways on the leap, as easily as your 
best hunters mark deer in English parks ! Trained to it, you see ! 
We Southerners must be good shots ! Sharp gunnery is one of the 
defences of our ' peculiar institutions.' That kind of practice makes 
2l man a shot ! " 

" You have steeple-chases in America, then, with some purpose 
in view," interposed Lord George. 

'' We have rare game to lure us to pursuit. A sort of African 
hybrid, which has no particular cover peculiar to itself, such as 
other animals have." 

"The loss of such game, I suppose, is not merely the loss- of a 
haunch of vension, or a tidbit for an epicurean table ; but the loss 
of so much funds invested?" 

" Ah ! There you have it, my lord ! " and Ralph paced the ring- 
ing floor with consequential strides, every step giving emphasis. 
"There you have it! Slave-hunting in South Carolina among the 
piny woods and brier-jungles, is like hunting gold in water-courses, 
or diamonds in Brazil. Every capture puts in your pocket a cool one 



ilwusand^ or ffteeii hundred, Mais, pardonnez-moi ! I remember 
the British are being converted by the cant of one Wilberforce, and, 
perhaps to your English ear, my lord, a conversation on deer hunt- 
ing would be more an fait to the times." 

"Ah ! as to that matter, have no delicacy in expressing your sen- 
timents. Every nation to its taste ; but, by the way, do you in 
America, number deer hunting among your field sports ? " 

" By the gods ! Diana herself could claim no richer hunting- 
ground. — You should see some of our forest pictures ! You should 
see the deer standing in groups beneath our splendid live oaks, toss- 
ing their antlers among the long grey moss curtaining their coverts ; 
or coming in pairs to drink in some shadowy pool of water ; or 
bounding away amid thickets of vines and fan palms ! — It touches 
my heart, I swear, to hear the hounds baying after the graceful 
things ! " 

"What are your game laws? How do you protect game from 
your negroes and other trespassers .'' " 

" Game laws and negroes 1 Why, my lord, we have no necessity 
for game laws. Slaves have no arms, neither do they leave their 
quarters without passes from their masters ; and as to poachers, 
there are none. Southerners never trespass on each other's rights ; 
and when strangers come among us who are not in sympathy with 
our institutions, they are ordered out of the State. — March, you 
scoundrel, bring more wine ! " 

The two greyhounds, roused by the animation of Haywood's man- 
ner, rose from their bed of roses, and at unequal distances sleepily 
followed his walk up and down the long floor, stopping at every 
turn to look him in the face^ as if to question his mood, and say, 
*' what next t " The long mirrors on the four walls of the room 
repeated the scene, till the multiplied master and hounds appeared 
like the gathering in court of some ancient feudal castle, prepara- 
tory to a grand gala-hunt. 

" Flash ! 7na belle ! Dash ! mo?i brave I take your rug I If the 
race had been decided by your fleet limbs, I should have swept the 
stakes. Rest ! " and obeying the gesture of his hand, with a whim- 
pering cry of satisfaction, they trotted back to their couch again. 


Ralph walked on, repeating with an absent air, — 

" My idle greyhound loathes his food, 
My horse is weary of his stall, 
And I am sick of captive thrall. 
I wish I were as I have been, 
Hunting the hart in forest green, 
With bended bow and bloodhound free. 
For that 's the life is meet for me." 

The patches of the sunlight crept farther up the floor, and lord 
Malvern, ready to depart, stood dallying with the fresh blossoms 
of the " jardiniere." 

" Haywood, shall you go to the French opera to night ? " 

" What is the programme ? 

^^ La Dieu et la Bayadere ; then, a new star upon the boards! 
The first dancer of the world ! — a childish creature ! — Looks 
not more than fifteen." 

" Have you seen Mademoiselle la dansueseV^ 

" Twice. You would go into raptures, — figure perfectly rounded, 
— feet and hands of delicate, artistic proportions, — fresh as an 
apple bloom, and timid as a half-tamed gazelle." 

** What is her motion ? " 

" Language fails ! She swims before you like a wreath of mist 
ready to float away at a breath — yet so unconscious of her rare 
powers, and with such innocent purity in every look and attitude, 
that one grants her respect and admiration. I will drive round, 
for the pleasure of your company." 

The door again opened under the dexterous hand of March, and 
his visitor departed. Ralph took the opposite direction to the 
dressing room, followed at a respectful distance by the faithful ser- 
vant who should now attend the master's caprices in that depart- 

At five o'clock, the door of the little dining-room was grace- 
fully opened by the same dark hand, and young Haywood passed 
through. At table, he was unusually irritable and fastidious. 
March, accustomed to the uneven temper of his master, served 
him with attentive silence. The meal leisurely over, he repaired 
to the drawing-room, and ordered the letters, which were brought 
to him on a silver waiter. He broke the seal roughly, and in- 


stantly recognized the familiar chirography of his guardian uncle. 

"' Ubiquc patriiDn rc7nijiisd ' is forced upon me. Here in this 
folded paper is lex terrae, — lex taliofiis, in due form. I like the 
latter, by Jove ! " and he made the swift motion of crushing the 
letter. Thinking better of it, he said, "No, I'll read. Loyaiite 
m' oblige." 

The letter follows : 

Pedee, S. C, N(rj. i8///, 1S3— 

My Dear Ralph,— Your letter of July last was duly received. In that, you 
give the time of the closing of the University, and coincident with that event, 
will be the termination of your student life. 'After so many years of absence, 
our hearts are \yaiting to welcome you to our homes and social festivities. The 
broad lands which are your paternal estate, are awaiting their future master and 
possessor. South Carolina, the proud State of your ancestors, claims you as 
her son, and calls you back to your native soil for the maintenance of her honor, 
and defense of her life against' the plotting of fanaticism, and narrow-minded 
Northern sectionalism. 

A few agitators, and incendiaries of Boston, New York and Philadelphia, 
have recently engaged in some highly reprehensible measures. These wretches 
speak in open derision of the principles and measures of the American Coloni- 
zation Society. They profess to be agitated by the benign spirit of Christianity, 
and advocate immediate emancipation, while they are fiends in disguise. They 
have brought upon themselves the condemnation of the great mass of the sober 
friends of gradual emancipation in those very cities, and in .the North generally. 
We have pleasing evidence that the North as a class are with us. We are grow- 
ing stronger on every side ; and in future years these visions of Emancipation 
will be only myths of the past. 

A convention has recently been held in Tennessee for amending their .State 
Constitution; and one afneudment \s, a prohibition to the Legislature to abolish 
slavery. I send you an extract from our Charleston Courier of July 21st last 
past. That paper watches with an "Argus" eye every interest of our beloved 
State, and therefore its opinions are considered reliable. It says "Public sen- 
timent at the North in reference to Southern interests was never in a sounder 
state than it is now. The language of the Northern press is cheering in the ex- 
treme. The feeling in favor of the South and against the Abolitionists is deep 
and almost universal." 

Still, my dear fellow, as a son of the South, it is necessary you should fortify 
yourself with a knowledge of the civil and political status of your country. I 
will therefore state a few facts for your consideration. 

Since the abolition of slavery in the Northern States, the whites have dis- 
covered to their sorrow the innate, abject character of the African race. Their 
social and political condition is below the level of that of the slave ; but yet 
their nominal freedom only aggravates the condition of those in bondage 
Among the Northern industrial classes these free negroes form the lowest stra- 
tum, performing the most menial service, destitute of education, integrity, virtue 


and religion. They fill no seats at the free schools. They have no churches of 
their o\\n, nor do they sit in the sanctuaries of American Christians, who draw 
down from the Supreme Being all national blessings. Without moral charac- 
ter, through licentiousness on their own part, and the Northern mania for amal- 
gamation, they are fatjt degenerating into a mongrel race of mulattoes, hovering 
between the two races, — the scum (^f both. AYith this warning before the eyes 
of Northern statesmen and philanthropists, the wise course of the '* Colonization 
Society " is cordially adopted, — that of freeing the counti-y of this intolerable 
stigma by sending the free negroes out of it, and keeping the remainder of the 
race within the wholesome restrictions of slavery. As 1 said before, these ear- 
nest and sober-mindea men, guided by religion instead of fanaticism, are putting 
down these new-fledged Anti-Slavery societies, deeming their action as treason 
towards the government 

On the 6th of March of this year, the "Colonization Society*' of Middletown, 
Conn., passed this resolution : " Resolved, That in the opinion of this meeting 
it is the duty of every philanthropist to discountenance and oppose the efforts of 
Anti-Slavery societies." The Hon. T. Frelinghuyson of New Jer^^ey says in a 
speech, " We owe it to ourselves not to ramain silent spectators, while this wild 
»?r^ is running its course. We owe it to those misguided men, (the Abolition- 
ists), to interpose and save them and their country from the fatal effects of their 
mad speculations." In the organ of the " Colonization Society, " a friend of the 
South writes, "Is it possible that our citizens can look quietly on, while the 
flames of discord are rising ? while even our pulpits are sought to be used for 
the base purjoose of encouraging scenes of bloodshed in our land.^ If we do, 
can we look our Southern brethren in the face and say we are opposed to inter- 
fering with their rights ? No, we cannot." 

A collection of earnest men, to the number of three thousand strong, pro- 
ceeded to vindicate the honor of the American nam.e by assaulting the residence 
of Lewis Tappan, an accursed Abolitionist, in New York City. They attacked 
it with bricks and stones. The doors, windows, blinds and shutters were soon 
demolished, after"which the furniture was broken up and a bonfire made cf it in 
the streets; a blaze which may well enlighten the understanding of Tappan and 
his co-workers. Afterwards they proceeded to the churches, dwellings and 
school-honses of the city negroes, demolishing them with commenabie zeal, thus 
affording a just rebuke to these nascent disturbers of the country's peace. 

There, my nephew are the favorable signs of the times; and although this 
new race of Abolitionists possesses neither rank nor fame, still, like the insignifi- 
cant worms which slowly eat out the strength of many a noble hull, if left to 
their insidious workings, these vermicular souls may work leakage and danger 
to our ship of State, till its now harmonious and beauiiful proportions topple 
over, forever. One contemptible fellow, called Garrison, leads off this rebel 
crew in Boston. Let him once come to Charleston. The gleam of a thousand 
bowie-knives would light his way to Hades ! Georgia has already set a price 
upon his head. Garrison will i{ever set his foot upon the shores of 

I will mention another movement auspicious to Southern interests. The 
State of Louisiana, owing to the extension of sugar cultivation, and a demand 
for more labor, has repealed the law prohibiting the importation of slaves from 


Other State?^. She is now importing multitudes from Maryland and Virginia. 
Soon after the repeal of the law, two thousand were offered for sale in New 
Orleans in one single w^eek. These border States, overstocked with a surplus 
of necrroes, will now find in their ex])ortation a source (jf revenue which will 
place them in a condition of the highest pros])erity. Spite of the declarations 
of Jefferson, of the emancipation sentiments of Patrick Henry, and of John Ran- 
dolph's assertion that Virginia is impoverished by slavery, these states, with new outlet, will suddenly rise to new wealth and power. You will also be 
pleased to know that Georgia has lost no jot or tittle of the high-toned self-re- 
spect which marks her record in the past. The Aiizusta Chronicle says, " We 
firmlv believe that if the Southern States do not quickly unite and declare to the 
North, if the question of Slavery he longer discussed in any shape, they will in- 
stantly secede from the Union. That the question must be settled, and very 
soon, by the sword, as the only possible means of self-preservation." 

So furbish up your arms, my boy. They may yet glitter valiantly on the field 

of battle. 

Now, Ralph, as I have not time to remark further on the policy of American 
affairs, a slight allusion to another subject may be no less important, and per- 
chance agreeable. Your early friend and playmate, Grace Mowndes, has bud- 
ded into charming girlhood ; and when your name is mentioned the most delicate 
rose-tint imaginable springs to her cheek, telling all too plainly the sweet secret 
of her heart. Surrounded by admirers, she turns from them all indifferently. 
No one has gained the light of her eye or the truth of her smile. Your white 
rose is drooping. Come home, my boy. Transplant it to the fair halls and 
love bowers of " Vaucluse." to be your joy forever. Aside from this vie\v of the 
matter, Grace's marriage dower added to your estate would give you a princely 
income, and raise you above all future anxieties and misfortunes. 

This is a long letter, sir. — but comfort yourself that no reply is demanded — 
only your presence as soon as your affairs in Paris can be brought to an honor- 
able 'close. You should receive per this mail a letter from your bankers, 
Messrs. Kershaw & Lewis, forwarding your quarterly remittance, with a sketch 
of the present condition of your crops, lands and incomes. \Vishing you a pros- 
perous vovage, I am, as ever, Your affectionate uncle, 

Edward La Bruce. 

Ralph still held the open letter. "There ! " he exclaimed, with 
a gathered frown, " I've waded through that damned labyrinth of 
politics, slavery, emancipation, rose-colored lilies and domestic re- 
sponsibilities, neck-deep ! " 

His head sank back on the easy headpiece of the fauteuil in 
which he sat ; his boots still rested on a chair opposite, indenting 
the satin seat, gay with \\o\tn Jlau's de lis. His hand fell by his 
side, still grasping the hated document which would transform 
him from the man of leisure to a plotting, scheming landholder, 
on the secluded banks of the Pedee. 

A graver look than was his wont, settled upon his features ; his 


dark eyes peered fixedly forward into a future so wonderfully 
mapped out on that single sheet of paper. Thought flew over the 
water. He stood on the verandah of his childhood. The stately 
rustle of glossy magnolia leaves fell on his ear. The long rows 
of negro quarters peeped through distant corn; he listened to 
the rich, sweet swells of wild melodies from voices that came 
nearer, and then died away in the woodlands. He hears the busy 
working of the rice-mill, and sees the snowy heaps of clean grains 
in the storehouses. Hounds bay among the oaks, and his father's 
light drafted sloop lies by the river pier, while stout black figures, 
clad in homespun, roll heavy tierces aboard. 

He stood in his mother's room — but he stood alone. Father 
and mother were gone. A subdued expression softened his face 
as he thonght of the exchange they had made for this luxurious 
home. No voice welcomed him but the low, obsequious tones of 
those who obeyed his commands. No tender pleading persuaded 
him to stay; but the silent language of unshorn hedges, straggling 
vines, and' dilapidated bowers implored him to return. 

The wild rover was beginning to feel a reviving fondness for the 
old place, when the sharp bark of ' Flash ' fell across those soft 
memories with such a stinging power, that sense and irritation re- 
turned. His feet dropped to the floor, and the dreamer stood 
again among the bewildering reflections of the chandeliers and 
mirrors of his foreign drawing-room. 
' Lord Malvern also stood before him, fresh from his ev»ening 
toilet, a la theatre, saying in finest humor, — 

"Ready, Haywood? Void I des letres I — tme autre charmante 

divmite ? " 

'' Divinite!'' growled Ralph. '•' C est bien! but wife ! — the su- 
perlative of divinite is damnable ! — Je pejise, to be the responsible 
companion of trunks, bandboxes, 'fuss and feathers!' — to be a 
compulsory actor in the scenes of married life!— My soul revolts I 
Women a la theatre — au salon — a V opera I Dryads, Nymphs, Ne- 
reids for me ! — More aggravating still, I am called home from this 
festive, fascinating France, to become a pillar of South Caro- 
lina ? " 

„With Slavery and State Rights for your pedestal," rejomed his 
companion, "and with your liberal foreign culture for the Cor- 


inthian Capital, I suppose. — But really, Playwood, you chafe like 
a war-horse ! Examine the other letter — that may prove an anti- 
dote for the first." 

Ralph had received too many remittances not to recognize the 
superscription of his bankers and factors. He was secretly glad to 
show that an American aristocrat, with his toiling slaves, could ex- 
hibit an income approaching that of a titled Englishman with his 
hereditary domains. He broke the seal and read aloud : 

Charleston, S. C, Nov. 2, 183 — 

Ralph Haywood — Sir, — Enclosed, you will find bill of exchange for your 
last remittance of five thousand dollars, for the current year, as desired. Also, 
a hasty sketch of your income and its sources, as follows : 

From dividends and interest on bank shares, . . . $10,000 86 
Amount collected from bonds, ........ 3,942 30 

Amount of negro wages, i>o59 7° 

Lease of " Rose Hill " plantation and negroes 4,000 00 

Lease of "Honey Horn" plantation and negroes, . . 3,500 00 

Net proceeds of 500 whole and 300 half tierces rice, . , 16,112 00 

38,614 86 
Deduct plantation expenses, • 8,612 86 

30,002 00 
Your most obed't servants, 

Kershaw & Lewis. 

P. S. The pussilanimous monarch, William Fourth, on the first of August, 
set free every slave in the British West Indies. Return to lend the fire of your 
patriotism in defence of this same institution, which shall yet make our Repub- 
lic the glory of the world. 

The indignant blood of Lord George mounted to his brow at 
this unworthy thrust at his king : but with the cool air of good 
breeding, he simply remarked, — 

"Take this last letter as an antidote to th^ other, my friend; 
the horses are waiting." 

March stood by, with Ralph's hat and cloak, silently awaiting his 
pleasure. The two passed out, the prancing of hoofs was heard, 
and the carriage rolled away. 



MASSACHUSETTS, forty years ago, kept her Sabbaths. 
They were holy days ; seemingly let down from celestial 
airs at stated septennial periods, and again drawn upward from 
the old Commonwealth, at the approach of the first hours of the 
sinful, earthly week. Closed library doors grimly stood guard over 
their coveted treasures. Flowers bloomed without admirers. It 
was the privilege of believers to shut their ears to caroling birds, 
and sighing breezes, and to listen only to the droppings of the 
Sanctuary. None but church-going wheels traversed the- highways, 
and the few pedestrians walked with sanctified air. 

The village of Alderbank lay dreaming in this same Sabbath 
stupor. Its beautiful river babbled over its rocky bed, to deep, 
still coves beyond. There it rested, and fancifully dressed itself 
in the semblance of the steep wooded shore ; borrowing sprays of 
hemlock, aspen and chestnut to wear on its sheeny bosom. 

The dwellers at Alderbank might listen in vain, for other hymn 
of praise, than that singing river ; they might look in vain, for other 
brocade richer than its coves ; for, no church laid its foundations 
there — no spire rose through its unhallowed atmosphere. Ava- 
rice had its shrine there, and its sordid devotees. 

The very river was made to weave its bales of cotton on other 
days. These days had their bells whose noisy swinging called alike 
its waters and its workers from sleep, before the birds began 
their merry songs, and dismissed them not, till darknesss. To day, 
this Sabbath day, these noisy mammon bells dreamed also. 

In this seemingly Godless hamlet, one small shrine, at least, wel- 
comed the presence of the Divine Father. That shrine was the 
childish heart of Fanny Beame. Her worship was the happy re- 
cognition of God, in all His works. Her most acceptable song of 
praise was the love she bore to every insect, tree and flower, to the 
drifting clouds, the sky, and the silver streams. With a wonderful 
bewilderment of gladness she learned His loving-kindness, and the 
strange glory of His beneficence, that crowned the natural sur- 


roundings within her own narrow horizon. The breezy forest, the 
blue outline of distant hills, the gleaming shivers of sunlight,, frac- 
tured to golden, purple and emerald atoms, in passing through a 
dciwdrop, carried her thoughts into His presence, and fixed her 
faith in the more mysterious working of His plans, where the phy- 
sical eye cannot follow. 

Yet, Fanny Beame, in her innocence and simplicity, knew not 
that this was adoration of the Creator. She knew that outside of 
Alderbank, the gospel was preached with prescribed forms of wor- 
ship, of which she had little understanding. She had read a few 
stray Sunday-School books, incidentally fallen in her way, of chil- 
dren, seven, ten, or twelve years of age, who had struggled fiercely 
with sin, and had wrestled daily with God, for justification in His 
sight. This, the trusting mind of Fanny received as normal truth, 
which added to an over-modest estimate of herself, seemed to de- 
mand an earnest struggle in her case, to make her "calling and 
election sure." 

She had also read in " Pilgrim's Progress," of the load which 
" Christian " carried ; and, through her very goodness and sim- 
plicity, concluded that her own shoulders should bear a similar 
burden. Then there was a " Slough of Despond," through which 
her feet must pass, awear)^ ! Thus was she to set her busy self in 
following closely all those forms and paths laid out by Bunyan and 
all holy Christians, since his day. Thus would she find the favor 
of that Being whose beauty and glory she already, though uncon- 
sciously, adored. 

These thoughts and inferences were quietly revolved in her pri- 
vate hours of meditation. The pale, dead saints of the past were 
sacredly set up within the radiant cloisters of her inner soul, over- 
hung with memories of earliest spring blossoms, and shaded by 
sprays of autumn leaves, glowing with God's love. There, her 
false idols stood, in gloomy silence, amid a glorious Te Deum of 
bird-carols, brook-whispers, wind-voices, cloud-tones and insect- 
trills. To day, therefore, on this Alderbank Sabbath, she would 
begin to serve God. 

Already she had shut herself in a lonely closet, and read several 
hymns. She had prayed after the manner of those excellent chil- 
dren whose lives so far excelled hers. She had borne a burden of 


depravity to the foot of the Cross, and, as usual, looked in vain for a 
great and sudden light which should be the token of her acceptance 
into the favor of Him she loved so well. Before leaving the closet, 
she lifted one corner of the faded curtain, and looked out upon fields 
gilded by the morning sun. The old happiness in the contempla- 
tion of nature, carried her rapt vision to the blue hills beyond. 
Then indeed, a "great light" beamed on her face, and flooded her 
eyes! Dropping the curtain, she reflected upon the darkness 
within, and the brightness without. Surely, she thought, the cause 
was her own " unbelief." Well, she would ally herself with God's 
people. Where they went, she would go. Where they sought bless- 
ings, she would join her petition. 

Therefore, Fanny resolved to ask permission of her mother to 
walk over to the little brown school-house at the cross-roads, to 
" meeting." The day was dull and misty, portending rain ; but 
while the other members of the family were absent, while Mrs. 
Bearoe was cooking breakfast, and while Fanny was setting the 
table, she said with a gentle voice, — 

" Mother, may I go down to the * Four Corners,' to-day ? " 
" Do you want to walk two miles and back, in the rain ? " 
" I thought it might clear up," Fanny meekly replied, '' but we 
should worship God, if it does rain." 

" It would be imprudent to allow you to go down there and en- 
danger your life, to hear those young upstarts preach the duty of 
other people, when they don't know their own. You are growing 
more and more foolish every week, Fanny, instead of more sen- 

Fanny went on laying the table, with temper unruffled ; cups and 
"tumblers" slid into their places, as quietly as before. No reply 
fell from her pleasant lips. During the past year, the Testament 
had been her daily study ; she understood its plain, common- 
sense, work-day truths, and treasured them in memory, unemcum- 
bered by sophisms or expediencies ; applying them to all times 
and seasons, as her judgment dictated. 

Now, while her feet went to and fro between pantry and kitchen, 
she was repeating, — 

"Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right." 
Breakfast was over. Nothing cast a shadow over the moving 


hours but the thoughtful face of that mother. She was asking her- 
self, — 

*' Was she cruel to her only child whom she loved so ten- 
derly.? Why must Fanny, so quiet, so obedient, so satisfied with 
all other restrictions, why must she be so persistently obstinate in 
these religious vagaries ?" She, herself, thought there were few 
Christians. Had she not suffered mostly from that class who were 
styled "followers of the Lamb?" Had not their slanders and false 
accusations made her as an outcast amidst her own friends, and 
meted out to her a future state of misery among unbelievers ? — She 
had resisted, and would still resist such pharasaical pretensions to 
being " the children of God." She was not an infidel ! She believed 
in Christ, but in a more loving Savior than the Orthodox pattern. 
She believed in her Lord as he was — going about with soiled <]jar- 
ments and dusty sandals ; healing the sick ; giving eyes to the blind : 
drinking water at the wayside wells ; and selecting fishermen for 
His disciples. She did not believe in Him seated in state, in 
costly temples, pleased with the mocking worship of those who fol- 
lowed not one of His steps. Doubtless they were rejoicing over 
her own daughter, as a proselyte to that same false faith. She 
trusted that in her future life, Fanny would see with clearer eyes, 
distinguishing good from evil. 

It was ten o'clock. Fanny had nearly finished the dishes at the 
sink, when her mother came past and said, — 

" If you will wear my red shawl and green calash, and take an 
umbrella, you may go to ' meeting.' Do you want to go ? You 
will be late." 

" Yes ; I can be ready very soon, and walk fast, you know. Bet- 
ter late, than never 1 " 

In a few moments the tall green calash was flying about the 
room on Fanny's head, while she was in search of her hymn-book. 
It rose high above the smooth brown hair ; and by frequent pranks 
of falling back, and shutting up like a chaise top, it was seemingly 
unconscious of its solemn errand. However, by means of its long 
green taste bridle, now firmly held in hand, it was restored to 
a more becoming behavior. The large umbrella being held se- 
curely by the other hand, a soft " Good-bye, mother," called the 
attention of Mrs. Beame j and as the grotesque costume went down 


the Steps, she laughed in spite of herself, but ended the matter 
by sayino^, "Good enough for such an expedition." 

The raindrops stayed their purpose, while the little feet pattered 
onward. The red shawl was drawn up into smaller proportions, 
and the green calash was bridled into a more reverential form, as 
Fanny arrived at the school-house door. 

"Meeting" had commenced. The house was filled, but room 
was made for the little Pilgrim on one of the high desks against 
the wall. The preacher was standing with right arm extended, 
over which hung the graceful folds of a heavy cloak, in most classi- 
cal styl^. And why not? Had he not the best Roman and Greek 
authority of " Dogmah Academy," a few miles away, from which he 
had that morning emanated on a mission to this benighted people ? 
In years, he seemed to be eighteen or twenty \ while in piety, pre- 
cocity and martyr-spirit he almost put to the blush, the old proph- 
ets. His figures and tropes excelled those of Ezekiel. There were 
wheels within wheels, with such an elaborate phantasmagoria of 
incident and scenery, as struck awe into the minds of those untu- 
tutored youths, and sleepy, brown old farmers. 

Poor Fanny began to think the heavenly way more difficult even, 
than she had supposed. Hope almost died within her, till from 
all that logic and learning broke forth this sentence, " Can you 
expect, my hearers, to be carried to the skies on flowery beds of 
ease?" Hope revived. Seizing upon that idea with her quick 
imagination and lively perception of the beauty of a "flowery bed," 
she arrived at the comfortable conclusion that she might be in the 
right path, as of course, nobody like her, with a green calash, a red 
shawl, and a large umbrella, could be sailing skyward on flowers. 
That hereafter she should always so dress that her presence would 
not be tolerated on any "flowery bed of ease." So much had she 
learned of her future duty. 

The exercises were closed by the preacher's colleague, a pale, 
sickly looking youth, but with infinite strength of lungs, whose 
voice reverberated against the school house ceiling, as if the king- 
dom of Heaven were indeed suffering violence. He at last an- 
nounced that the " weekly Class " would remain after the audience 
had retired. 

Here was to be a new trial of Fanny's steadfastness. To "speak 


in meeting" was a great cross to her timidity, but she had heard, 
that to win Christ, that cross must be borne. She came off con- 
queror. She would not be ashamed to "confess religion." She 
would remain and speak. 

Brother Hardstone was class-leader (a man who made his home 
so bitter, that wife and children were robbed of all peace). Rub- 
bing his hands with zealous fervor, he began singing, — 

" Blow ye the trumpet, blow, 

The gladly solemn sound ! 
Let all the nations know. 

To earth's remotest bound : 
The year of jubilee is come; 
Return, ye ransomed sinners, home." 

When some had arisen and testified to their prevailing hours of 
darkness and dejection, during the past week, and to the soul-tr)'- 
ing temptations that had beset their path, and when others had 
acknowledged the goodness of God in gratifying some peculiar 
request which had been long delayed, Fanny rose tremblingly, 
and with downcast eyes, said, — 

" I am not ashamed to confess Christ. I desire to serve Him 
all my life, and I desire that you will all pray for me, that I may 
prove faithful to the end." 

The usual ejaculations of " Bless God ! " and "Amen ! " having 
died away, her really heaviest cross was to sit passively and hear 
the remarks of " Father Hardstone," a leader in whom she had no 
confidence, and whose abused daughters were her especial friends. 
But in his usual coarse manner he brayed forth, — 

" Keep on, sister. You'll win the golden crown ; " and then 
passed on to another. 

" I have no need of a golden crown," thought Fanny. " I only 
want to serve my Master, here." 

After a few other " experiences " and uproarious exhortations, the 
"class" separated. Fanny's ideas of Christian propriety were 
somewhat shaken, in passing through a knot of men outside, and 
catching their conversation. 

With the air and tone of satisfaction one feels when an unpleas- 
ant task is completed. Father Bradley remarked, — 

" Fine pfospect of rain, Brother Hardstone." 


" Hope we shall get some," he replied. " Terrible drought. — I'm 
afeard the corn crop '11 be a failure. — My pertatur hills ur ez dry 
ez 'n ash heap." 

" Yes, yes," chimed in Brother Brown, lugubriously. " It's a 
pretty poor look for we farmers, when everything's a dryin' up." 

Little Pilgrim hoped to be invited to ride home in some of the 
rattling wagons, as the clouds looked more lowery, but the dusty 
work-horses trotted past, shaking their heavy harness, unconscious 
of any small "class-member" by the wayside. The great flapping 
blinders prevented a side view, and the pleasant perspective of 
even a very scant share of Sabbath rest for themselves, urged the 
tired animals homeward. Fanny walked on, casting loving glances 
at the mayweed and rabbits-foot thronging the narrow way, and 
meditating upon the conversation of those farmers at the door. 

'' Why did they fear the corn crop might fail? Why not trust in 
God, as they exhorted us all, to-day ? How shall we trust him at 
all, if we do not believe He will do for us what we cannot do for 
ourselves.'' We cannot make one corn blade grow, but He can, and 
I am sure He will." 

Just then she reached a corn field. While listening to its musi- 
cal rustle, and watching the nodding tassels over the zig-zag rails, 
a heavy step came up after her and chiming in with hers. She 
skilfully turned the green calash, and exclaimed,- — 

" Why, Henry ! is that you .? " 

"Yes, Fanny. But I'm afraid you won't think so well of me for 
having this basket of blackberries, to day." 

"Well, I'm nobody, Henry, to think well or ill of 3^ou." 

"You are somebody to me and my Sue. You are the only real 
friend my children have." 

" Well, I meant to say there is one Lord over all. He sees things 
in a different light from what men and v/omen do. He might not 
think it so wrong that you should get some of His blackberries for 
your supper, as people would." 

"Yes, Fann}', I know. I hope He is different from white folks 
in New England. If not, I can't tell why I was made, or any of 
my race." 

"Why don't you go to meeting, Henry? Perhaps you would be 
happier, then." 


"There's three reasons why, and good ones too; but you must 
not ask me now, for I am afraid its going to rain." 

" No, it has not rained yet, and I don't believe it will. If it 
does, here is my umbrella, and you may have half. Walk slow, and 
tell me those reasons. I want to know. We are commanded to 
* bear each other's burdens,' so let me bear part of yours." 

"Burdens!" echoed Henry. "You want to help me carry this 
basket of blackberries ? Me, a great stout man, and you no bigger 
than a sparrow. When it comes to that, or rains either, I guess 
you'll be 7>iy burden, and I'd tote you to your own mother's door 
and set you down on her steps, as dry as a pin. You're the won- 
derfullest girl I ever see. You make me laugh, if 't is Sunday, and 
if my blood is all in a boil thinkin' about ' meetins',' Christians and 

Fanny perceived her remark was misunderstood, but from an 
innate tenderness for another's feelings, forbore further explana- 
tion ; so she said, — 

" 1 understand. You shall carry the blackberries, and me, too, 
if necessary ; but do, Henry, tell me those reasons. Why do you 
not go to * meeting ?' " 

"Because I am black — because we are 'niggers;' and those 
Yankee Christians are worse than Christians that hold slaves ; for 
I am told that down South the black people go to the same church 
with their masters, and have the whole gallery, to sit in. Susan 
and I went once to the Presbyterian church up town, because we 
thought our stayin' away from meetin' might be our own fault, after 
all. The people were handsomely dressed, and stood all about on 
the green before the ' meetin'-house.' There was Deacon Pierson, 
Farmer Fairly, and Farmer Ilarker, the man I had worked for and 
Susan had washed for. They didn't speak to us, and their chil- 
dren just stood and laughed at us, as we walked across the green. 
At the door, a man told us to sit in a little pew under the stairs. 
Nobody set near us, but they kept turnin' their heads and smilin' 
durin' preachin'. When we came out they still kept laughin', and 
I heard ' them ni":£:ers, — them nigs^ers,' whispered all around. No- 

f 11111 

body spoke to us, but when we got home, we both held up our 
hands and vowed we'd never go agin — we would go to destruction 


first. They say there is such a place, and it's no worse for us to 
choose to go there, than it is for them to send us." 

"Did you say Deacon Pierson and Farmer Flarker, Henry? 
Why, they are missionary men. They collect money to send mis- 
sionaries to foreign lands, to the heathen." 

"Yes, I said them. Horse jockies and rum sellers treat me bet- 
ter than Christians and respectable people. Yes, I know they are 
missionary men ; for when I worked for them in hay time, for eight 
dollars a month, and my children were both sick, they tried to keep 
back part of my wages, as they said, ' to send the Bible to the 
heathen.' But I had heathen enough in my own house; and be- 
sides, they gave me just half the wages they paid the white hired 
man, and I eat in the wood-shed at that." 

"Well, Henry, I will give Susan my Bible. You can find what 
the Savior says. It will be a comfort to you." 

" Why, bless you, child ! neither Susan nor I can read a word. 
There is no Bible nor Heaven for us colored." 

" I thought that minister, Rev. Mr. Pratt, in Connecticut, brought 

you up." 

" He did bring me up, and that was all. He sent me to school 
two days, but the children hooted at me so, I couldn't stand it. 
The teacher sent word to Mr. Pratt that she wished I might stay 
away, I made so much trouble. Then he said he thought black 
and white ought not to go to the same school, and he believed 
there was a law against it. He was busy all day writing sermons 
and making calls ; so I did all the plowing, gardening, and every 
other kind of work, and there was no time for learning, anyhow." 

" It seems too much to believe," replied Fanny. " If there was 
a church in Alderbank, you should sit in our pew, and if they made 
sport of you and Susan, they should make sport of us, too." 

" And so they would. If we set with you in church, you would 
be hated — you would be called ' nigger' as well as we." 

"That would not harm us," said Fanny, bravely. "But, Henry, 
what makes you live in that poor shanty down by the brook? I'd 
save my money and buy a nice little land and house, and show the 
town that I had the same rights as they." 

"I'll tell you why. In the first place we have to work for halt 
wages. Then we take our pay in provisions and old clothes worth 


not more than half what they charge. Then if we had money, no- 
body would sell us a pleasant or rich spot of land. We may put 
up a shanty in the backwoods, or down by some marsh, or on the 
side of some sand-hill, and that's all the foothold on God's earth we 
can get. There! " said he, turning to look at the sad, thoughtful 
face beside him, " don't ask me any more questions, Fanny. You 
won't believe me. I am sorry I overtook you. It makes me feel 
wicked to think of these things, but I have said nothing but the 
solemn truth, before God!^^ 

Henry, in his earnestness, had stopped before her. To that 
Being who alone had any mercy in store for him, he raised his 
ragged right arm and helpless black hand, and slowly repeated, — 

" Before God and His throfie ! " 

Fanny halted also. Fler white, awe-struck face turned upward, 
while that oath was being registered in the book of the Terrible 

Henry Hughes' arm dropped. The martyr-like heroism passed 
away from his ebon features. 

"We are near Alderbank now," he said. " I must go." 

" Let me go with 3'ou," said Fanny. 

" No, dear child, you shall not be cursed for my sake. Good- 

Missteps glided on, but a voice floated after him, "Give my 
love to Susan." 

It reached his poor heart as a sunbeam strays through a stony 
casement and cheers the cold floor of a prison. A quick turn of 
the head, with a friendly wave of that accusing hand, and Henry 
was out of sight. 

Fanny moved on slowly, occupied with those burning words, so 
unexpectedly dropped into her soul, along the lonely wayside. Out 
of the chaos of that day's events and conflicting teachings she en- 
deavored to bring order. How could she account for it that the 
very persons to whom she looked as models, did such strange 
things? The anguish of Henry's face haunted her, — the hand 
raised to Heaven, and the solemn words, " Before God." 

She descended from her spiritual hallucinations to life's real, 
earnest joys and sorrows. There was something to do now, besides 
speculating on the probable use of a "flowery bed of ease," and 


how one should resist that tempting vehicle to the skies. The red 
shawl had fallen from her shoulders, and the heavy fringe swept 
over feathery grasses ; the green calash seized upon this opportu- 
nity of Fanny's abstraction, and taking to its pranks again fell over 
backwards, and shut up as usual. Still Fanny went on thinking. 
One conclusion was reached, — she would love Henry, Susan, and 
the children, and all other black people, if ever she found any. 
The trembling lips were defiantly compressed, the drooping lashes 
were wet with tears which dropped upon her burning cheeks and 
upon her tightly clasped hymn-book. 

At that moment a white cloud, rifted from the dark masses in 
the west, floated over the blue depths and dropped a benison on 
the bare auburn head. The cloud passed on, and Fanny Beame 
was indeed baptized of the angels. 

Ah ! little did that child imagine while in the brown school- 
house, and while so timidly saying, " I am not ashamed to confess 
Christ; I desire to serve him all my life," that she would so soon 
be taken at her word. Little thought she, when the farmer's horses 
trotted so indifferently past, that Christ would walk by her side 
and talk with her by the way. She knew it not, even now. That 
delightful surprise was left for the maturity and development of 
coming years. The far future was to unfold to her astonished 
memory the honor and glory of that hour, when her Savior walked 
with her in the guise of the poor and despised Henry Hughes, and 
she had given him all she had to offer — her love and her tears. 

Wet with the holy sacrament of the cloud, Fanny was gathering 
up her garments to walk faster, when a voice from a top rail of the 
fence called out, — 

"O Fanny Beame 1 I see you, I see you! You've been walk- 
ing with a nigger, and going slow, and talking to him ! " 

This was the son of the agent of the factory in Alderbank ; and 
Fanny answered, — 

"No, Johnny, I have been walking with a man, with my friend." 

"Oh ! for shame, Fanny Beame 1 A nigger ain't a man, and if 
he is your friend you won't make a very respectable woman. He's 
a Sabbath-breaker, too, and a thief, for he had a basket of black- 

" Yes, he had berries ; but they grow for anybody who chooses 


to pick them, and Henry is poor. He has no land noi orchards, 
no apple or peach trees, and he wants so?nct/iing good. Where 
have you been, Johnny?" 

" I've been digging ' saxafax ' root down here in the woods, and 
I'd give you some if you didn't go with niggers." 

" Oh ! I don't care for any," replied Fanny. " But which is the 
worst, to pick blackberries or to dig sassafras root on Sunday ?" 

" To pick berries, of course ! But I dig 'saxafax' on father's 
own land. ' Hen ' Hughes might have land if he'd work for it. 
Father says all these free niggers in Massachusstis are lazy, and 
ought to be down South hoeing cotton, then they'd do some good, 
and we shouldn't have so many black 'shacks ' round here. And 
I guess he knows — he's been there." 

" Well, I never was ///tvr," was the indignant reply j " it is bad 
enough to be /icre" 

Fanny walked on. 


PARIS w^as sleeping. The slant rays of a golden morning 
found no access through hangings of velvet and brocade. 
Blank midnight surrounded the luxurious couches of the revel- 
lers. High-born or parvenu, the gay devotees of pleasure, wearied 
with balls, games and play, were appropriating these fresh matin 
hours to the renewal of necessary vigor for repeated scenes of 
nightly festivities. Delicious south winds blew through magnifi- 
cent avenues, — birds were gay aud noisy in their undisturbed war- 
blings, — trees seemed wading in a gilded mist. The clumsy and 
quaint architecture of palaces ,churches, bridges and towers, took 
a definite and airy tracery from the flooding of mellow sunshine. 
Statues, flowers and fountains gleamed from fairy vistas on every 
side of the fantastic city. Gold fishes sported in'a thousand mar- 
ble basins, or followed the wake of white swans in their dreamy 
rounds. — yet scarce a footfall was heard in garden, on terrace or 

Contrary to his usual custom, Ralph was dressed at this hour, 
striding about his apartments, and making sundry hurried prepa- 


rations. March was busy obeying orders in all directions ; but 
upon either face hovered a sombre shadow, the sure reflection of 
gloomy thoughts. 

At nine o'clock, Ralph, wrapped in his long Spanish cloak, was 
thriddincy his wav on horseback over the deserted road of the "Bois 
de Boulogne," followed by a half dozen other horsemen. Noth- 
ing disturbed his mood of silence but champing bits, the muffled 
plunging of hoofs in the soft earth, and the annoying shafts of 
yellow sunlight which shot across his way between the shining boles, 
as if to search the secret of his melancholy. At length, the wood 
was passed ; striking into a gallop, a few miles brought the party 
to a smooth lawn, by a secluded stream. A similar party was al- 
ready in waiting. Grooms led away the horses into checkered 
shade. The parties exchanged salutations. Both then proceeded 
to arrange the preliminaries of that bloody Code which the reckless 
duelist calls "honor," and in which Haywood and a German class- 
njate were principals. 

This was the last day of Ralph's stay in Paris ; this act was the 
performance of his last honorable obligation. 

Frederick Steinle had spoken unguardedly of the Southern institu- 
tion of Slavery. He had taunted America's Flag as a pharisaica^ 
emblem. He had said the American Eagle fattened on helpless 
victims of the slave-holder's avarice and cruelty; that he whetted his 
beak on the poor African's bleaching bones, from the Chesapeake 
to the Rio Grande ! 

For this, the speedy bullet was to be his judge and jury this day. 
Frederick Steinle was no coward ; yet, as the personal friend of 
Haywood, he had striven to avoid this collision. Further, he con- 
sidered himself under no obligation to a foreign Constitution, which 
shielded the enslaver, and his deeds. He refused to retract his 
words, and thus prove himself a fawning dissembler. 

For this, he had been bullied by daily threats of assassination, 
by insults in public places, and repeated challenges ; till without 
other alternative, assent was given. He met his antagonist for the 
deadly rencontre^ more in sorrow than in anger. His finely propor- 
tioned figure, full six feet in height, his silken hair and curly brown 
mustache, combined with a ruddy tint of health, contrasted favor- 
ably with the malignant, lowering brow of the South Carolinian. 


Paces were measured — the seconds were at their posts. The 
word was given to fire. Steinle's pistol discharged in air ; but he, 
the truthful and brave, reeled, and fell dying to the grecn-sward. 
Those 'gathering about him, caught his last words. "Farewell, 
mother ! " whispered from his pallid lips. 

Haywood cooly mounted, and rode away, seemingly a Knight of 
the Middle Ages. This child of Protestantim, and citizen of a Dem- 
ocratic Republic, drawing his cloak about him, left his dying friend 
like a barbaric cavalier. Had he not been dubbed a son of Chiv- 
alry, by his "companions in arms" on the "sacred soil of South 
Carolina ? " Had they not thrown over him the " Red Garment," 
which was to mark his resolution to shed his blood in the cause of 
Heaven ? " Had he not displayed the requisite keen sense of honor 
in his ruthless intolerance of this infidel and heretic? Had he not 
shown fidelity to his obligations, in all the strictness of the letter, 
disdaining compromise with friendship and circumstances ? 

The strongest tie of the chivalry of Slavery, — , 

"Brother be now true to me, 
And I shall be as true to thee," 

was a sacred principle ; had it not claimed, and recieved the exer- 
cise of his valor ? 

Frederick's faintly throbbing breast was bared. It was past 
medical skill to call back that life. From the ragged wound ebbed 
the last crimson remnant of vitality, and the blood of another 
martyr to the American Inquisition, stained the velvet sod of 

According to his directions previously given, the attendants drew 
from his pocket a letter superscribed with his name, a few damp 
curls were cut from his hair and enclosed within it, to be returned 
to the mother who sent it. Above the beautiful white face, manly 
eyes grew moist while reading, — 

Mein liebling Frederick, mein schoner Sohn, — From the tenor of your 
last letter, it is the happy time for your return to that home which awaits the 
joy of your presence. My heart faints to see the long absent face. Come to 
your mountains, valleys and vine-gardens. Let them echo again to your voice 
in the old-time songs of Fatherland. We need your strength and care to take 
the place of your dead father, etc., etc. 


Day wore away, this last day oE Haywood's untramelled life 
"abroad." Packages of costly bijouterie, and elegant fabrics; 
masterpieces from the artist's pencil, aud sculptor's chisel, had been 
purchased, and lay strewn about the unpacked trunks. The familiar 
squares of sunlight crept steadily along the polished floor, fast losing 
rio-ht-angular proportions. The 'Knight of the Middle Ages '^was 
tardily yielding to the half enlightened conscience of the Nine- 
teenth century. The morning shadow on his face sank into his soul. 
Thoughts of another's trunks which should have been filled with 
precious mementos on that eventful day, but which now awaited 
the careless and sacrilegious hand of strangers, filled his mind. 

Callous as were his feelings, from having been raised among 
scenes of brutality and outrage, and faintly as glowed the native 
liaht of conscience which the Hand of Omnipotence had set 
wTthin, its dim flame had received a shock which sent its blazing 
gleams along every fibre of his being. He could blot out the life of 
a fellow mortal ; but it was beyond his philosophy to extinguish those 
luminous rays destined to be quenchless. 

Bent, however, on concealing these so called ignoble emotions, 
IMarch was left to trunks und packages, while his master strolled 
out into the busy street, and finally sought the convivialities of a 
farewell, complimentary dinner. 

Ni^^ht found him ascending the marble staircase of one of the 
exclusive gambling clubs of Paris. His jeweled hand flashed along 
the gilt balustrades, as it carelessly sought support in his progress. 
Entering folding doors held by courtly liveries, exchanging saluta- 
tions in'English, French or German, he stood amidst palatial and 

princely splendors. , . , 

. Colonnades of slender, graceful shafts, crowned with palm- 
wreathed capitals, rose to the lofty roof. Mirrors, blue and silver 
hangings, and carpets like woven gardens, stretched away from the ^ 
fascinated vision. Beneath a galaxy of light that mocked the mid- ' 
day sun, the duelist paused, bearing in his own breast a phosphor- 
escent sea of troubled thoughts that out-burned it all. 

Down the far aisles, studded with groups of fair women, clad in 
the opulence of silks, laces, pearls and jewels, ran his ravished 
gaze ; but ever and anon, there gleamed forth on his vision, the 
wan face of a prone and helpless figure. His heart yearned toward 


the dead, — dead from his own giiilty hand, that had so often with 
fraternal grasp, met the warm clasp of Frederick Steinle in the fes- 
tive career of student life. 

Sweet and tremulous music floated in with odors from conserva- 
tories, forming an enchanted atmosphere of exquisite delight ; but a 
sound unheard by others, changed the mellifflaous strains into dis- 
cord. A well remembered death- shot seemed repeated in his 
brain, till he looked to see the players at the game of hazard fall 
from their seats, leaving himself living and alone. 

He seated himself for the game. His hand held the cards un- 
steadily. With an air of indifference he saw the last of his remit- 
tance gathered up by fortunate and clear-headed winners. At 
length, turning from the gorgeous scene, haunted and desperate, 
he rushed to the carriage, whirled to his own door, and there 
cursed March, cursed trunks, voyages, and Paris itself, then sought 
quiet in sleep. 

Ralph Haywood, like all other men, was only "clay in the hand 
of the potter," formed to tremble after such violation of every 
instinct of humanity and justice. He now suffered the inevitable 
penalty of his transgression. So the murderer could not sleep. 
The room seemed flooded with broad daylight, when black dark- 
ness veiled the earth. Abroad, mingling with the world, adhering 
to the strictest comities of life, he was considered a fearless, un- 
compromising, reckless aristocrat. But here, in his chamber, alone 
with his crime, and Omniscience, he was a mere child, a pris- 
oner in a cell, an autumn leaf at the mercy of the winds. 

Morning broke at length. Glad to be free from himself, Ralph 
completed his toilet by donning the mask of complaisance and 
gayety, that he might wear his laurels becomingly. 

Mankind are easily duped. The ruse succeeded, and became 
reciprocal. Congratulations were the order of the morning. Stu- 
dents, snobs, cockneys, jockeys, sportsmen, with a sprinkling of 
'"Lords," *' Counts" and Sirs" came in due procession before our 
high priest of the Duello. One remarked, on taking his hand, — 

'• Brilliant success yesterday, Haywood," although a secret hor- 
ror crept to the roots of the speaker's hair. 

" You're a dead shot," echoed another, booted and spurred. 


"I should like your eye and nerve," said a third, toying with a 

" Haywood's hand and nerve have had a most perfect training, " 
replied a young Prussian student ; and a cold shudder ran over 
him, also. 

"The American Flag should command respect wilh such able 
defenders abroad," said a young Count Petrovsk. 

" Aye, aye," returned Lord Sutledge ; " the Republic has a well 
defined policy, and ]Mr. Haywood has carried it out admirably." 

This levee' was short. As the others were retiring, Lord Mal- 
vern dropped in to make his adieus. When alone, Malvern said, — 

"So you are indeed going? Why hasten in midwinter? You 
will have ample time to assume the responsibihties of plantation 
life to leave later." 

" What with delays in London and New York, I shall not see 
Charleston till the beginning of March. And then, my lord. Dame 
Fortune is inexorable. She deals an iron hand — spades are 
trumps, and hearts lead. Fu'st, rice and cotton fields. Second, 
that languishing ' Grace ! ' " 

" The ace of hearts, your intended, I suppose," said his friend, 
*' and you will follow suit." 

" Not a suit ! I'll trump ! Curse the whole thing. I shall 
marry, doubtless, according to custom, set up an establishment, 
and pass for a most exemplary conjiix. But, my lord, life in 
Charleston is a gay life. Married or single, a man may be a Sul- 
tan, and his house a harem." 

" Preposterous, Haywood ! You have unsettled sober sense by 
too deep a potation. You run riot over connubial bliss. Are 
not the affections exclusive, and do they not instinctively cluster 
upon one fair object. Your assertions are too broad for belief." 

" Nevertheless, it is even so, my lord. The Southerner marries 
for blood and estates. The Constitution of the United States 
grants us no titles of nobility, but Slavery is crystalized within it ; 
that gives us the absolute power of born sovereigns. Therefore, the 
best blood is carefully preserved incontaminated, and estates are 
kept, by marriages, in the first families. For love, — that love which 
springs up naturally in every human breast, we select for ourselves 
from the browns and brunettes, one meets at every step. One has 


only to choose according to taste ; and when love cloys with pos- 
session, the auction-block at home, or the cane-brakes of Louisiana 
prove an easy relief." 

"And so, Ralph, you consider marriage a barrier to the seraglio- 
like freedom otherwise enjoyed ? " 

'■^ Mais unc bar)'iere petite ! — Tilings go on similarly, in that case. 
The only difficulty is a frequent rencofitfe in the conjugal depart- 
ment. Domestic tranquility is too often troubled by flashing eyes 
and arrowy words. It is inconvenient. C'est tout'^ 

" Hold ! You are but a young man, yet you speak like one ini- 
tiated. Your words have the ring of experience." 

"By the infernal ! jSIalvern, am I not initiated? Was I not born 
and raised among Southern customs.'' Have I not seen childish, 
harmless wives changed into jealous fiends by this same latitude 
of circumstances .'* The Carolina Turk does not go to Circassia 
i)Our acheter des esdaves ; he finds them made to order at his own 
door. Quadroons and octaroons, — aye, and blue-eyed, fair-haired 
minxes, in whose veins flows the noblest Southern blood, still fol- 
lowing the condition of the slave-mother, according to our consid- 
erate laws." 

With a thoughtful and contemptuous expression at these cool 
revelations, Lord Malvern briefly replied, — 

" Your land must be strewn with broken hearts, and paved with 
trampled affections." 

"Nay, not so fast. Chattels are not supposed to have hearts ; 
and if they should indulge in this forbidden luxury, there is one 
grand remedy. That sets all matters right." 

" Pray what is that t " 

" For the jealous spouse, indifference and travel. For the hesi- 
tating arrogance and useless tears of the harem, the work- house or 
cotton-field. A few days at the hoe in the hot sun, bring back 
sense and reason." 

During this conversation, March had been busy arranging his 
master's travelling cases, but now he paused and stood forgetfully, 
with his back to the talkers. For some reason, both gentlemen 
raised their eyes simultaneously. The tell-tale mirror hurled back 
to their observation, the torture and agonized expression of the 
slave before them. He drank in every word of Ralph's confes- 
sions. His beating heart and reeling biain were swift witnesses 


of the awful truth. Oblivious to mirrors, and to himself, memory 
went back into the dreary past. With hands clasped, and lips 
moving, his eyes were raised to Him who alone heard the cry of 
American bondsmen. 

Swift as lightning springs from clouded skies, from the murky 
atmosphere of that room, darted forth the sharp voice of the slave- 
holder, — 

'• March, you devil ! what are you doing ? — Practising ' Lot's 
wife ?' — A pillar of salt is less useful to me now, than a live ser- 
vant. Take tliose keys from the trunks ! Go, bring refresh- 
ments ! " 

The vision in the mirror changed aspect. Hands and eyes 
dropped quickly to the respectful, " I will, sir." 

Fruit, wine and cigars came in. The presence of March brought 
a frown to his master's face. He was dispatched on a longer er- 
rand, both for Ralph's relief, and to give opportunity for further 
conversatfon with his noble friend. 

The glowing wane was poured. Ruby bubbles danced, and 
broke on its surface, while clusters of delicious grapes were made 
to yield up their amber hearts, and w^ere then carelessly tossed 
upon the silver salver. The fragrant wrappings of oranges fell in 
fragments at their feet, and he resumed, — 

" Yes, I hate him ! There is a tie between us which cannot be 
regarded. His dark skin and my white face have relationship. 
March is my half-brother — my father's son — and before his 
death, was his pet. He was given to me that his life might pass 
more pleasantly than in home servitude." 

" Does he know the facts ? " 

" Assuredly he does. But he as well knows that I am his mas- 
ter, and he the slave I take good care to make him feel that.'' 

"Yet he appears to bear his lot with magnanimity, and to ren- 
der you the respect due from his position." 

Ah ! void le trouble I His very patience is execrable ! His fidel- 
ity is no allegiance to me^ but is rendered to a soft-eyed octaroon 
across the water, whom he calls wife." "* 

" Why an aggravation .'' That may secure his services to your- 
self, and bind him to return. Otherwise, he might take the free- 
dom which France offers." 


"Because he came between me and m}^ prize. Because lie took 
from me, without an effort, what I strove for, and lost — whicli 
neither promises nor threats could obtain. By Jove ! my lord, 
Flora was ' r//<z/-;//^;/A',' slender, graceful, modest. Her dark melt- 
ing eyes ravished me ; her silken black hair fell into a wealth of 
rinirs and tovins: curls. And her teeth I Afon Z>/t7/ / they rivalled 
the pearls of the East. Being a house servant, I had nothing to 
do but follow her, and try to win. I could have called her mine, 
but for the presence of this cursed servant, March, and my father's 
idiotic affection for him." 

" You spoke of the lash as a remedy. Did you bring that to 
bear in your favor? " 

"Nay, my lord ; but for no lack of will on my part. The hour 
was appointed, and the number was ordered, when my father inter- 
fered, and took Flora North, to wait ujDon my mother during the 
summer tour. Oh ! it was madness to see that cheek flush at the 
sound of the quiet step of March. To see the eyes which never 
raised in my presence, lift their long lashes, and shed their full 
glory on ki??t. Towards me, she was like a rock — firm as adamant. 
Sometimes I poured upon her a torrent of curses and threats. The 
only reply was, ' Master Ralph, I must he faithful to March. I 
have promised him that, and Heaven is my witness. I am in your 
hands — God be my helper.' " 

"And she was married.'"' 

"Yes, as much as slaves ever are — went from the house to live 
with him in one of the quarters, down in the edge of the pines, 
filling them with the delirium of her song — ^ Prima doniia^ to all 
the mocking birds in the region. But I reckon some of the strings 
of her harp are unstrung, i purposely brought March to Europe." 

" How many years since, Haywood ? " 

" Four years, my lord ; but it will be ten times that, before they 
meet again. Damn her pious cant ! she shall see how God is her 
helper. My revenge will be sweet ; she is sold to the cane-fields 
of Louisiana. I was out of pocket-money when about to cross ihe 
Mediterfanean — sold five chattels for expenses ; among them, 
Mrs. Flora I AIoji bel Arabe\v2iS purchased with her price — a pleas- 
ant souvenir for me, Sir." 

" Quite a drama, Haywood, for one plantation, in which you 


have been a leading and successful actor ! " and Lord Malvern, 
holding in hand his last sparkling cup arose to go. Raising it to 
his lips he said, — 

*' Here is to your voyage, my friend ! Let winds and waves be 

Ralph stepped forward and placed his hand familiarly upon his 
companion's shoulder. 

'• I am under the necessity of holding you to your promise. Lord 
Malvern. On the night of the duel, the last of my remittance slid 
from my hands at the gaming table ! Not a sous left ! A loan of 
two thousand will carry me through. The hours have flown — I 
must be away." 

" Send for it immediately," Malvern replied. " The money is 
yours at any moment you may chose to take it." A final an I'Cvoir 
left the travellers to complete arrangements. 


IT was a New England winter at Alderbank. Snows had fallen 
over field and street ; fierce northwesters howUng through the 
tree-tops had heaped the feathery depths to miniature mountain 
ranges along the various thoroughfares, and around the dw^ellings. 
Lumbering oxen, powdered with the pearly dust, plunged and wal- 
lowed through the great drifts. Streams wore glassy coats of ice 
and the village boys on skates, darted over them with the rapid evo- 
lutions of flies in the summer air. 

The square tavern at the Corner sent forth from its barroom, 
reeking fumes of misery within. Young and old ; broadcloth and 
rags ; the firm step, and the unsteady gait, came and went through 
its e\^er-open outer door. The blaze of its windows shone out on 
the frozen darkness, as if lighted by the flames of Tartarus. They 
stared out into the late hours of night, like fiery eye-balls, the 
blight, and curse of the fair hamlet and its inhabitants. 

The old tavern, a burning blotch upon the morality of the town, 
was nevertheless considered a necessity to the community. None 
but a few so-called eccentric individuals had ever condemned 


it, — those whose perverse views like straggling vines, would not be 
nailed to customs, but reaching over into the highways and byways 
of humanit}^ were forever blossoming into heterodox truths. The 
clergy, and other religious guardians of Alderbank contemplated 
this tavern with the utmost complaisance. They rather regarded the 
time honored institution as a useful commentary on the total de- 
pravity of human nature ; giving temper and point to that theolog- 
ical dogma. Like Vesuvius in the green heart of Italy, scorching 
and crisping the sweet valleys at its base, the old " village tavern " 
poured its lava over the the tenderest, and holiest hopes of the wo- 
men and children in that vicinity. 

This was an age, too, when every rural home was modeled on 
certain principles. " ^linutes make hours ; " " Cents make dol- 
lars ; " and Catechisms make christians ; " were among them. 
Deacon Steele had an eye to the first two of these axioms, as he 
rubbed his cold hands at break of day ov^er the hot kitchen stove, 
and hurried the family to "prayer," while the hired man harnessed 
the horses. Corn had taken a sudden rise, and potatoes were in 
brisk demand ; and a lively penny required business dispatch. 

The frosty air stirred the life and nerve of the Deacon's handsome 
span, the very hills and valle3's seemed to wake from their chill 
shrouds, and glide away past the flying sleigh. Hemlocks and 
pines muffled in ermine, and shivering oaks in russet, seemed 
equally intent on business, though in the opposite direction, and 
rushed by precipitately. Thin columns of smoke from the chimneys 
of the scattered farm-houses began to grow red in the tardy rays of 
the sun ; and the dogs, bounding out from warm sheds, bayed at 
the passing bells. 

At nine o'clock, the bargain had been struck — cash for the cor- 
pulent corn-cribs' — cash for the huge bins of potatoes in the cellar. 

At ten o'clock, horses and driver awaited the Deacon's pleasure, 
before the door of the square tavern in Alderbank. Quite natural 
that he should drop in to warm, and learn the news of the day. 

In the course of this dela}^ a slight girlish figure, dressed in a 
cloak of Scotch-plaid, and a hood edged with swan's down, ap- 
proached the tavern corner. Her eyes first turned admiringly upon 
the horses ; drawing nearer, she raised them to the driver, still 


bright with the love she bore the animals. Recognizing an old 
friend, she exclaimed. 

" O Henry ! is that you ? What pretty horses ! " 

" Yes, its me, Fanny ! and these are pretty horses ; but this morn- 
is too cold for a white dove like you, to be out walking ! " 

" Not a bit, Henry." By this time she was at the side of the 
sliegh, offering him her mittened hand. 

" What a girl you are ! to stop here in the street, and shake hands 
with me ! The bar-room is filled with curious eyes." 

" Oh ! I don't mind the men ! They have no principle. That 
is a terrible place, Henry ! do you ever go in there .-' " 

"Me ? No ! they are white folks ! They would n't have me in 
there ! You don't learn these things as fast as I do. But old ' Tad ' 
the hostler, hobbled out here with a glass of sling — and gave me 
a kind word besides." 

" What did he say ? " 

" He said, ' Here ! drink this, it will warm you ! Your coat 's 
nothin' but a sieve for this nor'-wester to blow through, an' they 
won't let you in by the fire. Drink it ! I paid for 't. 1 know what 
'tis to freeze, and be kicked round under foot like a dog." 

" Yes ; I like ' old Tad ' for his kindness to you ; but, I don't 
want anybody to drink even one glass. This place has destroyed 
many a man, young and old. Why did you not drive round to our 
house, hitch the horses in our yard, and go in by the fire, to warm ? 
Susan comes quite often." 

The old sign on the green, swinging fiercely in the blast, creaked 
out in its highest key, as if to say, — '* Why didn't you go Henry ? " 

Deacon Steele came to the door, flushed with his brandy, and 
corn prospects. He exclaimed, — 

" 'Pon my word ! Here is Fanny Beame ! Well, well ! the roses 
are blowing on your cheeks if they are dead everywhere else. 
' Hen ! ' is she teasing you for a ride ? Haul off them blankets ! 
Tuck her into them buffaloes, and give her a ride round the square, 
home. Make 'em dance, ' Hen ' ! let her hear the bells lively ! " 

Once in the sleigh, and ready to go, the Deacon called out, — 

" Fanny ! I forgot to tell you we are going to have a protracted 
meeting at our church, next week; and Alary says she shall have 
you to stay with her, so I '11 send ' Hen ' after you." 


Pawing the snow, shaking their fiery heads and flying manes, 
the span tore away, glad to warm themselves again. Fanny tells 
Henry not to drive so fast, as she likes to ride slow, and admire 

" Any way to please you, Miss Fanny, for I suppose the Deacon, 
once in that bar-room, would never know the time o' day any more. 
He *s one of the influential men of the town — those fellows in there 
flatter him, and he pays back in 'flips' and 'slings." 

With a gay laugh, Fanny said, — 

"\Vell ! you have learned one big word, haven't vou Henry? — 

"Yes, I've learned several; but if I should undertake to use 
them all, I should fix them in the v>Tong places, I expect." 

" Repeat them to me ! Do ! Just look at those ears ! What 
beauties ! Do you not love these horses? " 

" I like horses better than men." 

"Tell me the words, now ;" she said — mixing up the serious 
and comical in a highly enjoyable manner. 

"I beg you to excuse me, :Miss Fanny. I don't like to offend 
you ; you'll think me very wicked ! Tliey are what you may call 
holy words ! Whoa ! ' Sultan ' — steady — boy ! " 

" How the snow sparkles in the sun ! we fly through the drifts ! 
What is the name of the other? " 

" ' Czar,' they call him. I'll bring him down : they are as gentle 
as lambs." 

" ' Czar ' and ' Sultan ' ! Splendid ! Do you think I could drive 
them^ if you look after me ? " 

The reins were placed carefully in her hands ; Henry saying, — 

"There, hold them just so; pull steady, Miss Fanny;" and his 
dark face beamed with delight, as his hands rested on his patched 

" Now tell me the words ? " She asked again, looking straight at 
her beautiful charge. ''I don't think you are wicked ! " 

" Well ; I know 'depravity,' ' piety,' ' under conviction,' * edified,' 
'justified,' 'pearly gates,' 'golden crowns,' 'despair,' darkness,' 
* experience ' ; that is, I know the words ; but I don't see how they 
mean anything, they never helped me, nor Susan, nor the children 
to get bread and clothes." 


"Perhaps so, Henry. But these words don't mean 'bread and 
clothes ' — they are holy words — church words. Me ! how their 
feet throw the snowballs against the dasher ! going up this hill. 
Can I turn this corner ? " 

"Yes," said Henry. "Draw this rein a little. There ! easy on 
the bit." 

With a few spirited springs up the declivity, they stopped in the 
yard. His hand was quickly on the reins ; and Fanny, after pat- 
ing their glossy necks, entered the house. 

" Quite aristocratic for a plebian ! Dashed up in fine style ! A 
matched pair, and biack driver ! Ah 1 Lady Fan ! Would not do 
to send you South ! " exclaimed her brother, sitting on the com- 
fortable settee, surrounded with Greek and Hebrew books. 

" Hush, Richard, Deacon Steele sent me home. I had a charm- 
ing ride. Henry is no servant — I drove myself. But he has been 
waiting a long time before the bar-room door, and is nearly 
frozen ! " 

Henry entered meekly, and was seated by Richard Beame, near 
the stove. He said to him dryly ; 

"Take care, Henry! Do not allow this sister of mine to rule 
you, she is a bit of a tyrant." 

'• I am too happy to serve her ! She never makes me feel my 
nothingness, like many others." 

"' She makes me feel my nothingness in theology," said Richard ; 
" however, after a little more Hebrew, I think I can measure lances 
with her. But Fanny, 3'ou should pour a cup of coffee for our friend, 
and look up some lunch also, for that compliment." 

The coffee-pot was steaming on the stove ; and while Fanny was 
preparing the refreshing beverage, Mrs. Beame said, — 

" I cannot imagine, Henry, how you keep warm, with such cloth- 
ing. Have you no other coat .'' " 

"No other, Madam ; my wages barely keep Susan and me and the 
children in food. I could get a good second-handed coat ; but the 
church ladies are getting together all such things, to send in a box 
to the missionaries among the Indians. They bring them to Mrs. 
Steele's to be packed." 

" And you are too modest to ask for one ? " 

'' I suffered so much v.ith the cold, I was oblidged to ask ; but I 


offered to pay for it. Mrs. Greene, one of the ladies, said I could 
have one for five dollars — that it cost thirty when it was new. I 
asked Deacon Steele for the money, but he said it was pretty well 
used up now ; so I lost the coat." 

" I am not surprised,'' replied Mrs. Beame. " I have observed 
the ways of the church for years. They will be eaten up by Can- 
nibals abroad, rather than follow Christ at home ! " 

Then Fanny, always fearful, lest her mother should speak too 
strongly, mildly interfered, saying, — 

" ^rhe deacon is a kind man ; you know he sent me home in his 

The mother replied, — 

'' He is a man who will carry pretty girls to ride as long as he 
lives ; but who ever saw his horses prancing up to the crazy doors 
of our six or eight black families in this town, to carry comforts for 
their destitution ? and you well know my daughter, how great that 
is. Who ever saw him carrying those forsaken people to the pro- 
tracted meeting, to save t/ic/r souls ? " 

" My dear mother! "said Richard, "you know this is not the 
custom. It does not affect the value, or truth of our religion, that 
its professors do not live ' up to their privileges.' We will try to do 
our duty, and throw the mantle of charity over the faults, or short- 
comings of others. I believe that with the right kind of teaching 
the people wilT yield to the fraternal doctrines of the New Testa- 
ment, that mankind is one great brotherhood !" 

" My Son ! listen to these words ; 'Ye shall know theni by their 
fruits,' ' Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ? * Now 
according to my observation, the churches are beds of doctrinal 
thorns and thistles, over which the naked feet of the poor and op- 
pressed cannot walk, and from which we cannot look for grapes 
and figs, for the refreshment of individuals or communities." 

" Mother, your assertions are sweeping, and apparently based 
upon the scriptures. But our present church is the blossom of more 
than three centuries, it has been watered by holy martyr-blood, 
it is entitled to reverence by believers, as their only ark of trust and 

" More martyr-blood must fall somewhere ! You and I agree 
that the negro is an outcast ; and I warn you that the religion of 
our country maJzcs him an outcast." 


" Yes ; I acknowledge him an outcast ; but let us do something 
for Henry. Can you not spare the over coat that was father's ? 
For three years it has been kept sacred to his memory." 

"Yes, Richard ; it is wrong to keep it longer ; Henry can have 
it. Fanny, you will find the coat in the closet, up stairs. There 
are mittens, and a comforter also folded in a piece of linen, in the 
upper bureau drawer." 

Henry begged to refuse, saying he should not feel right to wear 

them. ,, 

" I am used to cold — some other one should wear them. 
Mrs. Beame took the carefully preserved relics, saying, se- 
riously, — 

" If I keep them from you, it is robbery ! We can rob our fel- 
low creatures as well by with-holding from them what is our power 
to bestow, as by taking fraudulently, what they already have. Who 
is better than you ? The Lord pleads your cause. He will spoil 
the souls of those who spoil his poor ; I dare not keep them with 
your want before me! Do not offer thanks, I am verily at fault 
for keeping them so long." 

Henry took the clothes from her hand without a word, except a 
humble " Good^morning." In closing the door, he heard Richard 
calling, — 

" Here, driver, take these boots. They are too large for me, 
and heavier than I need, at present. Keep up your heart Trust 
in God for better days. ^^ 

Going to the sleigh, Henry carefully rolled his gifts together, 
and placed them under the seat ; lest, if seen through the befogged 
vision of that bar-room, they might call forth unjust reflections 
upon his friends, as well as himself. He drove back to the tavern, 
and waited for the deacon. 

The twelve o'clock bell of the factory rang. The operatives 
poured from its six stories like bees from a hive — small boys and 
girls, youths, men and women. The black horses and the black 
Kenry before the bar-room door drew immediate attention. They 
swarmed up the various paths past the tavern, with the great Amer 
ican instinct, '" negro hate," in full play. Here the boys found 
tlieir native element ; and like unfledged ducklets, plunged in. 
They ruffled their feathers — they glossed them down again. 


They huddled and twaddled over the precious opportunity ; tliey ha, 
ha'd ! jeered, pointed their fingers, and waved hats with rims' and 
without rims, till some one of the young mob cried out, — 

" Who painted you so black ? " 

Henry, stung at last into a reply, rang out, — 

'• God ! you little heathen ! " 

The boy, supposing " heathen " a foreign word, uttered a broad 
laugh ; but the expression of some older faces lost the look of 
derision, settling into something like shame. Another called out, — 

" Halloo ! nigger ! How you sell rags a pound ? " 

Henry coolly replied, — 

'' Don't sell in this village. Sell my rags to Bible Societies, to 
make paper to print the gospel on." 

Finally, amidst a fusilade of " nigger ! nigger ! " and a last 
*' Good-bye, Thundercloud," they went to dinner. 

A few words floated into the bar room — but they were all right 
there. Profanity and Bibles were as much mixed there, as rum 
and water. 

At two o'clock, Deacon Steele came to the door to go home. 
Stepping down, he lay prostrate upon the snow. Winking and 
blinking in the bright sun, he stammered out, — 

" What's the matter. Hen ? Has it been rainin' and freezin' ? " 

After much sli^Dping and rolling he gained his feet, and called 
out, — 

" Start along the horses. Hen. Don't you see ! That sign-post 
is on a whirl ! that painted wolf up there'll slap their ears ! There, 
that's it. We'll get off afore she comes round again ! " 

The horses had not yet lifted a hoof; and an observer would 
have seen a curious smile lighting up Henry's eyes, as he extended 
his hand to the deacon, v/ho by this time was burying his head in 
the buffalo robes on the floor of the sleigh, with his boots bal- 
ancing in air, as if he intended to shake off the dust of his feet 
against the dancing frivolities about him. 

Henry respectfully raised the deacon, who took the front seat, 
bareheaded, saying, — 

"Til sit with you, Henry. I want to talk with you goin' home." 

He picked up the deacon's hat, also remarking politely, — 

" This is a very high wind, sir." 


After some swaying to and fro, as the runners bounded in and 
out of the "cradle-holes," Deacon Steele said, — 

" Put your arm round me, Hal. I feel the weakness of the flesh. 
Driv'C slower. It's early in the morning, you know ; we shall get 
home before eleven o'clock, — time enough to measure up the corn 
before night." 

The strong arm steadied the deacon's motion, and he said, — 

"Don't forget, Hal, to go after Fanny Beame next week, when 
our protracted meetin' begins. She's a purty gal." 

"No, sir; and when I drive down after her, can I have a bushel 
of your corn to carry to mill for my Susan ? " 

'• Your Sue .? yes. She's another purty creetur — she's trim built. 
She may have a bushel of corn at the market price, to-day. 
Speakin' of that meetin', Hal, it's goin' to be a solemn time. Sin- 
ners will be converted from the error of their ways, and God will 
be gloritied. We shall have ministers and prayin' Christians at 
our house. It will be a good time for you, Hal, to look after your 
soul. You know your soul is as precious as anybody's." 

" I expect it is of some account to its Maker. They say so ; but 
it takes me all my time to look after the body — and three other 
bodies waiting upon me. I never thought my body or soul to be 
of much account, anyway." 

" Did you ever experience religion, Hal ? " 

" Yes, sir, I've experienced a good deal of white people's religion, 
one time or another." 

" Did you ever have family prayers, and draw the blessing of 
Heaven in that way, and draw down the holy, sanctifying power of 
Divine Grace, to keep you from the contaminating influences of a 
depraved world, and — Hold on to me, Hal 1 I'm weak in the 
flesh, and this runner cuts deep." 

"All right, sir. These horses are in a hurry to get home." 

"Hold 'em in, Hal. At our last protracted meetin', we made a 
vow to talk with all the sinners that came in our way, on the salva- 
tion of their souls; and then, at the next, to count over the con- 
verts we had made; and — "' 

Unfortunately, at this moment, the sudden check brought the 
whiffle- tree to Sultan's heels. With a fiery bound, he upset the 
equilibrium of the sleigh, and of the conversation. The deacon 


went flying out over the hard crust, like a rolling plume loosed 
from its fastening. The hat took another airing. Czar was nearly 
on his knees — Sultan was rearing in the air. Henry could render 
no assistance to the flying deacon, but waited for him, calming the 
excited animals. After much sprawling, the hat was captured. 
With an equal amount of ''pigeon-wings " and "military salutes," 
into which some interjections were thrown, not found in Bible or 
grammar, the good man reached the road, and fell in among the 
robes again. 

Moving forward, and trying to catch the thread of his unravelled 
discourse, he asked, — 

"What subject was I speakin' on?" 

" Family prayers, I believe, sir." 

•' Well, Hal, do you have family pra3^ers ? " 

" No, sir ; it would almost be out of the question, for I am 
scarcely ever at home with my family. We are poor, you know, 
sir ; poverty separates us. If I should pray at home, I should pray 
straight against the laws, and straight against the churches and 
Christians ; so it don't seem to be of much use for white people to 
pray one way, and black ones to pray entirely different." 

"God forbid that an infidel should find shelter under my roof. 
Hal, you can't read ! Where did you lea in it .? not in books ! — 
Prayer moves Heaven, it besieges the golden gates ! It brings God 
down to earth, and takes His divine will by storm ! Don't you ever 
pray, Hal ? " 

" Yes I pray generally in the streets, among mobs. I prayed to- 
day in your sleigh, down at Alderbank." 

" Well ; I am glad to hear it. I trust, through my efforts, you'll 
be converted ; and you'll become a star in my golden crown, which 
I shall wear upon my glorified head. Halloo ! what's the matter 
now ! why don't you go ahead .? " 

" We're home now Sir, and here's a fine turnout waiting: at the 

" Yes, yes ! 'Angels are strangers unawares.' Somebody's got 
money that rides in that cutter! Such harnesses as thern ain't 
found in this town ! " 

]\lary met her father at the door, placed a chair for him and re- 
marked, — 


"Your rheumatics trouble you again." 

" Yes, Mary, some ; but that aint all. I'm sort of stiff from 
holding up Hen. He will drink at the tavern, he leaned over on 
me. But he's a poor creetur ! I've been talking to him on the way 
home, and trying to have him get religion, if he ever gets into 
Heaven, it must be done through our means." 

"Yes, father, these long rides always increase your rheumatics ; 
but guess who has come ? " 

She drew him gently to the sitting-room door. He replied, — 

" Some Grandee ; I guess, by the cutter and horses in the snow 
out there." 

The deacon rushed forward to his long absent brother, for so 
the late comer was. Mutual congratulations, the cheering influence 
of warm rooms and a generous supper nearly effaced the work of 
the bar-room. They sat down to compare memories and events. 
That was a pleasant room, after a day of cold and drifts. On the 
mantel, above the high Philadelphia stove, two whale-oil glass lamps 
burned: The scarlet and green plaids of the home-made carpet 
glowed fresh as ever. White curtains, edged with netted and tasseled 
fringe, shaded the windows. Circular mats, braided of gay-col- 
ored woolens were spread before the stove and entrances, wooden 
chairs, shining black, without a mote of dust, kept their proper 
places around the walls, with a polished cherry table, covered 
with " driven white " linen, fringed also with tasselled netting, 
the accomplishment of those days, into which meshes, rosy farmer 
girls netted their youthful loves and hopes. A gilt framed looking- 
glass overhung the table, upon which solemnly reposed " Scott's 
Commentaries," " Baxter's Saint's Rest," "John Calvin," " Watts' 
Psalms and Hymns," the Assembly's Catechism," and " Missionary 
Herald ; " like grim monks of old, keeping guard over the spiritual 
interests of the household. 

Two plain wooden arm-chairs, cushioned and frilled with gay- 
colored chintz were drawn to the stove by the brothers. Distance 
from the stores had delayed culinary preparations for revival week ; 
and the father had brought home various elements of that art. 
Therefore Mrs. Steele, with her two daughters, Mary and Dorcas, 
remained in the kitchen to further the baking. 

This kitchen joined the sitting-room. The door betw-een them 


was left partially open, that the social current might not be broken, 
and a tacit regard for their guest might be expressed. The tidy, 
neat floor, painted brown, and doited with mats ; the papered 
walls; the '"dresser," with rows of shining tins and quaint pieces 
of crockery ; the hot stove rubbed to a gloss, and roaring up its 
pipe with a fierce business air ; the old clock in the corner, like an 
embalmed Pilgrim of the Mayflower; the spotted yellow and white 
hound. Foxy, sleeping on the hearth; and the box piled high with 
wood made a cosy cooking-room at all times. The chatting of the 
busy women over flour, butter, yeast, apples and spices ; the clatter 
of plates, measures and mortars precluded the possibility of their 
hearing conversation in the adjoining room. 

The deacon and his brother had the evening to themselves. 
Henry's chores were faithfully done. Czar and Sultan under warm 
blankets, stood knee deep in fresh straw, pulling wisps of hay 
from the rack. The oxen chewed their cuds safe in the stanchions. 
Every barn and shed-door firmly closed, the lantern was deposited 
in the usual place. Henry sat by himself, unnoticed in the shadow 
of the angle formed by the half open door and the wall against 
which his chair leaned. He sat silent and thinking, — thinking. 
No one questioned his thoughts — they were of no consequence. 
If would have been an insane act to go out to the barn and look 
in the calm eyes of the oxen for troubled thoughts, with the inten- 
tion of uttering a soothing word, even if that day's work had marked 
their patient sides with the cruel goad. No well balanced Chris- 
tian in Cloudspire would belie his God-like image in that manner. 

So here was black Henry in his stall. To look in his eyes by can- 
dle-light, or any other light for the purpose of reading that day's cruel 
humiliation, would be the height of folly. A creature almost born 
in Africa — a lineal descendant from Ham's accursed race. It 
was suincient that he had his supper, standing at one end of the 
sink, — that his pewter plate was garnished with fried salt porl:, 
Irish potatoes, and rye bread. The first table had been loaded 
with savory viands, chicken, roast beef, mince pie, raised cake, 
cranbeny, and other preserves. But these were considered neces- 
sary only to the fine, delicate fibre of Saxon brain. The " Com- 
mentaries," " Saint's Rest," and other products of that organ on 
the cherry table in the sitting-room, were probably written under the 


divine inflatus of such ethereal stimuli. So Henry and Foxy were 
both benignly allowed to be comfortable by the roaring stove, on 
this frosty winter night. 

The two gentlemen in the sitting-room were now ready for con- 
versation. William Steele, the deacon's youngest brother, left the 
blue hills of his native State, Massachusetts, five years before, and 
wandered to the rice fields of South Carolina. Both had been 
raised "strictly " in the faith of their fathers. William left college 
midway between the Freshman and Graduate, to seek means^ for 
prosecuting a course of theological study at Andover. He desired 
to become^one of that body of New England clergy, whose watch- 
fulness, like the great Chinese Wall, surrounded the land of the 
Puritans, and guarded its time-honored tenets from heretical in- 
roads. Standing with one foot on Plymouth Rock, and the other 
upon the vanities of earth, he was to have become, at once, a burn- 
ing light in her midst, and an honor to his ancestral record. 

Hvifliam Steele was a model of political consistency. Next to the 
Bible, he held the Federal Constitution. To both of them his faith 
and fancy clung with the tenacity of a bat among the stone-work of 
ancient feudal edifices. The double constructions and enigmatical 
passages of both were to him only so many dusty corners and dark 
corridors, in which he might remain safely ensconced in case of 
assault from the modern bowmen, whose arrows were beginning to 
throw confusion among creeds and precedents. He found Slavery 
in the Bible and the Constitution, and the rubber wings of his soul 
never bore him more gracefully than when he fluttered through 
either, in defense of this great national right. 

In his view, it made no difference whether he stood a granite pil- 
lar of the church, defying the blasts and ice of New England, or 
whether he became a Corinthian shaft entwined with jasmine and 
roses, supporting the Constitution in the balmy airs of the South. ^ 

Thus, after a short residence in Carolina, he stepped upon his 
pedestal of '-State Rights," and resolved that henceforth the 
great work of his life should be in defence of the American Eagle 
and the Federal Constitution. He exchanged his prospect ot a 
pastorate, with confessed loyalty to God and man. He laid aside 
the clerical robes of black, and assumed the light summer suit 
and broad-brimmed straw of the plantation overseer, with an equal 


obligation to principle. He put aside the sacramental symbols, 
and in their stead, took up the thumb-screws and driver's whip 
with a conscience void of offence. He believed himself still in the 
field, upholding an identically righteous cause. 

"Well, now, what brought you North in February, William?" 
questioned the deacon. 

" I have just finished the last year's crop ; sent away the last 
tierces of rice." 

" Why not have left before the year's work was finished ? We 
Northerners never wait till all our produce is sold, before making 
a journey." 

" Of course ; but we carry on planting interests in a different 
manner. The small farmer can recall at any moment from mem- 
ory the number of his bushels of corn, rye and potatoes. He can 
go down cellar and count the barrels of apples ; can keep on a slip 
of paper in his pocket book all the wages for hired help. Our 
landholders in Carolina are rich. Their field hands are counted 
by fifdes and hundreds. One plantation may extend over from 
one thousand to five thousand acres. Let's see, how many acres in 
your farm } " 

With a touch of injured pride the deacon replied, — 

"You used to know every foot of it — one hundred and eighty 

"Yes; that is considered a 'right smart chance' up here, with a 
fourth of it hill pasture, one half bowlders and pulverized rocks, and 
about one-tenth rolled out into grass meadows. There, one planter 
has from three to five plantations, with a residence in the city, and 
any amount of stocks and bonds." 

" How many plantations has Mr. Fairland?" 

"He has five — two rice, and three upland cotton, 'mostly.' '* 

" Do you oversee all these farms ? " 

" Bless you ! no. I am manager for the two rice plantations, — 
am sole overseer to the one named ' Le Grand Palais,' with two 
hundred and fifty acres rice land. The other, called the ' Nile,' 
has a low-bred cracker overseer. The other three cotton places. 
* Staple,' ' Success,' and ' Snowfield,' are under two crackers, and a 
splendid fellow from Connecticut." 


" On which one does Mr. Fairland reside ? " 

" His winter residence is ' Le Grand Palais.' In summer, stays 
in town, or at watering-places when in this country. But, as I 
wrote you, he is still in Europe — has been there some four years 
with his family." 

"It must take a good income to go these rounds : better than we 
farmers get, up here. But I should suppose all his business w^ould 
go at loose ends while he is across the water. You must have 
things pretty much your own way." 

"\Vell, not precisely; they know the average yield of the places. 
But, better still, they know their annual net mcomes to be expended 
i-n luxury and travel. They have no more care of their own ac- 
counts than children. All business transactions are performed by 
factors or agents, in Charleston, The crops of rice and bales of 
cotton are sent to these factors who dispose of them at their dis- 
cretion. The planter WTites his demands for so much of his funds 
as he chooses ; the factor remits it, informing him from time to 
time how much he has remaining for the current year. Frequently 
the factor will make advances upon the strength of the prospect- 
ive crop, if accounts from the agents or overseers are favorable. 
Most of our Southerners live like princes — royal in their tastes 
and pursuits, and generous in hospitality." 

"Well, William, I hope our small farms, small houses, and plain 
living w^on't drive you back too soon. I suppose you take charge 
of the Fairland mansion, and live like a prince, too. By and by 
you will be marrying one of Fairland's daughters." 

" Don't think so. I prefer a pure-hearted Northern girl. To 
confess the truth, I am here on just that errand — to marry in this 
very town. Have but a short time to stay, and must take my prize 
back with me. What success, in your judgment? " 

" Success ! why, the trouble will be that you will scarcely get 
av/ay with but 07ie. You will be beseiged. Your name stands high 
in the church since the present ot the costly Bible and the ' silver 
font.' Everybody, that is, all the members inquire after you, and 
pray for you, since that. And I tell you, William Steele," (and 
here the deacon warmed, as his palm came dov/n on his brother's 
shoulder), " we have girls in this town as pretty and as trim-built 


as ever sat in a pew. When you look at their cheeks you'll forget 
that it's winter and think it's cherry time." 

William stroked his beard in a satisfied abstraction, and with a 
half smile he said, — 

" So my gift to the church was acceptable ? " 

"It is the envy of neighboring churches ; but I was thinking you 
should keep your salaiy a little closer. That solid silver basin 
must have made your pocket light. You'll want your own planta- 
tion, with the slaves to work it. A penny saved is as good as a 
penny earned. What did you pay for the font and the Bible ? " 

" Really they cost me nothing. It was a side speculation." Here 
he arose, ran his fingers through his hair, buried his hands in his 
pockets, and walked the floor, yawning either evasively or conse- 
quentially, one could scarcely tell which. He came back to his 
chair, and leaned towards his brother confidentiallv. *' I had a 
salable article on my hands, and a rare opportunity to dispose of 
it, which I did. Out of respect to my good fortune, I resolved to 
fulfill a duty to the church of my early vows — to lay on its altar a 
thank-offering for the great blessings and success of my life." 

" How was that ? Let me share the joy of your prosperity. 
That South is a far-o5 country; let me know something of it." 

" Let all I say, then, remain between us as men. Women can't 
understand bearings beyond their sphere. What I sold was not 
purloinings of rice and cotton. I detest such meanness. That 
plain and pointed lesson of boyhood's days, ' Thou shalt not steal,' 
taught in our Sabbath school, is indelibly impressed upon my moral 
nature. I disposed of what was my own by right, not another's. 

" About six months after my arrival at * Le Grand Palais,' Mr. 
Fairland's factor sent up five slaves per order. Messrs. Kershaw & 
Lewis purchased them from the auction sales at Charleston. One 
of them, an octaroon girl of tall and elegant figure, was in bad 
health — what we term 'unsound.' She seemed dejected and 
broken-spirited. j\Ir. Fairland favored Isabel by taking her into 
the 'Great House,' as lady's maid for his wife. But Isabel kept 
her look of abstraction, and grew daily less active. Her mistress 
drove her from the house, ordering her to the field. 

"The next day, when the driver's horn rang along the quarters, 
the octaroon went down to the rice swamp with the gang. The 


morning was hot. She was not used to the hoe, any more than one 
of Fairland's daughters, and lagged behind the others. The driver 
drew his whip across her shoulders, the blood reddened her dress, 
and she fell fainting. I was riding along the banks at the time, 
and ordered her brought out and laid under a live-oak. During 
the day I had an interview with the master, relating the circum- 
stances, and advising that she would be a. dead loss to him if kept 
in the field; that to put her in the hospital as nurse, to take care 
of the little 'pickaninnies,' would be to his pecuniary advantage. 
The nursery was down by the quarters, and he consented. She 
went into a fever, and for six weeks was no better than dead. The 
physician raised her at last. 

'' Not many weeks after, the master and mistress left for Europe. 
Of course, the authority was in my hand. I ordered Isabel to 
come to my house to cook for me. I took some pains to wean her 
from melancholy, assuring her I stood her defense from the lash in 
the future. I even carried her flowers in my own hand — placed 
them in her raven hair. Good heavens ! she was lovely ! I gave 
her the same food as she cooked for me ; and that was cooking. 
If she looked at fiour, butter and eggs, they were transformed into 
the most delightful compounds. I gave up bacon and hominy, 
and made old 2^Iauma 'Rue,' my former cook, fowl-minder." 

Here William Steele forgot himself — forgot the half-open door 
and the inmates of the spicy kitchen. Unobservant of his sur- 
roundings, he was lost in the sweetest memories of his life. In 
imagination he was novv^ overseer at '* Grand Palais." He was sit- 
ting in his own room ; tangled skeins of gray moss festooned the 
windows and doors; sprays of English iv-y shaded the mirror; jas- 
mines and roses scattered perfumes ; two plates, with two china 
cups and saucers on the white cloth, awaited his tea-hour ; Isabel, 
silent and martyr-like, slowly glided in and out. 

Wrapped in the delicious dream he proceeded, forgetfully raising 
his voice to its natural tones. 

"Her health never became sound. In the course of time she 
became a mother. I gave her my bed to make her more comfort- 
able, and for two months it was her resting-place. Then she died. 
I sat by her in her last moments^ and held her thin hands in 



"What killed her? What was the trouble?" bluntly asked the 

"During the two months' sickness, I drew from her these facts. 
She was brought from Savannah. Her father was a French Con- 
sul, her mother a quadroon, the slave of the Governor of Georgia. 
A young blood named Dentelle, son of a planter, bought Isabel 
when about sixteen, set up for himself an establishment in that 
city, made her the partner of his bed and board, surrounded her 
with elegance, and lavished upon her the luxuries which Southern- 
ers so freely dispense. He clothed her in silks and laces, equal to 
those which adorned the ladies of his father's household. He wore 
a curl of her hair in a locket hidden about his neck. He called 
her his Sultana. Isabel adored him. If Dentelle made jaunts to 
Louisiana or the North, he wrote her the tenderest of letters. 
Thus her slave life floated by for some years. She had borne him 
three children. He brought her to Charleston as he had fre- 
quently done before, and went North. 

" Two or three days after he left a guard took her to one of the 
slave marts, where she was sold on the block to IMr. Fairland's 
factor for our plantation. She wept, and begged for her children 
incessantly, till the annoyance became intolerable. Then they told 
her the children were sold to Mississippi. 

" Well, as I was saying, Isabel died. I had her well buried in a 
black coffin, under the magnolias by the river. I gave the child, 
named Lillian by her mother, to Mauma Rue to raise till I saw 
further. I concluded to sell her. She was Fairland's by law, but 
she was mine by parentage. She was highly marketable, and 
would sell for a good price. Her curls were flaxen, and her eyes 
deep blue. The only stain upon her waxen skin was a mark on 
her back and shoulders, like small streams of trickling blood, 
dripping into heavy red drops. Isabel said it was a complete copy 
of the blood on her own back, after that cut in the field. Lillian 
would take the fancy of many a Southern gentleman oE leisure with 
a full purse. 

"When the child was old enough to run about laughing and chat- 
ting, a trader came through on his way to New Orleans, making up 
his gang as he went. He camped in the pines three miles away. 
I jumped on my horse and rode over. The gang was chained to- 


<Tether, and the covered baggage wagons ready to leave the next 
morning. I called the trader one side, and bargained for the 
child. I wanted just about one hundred and fifty dollras for the 
old church here, and I took that amount, although much lower than 
her value. He agreed to meet me half way at midnight, and take 
her to the wagons. As she had slept with me for three months, 1 
could easily take her to him myself. The night was dark. It was 
dropping rain, and no discovery could be made. The next morn- 
ing I gave out word that Lillian was stolen by the slave trader, 
which was entirely satisfactory to Mauma Rue, as that was the 
habit of the traders." 

"What did you- pay for the Bible and the font?" asked his 

" The pastor of Antioch church was going down to Charleston, 
and I commissioned him to purchase. He paid one hundred dol- 
lars for the font. It was broughi; from London for a special use, 
but for some reason was not taken. As he was to pass through 
New Yoik on his way to Mapleton in this State, he bought the 
Bible at thirty dollars, and I spent the remaining twenty for Sun- 
day school books for your church." 

" Well ! " said the deacon, " quite interesting ; you must be 
thirsty ;" calling Mary at the same time to bring in apples, hickory 
nuts and cider, adding, "you have come at the right time, Wil- 
liam — protracted meeting will give you a good look at all the 


Henry was aroused from apparent sleep, in which his head had 
been thrown back against the hinge-opening of the door. He 
cracked the nuts, drew the cider, and withdrew to his garret over 
the woodshed. The bit of candle was extinguished in the open 
blast before reaching the stairway. Entering the low room in 
darkness, he rushed against one of the rafters, and finally threw 
himself on the bed. A tempest raged within his breast. 

" Bought and sold ! Chains and manacles for us everywhere, 
either of iron or custom ! Wronged, mocked and spit upon ! Who 
was Ham ? What did he do to curse his race through everlasting 
ages ? " 

He hated every white face North and South, and continued to 
soliloquize, — 


"An overseer takes the price of his own little blue-eyed daugh- 
ter, and purchases a basin with it for the baptism of other children, 
*in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.' The church 
Imnts 7Jie down — I will not pray those wretched prayers." 

He came nigh to cursing. By accident his hand brushed the 
bundle of clothing given him that day. Richard Beame seemed to 
call him again, and say, " Keep up your heart. If you cannot 
trust in men, trust in God for better days." Then Fanny's mit- 
tened hand seemed reaching to him, as at the sleigh the other day, 
her face 

" of innocence and of prayer, 
And of love and faith that never fails ; 
Such as the fresh young heart exhales 
Before it begins to wither and to harden," 

He slid down upon his knees, the heart more than the lips 
asked that if indeed he was made in the image of God, it might 
not be blotted out ; that he might trust as Richard had said; and 
that he might leave the wrongs of his race to a wiser keeping. 

*' God listening must have overheard 

The prayers, thus without sound or word. 
Our hearts in secresy, have said," 

Sunday came and went. The gospel was preached ; besides, 
some other very pleasant tidings were disseminated. That Sab- 
bath sun went down convoyed by the rosiest of clouds. A rosy 
light filled the town. William Steele, the handsome, rich South- 
erner, had arrived. He was at church, and between morning and 
evening services Mary and Dorcas moved about like May queens 
with royal suites, whispering to all that he had come to select a 

Sunday evenings, to the young men and maidens, was the one 
glory of the whole week. It was the time of 

** Brilliant hopes all woven in gorgeous tissues, 
Flaunting gayly in the golden light; 
Large desires with more uncertain issues, 
Tender wishes blossoming at night." 

Bearded and beardless aspirants for connubial honors combed 


the manes of the horses, put on the new harnesses, arranging with 
their own hands the gay rosettes at the ears. They spread buffaloes 
over the backs of the sleighs, tastefully arranging the scarlet In- 
dian borders. They fastened the strings of noisy bells and sped 
away, listening to their pleasant tintinnabulations. 

Nothing in Nature appeared unusual. The Sunday evening 
moon shed silver rays ; Sunday evening stars shone calm and holy ; 
Sunday evening parlors, warmed and bright, conservatories of all 
blooming graces, appeared to be w^aiting for their evening bells. 
From one end of the town to the other, glistening runner tracks 
shot across each other, weaving the gossamer web of hope and 
trust. Rosy girls received their expectant lovers at the doors as 
usual ; but within, a sort of subtle, indefinable change chilled the 
evening enjoyment. Hopes seemed poised on uncertain wings, 
torturing the precious hours. Allusions to the protracted meeting 
were frequent, — the annoying coolness might be attributed to that. 
So thought the young farmers who found this evening differing 
widely from its predecessors ; never dreaming that the magician 
who had poured gall into their cups of nectar, was a Southern 
slave-driver in search of a bride. Witches were evidently in the 
air — the elfish creatures w^ere covertly distiUing wormwood dur- 
ing their frantic moonlight revels. 

Fanny Beame read her Bible that Sunday morning in the room 
with Richard and her mother. Thoughts occupied her mind of 
those who could not I'ead its pages — of those who bowed to idols 
in distant lands. A strong desire to become one of that "self- 
denying band " who wander 

" to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes," 

as messengers of mercy, was daily gaining strength. This wish 
was expressed to her brother, and also the troublesome doubts 
of her ability to reach the coveted goal of missionary labor. 

Richard soothingly replied, that if India or Birmah were to be 
the scene of her future labors, and if the offering of herself should 
prove acceptable to Him who guides us all, He would open a path 
for her feet in due time. Fanny's troubled look wandered over the 
waste of snow. She seemed only to behold Juggernaut crushing 


hapless victims, and pagodas filled with heathen gods. Mrs. 
Beame canght the expression of commiseration, and said, — 

" Banish this idea from your thoughts. There are heathen 
enough in our own country — heathen at our very doors." 

Richard replied for his sister. — 

"We are commanded to 'preach the gospel to every creature ;* 
and I must say, dear mother, that the wants of heathen lands have 
seriously impressed my own mind." 

"Well, my son, learn first all that the schools teach of the mys- 
teries of God and man ; then let me hear if your sermons show how 
to follow Christ on earth. If so, then your services will be required 
in your own land, as much as in Asia. India has one Juggernaut — 
America has man}'. There is the old tavern at the corner. One 
stands on the river bank turned by a water-wheel. Another rolls 
its bloody wheels, dripping with human gore, through the Slave 
States ; and the Hindoo Shastra with its atrocious American cruel- 
ties is deduced from our Bible, and incorporated in our Constitu- 

"Ah, mother! if I study theology with you I shall be hung be- 
fore your eyes for my pains. After taking the course at Andover, 
I shall be able to handle the proper tools for the pulling down of 
these strongholds." 

"Time will show, Richard;" then, turning to Fanny, she pro- 
posed that her missionary labors commence immediately, as Susan, 
Henry's wife, was to all intents and purposes in a heathen condi- 
tion. She should visit her with a basket of comforts. 

The Scotch plaid pelisse and the blue silk hood were in imme- 
diate requisition. Carrying a basket well filled, containing also her 
little Polyglot Bible, Fanny was soon on the way. Gilded pagodas 
took the form of rough slab cabins, and the Ganges lay a frozen, 
harmless river along her path. Cocoa-nuts and palms turned to 
shivering oaks with clusters of dried leaves, rustling in the breeze. 
Down in the valley, rising the brow of a hill, hidden by hemlocks, 
out in the glade, listening to the crunching snow, and fondling the 
shaggy head of Winter, her Newfoundland, she was soon at Susan's 
door. The small dwelling was on the south side of a hill, a few 
rods from the river. It seemed to have sprung up in the forest, 
like a toad-stool at the foot of tall, naked trees. Craggy branches 


overhead rattled against and interlocked with each other in the 
fierce winds, like huge antlers of contesting stags. The cove 
spread out before it in a broad, glassy sheet of ice ; and regardless 
of holy time, the lithe, swaying skaters were upon it. 

Fanny knocked at the rude door, and received a most affection- 
ate welcome. Susan gave her the best chair ; looked at her feet, 
if perchance they might be wet; drew off the bootees and placed 
them to dry. The children leaned on her lap, and looked up joy- 
ously in her face. 

" How nice you look here, Susan," said Fanny, 

" I'm glad you think so ; I try to do my best." 

" So you do, Susan. Mother sent you something in the basket. 
Let us see what." 

Susan sat down by her. Fanny took out the articles. 

"I can never repay your mother for her remembrance of me," 
said Susan. "Here's clothes for the children and me. See, my 
feet are out, and here's new bootees, and food besides; just what 
I needed." 

" My mother does all with a free will, and she bade me ask if 
you have bed covering enough for these cold nights." 

" I am sorry to have it to say that we need more ; but I can't 
ask it of Mrs. Beame." 

"Why not, Susie.? I will bring it. Your arms are always full 
of washings, both ways, when you go to the village." 

Willie chimed in, " I s'eep told, Mish Fanny." 

She caught him up on her knees, gave him a frolicsome toss, 
and bade him say his verse. 

" Supper lily chilen come me," he Hsped, laughing gayly. 

" Say the rest;" and she gave him a kiss. "For of such," 

" Such kinnum Heben ; " and then, with a loud, triumphant 
laugh, he threw his arms about her neck. 

Susan begged her visitor to take supper with her, saying mer- 

" I'll give you some of my rye bread, and some ham left from that 
you brought me before, with a few eggs from my fowls. I will finish 
with tea and brown sugar. Will that do ? I can get it ready while 
you teach the children. Say yes, Fanny, it will give me so much 


"Yes Susan ! it will give me pleasure also — only, I cannot think 
it right to diminish your scanty store." 

Addie brought her book, read her lesson in one syllable, and 
said her verses. Fanny read over the next lesson to her litile pupil, 
and heard Willie's A, B, Shee's. Tea was ready ! Susie had 
three earthern plates, one whole cup and saucer for her guest, and 
a broken one for herself. There were two knives, one wiihout a 
handle, and one fork — but every thing had a wholesome neatness 
about it. The bit of plain home-spun table cloth was white as frost 
and rain could make it. Susie served the plates from the bright old 
sauce-pan on the stove, which in its turn was cracked in various 
directions. The rye bread was excellent : a small bovv'l of apple- 
sauce, made from a pocket-full of apples that Henry brought home, 
served for dessert. 

The children ate contentedlv their mush and molasses, placed on 
wooden trenchers, each having a piece of ham of the size of a dol- 
lar, for a relish, and an occasional sip of tea from Fanny's prof- 
fered cup. 

Winter ate a dry crust with evident enjovment, and with much 
wagging of his plumy tail — although he would have sniffed his nose 
disdainfully at so humble an entertainment at home. 

Fanny brought out the little Bible, saying," Nov/ Susie, shall I 
read ?" 

"Yes, I believe the Bible when you read. It seems like a bit of 
Heaven come in at my door, just as the sunlight comes in on sum- 
mer days. " 

"But Susie," replied Fanny, looking serious, "You know the Bible 
is the word of God, whoever reads it. " 

"I don't think so. I heard it once in Cloudspire meeting-house, 
and it appeared as if God and man both mocked at my color. I 
came home worse than I went. When I go to wash and iron at 
these church people's houses, they call me to hear the Bible, and 
prayers, and then pay me in old things worn threadbare ; as if 
Bibles and prayers were meat and drink. But I can't live, and 
keep my children alive on them. " 

" Susan, they do not know how destitute you are. They would 
scarcely believe me, if I told them " 

"Why don't they know? — as well as Mrs. Beame and Fanny 


Beame? I never saw a white woman's face in my house, and speak- 
ing to me as if I was human, but yourself and your mother. They 
know the wants of savages thousands of miles off, v/hy not know 
mine .<* If I lived in Africa, and was a v.ild Gollah, I should have 
fine ladies and G^entlemen at mv service." Then she laughed con- 
temptously, and said, '* Such a religion is ridiculous." But she 
requested Fanny to read on, saying, " I believe in you and your 

Fanny, between her mother and Susan, was taught some hard 
lessons that day; but her faith in the "stated means of grace," and 
the " ordinances of the church," was yet unshaken. These lessons, 
like some seeds, Vv'ere to lie dormant for years before germination. 

Winter and his young mistress took another route home, in order 
to call on old black Letty, as the people called her. They ran, 
jumped, and slid upon and beside a half frozen riband of a brook 
looking for " shiners " in the open pools. Letty's house was set in 
a ravine, betv/een tv/o pebbly ridges rising higher than its chimney. 

It was built of slabs with bark on, and one side of it burrowed in 
the gravel bank. Two small v/indows looked into the other bank, 
not a tree or bush grew near it ; and the only loving, lovable thing 
in the ravine was the purl and babble of the tiny brook running 
through. It v;ould have green velvet borders, spangled with early 
dandelions ; and it would give its cup of cold water to the cowslip. 
It never despised labor. It washed, and blued, and sprinkled, and 
clear-starched with the other inhabitants of the gorge ; it was part 
and parcel with them. 

The ground on which her poor hut stood was leased to them by a 
godless, profane old sinner, in the teeth of the strongest remon- 
strance and indignation of the respectable part of the community, all 
of whom he shocked with a blasphemous indifference to their object- 

"Damn it! let 'em live," said he, "I expect they are God's crit- 
ters, they wont make you black." 

But in cooler moments he compromised the matter, by locating 
the building out of sight of the road, giving the poor outcasts two 
glass windows, to admit what no one cared to stay, the light of the 

Aunt Letty held Fanny's hand for some moments, brushed back 


her wide cap border, saying, "I believe you are my girl, you don't 
forget me. Sit down my child. Did you bring your Bible .?" 

" Yes, Auntie, and that 's all I brought to-day. I came to see 
how you get on. Do you want anything?" 

" Oh, I'm in a peck of trouble ! Squire Flinn sent Lizzy to jail 
'cause she had too much drink when his wife wanted her to wash." 

" Why, he sells rum himself, in his store ; and his own son Alonzo 
died from hard drinkins:." 

" True, he sold it to her himself ; but we are all black, Fanny. I 
don't know w-hat to do. They say she'll stay there three months. 
I can manage the washing at home, if I could get the ' biler ' 
mended, it leaks so." 

" Let Nancy's Jim bring it down to our house to-morrow ; Richard 
can mend it. He mended something for mother, the other day. 
Can you get wood, and keep warm .?" 

" That side of the house in the bank is warm ; but the slabs is 
warped on the nor'west side, the wind blows through there power- 
fully, and the snow too." 

" I will bring some strips of old cotton cloth to paste over the 
cracks ; and I saved a large roll of paper for you, that came off from 
our rooms. I will bring that with a pail of paste, and help you put it 
on. Richard will give Jim something to go in the woods, and drag 
out dead branches for you. That old man that swears so, owns the 
woods ; w^on't he let you have it ?"' 

" He knows we get dead wood there, winters, he leases the hollow 
to us.'- 

After a moment or two, Fanny spoke up, " Auntie Letty, I've just 
thought, I can tell Mary Canby to send you a bushel of rye. I 
shall see her at protracted meeting. You know her father is dead, 
and she can do as she likes with her share of the grain ; she is 
eighteen now." 

"That would be a great help : it would keep off hunger a good 
many days ; but I must ask you for one thing more. Have you 
anything to cover my shoulders, when I stand down to the brook 
rinsing clothes, and when I sit here ? Rheumatics pester me in 
my old age." 

" Yes, Aunt Letty. IMother laid by my green cloak with fur 
round it. Now you must think of me when you wear it, won't you.** 


I will bring you some tobacco too. Have you any ? " 

'• No, my darling ! I'm a most crazy for a smoke ; but I haint a 
cent in the world," 

" How many caps have you now ?" 

" This one on my head," said Aunt Letty, laughing. 

" Then I will make you two this week."' 

Fanny read the seventy-first and seventy-second Psalms, com- 
menting upon the verse, " P'or he shall deliver the needy when he 
crieth ; the poor also, and him that hath no helper." She also re- 
marked upon the prayer of David ; " Cast me not off in the time of 
old age ; forsake me not when my strength faileth ;" and concluded, 
" He is good. Aunt Letty; if you can trust Him, it will be a com- 
fort to you." 

The sun swung low in the west. Winter and Fanny hurried 
home. Mrs. Beame called her daughter to her knee, as she had 
done for years past, at the Sabbath evening sunset hour. Fanny 
was slight in figure, and not burdensome. The details of Susie's 
supper entertained both listeners. Rye bread, broken crockery, and 
even the lame old sauce-pan, appeared dipt in rainbow hues, as 
seen through her description. Mrs. Beame drew Fanny to herself, 
speaking in a low voice ; "My daughter! do you know I think your 
supper with Susie was a sacrament, a re7nembrance of your Lord 2 " 

"No, mother, the sacrament is partaken in the church ; it should 
be blessed and distributed by the minister and deacons. None but 
Christians are admitted to communion." 

"I know that is the custom," replied the mother kindly, smooth- 
ing the brown hair ; " but customs are not religion. Remember, I 
call that supper more holy and acceptable, than many of those 
communions, so ostentatiously commemorated in churches." 

" Now sing with me my favorite hymn in this twilight ; " and for 
more than the hundredth time, their voices blended in the dear 
old melody, — 

" Alas ! and did my Savior bleed ? 
And did my Sovereign die ? 
Would He devote that sacred head 
For such a worm as I ? 

Was it for crimes that I had done 
He groaned upon the tree ? 


Amazing pity ! grace unknown ! 
And love beyond degree ! 

Fanny and Richard had learned ev^ery word of it from the mother's 
lips long ago. At its close, they observed a strange look of calm 
on the usually spirited face. A solemn hush pervaded the room, as 
if the group were in the immediate presence of Calvary's Cross. 


THE Northern mail had just come in. All Charleston was 
astir. A pile of letters was laid upon the desk in the office 
of Kershaw & Lewis, factors. These contained orders and re- 
quests of all kinds from England, Scotland, France, Italy, and every 
other resting-place of the wandering pleasure- seekers from the opu- 
lent homes of South Carolina. The increasing hum of business, 
on East Bay, had culminated in a tornado of noise, crashing over 
the pavements with a deafening din. The hand of the senior part- 
ner held an open letter, while both awaited a lull in the tempest of 
cotton laden drays. 

He ran over the contents silently, and exclaimed ; " He's coming 
now — Ralph will be here the last of March, dangers of the sea ex- 
cepted; — tardy a month." 

'' Coming then, at last ! " replied the other; " he was to have writ- 
ten his orders weeks ago from New York." 

"New York is another Paris, you know, — young blood is up. 
See here ! we must be doing. City house to be opened, servants 
to be bought, the larder filled, carriage and horses to be in readi- 
ness. He takes passage on the sailing packet ' Sumter '." 

" A proud day for Haywood," said Mr. Lewis, " when he steps 
from the ' Sumter ' upon his native soil, to fill his father's place in 
sustaining the rights of our superb old State." 

" True, sir ; and a proud day for Carolina when she welcomes 
back, and enrolls among her noble sons, the name of Ralph Hay- 
wood. Never an ignoble stain has fallen upon the laurels of his 

Aye, aye ! His character has the old Roman ring. A second 


Horatius. His towering strength will easily cope with any three 
of those rabid abolition Curatii, forcing them to bite the dust. 
How much time for filling orders ? 

" Three weeks. That is short enough. Now for the memo- 
randa. First, servants ; how many .'* We must look about for A 
No. I's." 

*' ' Bram ,' the old family coachman, will have the horses in charge. 
He will handle any pair ; let him remain. His, wife, old Jane, is 
washer. She will suit her young master's caprices better than 

"Well then," replied the other, pencil in hand. " Say cook, but- 
ler, footman, chambermaid, and gardener. His body servant will 
arrive with him. Ralph will manage to put the chains on him 
agam ; although you know March and Ralph had the same 

" Yes," answered Mr. Kershaw : " and apropos to this matter, I 
just noticed in the Courier a chambermaid for sale. Here it is : 

By A. Tobias, on Tuesday next, precisely at ten o'clock, will be sold before 
my store, without reserve, a Likely Mulatto Wench, a good seamstress and 
house servant. The above servant may be treated for at private sale previous 
to Tuesday next. 

"Look sharp! You are aware what points will satisfy our 
patron. And here's another advertisement." 


Will be sold at the Custom House on Tuesday, three negroes — Andrew, 
aged 40, a well-trained butler. John, aged 45, a complete gardener ; and Ha- 
gar, aged 20, a valuable house servant. 

Terms : For the negroes, one-half cash ; balance in bonds, payable with in- 
terest one year from date, secured by a mortgage of the property, with personal 
security, if required. James W. Bruin, 

Com. in Equity. 

" There now ; if these answer, we have all but the footman, and 
cook. Can buy a prime boy at any auction sale, but a cook must 
be provided of warranted character." 

" Next, the horses. Old ' Kentuck ' brings a drove over the 
mountains from his own State, next week. Told me he should 
bring a pair of chestnuts fit for the carriage of a prince, — fifteen 


hands high ; fiery and elegant ; price one thousand dollars. Better 
purchase soon, that Bram may have them well in hand when his 
master lands." 

" I observed also," replied the other factor, " that a new invoice 
of carriages has arrived from New York — must make that selection 
intime for the horses. The supplies for the house are mere trifles. 
Bjtter direct the liquors purchased at Vieil &: Petray's, the French 

It was near nightfall, when the " Sumter " stood outside the bar, 
looking over the perilous gateway into the bay, lying between her- 
self and the city. Blinding rain swept her shining deck. Angry 
waves ran like hissing serpents along the shallow sands. Grim, 
murky clouds rushed down to the very waters, as if seeking a hand 
to hand contest with the billows. The gale blew heavy and fierce; 
a fleet of small fishing craft scud through the yeasty foam like sea- 
gulls, beating landward. 

" No pilot to-night ! " roared the captain ; " we shall May to,' out- 
side." Raising his trumpet to his lips, he hailed the last boat, and 
bade that word be carried to " Kershaw & Lewis," on East Bay, 
that the " Sumter " would be at the wharf at sunrise. 

March stood at his post near Greylock. The spirited creature 
was worn by the long voyage from Europe, and now became fretted 
into ill humor by the persistent, aggravating roll of the vessel. 
March examined the girths and supports that kept the Arabian on 
his feet. When a sudden lurch of the vessel caused him to lean 
heavily against the padded sides of his stall, he smoothed the 
silken flanks with a petting caress, stroked the mane gently, or 
patted the straining nostrils. 

" Most home, my beautv, most home ! " At the sound of 
his voice, Greylock's hopeless eye caught a gleam of brightness. 
In the lulls of motion, the strong hand of the watcher passed down 
the trembling limbs of the imprisoned animal. Then he broke the 
silence by talking: "Tired feet will rest again, plenty of green 
turf, and soft sands this side the A-tlantic. Patience, boy, patience. 
I'll lead you to a gentler hand than mine." Improvising verse and 
melody, he sang, — 

*' Flora's glossy curls of jet 
Shall lean against your mane, my pet ; 


Greylock's fiery eye will tame, 
When my Flora calls his name," 

Ralph, accustomed from his cradle to see all obstacles to his im- 
perious will removed by others, or to overcome such obstructions 
himself, was thoroughly exasperated at beholding the liquid barrier 
between him and his destination. The insolence of those break- 
ers, jeering in their thundering gambols at him and the captain, 
was taunting to the highest degree. Their sarcastic contempt for 
any allegiance to man savored too strongly of freedom for his arbi- 
trary will. So, after some futile ebullitions of anger, seasoned with 
high-toned oaths, drinking and smoking, he " turned in " for the 

March had commands to stand by Greylock while the packet 
rolled ; and as we have seen, faithfully executed those orders. 
Keeping the w^atches of the stormy night so near the land of 
slavery, revived all its bitter associations. A wilder and fiercer 
symphony swept the chords of his being than the piping of the 
mad wdnds outside, among the wet shrouds. The weird plantation 
songs of the past that forevef moaned through the fields and wood- 
lands, surged up among his memories w^ith almost supernatural 
power. The creaking of ropes, and the rattling of anchor chains 
suggested hand-cuffs, and slave gangs. The snapping of the 
streamer in the wind at the main-top, brought to mind the pain- 
ful, but familiar sound of the lash. 

He stood up erect, as if the better to sustain the terrible pres- 
sure upon him. The left hand clasped an upright plank of the 
stall, above his head. His w^hite shirt sleeves were rolled to the 
elbow. His right hand, large and well-formed, rested upon his hip. 
Above the medium height, his broad shoulders and muscular figure 
were developed into a faultless symmetry. An observer would 
have felt an instinctive admiration for the sculptured repose of his 
attitude, and the kingly calm resting on his features. He ques- 
tioned himself. 

"Why did I return to America? France, Paris, freedom and 
manhood, all are back over the waters. I have left them forever. 
Why take upon myself again this terrible bondage ? Why stretch 
out my hands voluntarily, for manacles that lead to the sham- 
bles ? To be classed with Greylock ; to be bought and sold with 


cattle ; to be counted with senseless chattels ; to be the creature 
of a master's power like a spaniel at his feet? Yes, I am black. 
This color was a matter of Gods's omnipotent pleasure — not 
mine ! " 

Casting his eyes into the pitchy night ; he went on. "One half 
of all Time is black — black night. Only one half of life is wiiite 
day. The black night is Time, nevertheless. I am a man, never- 
theless. What is that one drop of honey in this bitter cup, for 
which my soul thirsted, for which I was willing to barter all 
else ? " An indescribable look of tenderness softened the dark, 
calm eyes. "Cruel thought! What is liberty to me without my 
dear Flora ? I would cross a thousand oceans, wear manacles and 
chains, or endure the heaviest stripes for her sake — for my pre- 
cious wife who turned from the most fascinating temptations that 
man can devise, to my poor love." 

The last farewell, so long since taken, flashed up before his 
vision. He recalled the rich crimson of the flushed cheeks, with 
tears upon them, like deep crimson roses wet with the plash of 
rain-drops. He remembered the dark coral lips, trembling with 
the burden they, could not utter ; and he felt the pressure of the 
fond arms that would fain have held him for aye. 

Greylock was lonely ; he whinnied low and pitifully, like a ne- 
glected child. The swash of the waves again filled the ear of 
Slarch. " Still at sea," he said, and went on soothing his com- 
panion. The climax of his hour of agony melted away before the 
love he bore Flora. She was the sun of his blank existence, and 
she had arisen full above the horizon of his sickening future. The 
rays of her love gilded the grave of his manhood, which his own 
hands had prepared. March Haywood was a slave again. 

He fell to improvising,, mournfully crooning his lines, interrupted 
only by the spectral shadows of the sailors silently gliding to and 
fro. He took up the broken thread of his idyl to Greylock, the 
substance of which is embodied as follows : 

Flora, darling, waits for me, 
Flora waits for me and thee ; 
Nothing but this stormy bar, 
Keeps me from my love so far. 


Dear to me is Slavery's chain, 
So it leads to thee again ; 
Sweet to me are prison walls, 
When within, my Flora calls. 

All these long and absent years, 
Haunted through by cruel fears, 
I kept the look of thy sweet face. 
Fresh as in our last embrace. 

Human vultures sweeping o'er. 
Clutch at my low cabin door; 
If my lamb be snatched awa}', 
Woe to me, O God ! that day. 

Then the trader's flying trail — 
Then the block — the auction sale ; 
All the tears of cruel awe 
None but Master Jesus saw. 

Bless thy letters ! precious things ! 
White as sea-fowl's snowy wings. 
They came o'er the stormy sea. 
Bringing hope and peace for me. 

All that writing seemed aglow 
With a love that hushed my woe, 
When they read. Thy curls of jet 
Waited, waited for me yet. 

Listen, Flora, to the breeze, 
Creeping through the piny trees; 
Listen to the news they bear, 
When they lift your rings of hair. 

They will whisper, March has come, 
Never more from you to roam : 
This, young master promised me. 
O'er the blue Atlantic sea. 

Darkness fled at the approach of one of those beautiful dawns 
born from Southern waters. A majestic tide had engulfed the 
hissing breakers of the previous night, and still rolled landward, 
invoking the "Sumter" with its deep-mouthed voice to ride west- 
ward into the bay on its sun-gilded billows. The pavilion of the 
rising sun, borne to the very edge of the Eastern Ocean, rested on 


the rim of the waters, awaiting, apparently, his royal will. He had 
not yet stepped forth upon his azure path up the heavens ; the 
glory within, lined and fringed the ash-colored curtains of velvet 
cloud that still screened his presence. Borders of dazzling orange 
and translucent amber folds rose against the sky, and spread a 
golden radiance over the broad expanse of eastern waves. 

Dancing pilot boats offered friendly aid, and thus convoyed, the 
the " Sumter ■' brought to the quay the returned scion of one of 
the noble families. 

Bram, in the dignity of a green livery and silver-laced hat, held 
the chestnut span in hand close to the gang-plank. 

The newly purchased footman, Dick, a springy brown boy of 
about fifteen, held the carriage door, steps down, for his new 

The blue satin curtains of the carriage, fringed and tasseledwith 
white, waved a welcome to their proud owner. The horses cur- 
vetted and threw foam on the bv standers. 

Slaves of all shades doffed hats to the " young massa jes done 
trabel." Old maumas with gay turbaned heads, and baskets on 
their arms, dropped respectful courtesies on all sides of the car- 
riage. Some dear old aunties, who had been taught Sabbath days 
from the enlightened pulpit, and on week days by the whip- lash, 
that the white race was formed in the wisdom of God, especially to 
enslave the African, ejaculated heartily and piously, '' De Lord 
bress ye ! " 

Bram, who had driven " heaps ob de Carliny lady and gen- 
tleums," was highly elated at being once more officially reinstated. 
Drawing up the reins in his white gloves, he espied a small piece 
of ebony and ivory "scrape de foot " at him facetiously; where- 
upon he gave the tiny jester a touch of the snapper of his whip, 
and the low-spoken but high-toned warning, " Get out de way, 
dere, 3'ou s'nitican' nigger ! " 

The carriage dashed forward across the Bay, through Meeting 
into Broad street, and drew up before the iron ancestral gate. 
Massive high stuccoed walls concealed the yard, garden, and half 
the house from view. It had the air of a prison ; and a stranger 
would have called it so, except for the other walled-in residences 
everywhere seen. Here and there along the top of this grim en- 


closure clusters of pink and purple bloom peered into the sunshine, 
hinting at the paradise within. Through the iron gate, held by 
Dick, along the black and white diamond walk, up the flight of 
broad white marble steps, with March following closely after, the 
young master found himself in the lower hall, encountering a small 
regiment of bows and courtesies from his assembled servants. 
Dick ascended the staircase with Ralph, and ushered him into his 
own apartments. 

" Send March to me," said Ralph. " Lay the breakfast at ten." 

The windows of his chamber opened to the floor : the cool, 
shaded piazza invited him out. A colonnade of white fluted pillars 
rose against the blue day. Between these were seen gleams of the 
Ashley river, and the feathery tops of island pines beyond. 'J'he 
left corner of the house wore upon its shoulder a trailing mantle of 
dark green English ivy. Climbing roses looked over the balus- 
trade between the pillars, or swung in sprays carelessly therefrom. 
Below, a parterre cut into shell walks, and gay with many-hued 
flowers, still glittered resplendent with its dew-drop jewelry. John, 
the new gardener, bought at auction before the Custom House, 
proved a fine investment. Well-shorn hedges extended their vel- 
vet walls each side of the marble walk from the gate to the house, 
and along the divisions of the grounds. The exuberant foliage of 
the trees seemed perennial — not a fallen leaf littered the shell 
paths beneath. 

Ralph's mind was running along the links of old associations, 
when March, stepping to a respectful distance at his side, said, •' I 
am here sir." 

" Wash and dress me for breakfast." 

March bathed and dressed the master with the care of a parent 
for a child, with a deftness and celerity that made the toilet no 
interruption to Ralph's flow of thought. His cogitations went on 
in a turbulent elementary chaos. Kaleidoscopic views revolved 
swiftly. Grace, marriage, crops, plantations, club-houses, summer 
tours, Newport, hounds, Paris, Greylock and Flora slid into mar- 
velous figures, and glided into other forms as quickly. 

Intently absorbed, he stood like an automaton, receiving from his 
valet the last touches of neatness. The only trouble March had 
with him, was in drawing on one of his boots which was entirely 


too small. A sudden kick threw it out of March's hands, and 
across the room. 

" Damnation, March ! do you know who I am ? Draw that boot 
on easier, or — I'll send you to Hades!" 

A dash of carriage wheels and a sharp ring at the gate, ushered in 
Lewis Dentelle, oE Savannah, Georgia. Three steps at a bound, 
up into the dressing-room he tore. He laid a light tap of his cane 
on Ralph's shoulder with the familiar greeting, — 

" There, truant 1 By Jove ! you're home again at last. Heard you 
came in the ' Sumter.' Put the horses over the course to arrest 
)^our Fiench Highness, before you might go out." 

" Haven't got in, yet," replied Ralph, '' but I'm deuced glad to see 
you. Lew. I feel the loss of Paris already. Ah ! that's the jewel 

of cities," 

" How does Charleston look to you now, Haywood ?" 

" It looks as if I had arrived in a young desert just planted with 
a few houses and nursery trees. It is too small and huttish. Why 
don't they pull down these wooden hovels on every street, and build 
up with suitable structures?" 

" What structures, Ralph ? such as Les Tuillcnes, Notre Dame, 
etc.? When we secede, and set up a throne, we can remodel 
Charleston royally, a la Parish 

"Three cheers for that sentiment," replied Ralph enthusiastically. 
" Come down to breakfast, Lew, ensuite, ?wiis vcnwis ; then, lifted on 
the exhilarating aroma of our Habanas, let our souls commingle." 

At the table, March took his accustomed place at the back of 
Ralph's chair, pointing Dick to the chair of Dentelle. The silver 
breakfast service and fine old porcelain of the former household, 
graced the occasion. 

Andrew, the butler, brought in fresh fish from the bar, venison 
from the forest, duck from the marshes, eggs, corn-cake, and the 
ever-present dishes of rice and hominy. This old servant's move- 
ments forward or backward were one continued series of obsequious 
bowings and scrapings. He was the very essence of humility ; 
ofien saying he was only " de dus' ob de eart j not fittin' for white 
man to wipe he foot on." 

March served his master's plate at the side table and placed it 
before him. 


"Take that cursed plate hence ! bring venison and duck with rice. 
Dentelle, I have been pampered too long, to return to hominy; I 

" Well, I swear Ralph, that same hominy is the breath of my life. 
In Germany, at the University, I ordered barrels of it from Sa- 
vannah. Students called me the Bald Eagle, because I fed on 
American white sand, as they termed hominy." 

" Try this duck, Dentelle ; it lacks the old, delicious flavor, some- 
what ; cooked too soon. Andrew, how long since the ducks were 
shot ?" 

Bringing back his foot, and bowing profoundly," Tree day, sah j 
couldn't say 'cisely when de ship come in." 

"Hereafter, let the duck hang till the neck is ready to part, and 
the joints yield to the slightest touch. That's the kind of living 
for an epicure ; hear ?" 

" Heah, sah? Yes, sah," bowing again. 

Dentelle, with a loud laugh, asked Andrew if he was born in the 
Court of France ? 

" Neber see France, sah j born Gollah country; king fam'ly, sah." 

"What brought you here with your Court manners?" 

"I trabel, sah j" a scrape and a bow; "see dis big country, and 
de gran' masser." 

" All right. Prince Andrew, bring your best from the wine room," 
said Haywood ; Madeira, sherry and brandy. Read the names, old 
fellow ?" 

Bowing, and drawing back his foot, — 

" Yes, sah. Marsa Peyton larn me in old Virginny." 

" It is against the laws of South Carolina and Georgia for you to 

" Dunno, sah, I read for de gentleums ; don' read for self." 

" What can you read ? the abolition papers ? That's dangerous 

" No, sah, I reads de barrel and de demijohn ; reads wine, 'Dary, 
shary whisky, brandy. Tuk long time to larn, sah. Marse Peyton 
take de black whip, den I larns de English, sah." 

" How do you read wine ?" interrupted Dentelle. 

" Lettle word, sah. Begins wid two wine glass techin' de rims, 
when de marsa drink health." 


" How do you read Madeira?" 

" Long word, begin wid a leetle garden gate, and hab star ober 

** Sherry ?" said Ralph. 

A low bow and hands clasped over his white apron ; " Begin wid 
de rattlesnake, sah, an' eend wid de fox-tail." 

" Brandy ? you college-learned cuss." 

"Begin with fat ole mauma, and eend widde fox-tail." 

" All right, Prince Andrews, go to your books in the wine room, 
and bring as ordered." 

A smart pull at the bell preceded the clattering of canes and 
brisk heels up the sidewalk, — six figures .darkened the dining-room 
door. Hilarious greetings and noisy mirth followed. 

"Ten thousand pardons, Haywood, for this apparent neglect." 

" No apologies are needed, gentlemen," replied Ralph. "I am 
hardly in a condition for companionship myself. After a few hours 
of recuperation, I shall be able to hold my own with you." 

Andrew just then placed the wine upon the table, of which all 
partook freely. The clinking of glasses chimed with repeated 
demonstrations of welcome. Sentiments were offered and boister- 
ously drank to common objects of interest ; to Carolina, king Cotton, 
Free Trade, and State Rights, subjects ever upon Southern lips. 

In the midst of these bacchanals, the light step of a woman 
crossed the piazza. She was of brown complexion, tall, slender, 
and wavy-haired. Timid parted lips and snowy teeth enhanced her 
charms. A thread of scarlet velvet bound her head, corals 
depended from her small ears. Her tasteful dress and white apron 
fluttered quietly past. Not an eye missed the vision. 

" That was a handsome purchase ;" said one. " Buy her here, 
Ralph ?" 

" Mars ! the goddess Diana couldn't outdo that," said another ; 
" worth the money, whatever the price !" 

" Want to sell, Haywood ?" said another. " Here's my check for 
two thousand." 

" I protest against robbery of that kind," interposed a third. 
Let wood-nymphs, sylphs, and fairies welcome South Carolina's son. 
" Let us drink to Ralph's exclusive possession, in the sentiment which 
our poet laureate will offer." 


As readily as a bird carols his vvildwood song, the poet, with glass 
in hand, repeated, — 

" Drink, comrades, drink ! this Lethean balm 
Will yield a gallant, generous calm ; 
Drink to these angels in disguise : 
Drink deep and drown your tender sighs : 
Drink to this lovely, dark quadroon, 
Drink to the vision lost so soon. 
Drink to her beauty, and his joy, 
Who holds her charms, so rich and coy. 
Drink deep to women of all lands ; 
Caucassian first, for legal bans. 
Then, drink, with thought and fancy free, 
To brown, or red, as chance may be ; 
Drink deep to woman's love — the same, 
Whate'er the color, race, or name." 

A hearty response followed. Deep draughts sanctioned the 

The troop clattred down stairs, out upon the marble walks, 
leaving the clanking iron gate closed after them, and Ralph to his 
coveted repose. 

Ralph and Dentelle resumed conversation in a more serious and 
confidential manner. They lounged in luxuriant easy-chairs drawn 
upon the piazza, fronting Ralph's chamber. This piazza com- 
manded the charming river, and James Island beyond, swimming 
in the delicious haze of a spring morning. The idly sparkling 
waters of the broad Ashley breathed an indolence in lordly contrast 
with the busy strife of commerce, which made northern streams the 
handmaids of industry, and the crowded thoroughfares of enterprise 
and trade. 

A crystalized silence held the river, the islands, and piny groves, 

No stranger keel ever cleft its blue surface. No strans^er foot 
unbidden, explored its vassaled shores. The feudalism of the 
middle ages made a mournful pilgrimage to the New World ; and 
here had been set up a mutilated idol for the worship of knights 
untitled, and squires unspurred. There remained to it only its ar- 
rogance, isolation, and oppression. 

Ralph and Dentelle were as fair representatives of this condition, 
as could well be found. They were the genuine offspring of a mis- 
cegenation by the glittering lance of chivalry, and the broad plan- 


tation hoe. They were the true resultant of the barbarism of the 
past, the Christianity of the present. They had been intimates from 
the cradle — had hunted deer together through the deep forests of 
their broad lands. They had traveled together and in divergent 
ways, till now, they met again on the iron threshold of manhood. 

" So you are married, IDen telle ?" 

" Ah, yes, Ralph, some time ago." 

" What fair being was the honored recipient of your love ? " 

" My love ?" 

" Yes, of course, your love, Dentelle. Surely what other motive 
would link you for life in the indissoluble bonds of our Southern 
matrimony } " 

" Your irony hath a sharp edge. There is no lack of motives for 
marriage. My motive was the reparation of beggared finances. 
Repeated losses at the races, tables of chance, etc., rendered me 
nearly bankrupt. Something must be done. I had made some 
acquaintance in Philadelphia with an old captain of a slaver, for- 
merly bringing cargoes of negroes to our shores. I took pains to 
ascertain his abilities to replenish my ruined coffers, and found that 
bonds, bank shares, and ready money to a satisfactory amount, 
awaited his only daughter's nuptials. I made haste to air my 
knightly graces, wooed and won the magnificent dower, and brought 
my wife triumphantly to Savannah." 

Ralph's brow clouded. " Why go to the North, Dentelle, for a 
wife? Why bring a bride to sully the blue blood of the proud 
chivalry of Georgia, by an alliance among the ignoble and base- 

" Not so fast, my friend. To command a slaver, should in our 
heraldry, be a sufficient reason for conferring blue blood. My fac- 
tors were harassed with daily demands which could not be answered, 
and my father frowned." 

" How does she take to our Southern Institution ?" 

" As if she were to the manor born. Mi esposa rara takes off her 
slipper, and punishes delinquents in genuine Southern style. You 
should see her wearing her raw hide, and using it too, about the 
pantries and kitchens." 

" What became of your love alliance with the entrancing octaroon, 
Isabel ?" 


" Dentelle answered thoughtfully, — 

" The why, the where, what boots it now to tell ? 
Since all must end in that wild word — farewell." 

He walked away to the clustering rose-vine clinging to the bal- 
ustrade, pulled a stem of the tiny yellow things, and twirling them 
absently in his fingers, came back to Ralph. " My graceful tender 
Isabel was sold. She could never have endured the knowledge that 
I was living with another. I did that most grievous act of my life 
because I could not witness her distress at my apparent abandon- 
ment. She would not have believed that circumstances made a 
marriage imperative. Her heart would have broken ; it is all over 
now. My happiness was bartered for my wife's gold. It is all over, 
Haywood. I am now fairly entered upon the race of life, married 
by law, and custom, bound to all Southern issues, an unflinching 
adversary to Northern aggressions, and a sworn supporter of our 
Federal Constitution." 

"What are the pressing issues of the hour ? By Jupiter! I also 
am a true son of the South, and love her to my heart's core. But 
to emerge from the bower of the Arts, the seat of the Graces, 
adopted Paris ; to become a Nestor in the sectional contest with the 
Northern barbarians of the Republic ! I swear it is anything but 

With a resolute air, Dentelle stretched forth his hand, and made 
a gesture of dismissal to such trifles, and replied, — 

" Away with these voluptuous regrets ! The deuce, Ralph, you 
are made of sterner stuff ! You inherit, nolens vole?is, the virtues, 
pluck, and integrity of a blooded line. Think of our venerable 
Agamemnon, our Calhoun ! You can but follow his glorious leader- 

"Well, the impending issues?" demanded Ralph. 

" They are — well ; Free Trade, Nullification, State Rights, Cal- 
houn's Balance Power of, or Extension of Slave Territory, Coloniza- 
tion of the Free Negroes, and Abolition. How's that, formidable ? 
Courage, my friend ! You will soon be initiated. Our whole 
people are agitated with the discussion of these subjects, like forest 
leaves in a tornado. Our ladies even, are polished statesmen. At 



every social gathering you will hear words of wisdom droppin 
from their lips." 

" What about this Free Trade, or Tariff, or what the devil it is 
called, Dentelle ? " 

"■Mafoi! Ralph, let me explain. The South will have no tarifT. 
The North and West are encouraging Home manufactures, and 
insist upon Protection. England is (?7^r great purchaser, and con- 
sumer. She buys of us over three hundred million pounds of cot- 
ton a year, of the four hundred and sixty millions we produce, 
averaging over two hundred pounds exported, to each slave. Now 
this tariff on British exports, (which, by the wa}-, is mostly received 
at the North,) will induce retaliatory measures on the part of the 
English. Retaliation will fall on us. England will not only de- 
mand a revenue from our cotton, but will be led to look elsewhere 
for her supplies ; to Egypt, to the West Indies, and to South 
America. In the language of Mr. Hamilton, of your State, in a 
speech at the Walterborough dinner, 'unmitigated ruin must be our 
portion, if this system continues.' " 

'• How stands IMcDuffie on this Northern legislation? " enquired 

"Ah, Ralph! South Carolina has political leaders with whose 
giant stature the Northern and Western States cannot measure 
strength. IMcDuffie stands shoulder to shoulder with Calhoun. 
Against this Northern policy of Protection, he has even fought 
many a duel with its radical advocates. His eagle eye pierces 
cant and hypocrisy, his voice warns our people that this protective 
system is intended to precipitate upon us the moral and political 
catastrophe of the emancipation of our slaves. Hear ! Ralph ! 
I repeat his prophetic words ; ' Any course of measures which 
shall hasten the abolition of slavery, by destroying the value of 
slave labor, will bring upon the Southern States the greatest politi- 
cal calamity with which they can be afflicted. P^or I sincerely be- 
lieve, that when the people of these States shall be compelled by 
such means to emancipate their slaves, they will be but a few de- 
grees above the condition of the slaves themselves. Yes Sir ; 
mark what I say! Whenthe people of the South cease to be mas- 
ters by the tampering influence of this Government, direct or indi 
rest, thev will assuredlv be slaves. 

> » 


"Slaves !" cried Ralph. "Preposterous!" His haughty eyes 
gleamed defiantly. "Slaves!" he cried, starting from his chair, 
his tall, fine figure looming up ominously. "Slaves! To whom?" 
as if the North and West lay cowering at his feet, beneath his out- 
stretched arms. " Slaves to those who, from the first, have sub- 
mitted their will to ours ? Slaves to those who are already our 
slaves.'* Ha! ha! ha! by the gods! Slaves to hirelings who till 
their rocky soil, to send sustenance to our negroes ? Slaves to 
men whose hostilitv to Constitutional measures embitters every 
Southern breast? To minions who crouch with repeated com- 
promises to our demands. Slaves? when, and how? I ask. Let 
him who dares, answer." 

With vehemence his right hand clutched a silver hilt, and drew 
a bright blade, quivering to the light, from a hidden sheath. He 
held it steadily, as for a fatal plunge, and repeated, — 

" I know where I will wear this dagger ! then 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius ! " 

He folded his imperialism gloomily about him, like a Roman 
garment : with knitted brow, and folded arms he strode stifily back 
and forth — the Cassius he quoted. His confrere, Brutus, struck by 
the Roman fire, replied, — 

" If it be aught toward the general good, 
Set honor in one eye, and death i' the other, 
And I will look on both, indifferently, 
For let the gods so speed me, as I love 
The name of honor, more than I fear death." 

The curtain fell — between the acts they rested, took refresh- 
ments, smoked and drank. 

" Dentelle, what of Georgia? what of her championship ?" 
" Aut vincere, ant mori. The pulses of the cotton-growing States 
throb with the same beat. All deprecate Northern manufactures, 
and internal improvements. All insist upon the return of the 
North and West to agriculture, in order to furnish stock and pro- 
visions for us. Georgia steps to the same music with Carolina j 
and she has taken one step in advance of your State, Ralph. 
Georgia has proven valor against that Northern ' Jack o' Lantern ' 
tiiiif, and a tenacity of purpose, which vv'ill not know defeat." 


"What Step has Georgia taken in advance of South Carolina?" 
enquired Ralph, whose State pride seemed a little wounded. 

" In a large public concourse, she passed this resolution : 

^^ ^ Resolved, That to retaliate as far as possible upon our op- 
pressors, our legislature be requested to impose taxes, amounting 
to prohibition, on the hogs, horses, mules, and the cotton bagging, 
whisky, pork, beef, bacon, flax and hemp cloth of the Western, and 
on all the productions and manufactures of the Eastern and 
Northern States.'" 

" Bravo ! " cried Ralph. " But tell me, Dentelle, was that 
Georgia resolution ever carried into practice ? Were these taxes 
on Northern products ever levied ? " 

" Ha ! ha ! ha ! No. There was no necessity. But it had its le- 
gitimate effect, in demonstrating to the supporters of tariff, the kind 
of temper they would have to deal with. Such acts, with South 
Carolina's courageous step toward secession, wrung from the Gov- 
ernment Henry Clay's ' Compromise Tariff.' After we obtained 
that concession, proposed by the bland Kentuckian, and carried 
by Congress, which reduces the tariff from forty, to twenty per 
cent, we were appeased. Thus we triumphed over the Pilgrims ! " 

"And ever shall. Curse their cringing souls!" cried Ralph, 
between his teeth, and striding excitedly the length of the piazza. 
"We can mould them as easily as our cooks manipulate dough on 
the board. They fear us ; and their insipid adulation of a South- 
erner is disgusting to the last degree. It is patent — in Washing- 
ton, at the watering places, at hotels, and everywhere. However, 
it serves our purposes. Too poor themselves, in us they worship 
means. We travel in Europe. They stay at home and plod. In 
the enjoyment of our summer leisure, we distribute our gold among 
them, while they toil and sweat on a par with our slaves. They 
call this welco77ie a7id subserviency to us; Christian Union, or some 
such infernal thing. I stigmatize it as base sycophancy." 

"That's the spirit!" answered Dentelle. "You will soon shake 
off your Parisian lethargy." Then looking at his watch, he re- 
marked, " But there is a necessity for closing this conversation for 
the present, as I have an engagement at this hour." 

"An agreeable interview," courteously observed Ralph." "I 
suppose 1 cannot understand our status too soon." Then grasp 


ing with warmth the hand of his early friend and associate, he 
bade him a short adieu, till they should meet again at the dinner 


PROTRACTED meeting opened with favorable weather. Ar- 
rivals from neighboring towns were numerous and encour- 
aging. Smart young theologians, with a sprinkling of venerable 
clergy, had reached the scene on the Saturday previous, to lighten 
the burdens of the resident pastor. The latter superannuated class, 
grown gray in the service, were skilled anatomists of the soul. 
They could place a finger on every fibre of the human heart. They 
could play upon the emotions with the facile skill of a Mozart or a 
Bethoven, on ivory keys. They buoyed weak souls to life and 
hope, or dashed them to despair. They settled accounts for the 
laity with the terrible God, and gave them satisfactory receipts 
from His upper courts. 

Sleighs of all kinds, with curious varieties of lading, dashed up 
to the double green doors of the church. Rawny pairs of work- 
horses tore up, panting, and throwing their heads from side to side, 
as if they brought the sins of the town. 

The long sheds were at length packed with quaintly painted 
sleighs, double and single ; bob-sleds add pungs. One looking at 
the scene, within and without, would say a German ScJmtscnfest 
had been inaugurated in the wrong era, and blossomed in the 
wrong season. 

Drifts of Carries, Lotties, Emmas, Minnies, Katies, Lizzies, Bellas, 
Etties, Amies and 'Rias sifted in around the great box stove. There 
was a breezy tossing of ribbons, arranging of furs, and sinister 
glances at others' toilets. Blue eyes, black eyes, and hazel, flashed 
covertly athwart the square old pews up to the lumbering galleries, 
in quest of Willies, Charlies, Georges, Thodies, Joes, Sammies and 
Harries, whose melting orbs were reciprocally prepared for this 
expected battery. Magnetic influences quivered in the air at this 
early opening hour, which already auspiciously bore a confused 
semblance to the very gate of Heaven. 


There came also, in quilted hoods and heavy cloaks, the real 
church lights ; some from other towns — holy women, who have an 
eye single to God's glory — Patience Leving, from Windboro : she 
buried her lover in boyhood's grave, and had rarely smiled since. 
Prudence White, from " Society Hill ; " she had served the Lord 
faithfully ten years in the Feejee Islands, till her husband had 
fallen a prey to the unnatural climate; and she had seen four little 
graves under a bread-fruit tree, in which her own heart had been 
buried four separate times. By this heavenly discipline she was 
prepared "to work for God" the sole remnant of her days. Finally, 
Charity West — a monstrosity of tears, prayers and sighs — cut 
out for an angel about forty years since, and fully developed ac- 
cording to the popular pattern, by a life of single blessedness. 

These three were on the ground to uphold the hands of the 
priesthood, in their proper sphere outside of the public altar. They 
were gifted in prayer, and resolute in grace. They could conduct 
female prayer-meetings when the clergy, fatigued with other labors, 
were refreshing themselves over mugs of hot sling and cider, and 
discussing the interests of Zion in a more general and comprehen- 
sive manner. They could also lead in singmg, carry hymns through 
alone in shrill voices, amid the sobs and tears of those under their 
charge. They understood symptoms at the different stages of con- 
viction and conversion ; they gave the proper warning or consola- 
tion at each point of progress. Being of thin, wiry figures, they 
bent more easily over the despairing to cry, " Believe ! believe!" 
Without discomfort, they could stand for a longer period persuad- 
ing the more contumacious to " keep nothing back from God," but 
to "give Him all." These helpers received hospitality at the houses 
of the minister and church officials ; rarely w^ith the laity. 

There is an aphorism, "A work well begun is half done." On 
that principle, this revival was already a success. The attendance 
was large. During the two sermons and noon prayer-meetings 
costumes and faces were mutually scanned, and a tacit understand- 
ing of the status of each individual was established. At the close 
of the day's exercises, Claras were assigned to Lizzies, Lotties 
slipped home with Bellas, Etties claimed sweet Minnies, lovely 
"Rias embraced and bore away gentle Katies. 

In the second series, Willies were invited home by Harries, 



Charlies put up with Eddies, and Joes drove their own " teams " 
up to the doors of the Georges. Patience Leving occupied a cham- 
ber at the doctor's, a few steps only from church. Her lungs were 
delicate. Long cold rides comported not with her duty. 

Prudence White, the bosom friend of Mrs. Steele, was "sabined" 
off by that lady. 

On Tuesday morning, Henry, Sultan and Czar called at Mrs. 
Beame's for Fanny. He brought a note to Richard, from Edmund 
Stone, a former classmate, now at Andover. The note begged 
Richard, for the love he bore to souls, to come up to Cloudspire 
to labor with the " impenitent." 

Richard's interest in the great gathering was increased by his 
sympathy for his deformed " chum." Edmund was a hunch-back 
from birth; and the intensity of his piety was in an inverse ratio 
to the square of a hunch-back's ciistance from upright humanity. 
Therefore, he seemed not to belong to this rolling sphere. ^ His 
meditations and speech were of the next two worlds. His visions 
were telescopic ; and the church militant saw his tent of observa- 
tion pitched upon her loftiest watch-towers. 

Among Fanny's anticipations, since the invitation, had been the 
ride to Mary Steele's, and the daily going to, and returning from 
the church, a distance of three miles — and the very essence of 
these anticipations, was the proud beauty of Czar and Sultan. 

With that thought, she asked Richard's permission to sit on the 
front seat with Henry. 

" What now ? " he replied. " The horses ? go on then. I can 
sit by myself." 

In silence and happiness beyond words for a time her eyes saw 
no other objects ; their figures, movements, nimble feet, graceful 
limbs, their glossy manes blown in the wind, and their curving 
necks were to her evidences of the attributes to their Creator. She 
made more intimate acquaintance with the divine Artist, from that 
living, moving sculpture. She asked herself, — 

" Of what likeness was He ? What power was that, to fashion 
such beautiful animals, and endow them with this exultant life? 
Surely those creatures must be sparks of His own mysterious 
nature ; they must be the embodiment of His own royal thoughts. 
What splendid toys for an indulgent Father to bestow upon His 


children. How she adored Him. What could she do for such a 
being ? " An inner voice answered, " Nothing but love Him." 
That she did love and adore Him, she was sure. He seemed so 
near to her now. She was in His very studio. Everything that 
met her gaze was sacred, from His touch and finish. She would 
now set herself to learn from God's people how to serve Him ac- 

Richard, scanning Henry's thread-bare coat and tattered sleeves, 
broke the reverie by asking Henry why he did not wear the warm 
clothing xMrs. Beame gave him } 

" I am waiting for Miss Fanny to come up." 

"What has that to do with it, Henry? See, your hands are 
nearly bare." 

" I did put on the overcoat and boots Sunday morning, after the 
horses were harnessed ; but when I came in the kitchen, the dea- 
con and his wife questioned me about the way I got them. I ex- 
plained it all ; but they said I must acknowledge that I took them 
from the missionary box when the ladies were away." 

William Steele, the Southerner, said, — 

" A thief would lie, and it is as much the nature of niggers to do 
both, as for birds to fly in the air." 

" I went to my room and put on my rags again, till the witness 
comes. I am poor, and ignorant, sir j I cannot help that. But I 
am not a thief ; I can help that." 

*' Oh me ! that was too cruel !" said Fanny, as she sat sidewise to 
look from one to the other. " That spoiled all your comfort in the 
clothes, Henry." 

" It didn't anger me, for I'm used to such ways ; don't expect 
nothing else ; but I'll drive you to meeting in them, to-morrow 

"Yes, you will, that is quite sure! or Fanny Beame don't go 

"Fanny," said her brother, with a bit of chiding in the tone, 
" Charity covereth a multitude ot sins ! Zeal in morals may over- 
leap the mark, and the motive be very good withal." 

" But they won't lef our charity cover up their sins. Mother and 
you gave the clothes, but they won't allow him to wear them. 
Henry is forever ragged, forever cold, forever called a thief and a 


nigger. What kind of charity can cover such sins ? " and her hand 
flourished before her brother, with a wonderful oratorical display. 
" And as to zeal, Richard," she continued, "you always say my zeal 
must be tempered with knowledge." 

A triumphant nod ended that sentence. A suppressed smile 
warmed up the would-be reproving face of Richard, at the sharp- 
shooter's aim. To free himself from her quizzing eyes, he said, — 

" There's Cloudspire church, Fanny. Turn about now \ the bell 
strikes for afternoon service." 

Reverence for God, and His worship, hushed all vexatious 
thoughts. She walked meekly to the deacon's pew, scarcely lifting 
her eyes, whence every trace of indignation had disappeared. 
" This is His house," she reflected, "I have come into this glorious 
Presence." Humiliation was a pleasure. Yet the brown square 
pews, the bare aisles, the naked, staring windows, gave her the pain- 
ful idea that the gifts of the church to the One who robed the earth 
in all its beauty, and who was Beauty himself, were penurious in 
the extreme. He should have a magnificent temple, adorned with 
gold and precious stones." 

Her eyes caught sight of the " Steele" Bible, clasped with gold, 
lying on its purple velvet cushion, and the heavy gilt tassels drop 
ping from the corners. That was as it should be — right royally 
planned, as became the great King. By association, the silver font 
came up in her reflections. She had never looked upon its mar- 
velous workmanship, but had heard its praise from many ; of the 
three angels brooding over the flowery rim, and gazing into the 
water it contained, as if to change its nature to the wine of everlast- 
ing life. Also of their wings, spread as if they had dropped down, 
in their celestial flight through the upper blue. She was moved by 
the reverence that such sacred and appropriate symbols should in- 
spire. She longed for the hour when the water from this sanctified 
vessel of the Lord should seal her acceptance with Him, and 
establish her communion with his people. 

The usual stirring among the women, of cloaks, shawls, and foot- 
stoves \ a flutter of white handkerchiefs among the girls ; and a 
round of hems and haws from the men of the assembly, announced 
the ascent to the pulpit. 

The Rev. Augustus Johns, from a neighboring city, preached from 


Joel ii. I. " Blow ye the trumpet in Zion : sound an alarm in my 
holy mountains: let all the inhabitants of the land ttemble: for 
the day of the Lord cometh, for it is nigh at hand." In the exor- 
dium, the attention of his hearers was powerfully arrested. A shud- 
dering attention hung upon his sentences. He pursued the 
frightful tenor of the chapter. He portrayed the terrible quakings 
of the earth, when lofty mountains, piercing the skies, should be 
siezed with spasmodic convulsions ; when long ranges of towering 
peaks, should rock on their bases, and jostle against each other, 
like storm-swept waves; when whole cities should totter on their 
foundations, and with one grand, reverberating crash, lie level with 
the ground. He depicted the ocean, loosed from the restraint of 
its natural laws ; the thundering of its clashing tides ; the lashing of 
its angry billows against a " day of darkness," a " day of darkness 
and gloominess ; " " a day of cloudiness, and thick darkness," when 
" the sun should turn to blackness, and the moon, stricken by Al- 
mighty Power, should turn to blood." He dilated upon the 
trifling effort of God's wrath, necessary to the swift annihilation of 
worlds ; worlds which He had created with a breath ; worlds which 
His word of command had willed out into space, as easily as soap- 
bubbles are blown into the air. He drew forth his watch and held 
it in view of the astounded audience. " What are the sun and 
moon ? In one of these briefest moments of time called into exist- 
ence : in another of these briefest moments, extinguished, erased." 

He took breath. He wiped away drops of seeming agony from 
his face, harrowed by these direful contemplations. He raised a 
glass of water to his lips, ran his long fingers though a standing 
shock of red hair, which seemed to have caught the spirit of flames ; 
the reflection of a terrific conflagration of all things earthly. In a 
low, guttural voice, like muffled thunder, he proclaimed this day of 
the Lord near at hand. " It may overwhelm you, this very week ! 
this very day ! Who can foretell this awful hour ? Seasons and 
events are in His hands alone, whose omnipotent finger first moved 
the great pendulum of Time ! The inhabitants of the land should 
tremble. You, my hearers, should abhor yourselves in sackcloth 
and ashes. You should fall upon your knees, and supplicate par- 
don, v;hich the knell of Time will render forever too late." 

The linenments of his face became distorted ; he wrung his hands 


over the audience. He cried with hideous incoherency, "This day 
of God's wrath, how near ! Think of an offended God ! Think ! 
I beseech you. He taketh vengeance upon His enemies. In this 
disruption of worlds, breaking upon us, even as it were at this mo- 
ment, there will be no Savior. His atonement will have ceased." 
This frenzied peroration brought his subject to a most appalling 
close. The congregation bowed with terror and gloom. Sobs, 
groans and tears, dolefully mingled. The great actor himself, 
shaken like a leaf over his own work, stepped down from the pulpit, 

Fanny, wondering at herself, remained unmoved. There were 
no tears in her eyes, nor fear in her heart. She doubted the pro- 
priety, of selecting a text from the Pagan past, for the conversion of 
a quiet country people, in these days of Christian grace. Her nature 
recoiled from the picture of savage ferocity, with which the Rev. 
Johns endowed the loving All Father. A small rebellion, arose in 
her soul against the speaker, his oratory, and even against his Judg- 
ment Day ; which ended by her saying in her heart, '• I don't believe 
it. I doubt if he believes it himself." -To her, the old church looked 
dreary. The glorious Presence had departed. She felt alone in a 
prison-nouse, among panic-stricken companions. 

The inquiry meeting followed. Sanctimonious women convoyed 
hesitating relatives to the " anxious seat." Middle aged men, who 
had audaciously *' held out against the Lord " for years " went for- 
ward." The action of natural forces impelled others. They arose 
in pairs " affinities." Harry of Windboro, descended from the gal- 
lery walked slowly up the aisle ; and Katie of Cloudspire, left a pew 
below, following. Minnie stepped from her father's pew by the 
stove, with her veil down, and a handkerchief to her eyes ; simul- 
taneously, Eddie, from Society Hill, arose in the north-east corner, 
and passed on with drooping head to a seat beside her. Lottie, 
lingering nearly to the last, arose, slender as a calla lily, standing 
undecided by her seat, with disheveled curls, and downcast eyes ; 
till Rev. Luther Winfield, the " lovely young minister," came from 
the altar, and in his own pleading hand took hers, leading her, half 
blinded by confusion, to a comfortable seat. It was his official 
privilege to retain that hand ; to sit beside her, pointing to the "Lamb 
of God, that taketh away the sins of the world." While rendering 


this professional service, however he fondly believed in his heart 
no sin had ever stained the purity of her blossoming soul. 

Thus the seats were filled. Tears flowed afresh. The Deity was 
solemnly implored, to look upon the depraved and agonized group 
at His altar. His vengeance and mercy ; His hatred and love. 
His jealously and forebearance, were learnedly rehearsed before 
Him, as if God, were an enigma to Himself. The implacable Je- 
hovah, was flattered, cajoled, admonished and reprimanded. The 
" mourners " were presented to the Throne, as divine images, and 
as reprobates ; as immortals, and as dying worms ; as penitents, and 
as incorrigibles. 

At intervals, the plaintive wailings of old Bangor, China, Funeral 
Thought, and Judgment Hymn, surged over the stricken company, 
like voices from the tombs j as if the very dead, were calling from 
their graves. 

From these incongruous elements, there came forth a grotesque 
variety of those singular cwiositics of the age, denominated " Chris- 
tians." The conversions formed a genus, of which the species 
differed as widely, as the legerdemain tricks of the prestidigiator, al 
though produced by the same, or a similar art. There are eggs 
fried in a hat, cooing doves soaring from a boiling pot, handkerchiefs 
extracted from a loaf of bread, and stolen silver coin dropping from 
the sleeves of honest men. Thus, each species of the gems '' con- 
version," possessed certain peculiar characters differing from each 
other. They were conformable to no model, or draft, except to the 
mysterious credenda of the illimitable space, and the eternity be- 
yond human ken. 

" Remarkable conversions ; said a gray-haired gentleman to an- 
other ; chafing his palms together with exultation. " The Lord's 
hand is not shortened that it cannot save." 

Simon Link, the drover, lifted his weather-beaten face, and said 
calmly, " Peace ! all is bright as the sun." But this was not the 
work of Rev, Augustus Johns. Fear had no place in Simon's 
heart — he had driven his herds in the face of uprooting hurri- 
canes j he had slept soundly on the ground o'nights, when the 
black earth was chained to darkness by jagged lightnings. His 
joy was the effect of Sunday's pastoral sermon, by good old Father 
Lanson, from the text, " I am the good Shepherd." Since then, 


gentle undefinable thoughts of being folded himself, filled his re- 
flections. He would rest somewhere, the " green pastures," and 
"still waters" of God's love appeared to him incomparably 

A few low, delicious tones of tender enquiry in Lottie's ear by 
the Rev. Luther Winfield, was answered by glad tidings, I am very 
happy,'' a striking coincidence with his own feelings. This grati- 
fying fact, he duly proclaimed for her ; as woman was still subject 
to Paul. Then taking the dear hand in hisj he led her to her fa- 
ther's sleigh in waiting at the door. 

Eddie rose up, and spoke for himself, expressing the assurance 
that he had found Christ j that he should now renounce the world, 
and its deceptive pleasures. He closed by asking prayers that he 
might be a bright and shining light, and lead many souls to 

The Rev. Stone inquired the state of Minnie's feelings. He 
bent over her, and received the whispered replied, " I think I have 
found the Pearl of great price ; " whereupon he declared this addi- 
tional trophy with devout satisfaction. Minnie was nearly fainting ; 
he advised her to retire. Eddie offered his sleigh and himself , to 
take his new-found treasure to quieter scenes. It was a millen- 
nial sight, the manner in which his strong arm supported the 
young convert, while her head drooped upon his regenerated 
shoulder, on the way home. 

It was conceded throughout Cloudspire, that the^ greatest tri- 
umph of grace was seen in the conversion of the rich Mr. Bud- 
dington. It had been devoutly wished for years, that he might be 
enrolled among the church, as in that case, his great wealth would 
be sanctified to evangelical purposes. 

To their great joy, there he stood ; enveloped in his fur-lmed 
broadcloth overcoat — "a monmment of divine mercy." In his 
own words, he had revolved the subject for two years. During 
recess to-day, in a providential interview with William Steele, from 
South Carolina, that gentleman's wide Christian experience had 
opened a way for his feet. He should with thankfulness regard 
him as the more direct instrument in the hands of God, of his clear 
and satisfactory conversion. 


Mr. William Steele was then called upon to offer the closing 
prayer, after which the old brown church was deserted. 

Dr. Clarendon lived near the " meeting house," just across the 
green. Both he and his wife desired to do honor to the town's 
distinguished guest from the South. Therefore, Mrs. Clarendon 
begged the favor of Mr. Steele's company for that night ; suggest- 
ing that he should not be too partial in his visits among the 
town's people. He accepted with the finished courtesy of the 
Southerner, whose manners he studied to imitate, at once offering 
his arm to his hostess. The doctor's wife was but slightly im- 
pressed with the solemnities of the week ; therefore her intercourse 
was marked by her natural gaiety. 

The professions of Medicine and Theology in Cloudspire were 
two aristocracies ; each with its distinct armorial bearings, and 
separate as the " houses of York and Lancaster." The doctor de- 
clared his supremacy over the church, by saying; — 

"They can neither live nor die, without me. I have to bring 
them into this world, and see them safely out of it. Further- 
more," he added, "believers profess to remove mountains by faith 
and prayer, when they cannot remove mole-hills without my ipecac 
and paregoric." 

A loud, hearty laugh followed these flippant assertions, accom- 
panied with the winding of his nasal horn in a red silk bandana. 

Dr. Clarendon's halls and apartments were more tropical in fur- 
niture than those of their neighbors. Warm, bright colors mingled 
in carpets. Massive shining brass andirons, and scalloped brass 
fenders, adorned marble hearths. Curtains, red as poppies, were 
caught up on milk-white glass rosettes. Mirrors leaned over the 
mantels, which were copies of Egyptian marble. 

Lucy, the only child, was the pride of her father. Her home 
was her Paradise ; for between her and the young people, there 
was a great gulf. There was no approximation of familiarty or 
affection. On their part, they were icebergs, loosed from their 
moorings ; and Lucy was a violet palm island in a sunny sea.^ 

A contest of ribbons, and colors was secretly carried on in the 
dressing chambers, and band-boxes of the town-maidens, said 
dressing chambers, and band-boxes being ever on the defensive 
against^Lucy, the aggressor. In the spring, the hue of her ribbons 


and dress was borrowed from the dandelions and apple-blossoms, 
with the delicate greens of a new-born foliage. By the time these 
colors were fairly in a successful reign, and the church of a Sunday 
seemed one grand spring bouquet, Lucy walked up the aisle in 
midsummer, habited as if a piece of heaven's blue had fallen upon 
her, coloring gloves, streamers, and dress. Chambers, and band- 
boxes fell out again with the doctor's daughter, and took to practising 
wicked extortions from missionary funds and savings-banks, till the 
church lawn and square grim pews blossomed in the coveted ceru- 
lean. In autumn, Lucy's golden browns, crimsons and dusky 
greens, baffled jealousy. She was scarcely distinguishable from 
the brilliantly tinted leaves that showered about her morning and 
evening walks. 

The mill-owner's son, down at Alderbank, had her name on his 
list, and drove his prancing turnout past the doctor's on many a 
summer day, yet never drew a rein. He frequently saw her face 
framed in the arch of the red curtains, like a saint, set in the 
stained glass of cathedral windows. Its purity rebuked him ; and 
he only carried that picture away, in his memory. 

The doctor was a dread to the unlearned j inasmuch as, like St. 
Peter, he jingled the keys of life and death. He dealt in techni- 
calities ; he hurled Latin and knotty physiological terms about 
him with overwhelming effect, chuckling with enjoyment over his 
frightened patients. Formidable and unheard of diseases held 
high carnival in his circuit. 

Thus, between the doctor's playful, and bombastic ambiguity, 
and the war of the band-boxes, his daughter was left to waste her 
sweetness on the Cloudspire air. 

Supper awaited the arrival of the master of ceremonies but a 
short time. A dose of volubility, studded with uproarious laughs, 
set every patient right. Without recourse to saddle-bags for 
drops, or powders, pain was soothed, and nerves were calmed. 
The doctor put his patients in good humor, bade them take a good 
night's rest, and returned home. 

The supper was a true New England institution. Roast turkey, 
roast pig, a round of beef, sweetmeats, pickles, boiled custards, 
loaf cake, cream and mince pies. 

Hester, a very black woman, and her son, a bright-looking 


brown boy, waited. Roland was bidden by Mrs Clarendon to 
stand at the back of Mr. Steele's chair — a surprise and an honor 
quite pleasing to that gentleman. Roland changed Mr. Steele's 
plates, stepping back to his post every time with the precision of a 
cadet ; while the doctor himself passed the viands to the others. 
Roland handed coffee and dessert with a bow, and was duly re- 
warded by that personage with, " Splendidly done ! my fine fel- 
low," a pat on his head, and a silver half dollar. At the close of 
the meal, Mr. Steele again gallantly offered his arm to the lady 
hostess, and the dining-room was left to Hester's care. 

Roland was allowed time to admire the bright silver piece, which 
he turned first oneway, and then another, in the light of the tall pink 
wax candles, still standing on the table. He held it over his head, 
dancing round and round upon one foot, till a jealous chair 
tripped him up. The floor caught his treasure from his hand, and 
the thieving ashes hid it. He hallooed lustily, and rescued it from 
the brigands, whirling it upon the table to hear its warbling ring. 
He said to Hester, — 

" Mother! what's this bird on here, with sticks in his claws ? " 

"That's the American Eagle, my son. It means freedom ! " 

" What does this woman hold on her cane .'' A cap } Why don't 
she put it on her head } 

" Oh ? that's a cap of Liberty ! A woman must not wear that. 
She holds it for the gentlemen." 

*' How much will this money buy, mother ? — a pair of shoes for 
me, and a shawl for you ? " 

" No, Roland, it would not buy even a pair of shoes for you ; 
but its a nice present. You earn money faster than I do. I have 
to work three days and a half for a half dollar." 

" Where are your half dollars, mother ? — I never saw one 

" You have one on your back, the price of an old coat, to make 
over for you. Then, there's a little tea and sugar in the paper at 
home, and a small piece of soap ; there's another fifty cents — and 
so on." 

Perfectly happy, and unconscious of the curse awaiting his pret- 
ty brown face — merely because it was brown — he took up 
Hester's poor, sorrowful words, and sang up and down the house, 


"And SO on, and so on, and so on j " and then outdoors he sang 
to the stars, " And so on, and so on, and so on." 

Entering again briskly, he said to his mother, — 

" Shall I wait on the gentleman to-morrow ? and if I do, will he 
give me more silver money ?" 

Just then the burly doctor, preceding Mr. Steele, and grand in 
the spasmodic curves of the upper lip, stiffened to the highest 
degree, passed through the dining-room to the office — a little green 
blinded box on the south-east corner of the house - — wherein a 
stove kept up its purring noise through the winter days. A large 
arm-chair, the dread of aching teeth, embraced the pompous master. 
A red lounge, whereon were accustomed to recline the pains, debil- 
ities, derangements, nervous, and other complaints, acute and 
chronic, put on its state manners, and gracefully surported Mr. 

The doctor wound a nasal horn in the red bandana, kept his eyes 
on the polite lounger who dreamily followed the smoke-rings of his 
cigar, and thought it would be pleasant to dissect a Southerner. 
Yet he was awkwardly aware, that to make a " nattomy " of that 
subject required a metaphysical manoeuvering, for which he doubted 
his own ability. 

There is often a strange similarity between currents of thought 
in two individuals. William Steele was arranging initiatory steps 
for analyzing the doctor. " Why should I hesitate," he thought, 
" even on this, my first visit ? " I knew the family, before I left the 
North. Pshaw ! it's no more than a business transaction. I have 
made merchandise of human nature too long, to halt now. I have 
trafficked in just such beings as make up that protracted meeting, 
with only the difference of color. — By Jove, I like color ! Lucy, 
can't come any nearer an angel than my Isabel. But that's neither 
here nor there." 

He puffed the smoke of his cigar slowly ; the rings were perfect. 

" I have come North for a wife ; and if my coming has not been 
preceded by John the Baptist, it has been heralded by a baptismal 
Font ; which in Cloudspire, is the same thing. I know my prestige 
and power, and will proceed at once with my purpose." 

Lucy Clarendon answered his requirements. She was fresh and 
fine looking ; her features bore the impress of culture and thought. 


She was not foolishly shy, nor awkwardly confused. Her style was 
dignified, and distinguished by a lady-like self possession. On the 
whole, she would reflect credit upon himself, on his return to ' Le 
Grand Palais." He regarded woman as one of man's earthly 
possessions, and accordingly, began his negotiations. 

He led conversation adroitly up to this question, " Will you per- 
mit me, doctor, to call your attention to a subject, which weighs 
heavily upon my thoughts ^ " 

" I am ai your service, sir," replied the genial host. 

" Pardon my abruptness ; but it seems best to begin at the root 
of the matter. I came North with the intention of marriage ; to 
carry back with me as the solace of my loneliness in that state, a 
companion. I have made my choice, and with frankness, I entrust 
you with the happy secret, — you, as the proper, and lawful guardian 
of the one I hold most dear. I bring my suit before you first. 
Most unwittingly perhaps, your peerless daughter Lucy, has taken 
me captive. If you have objections, sir, to my presenting the sub- 
ject before her, I shall most sadly obey. If my preference meets 
with your approbation, I shall impatiently await the hour to learn my 
fate from her own lips." 

An immedi3.te use of the bandana ; a short, well timed silence, 
and the doctor replied, — 

" I must acknowledge, Mr. Steele, you have divulged a delicate 
state of affairs. I am at a loss what to answer to this sudden sum- 
mons. True I have always remembered that the time would probably 
come, when my Lucy's affections must be transferred from myself 
to another, and I have desired that when my arm should cease to 
shield her, she should be doubly protected by that other. In your- 
self, sir, I see an eligible offer, so far as report goes ; personally, I 
have had no information as to your prospects, although I have every 
reason to believe they are more than desirable." 

Mr. Steele rose from the lounge, and paced the floor as if in a 
mental chaos of hope and fear. He drew from his pocket-book 
three papers, and extended them to the doctor, that he might judge 
for himself of his financial outlook. 

The first paper was the agreement as overseer of the plantation, 
"Le Giand Palais" 

The doctor read, — 


" Be it remembered that it is agreed between Frederick Fairland, by Francis 
Elliott, his attorney, on the one part, and William Steele, on the other part, ni 
manner following, that is to say : The said William Steele agrees from the iirst 
day of January, 1S3 — , to the first day of January, 183 — , to oversee the planta- 
tion of the said Frederick Fairland, called "Le Grand Palais," and to overlook 
the plantations of the said Fairland called the "Nile," "Staple," "Success" 
and " Snowfield ; " and the negroes, stock, barns, mills, and every species of 
property of the said Fairland, thereon, in a planter-like manner, with skill, care, 
fidelity, ability and humanity ; and to the utmost of his power to oversee, over- 
look, and manage the same in the best manner for the interest of said Frederick 
Fairland ; and the said William Steele may at the expense of the said Fairland 
employ three overseers for the said plantations, and turn them away at his pleas- 
ure ; provided that the wages of'said overseers sh^U not exceed three hundred 
dollars per annum for the' one, nor one hundred and fifty per annum for the 
other two. In consideration whereof, the said Fairland, by his attorney afore- 
said, agrees to allow and to pay to the said William Steele at the expiration of 
the said term, the full sum of nine hundred dollars ; also, one-third of the in- 
crease of the hogs, and half the increase of the poultry. Also, to be allowed to 
keep two horses, and moderately feed them, and to be found in a reasonable 
quantity of coffee and sugar, a plantation beef, and likewise a negro wench to 
cook and wash for him, and two boys to wait on him and to be sent on the busi- 
ness of the plantations. 

In witness whereof, the said parties have set their hands this Seventeenth day of 
December, in the year of our Lord, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Thirty. 

Frederick Fairland, 
By his Attorney, Francis S. Elliott, 

William Steele. 

The second paper was a Bill of Sale of " Marquis. " 

Bill of Sale.— Printed by J. C. Walker. 

State of South Carolina. 

Know all men by these presents. That I, Mordecai Heartson, for and in con- 
sideration of the sum of One Thousand Dollars to me in hand paid by William 
Steele, at and before the sealing of these presents, (the receipt whereof I do 
hereby acknowledge), have bargained and sold, and by these presents do bar- 
gain, sell and deliver to the said William Steele, a negro man slave named Mar- 
quis, to have and to hold the said negro man slave unto the said William Steele, 
his executors, administrators, and assigns to his and their only proper use and 
behoof forever ; and I, the said Mordecai Heartson, m.y executors and adminis- 
trators, the said bargained premises, unto the said William Steele, his executors, 
heirs and assigns, from and against all persons shall and will warrant, and for- 
ever defend by these presents. 

In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal. Dated at Charles- 
ton, on the twenty-seventh day of January, in the year of our Lord, One Thou- 

q6 white may, and black JUNE. 

sand Eight Hundred and Thirty . and in the fifty year of the Independ- 
ence of the United States of America. 

Signed, sealed and delivered in the presence of ISea/] 


The doctor, not the least wearied, unfolded the third paper, and 
as he read silently, his upper lip took on a spasm of importance 
and gratification. The document was a bill of sale of Binah and 
her two children, Flora and Sarah. It was the deed of William 
Steele's property, lawfully certified and registered, in the proper 
official department at Charleston. It read thus : 

Bi// of Sale.^ Printed by P. Hoff. 

The State of South Carolina, 

Know all men by these presents, That I, Edward M. Doom, for and in con- 
sideration of the sum of one thousand dollars, to me in hand paid, at and before 
the sealing and delivery of these presents, by William Steele, (the receipt 
whereof I do hereby acknowledge), have bargained and sold, and by these 
presents do bargain, sell, and deliver to the said William Steele, Binah and her 
two children. Flora and Sarah, to have and to hold the said slaves, with their 
future issue and increase, unto the said William Steele, his executors, adminis- 
trators and assigns, to his and their only proper use and behoof, forever. And 
to the said Edward M. Doom, my executors and administrators, the said bar- 
gained premises unto the said William Steele, his executors, administrators and 
assigns, from and against all persons shall and will warrant, and forever defend, 
by these presents. 

In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal. Dated at Charles- 
ton, on the twenty-sixth day of September, in the year of our Lord One Thous- 
and Eight Hundred and Thirty , and in the fifty year of the Independ- 
ence of the United States of America. 


Signed, sealed and delivered in the presence of \L. S.\ 


After a careful perusal of said printed documents, which gave an 
air of stability, of law and order, quite pleasing to the reader's 
mind, the doctor remarked, — 

" I am more than satisfied, sir, with the papers ; I regard them 
as the corner-stone of your future independence." 

" Thank you. You observe in the last paper, the ' Bill of Sale,' 
that the future increase of Binah and her children are mine also.'* 


" I have heard," said the doctor " that the race is prolific ; and 
if so, that must be a source of rapid income to owners." 

" Yes, that is true in the main. Binah has already brought me 
a fine male child ; and perhaps before my return, will add still 
another. Binah is of a superior breed. She was imported from 
Africa, direct from the ' Gold Coast.' Came over in the slaver 
* Black Cruiser,' in the last part of the year 1815. She is hardy 
and docile, seldom needs the whip, and works like a mule." 

" What is the value of children, Mr. Steele ?" 

" Usually, fifty dollars, as soon as born ; according to size and 
soundness. At a year old, one hundred ; and so on. The oldest 
girl will soon yield me a profit in that line. In less than one 
year's time she will be fourteen years old ; I got her age from her 
master. She is a mulatto." 

" I suppose you have not yet purchased land. How then do you 
dispose of your slaves } " 

" Hire them out, sir. Binah works rice for sixty dollars a year, 
and supports her own children. I am at no expense whatever. 
They must continue to clothe themselves. ]\Iarquis I purchased in 
Charleston, on the 'table.' He's worth twelve hundred dollars; 
but owing to a suspected partiality of his mistress for^ him, he was 
put up for sale, and she was taken to France. He is a fine mu- 
latto fellow, and a prime mechanic. I rented him on the spot for 
twenty dollars a month." 

" I am convinced," said the doctor, " that no part of our Union 
opens such avenues to wealth as the South." 

" That is my opinion, sir ; although a man starting without means 
may not often be so fortunate as myself. I have the full confidence 
of Mr. Fairland, who leaves all his affairs to me, and therefore 
grants privileges which in other cases would be withheld." 

" You make the most of Yankee calculation, I see," remarked 
the doctor, with a consequential laugh. " Marquis brings you two 
hundred and forty dollars a year. Binah and daughter at two births 
a year, two hundred ; and Binah herself, rented at sixty, makes a 
net incoiPiC of five hundred dollars a year ; and then there is no 
toiling, or sweat of the brow over such revenue." 

" I confess I have nothing to complain of, in adverse fortune ; 
but doctor, material possessions do not satisfy the heart." Here 


William drew his snowy handkerchief covertly across his eyes, zs if 
tears were expected. He sat down with well dissembled humility, 
adding, " I look upon the pure home affections as the desideratum 
of man's happiness. Without these, man's life is a desert — a bar- 
ren Sahara, whith may be traversed by camels, bearing the gold of 
Ophir, and the pearls of Indian seas. It may be one grand 
thoroughfare of Arabian spices and perfumes, and remain a desert 
still, the pathway of gold, and pearls, and spices effaced from its 
sands by the sighs of solitude and discontent." 

A flourish of the doctors bandana sufficed for the exclamation 
point. He assented to the truth of Mr. Steele's remarks, observing 
emphatically, — 

" Marriage is a divine ordinance. Its blessings are the rarest 
that Heaven bestows upon a fallen world. In marriage, the aft'ec- 
tions become anchored. The fruits of that union are the highest 
pledges of man's happiness on earth. The unselfishness of paren- 
tal solicitude for children is a source of unadulterated joy." 

This harmonious flourish of sentiments brought a benign ex- 
pression to each face. ]\Ir. Steele resumed, — 

"You understand me now, sir ; my early days — my present finan- 
ces; and as to principles, why' Cloudspire has ever had my moral 
and religious nature under inspection. I shall not remain longer than 
one week from next Monday. There is a necessity for an early 
announcement of my wishes. Shall I meet mercy, or refusal .'' " 

Both gentlemen sought appropriate refuge in silence. The doc- 
tor resolved to meet this urgent request with becoming dignity; al- 
though a glow of exultant joy was creeping to the very tips of his 

" Surprising !" he said to himself. " Lucy to marry ease, ser- 
vants, mocking-birds, magnolia-blossoms, and orange- groves ! Lucy 
to travel far away to these possessions in waiting ! Lucy to be. 
conie the white lamb of Mr. Steele's manly and tender care." 

His lip took on its old, important cuil, and he finally gave the 
suppliant his hand. 

" I do not feel at liberty to refuse my daughter the free exercise 
of her own feelings in this case. You have my warmest wishes, 
and unqualified assent. However, allow me to meet her first with 
her mother, to prepare them, sir, for this unexpected proposition. 


If your appeal meets with favor, I will leave you to press your suit 
with the dear girl herself." 

Dr. Clarendon pressed the hand he held warmly, and returned 
to the parlor. 

After a few moments the office door opened, and Hester glided 
in unobtrusively to the stove. She replenished it with wood, and 
began brushing up the hearth, quietly kneeling before her work. 
Suddenly she felt ner head drawn back ; a pair of warm hands, one 
on each side of her head, held her in that position ; a pair of glit- 
tering black eyes bent over her ; a black beard swept her forehead, 
and a swift kiss was left on each cheek. Then a strong left arm 
glided round her waist, raised her to her feet, and held her there in 
its encircling clasp. Before her eyes, in William Steele's right hand, 
there shone a silver half dollar. Bewildered, she neither accepted 
nor refused it. While releasing herself from his embrace, he again 
lifted her chin, and flashed his glittering eyes into hers. Kissing her 
forhead, and he said, — 

" Take it, Hester. A touch of your velvet face, and a look into 
your soft eyes, is worth double the money." 

With her hand upon the latch of the door, she spoke angrily, 
regaining her strength. 

" I am poor and needy, sir ; but I have lived long enough to 
understand insult ! I am not a slave, sir ! I entered this office by 
Mrs. Clarendon's order. Shall I expose this treatment ? " 

" Of course not," he replied eagerly. " These affairs are not to 
be spoken of. If you love your young lady. Miss Lucy, you will 
preserve silence." 

"I do love and respect her," said Hester. 

" Then take this money and go," he urged hurriedly. 

For an instant she thought of her poverty, took the piece, and 
immediately left the room. 

Soon after, the doctor looked into the office, and simply said, — 

" This way, sir." 

For a half hour, the family group in the parlor discussed the 
revival ; Edmund Stone, the hunch-back ; the climate of South 
Carolina ; and the bills of mortality in Charleston. Finally, Dr. 
and Mrs. Clarendon withdrew, leaving Lucy to the charming of her 
lover, Mr. Steele. It was evident to that lover, that he must 


"charm never so wisel3\" A false step would imperil his plans. 
Lucy's color glowed and paled like changing rubies. Restraint 
somewhat stiffened her manner ; her eyes burned hazel in the fire- 
light. The Douglas plaid of her dress lacked the waving sheen 
of her natural animation ; it froze into statuesque folds. A book of 
engravings was open on the table at her side. 

William asked coolly, — 

"Are you fond of pictures, Miss Clarendon ?" 

" Quite so ; but in landscapes, I should prefer the originals. 
Nature herself is more attractive to me than her representatives." 

" Pictures are a fine substitute, when means and leisure are 
wanting for travel ; and they also preserve the inspiring lineaments 
of the noble and beloved. I think I have learned to esteem them 
more highly, by the study of Mr. Fairland's gallery, at ' Le Grand 
Palais.' Our small town here, offers no works of arts. Her hills 
and rivulets were all I had previously studied." 

Lucy began to feel more at her ease, and asked, — 

" Does your forest scenery South, differ materially from ours ? " 

" Very materially. Our Carolina live oaks, veiled with moss, 
are objects of great attraction — intensely unique in their growth. 
Our pines are tall and sparse — one may ride in any direction 
throusrh the forests. At "this season thev are filled with warm 
hazy sunlight, and bird-songs, instead of chilly snows." 

Forgetting shyness in thought of sun-lighted pines, her eyes 
raised in the old manner, and she remarked, smilingly, — 

" How delightful these must be." 

" They are so, I assure you. Miss Clarendon; but to me, they lack 
the charm of companionship. I have been led to say with Sel- 
kirk, — 

' O Solitude ! where are the charms, 
That sages have seen in thy face.' 

An appreciating taste, enlivening, and directing my own, would 
be invaluable." 

•' You have the society of planter's families, I suppose ? I hear 
they are a highly refined and cultured class." 

" Yes, truly so; but, Miss Clarendon, pardon me, I referred to a 
nearer interest than that of the neighbor or casual visitor. Allow 


me to say, that such a mentor as yourself would make celestial 
bowers of live-oaks; elysium of pine forests." 

A slight trembling of the hand on the book, a rapid lot)k into 
the firelight ensued. Lucy observed, "I am not accustomed to 
such compliments, Mr. Steele. I feel myself totally unworthy-." 

'• Far more unworthy am I to indulge such an aspiration, 
for one who is grace and purity itself. But there are moments in 
life, when the human soul is fearless — when it risks self-respect, 
and the golden opinion of another, for a purpose which hurls every 
other suggestion to oblivion." 

He gently laid his hand on the white tremulous thing, nestling 
among the pictures. Scarce knowing how, or why, she withdrew 
her hand from its shelter. 

'^Oh! leave me not! thou white dove of hope!" he murmured 
piteously. — " Return over the troubled waters of my spirit, and 
bring the green olive branch ! — '" Tenderly he raised the hunted 
hand to his lips. No word of hers relieved the silence — like a 
frightened bird, which cannot raise its wings, her speech v/as para- 
lyzed. He knelt before the maiden upon one knee, and bowed his 
head despairingly. He begged permission to lay before her the 
exquisite torture and felicity of the present moment. "Would his 
entreaties offend her? — Might he dare to unveil to her the uncon- 
trollable tempest of his soul .'' ". 

Lucy gathered strength from his weakness, and found in her 
heart, strong sympathy for his distress. She bade hiai rise — she 
would hear all ! Then her brain whirled, and for a moment, the 
firelight darkened. She supported herself upon the table. 

His chair was beside hers — he held her hand in his. 

" Miss Clarendon ! I am an humble suppliant for your sweet 
mercy ! Since I first gazed upon you, I have been your captive. 
I am soon to return South. Here to-night, I mu st learn from your 
lips an unspeakable joy or an utter despair. Through all this week, 
although I have endeavored to lend my aid in the great revival of 
our church, you have come between me and God. — While I knelt 
before Him, my spirit bowled before yoii. The dear image of your 
beauty rose above all else. Wlierever I walked, _)w/ flitted on be- 
fore me. Wherever I sat jw/ were beside me." 

His voice sank into humility itself. " Alas ! unfortunate omen 1 


— the light of your countenance turns from me — my vehemence 
pains you. Oh ! how heedlessly have I crushed the flower I would 
fain gather to my breast ! " 

Again he reverentially raised the hand to his lips, and retained it 
more lightly, still clinging to it however, as a drowning man might 
grasp helplessly a white water lily — his only safety. He said no 
more, but sat apparently repentant. Lucy had turned partially 
away to rest her forehead upon her other hand. At length she 
addressed him, — 

" Mr. Steele, I am rather a suppliant at your hands — I am 
speechless before you ! I am not a coquette, to utter lightly false, 
and wounding words. Grant me time to reflect." 

" God bless you for this ! — that you do not strangle, at once, my 
nascent hopes ! " 

He relinquished her hand and arose, saying, — 

"My cruel impetuosity has unnerved you — I will retire for a 
time. But there are many reasons why I venture to beg, that at 
an early moment I may receive some assurance of your favor. If 
my stay could be extended for days, or if I were to reside here 
months, your own sweet will should be mine; — if indeed, I might 
look upon you every week, and feel that your dear presence was 
near ! " 

He went out beneath the cold starry sky. Never before in her 
life had Lucy felt so lonely as when the door shut William Steele 
from her sight. And wherefore .? — She was a riddle to herself. — 
She seemed suddenly to have come upon a Celestial City, whose 
gilded turrets, and graceful spires were bathed in serenest blue ; 
an amethystine gate seemed left ajar for her to open. She longed 
to enter the purple portal amid the glories beyond. But how 
could she swing the precious barrier aside ! She felt herself a 
mere child. What enchanting words she had heard. How exqui- 
isitely delicious did they still echo in her ear, thrilling her with 
rapture. But ah ! it could not be a reality. She was accustomed 
to an insiduous coldness outside of her family, coloring courtesies 
and civilities. Why did Mr. Steele select her among a world- 
full of other attractions ? Could she leave father, and mother, 
the home of her childhood, and depart with a stranger, hith- 
erto? Did she love him.^ She could not analyze this new 


array of emotions ; this spell of his presence causing her to tremble 
like an aspen leaf; this oppressive sense of desertion in his ab- 
sence ; this unaccountable longing for his return. Visions of her 
forest walks, her favorite wild flowers, the purling brooks, and her 
rocky seats flashed into memory. Could she leave them to go so 
far away .'* Strange ! they appeared desolate now, unless his foot- 
steps should wander there with hers. Yet, she could not expose 
her perplexity to him ; and he had besought an immediate answer. 
The tumult of her thoughts, hopes, and regrets would not be stilled. 

She placed the brands together on the hearth ; smoothed her 
hair before the long mirror on the mantel. Whom did she see 
there ? Surely not Lucy Clarendon. In the place of the ani- 
mated self-poised features that ever before had been reflected to 
her view, there were tearful and pleading eyes — a physiognomy 
from which every shade of pride and spirit had vanished, and 
given place to a saintly abnegation of self. To an observer, there 
would have been an indescribable charm in the softened, saddened 
light that overspread the face. 

Still wandering among these distracted thoughts, marveling at 
the change, and the revelations of the evening, another face took 
its place in the mirror with hers. — Mr. Steele's entrance had not 
been noticed. A sudden flash of pleasure thrilled every nerve. She 
suffered herself to be led to the sofa — a pleading voice again be- 
sought her decision. The amethystine gate was ajar, awaiting only 
her touch. She hesitated, trembled, and pronounced her fate. 

If you consider me worthy your esteem and confidence, I am 
only too happy in that choice." 

He caught her to his breast. He kissed her brown hair, ex- 
caiming, — 

"Thank God ! mine forever ! Ah ! my darling Lucy! true love 
sees no unworthiness, it hears of no blemish, asks for no extenua- 
tions, has no doubts, or fears. All these are incompatible with its 
Divine effluence. Blessed hour ! which consummates my fondest 
desires. Do you consent to leave all for me ? to become the light 
of my far off Southern home? Repeat it, my sweet angel! is it in- 
deed a realitv? " 

" I shall find home and happiness in your presence, wherever 
that may be." 


William Steele tenderly raised the drooping head of the trusting 
girl ; wiped away her tears with delicate tenderness, murmuring in 
broken sentences, "Thank God! Joy unspeakable! Mine for- 
ever ! " 

In the season of ecstatic stillness which followed, the leafless 
lilacs outside, groping with benumbed fingers against the house, 
said to her heart, '' Stay with us ! stay, stay." The red-berries, bob- 
bing against the window-panes, warned the fascinated girl, by their 
mysterious knockings, "Go not, Lucy ! — no, no, Lucy ! — go not." 

Wednesday morning opened a new era in the Clarendon family. 
A genial complaisance shed a mellowing grace over words and 
deeds. At the breakfast table, Roland officiated, as usual, at the 
back of Mr. Steele's chair ; receiving another half dollar. Smok- 
ins: hour in the office, resulted in referring all arrano:ements to the 
judgment and wishes of the honored guest. 

In the parlor, Mrs. Clarendon met her future son-in-law with a 
warm maternal welcome. On his part, he was profuse in affection- 
ate apologies for so suddenly robbing her of the light of the house- 

Bedewing with a few becoming tears the smiles of her ill con- 
cealed pride in Lucy's triumph, she replied; "I am highly flat- 
tered, sir, by the honor of your choice. Lucy is onr darling. But 
we have raised her with the usual expectation that her blossoming 
beauty was maturing for the joy and possession of another. She 
has been raised in the seclusion of Cloudspire, as the anemone 
springs up amid of forest shadows. Her mind is purity itself 
free from all taint of an artificial world ; but whatever of natural 
and feminine graces may adorn her character, I most freely 
consign them to your keeping. They are her only jewelb. When 
I yield her to your devoted tenderness, sir, I feel that she is dow- 
ered with what is more necessary to woman's existence, than aught 
else — a husband's faithful, and abiding love." 

Les affiances enjoyed the remainder of the morning alone, dis- 
cussing the early marriage, and departure. 



'"T^HE sleeper's head turned in the hollow of the downy pillows. 
JL Soft laces trembled, rose and fell, like snow-wreaths, wind- 
lifted from their native banks. A pair of dark eyes opened lan- 
guidly on the pleasantly shaded room — eyes quiet as the chamber 
itself, clouded only by the drifting mist of vanishing dreams. The 
proud mouth gathered up its relaxed curves, and the spiritless voice 
called, " Zoe !" 

Like a statue springing into life, the girl glided to the bed ; her 
smiling lips replied, — 

" I am here, my dear miss." 

♦' What is the hour ? " 

The maid turned to the exquisite device on the marble shelf, and 
said, — 

" Birdie holds ' ten ' in his beak ; he has just taken it. Miss 
Gracie !" 

On this shelf — itself a fine relic from the ''Eternal City," — 
was a clock, which measured the charmed air of the chamber into 
golden hours for its favored occupant. A bird of Paradise picked 
up from the heart of a rose, golden figures, indicating these hours, 
and dropped them successively upon the bosom of an azure sea, 
whence they floated from sight. 

" Has mamma risen ? " 

" Two hours since, miss ! " replied the attendant ; then fell to 
adjusting the fine linen, and lace of her mistress' couch. " She has 
ordered coffee, with strawberries and cream for you, and bade me 
beg you to continue your rest and sleep, after." 

A quick ring of the bell brought James to the door directly, with 
a silver salver burdened with the lady's own silver morning service. 
A dewy nosegay, freshly culled, lay beside the scarlet berries. 
James knew hov/ to put together the morning bouquet, in a manner 
to suit the most fastidious of the familv. The maid knew her 
duties as well : — the exact amount of Mocha to be poured into the 


French china cup, — just the quantity of cream and sugar to be 
added to the strawberries. 

When this was accomplished, Zoe carried the salver to the bed 
of her mistress ; offered spoons and napkins smoothed the inequali- 
ties and balanced the rebellious waiter, taking airs upon itself for high 
breeding. After the refreshment, she made the pillows more 
downy, gave their frills a lesson of propriety, and placed the roses 
thereon. She rang for James, met him on tip toe at the door, 
closed it noiselessly, and sat down again, a statue, till sleep should 
return to her young mistress in sweet visions and dreams. 

Although a slave, Zoe enjoyed the luxury about her ; the elegant 
appointments of her mistress' bed chamber were her pride. She 
felt an ownership with Gracie Mowndes in all the charming sur- 
roundings. The morning air, wafting in through the blinds 
sweet garden odors, was as pleasant to her as to Grace ; and the 
bird of Paradise held golden hours in his beak for Zoe as well. 

She had not to sit long. She arose noiselessly, took a white 
handkerchief, passed it over marble tops here and there, and 
scrutinized it carefully at the blind. Faultlessly neat ! There was 
no dust upon it for Grade's keen eye. She then began gliding 
about from bureau to wardrobe, and from wardrobe to bureau, 
rustling dresses here, inspecting ribbons and laces there, till an ele- 
gant morning toilet was laid out, ready at her hands. Finally, a 
small pair of satin slippers, with jeweled buckles glittering in ihe 
narrow sunbeam on the carpet, were placed by the bed, and Zoe 
dropped into her chair. 

In a short time, the mistress called again, "Zoe"! There was 
more life, and crispness in the word this time. The maid gave a 
glance, a spring, and an answer in a breath 1 " Miss Gracie ! bir- 
die has just taken ' eleven ' from the rose ! " 

" I shall sleep no more ! Dress me." 

While both were yet in the mysteries and intricacies of the dress- 
ing room, there came a lively tap at the chamber door. Grace, 
after a merry laugh, cried, — 

" Ah ! I know you ! Thrice welcome, Leonore ! Zoe, — turn the 
kev ! " 

A young lady entered gaily, in a costly and elaborate walking- 
dress, of which she appeared not the least conscious. With a fore- 


finger raised for emphasis, she paused before Gracie. " Ah, you 
naughty, naughty one ! Not dressed yet? This is one of our most 
delicious spring mornings! Ale levante al salir del Sol ! Have you 
forgotten all your Spanish ? The air is violet ! The long vistas of 
our streets wear their sweetest haze. Oh, Gracie ! I feel ethereal- 
ized — ready to float away among the clouds." 

" Zoe, attend upon Leonore,' said Grace. 

"Zoe ! dress your mistress immediately !" was the quick refort ; 
while she removed her hat without aid, and drew off her gloves. 

Gracie uttered a little scream, raised both hands, and asked the 
hurried question, — 

" Pray ! what is that on your hand, Leonore 1 " 

This brought out a peal of gay laughter from the person ad- 
dressed. Leonore would laugh audibly, wdth naive disregard to 
conventional rules. She answered, — 

" Just nothing at all, Gracie ! — slight scratches from the thorns 
of our rose shrubbery. I drove old ' Joe ' out of the garden, and 
cut the bouquet myself. Mamma was shocked, of course — but 
you know, dearie, it is the style here, for every one to feel her 
nerves tingling at some unpropitious fancy or another ! — Now, my 
love, how are you, after the ball ? " 

"Delightful ! Leonore ! of course the gayety and exhilaration of 
of such a pageant is ever pleasing ; but more elevated attractions 
swayed the concourse of last night ! — The god-like presence of 
our Calhoun! — the noble majesty of Governor Hayne ! — the 
brilliant gathering of Southern statesmen from other States, were 
imposing to a Carolinian, or to any other true Southron, who holds 
our interests paramount. You know the ladies of the South do not 
lack patriotism." 

" Yes, I know ; but let me congratulate you on having had the 
honor of a promenade on the arm of 'Jupiter Tonens ! ' said 

" Gracias ! The escort of any of the crowned heads of the 
kingdoms, and empires of Europe, would not have been so high an 
honor, as that promenade with Calhoun ! — Kings and emperors 
but second the designs of their Cabinets ! In national policy, Cal- 
houn's foot ever treads the pioneer's path alone. His declarations 
are a law in themselves." 


" My clear Grade ! you should have seen yourself, there ! — I de- 
clare ! I thought myself in Rome, in the days of her ancient glory. 
You seemed a 'Vestal Virgin,' wrapped in reverence, and devotion, 
— the 2:uardian of the sacred Palladium of Southern Riiihts." 

"AhT' replied Gracie with a sigh, *' willingly would 1 become 
so. But it would be revolting to my nature to hold these continual 
controversies with that Northern people. They are of baser blood, 
and as persistent as all ignorance is. We are of honorable birth 
in the old country. These adverse elements will not assimilate. 
It was a mistake, this union of South Carolina and Georgia with 
the other States, after the Revolutionary War, at the framing of the 
Constitution. They should have seceded then, and there. They 
should have formed themselves into a separate nation." 

'• Hold ! Gracie. I walked over here this morning, and gave 
mamma another shock, because I would not order the carriage ; 
I came purposely to have a cosy chat with my bosom friend. You 
must remember I am not an extreme Southerner. Do not allow 
your sweet self to be shocked now. No tenemos tie?7ij)0 de hacer ese. 
Let us speak of other things." 

" Es verdadj qucrida LcoJioi'c. Hay 7nil cosas cerca de las cuales 
querejHOS hab.'ar. I so wish to inquire about one of your partners 
in the dance last night. He was a stranger, was he not.-* He has 
not the air of our young men — he appeared somewhat confused." 

"He is a Northerner — I will frankly tell you — came as a 
teacher in Major Signal's family on the Island. He is now study- 
ing law in uncle's office in this cit3^ There, dear, you are dressed ; 
you are more a Vestal Virgin than ever. Is not that one of the 
white morning robes sent you from Paris ? — Can you not dismiss 
Zoe ? " 

''Certainly. Zoe, go to mamma for orders." 

Leonore drew an arm-chair close by her own, looking very 
wisely, and saying, — 

"Now, darling, sit by me — le: me see your eyes." After a pref- 
atory, gleeful laugh, a shake of the head^ and a solemn, reticent 
delay, she said, '* Ah! my lady ; I have a secret to confide ! — Ah 1 
will I ? — No ! — yes — a secret, so precious, so sweet, so divine ? — 
Ah! you must share it. Just think of it ! I came all this way on 
my two feet; and brought it without a carriage." Raisuig the 


fore-finger again, " Now this secret, like a chapter in a novel, be- 
gins with poetry, supposed to have some reference to what fol- 

Mischief was in her eyes, and pathos in her voice, as she half 
spoke, half chanted the lines of Hemans, — 

"Oh ! ye beloved, come home! the hour 

Of many a greeting tone, ' . 

The time of hearth-light and of song 
Returns — and ye are gone ! 

Where finds \t_you our wandering one ? 

With all your boyhood's glee 
Untamed ; — beneath the desert's palm, 

Or on the lone mid sea ? 

'Mid stormy hills of battles old 

Or where dark rivers foam ? 
Oh ! life is dim where 3-e are not — 

Back, ye beloved ! come home I 

Come with the leaves and winds of Spring 

And swift birds o'er the main ! 
Our love is grown too sorrowful, 

Bring us its youth again ! 

Bring the glad toi>es to music back — 

Still, still your home is fair ; 
The spirit of your sunny life 

Alone is wanting there." 

A tender mist veiled the eyes turned toward the speaker. A 
tremulous voice made answer. 

" Thou syren, Leonore ! Why stir the transparent depths of 
memory, and thus lure my frail 'hope deferred' to wrecking 
again ?" 

•' Listen to the echo, Grace. £s ?nuy e?ica7itador ! 

' The stately ship hath touched the quay, 
Freighted with treasures o'er the sea! 
But the rarest things it brought to land. 
Were a faithful heart and a knightly hand ? ' " 

"Prophetess! What do you say," ejaculated Gracie, as she 
seized the hand of her smiling guest. 


"lam saying that — hearken! that Ralph Haywood — do not 
turn so pale — that Ralph Haywood has stepped from the deck ot 
the Sumter upon his native shore." 

More pallid still, the listener fell back in her chair, clasped her 
hands, and faintly whispered, — 


Leonore applied restoratives, always at hand; stirred the fragrant 
air with a laugh, a fan, and light ridicule, till her friend besought 
her to answer, — 

"When? When?" 

" Never ! till your color is regained, and you have taken a turn 
with me on the piazza. Then, dearie, I am at your service 

Arm in arm these petted girls walked slowly up aud down under 
the shadows of fresh spring leaves : stopping now and then, to 
pull a rose, or a cluster from the exuberance heaping the balus- 
trade. Both were tall, dignified and graceful. The faces of both 
wore the untamed, commanding hauteur, incident to Southern 
breeding. Both stood rapturously upon the brink of that woman- 
hood, which time, and custom have mapped out as the " Ultima 
Thidc"' of wandering maiden's feet. Both peered over this brink 
into the purple distance, without foreboding, and without fear. 

"Grace, dearie, 3'OU are restored ; let us return to the privacy of 
your chamber." They entered, were seated as before. " There ! 
take this fan, and these salts. I will inform you ' when '. The 
Sumter rolled outside the bar all last night ; this morning early, 
she came to the wharf. Ralph is at the old family mansion, re- 
cruiting after the voyage. He will not go out to-day, so you will 
have ample time to rally yourself, and resume your usual self- 

" How were you so fortunate as to learn this ? " asked Grace, 
reclining in her chair for support. 

"Adolph De Bourbon from Augusta, called this morning. 
Ralph will positively not go out to- day " 

An interval of thought ensued ; it was interrupted by Grace. 

" Leonore, if our first meeting had already taken place, compo- 
sure were easier. When I shall meet Ralph's first glance, will it 
be one of unmingled joy on his part, or shall I detect a shade of 


disappointed expectation, at any change which absence may have 
wrought in me? There are beautiful women in France. How 
shall I bear the comparison ? " 

Her face grew whiter. Such laughter as followed! It were a 
panacea for invalids. Such fearless, echoing laughter! Grace 
was forced to join, while gleaning, in broken fragments, Leonore's 


"Who would ever have thought this, that Grace Mowndes, the 
high-born, blue-blooded, refined, elegant, and accomplished daugh- 
ter of this State, could depreciate her superb claims, as the 'Queen 
of Knighdv Hearts.' Our gentlemen are not easily entrapped by 
the vulgar attractions of fleshly charms. We cannot all have fea- 
tures of* approved Grecian mould. All cannot have cheeks colored 
after the latest rose in the garden. Reflect, dearie. Have you 
not packages of letters honied with Ralph's devotion? Do you 
think Ralph Haywood would swerve from his first love ? Is he not 
a true South Carolinian ? and would he cast the shadow of a pain 
upon one of her fair daughters ? These troubled thoughts of yours 
are the inseparable attendants of Love. Cast them out, Gracie ! 
There are no obstacles in your path, as there are in mine ; and " 
she added resolutely, " there are none in mine, that decision and 
address will not remove." 

If there were acerbity and sarcasm in this hopeful appeal, the 
listener failed to perceive it, and replied, " You are a strong com- 
forter, Leonore. You are a flood of sunlight, suddenly poured 
from a cloud-rift. Let me put away my selhsh joy, to ask you, 
dear girl, what is meant by obstacles in your path ? " 

" What will surprise you, Gracie ; that which might as well be 
frankly confessed ; for this kind of secrets cannot be kept ; I await 
difficulty in more wavs than one ] however, I think myself equal to 
the hour. The blushing, confused stranger with whom you saw 
me dance last night, is the beau ideal of my imagination ; more — 
he is the absolute, confirmed choice of my heart. A wayward 
heart you may call it, perhaps. Something like winds from far off 
lands whispered o'er and o'er to my soul his name, tuneful, and 
sweet, Gracie ! this still prophecy has o'er-mastered me ! " 

"Leonore! Leonore! Why stoop so low? Why tarnish the 
bright record of your family name, by bestowing your peerless love 


SO unworthily? Can you not control your affections ? Will not your 
undaunted strengh of mind turn them into proper channels ? " 

" That is the question, my dear friend. What is the proper 
channel? Love is like those winged, or plumed seeds, which, 
with sails set, traverse the viewless air, and come to anchor in all 
manner of havens. One of these has stealthily lodged in my 
heart — has germinated — has sprung into green life. It has blos- 
somed into admiration of the grand capacity, the noble virtues, and 
serene equipoise of the soul of Hubert Hastings." 

" 1 am truly shocked at your words, Leonore ; " grieved Gracie. 
She gazed long and pitifully into the inspired eyes of her reckless 
friend, as she mentally termed Leonore. With a sorrowful air she 
asked, — 

'* Is not this Northerner one of those adventurers who come 
among us so frequenth^, in pursuit of fortune? and with whom it 
is not our custom to form intimate relations ? Is he not without 
wealth, or rank ? " 

*' Alas ! my dear Gracie ! what are our customs, but blown and 
painted shells, filled with emptiness, from which no singing birds 
of joy can ever spring ? " 

She extended the thorn-marked hand at arms length, clenched 
the soft lingers earnestly, saying, — 

" I crush them into nothingness 1 " She opened her hand palm 
down, and continued, '* I grind them to powder beneath my 

• The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
A man's a man for a' that ! 

Gie fools their silk, and knaves their win«, 

A man's a man for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that ; 

Their tinsel show, and a' that ; 
The honest man, though e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that ! 

A prince can make a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 
But an honest man's aboon his might, 

Gued faith, he maunna fa' that I ' " 

During the recitation of the last verse, she caught up Grace, and 


the two went waltzing about the chamber, into the dressing-room 
and out of it, into the corners and out of them, and around the 
bright chairs, till a bloom crept into Grade's cheeks, and both 
voices sparkled with mirth. They took seats, rosy and panting. 

Leonore drew a long breath, from which flashed a smile. 

" Gracie, nerve yourself now, I am going to analyze some of 
our customs, and with their fragments build fortifications around 

Zoe passed through the hall to the piazza, placed two tables and 
chairs, spread a lunch of ice cream and cake, tapped at Grade's 
door, and invited the young ladies to refreshment. 

"First take our marriages, — the most of them have blood, rank, 
or wealth, for their basis. The true instinctive love for another ^- 
this latent spark of earth's blessedness, struck from the throne of 
Omnipotence, and inlaid by God's own hand in every human soul 
alike, is often counted for nothing. The bond which holds these 
unions is the formula of the priest. The wife, fortified by her own 
sense of virtue, patiently accedes to these terms." 

"Now, inseparable from these marriages, is the twin custom, 
granting the husband unrestrained freedom for unbridled passion; 
or, for the gratification of this love, which w i/l sii enthroned in the 
human heart. With this most precious gift of existence, man en- 
dows the object of his fancy or choice. These are usually selected 
from his slaves; from our quadroons, our octaroons, or often from 
Africa's own children of velvety blackness ! " 

Hush ! Leonore ! — I pray!" shrieked Grace, holding up one 
hand as a shield from these daring asseverations, and fanning vio- 
lently with the other, — " your language outrages every feeling of 
delicacy and affection a Southern lady may possess. Pause ! my 
best friend; you are doing violence to the sanctity and holiness of 
Southern homes. Surely, the records of your family and mine have 
never borne so foul a blot ! — I have no desire to contemplate a 
theme so horrifying and repulsive. My dear Leonore ! some evil 
guest must have nestled in your breast, and undermined your child- 
hood's faith in the spells of Home ! — I conjure you, 

'By the household tree through which thme eye ■ 
First looked in love to the summer sky; 


* By the shiver of the ivy leaves 
To the wind of morn, at thy casement eaves ; 
By the bees' deep murmur in the limes, 
By the music of the sabbath chimes ; ' 

Dear Leonore ! I conjure you to cast out these demons so abhor" 
rent to the gentle trust of woman." 

She had risen, and now stood before her guest, 

"And her proud pale brow had a shade of scorn 
Under the waves of her dark hair worn." 

Leonore rose also ; and with each an arm about the other's 
waist, they passed under the flowery lace-curtain through the win- 
dow upon the piazza. With slow and stately step, like sisters o^ 
royal birth, they traversed its length again and again. Leonore's 
auburn curls touched confidentially the glossy dark braids of her 
companion, while the conversation continued, — 

'* Nay, Gracie ! my faith, or want of faith, is founded in the 
actual — the real. ]My source of information is reliable. You 
know my dwarf, ' Toad ' — my maid ? Very well. She is fond of 
me, and I encourage her to speak freely on many subjects. * Toad' 
has lived and breathed in the charmed circle of those very customs 
which so shock you. Her narrations of gentlemen who have a 
white and black wife at the same time, chill my blood ! and she has 
shown to my surprise, the preference our single gentlemen have 
for black women over white ! *' 

" I protest ! " cried Grace. " How can you put any confidence 
in the deceptive representations o"f a slave ! " 

"Why, do you not see, that when what is related runs parallel 
with one's own personal observations, one //z/zi"/ believe ? Let me 
convince you. You know that Alphonse, my oldest brother, is not 
married ! That his friends constantly rally him upon his indif- 
ference to feminine charms, and upon his bachelor habits. At 
parties, balls, and social gatherings, you know with what polite 
but cool gallantry he meets the grace and beauty around him ! Very 
well, asrain. The* disclosures of ' Toad ' set me to thinkins:. I 
have found, Grace, the shrme of his worship ! I have seen him 
leave our elegant mansion, and enter the small humble house, 
where daily awaits him, the mother of his two children. I 


have heard her glad laugh ring at his coming, I have seen her 
dark brown face — the same as are bought and sold at our marts 
every day in the week ! Now Gracie Mowndes, do you suppose 
Alphonse does this from compulsion ? He, whose will has never 
been crossed, whose desires have n^^ver been thwarted, 'from the 
cradle up ? ' What impels him to spend days, and nights with her ? 
— to dress her with refinement, but this instinctive power of which 
I have spoken ? I have seen his children, when ' Toad ' has pur- 
posely delayed their nurse while giving them an airing in the 
street ! Brown children ! resembling their father ! — decked with 
gay dresses, and children's baubles ! Gracie, this is truth. 
Why tremble ? Ah ! these are the weapons of my defence when I 
shall be called to an account for loving the intelligent, refined 
Northern student, Hubert Hastings." 

"I must decline to beheve this, or reply. It is repugnant. 
Your welfare is dear to me ; but now, seriously, is this the end of 
the noble Scotch line of Wallace ? Does the Highland lassie, the 
scornful beauty, who has refused titled suitors of other lands, yield 
to the prentensions of a landless, toiling adventurer ? " 

" Oh ! ho ! my dearest, wisest monitor ! Methinks the noble 
Wallace line became merged in African blood, long before this ! 
And as to the ' titled suitors,' I never liked men : I had, and still 
have a decided aversion to their stereotyped compliments, and de- 
votional exercises for every new girlish face they may meet. It 
belittles woman. It robs her of what scanty individuality she may 
possess. For this reason, 

*I said there was naething I hated like men ; 
The deuce gae \Yi'm to believe me, believe me ; 
The deuce gae wi'm to believe me.' 

As to pretensions, Gracie, Hubert makes none. Truthfulness 
modesty, and sincerity are his only jewels. He m.ay have been a 
bare-footed boy, — gleaning life and virtues among the rugged 
hills of the North. I care not ! — He's poor, — I care not ! 

' Oh, gear will buy me rigs o'land. 

And gear will buy me sheep and kye ; 
But the tender heart o'leesome luve 

The gowd and siller canna buy,' " 


They entered the chamber. Leonore gave her friend an embrace 
frank and fresh as spring's early breath. She held her out at arm's 
length — showered upon her playful smiles, dimples, and glances, 
— demanding to know if her secret were safe .? Then, answer- 
ed her own question by saying, — 

"Safe enough, I believe, darling! for now, at this sweet crisis, 
Leonore will find no place among the delicious dreams of Gracie ! 

Now I am going. An rcvoir^ ma chere !'^ 

" Stay ! How was Hastings admitted to the ball last night? " 

" By the magic of Leonore, dearie ! You know uncle sets me up, 
his idol — grants all my wishes. I hinted to him that no Ameri- 
can should be debarred from the elevating, instructive presence of 
our statesmen ; etc., etc ! " 

Leaving a fragrant kiss for Gracie. she fluttered away like a sing- 
ing bird, lost amid forest arches. 

Mrs. Mowndes hastened to her daughter's room to inquire for 
her health, after the ball. She stepped in through the lace cur- 
tained- window from the piazza, saying with solicitude, — 

" My dear child ! your lunch remains untouched ! " 

" True, mamma ! we had forgotten it." 

Grace met her with unusual feeling. Mrs. Mow^ndes became 
alarmed, and endeavored to convince herself, that Grace was not 
quite well, — that Leonore should not have been admitted — that 
sne should have continued her rest, and many other anxious sug- 
gestions, which Grace brought to an abrupt close, by throwing her 
arms about her neck, and saying, — 

" You are mistaken my dear mother ! you are mistaken ! I am 
well, perfectly. Ah ! I have gladsome news for your ear ! " An 
overwhelming joy thrilled every word! She took the maternal 
hand, and led her to a seat, with the softened majesty a princess 
might exhibit towards a queen mother. 

Mrs. INIowndes' eye ran over the perfection of the figure, the 
delicate complexion without a blemish, than which the white em- 
broidered morning robe was scarcely fairer — the braids ravishingly 
glossy and soft — the large midnight eyes, dilated with the new- 
born transport which filled her whole being. She caught the 
glances of those eyes so wondrously lighted. Her gaze dropped to 
the jeweled slippers resting on the purple pansies of the carpet. 


This last was a ruse, to conceal the proud pleasure which meteor- 
like, shot athwart the air of repose, which should accompany rank 
and good breeding. Recovery was the work of an instant. Long 
habit renders dissimulation easy. In her usual throne like dig- 
nity she said, — 

" Speak ! my daughter ! Your spirit overflows with a sudden 
sunburst of delight ! What tidings move you thus ? " The reply 
was a question, — 

" Dear mamma ! can you not surmise ? Do you not know that 
but one thing could move me thus? What if I tell you a new star 
has returned to the guiding cynosure of South Carolina ! one in 
whom the exalted emotions of patriotism, and the promptings of 
valor will find no superior among our annals of public virtues ! 
Ah ! mamma, what if I tell you that such an one floated into port 
to-day, with the yellow radiance of morning ! And, wait ! What 
if I add that this distinguished voynger is not an alien ! but that 
his name is enrolled among the most illustrious of our State ! " 

Her lustrous eyes kindled into new glory, while waiting for her 
mother to speak the cherished name. Her long lashes at first rose 
and fell triumphantly; afterwards, as if moved by the haunting fear 
expressed to Leonore, her lids dropped. 

Mrs. Mowndes calmly took Grade's hand, kissed cheeks and 
brow, and drew her to her bosom. 

" My sweet ! my darling ! how can I fail to recognize the idol 
of her who is dearer to me than life ! How can I fail to read the 
lovely signals of woman's holy trust ! How can my breast fail to 
become imbued with the supreme happiness of this moment ! 
Gracie, my darling, how deeply, indeed, does my heart reiterate 
your joy! What do I behold .J"" Tears! my angel — tears! The 
hearts glad sunshine veiled in sorrow ? Wherefore, my daughter ! 
wherefore? Control yourself, — this is but the effect of over- 
wrought nerves, — too delicate for a night of gayety ! " 

"No! no! I should be content if physical causes were the 
source of this agitation, — the remedy would be most easy and 
natural. You have seen our rice fields swept by alternate rolling 
billows of light, and shadow, when drifting clouds pass over the 
sun, mamma ! Like the swaying rice fields am I ! Shadowy 
apprehensions chase golden hopes, and my soul is strangely swept 
by both." 


" You sto.rtle me, ray daughter ! ' Shadowy apprehensions ? * 
Pray, hasten to explain ! These words prove as mystical as the 
falling tears I Come to your bed, my child! recline upon it. 
Your gentle soul is too cruelly tortured." 

This overture Grace steadily refused, and sh-ove to allay the 
solicitude of her mother, by taking again a calmer manner, say- 

" These tears are like the sudden droppings of a light scud, 
crossing the blue sky. They fall in the sunshine, and are exhaled 
in its rays. 

" Mamma, you remember our visit to Lausanne during our last 
tour in Europe ? " 

" Certainly, my dear." 

"You remember Ralph joined us at Geneva? He had just re- 
turned from Egypt, whither he went to purchase an Arabian ; 
he accompanied us as far as Lausanne ?" 


" You call to mind also my persistence in stopping at the Inn, 
*Ancre' on the shore of the lake, where Byron wrote the 'Pris- 
oners of Chillon?' — that together, we remained the same number 
of days as the illustrious poet had done before ? " 

" Yes, my darling ! The spot possessed as much interest for me 
as for yourself." 

"Was I then — mamma — was I — beautiful ? The magnificence 
of the scenery, the sunny presence and adoration of Ralph, were 
sufncient to cast out narrow thoughts of self. Since that delight- 
ful hour, I have made some advances in lessons of the world. Its 
hollow flattery is not to be trusted. ^Mamma, was I beautiful — 
then ? " 

" You were the centre of all eyes. Wherever your steps strayed, 
a gentle, queenly grace marked every motion. The classic mould 
of your features was the topic of all lovers of art whom we met, in 
our travels. You were Madonna and Sultana in one. Grace, my 
daughter, why this question of long ago '^ The present should 
most deeply interest you now." 

"Mamma, it was then, while strolling along the shores of the 
deep blue waters of lake Geneva, that Ralph made a declaration of 
his pure and faithful love. A few hours after, while my heart was 


yet in a tumult of sweet hopes and delicious dreams, I sat in the 
very room where Byron wrote his immortal poem. Ralph entered, 
radiant in manly beauty ; took my hand in his, raised it to his 
lips, and sportively said, 'I make you my Prisoner of Chillon ! ' 
He placed this upon my finger, and continued impressively, 'With 
this ring I bind you to the pillar of my changeless affection ! ' He 
pointed to the diamond, raised my hand again to his lips, and 
bade me remember that the sparkling light should be the reflection 
of the bright waters of lake Geneva, — a Bonnivard's window to 
my soul." 

During thisJolushing confession Grace sat fixedly, contemplating 
the costly symbol of imprisonment. Her dark lashes suddenly 
raised to her mother. 

"Mamma, you aver that strangers called me beautiful, tJie7t. 
Without partiality tell me — without the loving deception which 
would naturally color your reply — am I beautiful now 2 Ami 
changed ? Am I less attractive in person or manner ? " 

Mrs. Mowndes with many caresses bade her daughter dismiss all 
uneasiness. She assured her that in graces of person, in symme- 
try of form, in that which pleases the eye and charms the senses, 
she was more voluptuously developed than at the time of parting 
with her lover at Lausanne. " But," she added, with increased 
dignity of demeanor, '' in the intrinsic beauty of a noble and high- 
born spirit you have made great advances. This loveliness which 
is addressed to the understanding never fades or palls upon the 
taste. This it is which illumines and glorifies all exterior attrac- 
tions. My daughter, it is quite humiliating to witaess this distrust 
of yourself. Let a descendant of English Peerage on the one side, 
and of unyielding, independent Huguenot blood on the other, 
rather exalt, than depreciate herself. My daughter, does not the 
blood of these two ancestries blend in you ? Dissipate, I pray, 
these unworthy fears. Recall your wonted composure. I give you 
joy for this clay of ripened hopes." 

She besought Grace to take a drive in the fresh spring air. She 
rang for Zoe, bade her dress her young mistress, and order the 
carriage at the proper time. The only obstacle to this arrange- 
ment was suggested by Grace; that Ralph might reverse his de- 
cision for retirement, and seek her ai home during her absence. 


Grace set herself to regain the complacency and winning vivac- 
ity so requisite to the conventionalities of evening dress and prom- 
enade. Now Grace and Zoe were much more familiar than was 
customary with mistress and maid. Zoe loved to dress and adorn 
her mistress, as the sculptor delights to chisel into life new graces 
from the marble under his hands. The fastening a bow, tying a 
sash, adjusting a long heavy plait of hair, were for her, pleasant 
studies. Both were of nearly the same age and height. Zoe's 
wealth of shining black curls were a match to Grace's dark braids. 
Her skin had nearly the same clearness, except that the blusli of 
Zoe's cheek colored with a richer carnation than Qrace's. Zoe's 
style and manner were the complement of the mode of her mis- 
tress, — it had the same aristocratic flavor. Many of Grace's par- 
tially worn and handsome dresses were given to the maid, whom 
they fitted at once. Perchance the pink and the blue, floating 
about Zoe were a shade or two lighter than those worn by Grace ; 
but like sunlight and moonlight, the one seemed the reflection of 
the other — both were attractive. Their gayety was often recipro- 
cal ; and in their mingled mirth was heard no discord. Their 
voices were strangely similar — the natural pitch in unison, with 
this difference, — that one seemed to procoed from an instrument 
of subdued tone, and the other from one more brilliant. Wherever 
they moved, one following the other, Zoe appeared the soft shadow 
of Grace. 

It was time for the toilet. Grace sat under the careful eye and 
skillful fingers of her maid. 

" Zoe, dress my hair more elaborately than usual — give it ele- 

"De tout 7710JI coeur, ma chere 7naitresse ! It shall be the admiration 
of all eyes." 

(They often spoke a bit of French together.) 

" iNIy lover has returned, Zoe — my lover from over the sea! 
Carolina's noble son ! Dress me charmingly to-day ! Have a care 
for every flounce and every fold ! — Oh! my heart is throbbing! 
I cannot think ! " 

" Leave all to Zoe, dear miss. Bury yourself in happy thoughts. 
No lady in the land deserves a noble lover, more than mine." 

While speaking, she passed the comb admiringly through and 


through the raven, wavy tresses that swept over her arm to the 

'' Close that bhnd ! It is too light ! " directed Grace. 

" There is enough of sunshine in your heart, Miss Gracie ! " was 
the gentle reply. 

" Do you remember master Ralph Haywood, Zoe, before he 
went to Europe ? " 

" Yes, mistress ! as perfectly as if it were yesterday ! I recollect 
his elegant figure ; and above all, his unceasing attentions to your- 
self in his boyhood." 

Silence, and attention to the immediate demands of the moment, 
succeeded. Zoe knelt and rose, around Grace, like a priestess 
before the shrine of the Virgin, — retired a few steps — turned her 
head this way and that, to decide upon a certain effect — lifted a 
bow here, bent a flower there, raised a puff, smoothed a plait, 
wreathing every part of her task with her own smiles. 

Grace paid no attention to Zoe's movements about her, nor 
manifested recognition of the soft artistic touches to her costume ; 
being lost in the rapid visions of the blissful future. The very 
careless indifference of her standing posture, and her yielding 
unconsciously to any suggestion, was an evidence of her implicit 
faith in Zoe's taste, and of a perfect content in her sympathetic 

Zoe threw a glance, from time to time, upon the golden figure 
which the bird of paradise held in his beak, and roused -Grace by 

" Now, my mistress, will you please step to the mirror ! The 
carriage is readv ! " 

She had removed every obstacle in her mistress' way towards a 
survey of herself ; and now gave the long glass reaching to the 
floor the right angle — observing carefully, at the same moment, 
her who gazed therein. A bright look of 'approval was a sufficient 
reward for Zoe. She opened the door, and stood aside for her 
young lady to pass out. Both tripped down the broad stairs, 
Grace's lovely shadow following. 

King street was gorgeous Vvi'ih costly equipages, liveries, and the 
beau inonde of the "City of the Sea "' ; the Mowndes' carriage, and 
spirited pair dashed into the brilliant thoroughfare. Courtesy and 


recognition met Grace on ev^ery hand. Bevies of sparkling beau- 
ties and belles sauntered slowly down the pavement, like troops of 
butterflies, hovering and balancing in the sheeny air. Gay stream- 
ers and delicate laces fluttered on the evening zephyr. Rich silks, 
from London, Paris, Berlin, and Canton, rustled along the walk, 
where ladies of selected blood chatted and smiled. They ad- 
vanced, paused, waved jewelled hands, bowed, flattered ; — mur- 
mured low and sweetly; — proffered elegant adieus, and swept on. 

Grace alighted, joining the resplendent throng. Without com- 
mand, springing hoofs, fiery eyes, and rearing beasts measured a 
fretful progress with her leisurely, light-footed step. 

Zoe, full of busy exultant plans for her beloved young mistress, 
bethought herself of several duties to be dispatched during her 
absence. Among these, was the cutting superfluous sprays of rose- 
vines, thrust between, and over the balusters on the piazza, to the 
great detriment of her lady's dresses. The wisteria, also, climbing 
over the front end of the balustrade to the roof, had grown too 
familiar; it should be draped away, and trimmed into symmetry. 
She had just brought out her basket, and was giving the wisteria 
her attention. Her slender figure robed in white could be plainly 
seen from the street, amidst the tender green. Grape-like clusters 
of purple blossoms embowered her head, and toyed with the shower 
of soft black curls. The glow of excitement from the late toilet 
still lingered in cheek and eyes. 

Steps upon the pavement below, caused her to turn stealthily to 
the street. The well-pleased gaze of a gentleman met her own. 
He held his hat raised, and proffered a courtly bow. Zoe turned 
her face quickly away, as if this act of consideraiion were not ob- 
served. While proceeding with her work, her color deepened, and 
her small hands trembled. 

The bell rans:, — the servant ushered in a visitor. Zoe finished 
cutting and training the wisteria, and moved on to the roses. 
Sounds of joyful greeting, as of those long parted, rose from the 
open parlor windows on the lower piazza. Confused exclamations 
of glad surprise, and regrets reached her ; and the voices subsided 
into the lower tones of ordinary conversation. She questioned, 
who might be the handsome stranger? Could it be her young 
lady's lover, Ralph Haywood ? If, indeed, it were he, w^hat could 


induce him to bow deferentially to herself ? — to Zoe ! — the slave 
cf Grace Mowndes ? 

Zoe knew every word in the code of Southern morals. She knew 
the opaUne hues of its lovely epidernnis-^the bitter juice of its full 
and rounded mesosperm. She knew it to the core — she knew 
the seeds of that core — that each one was a black and frozen 
drop of agony, The white slave knew her value, weighed with 
that " apple of discord. " There were times and places where she 
had received warmer attentions than a cold courtly bow from the 
street. Carolina's sons, of blood as high as Ralph Haywood's, had 
besought her smiles, and humbly plead for her love. Bejewelled 
hands^had often been kissed to her soft, enchanting eyes. True ! 
it was a matter of course : but this could not occur on the public 
thoroughfare — in the illuminating light of day. The sun never 
beheld^it! no such insult was ever offered to his god-ship — in the 
face and front of wealthy, luxurious mansions ! 

A faintness at the thought of possible consequences of the fatal 
salute, and of the unreasonable jealousy of her mistress, changed 
the velvet bloom of her cheeks to pallor. She caught up the basket 
half-filled with plump clusters, tendrils and sprays; pinken white 
and yellow roses ; thorny stems and leaves ; threw in the scissors, 
stole into Grade's chamber, and fell into the crimson arm-chair 
recently occupied by her young lady duriug her interview with 
Leonore. Equally striking, both pictures. There were tears for 
both faces ! disquieting anxiety, and fear. Both silently plead for 
pity and sympathy. A disinterested observer would have impul- 
sively yielded it to the latter. Zoe clasped her slender white fin- 
gers 'together, and wrung them, till her nails grew red as the petals 
in her^basket. She elevated them to an Invisible Friend; raised 
her pale face towards His viewless abode. She sunk back, with 
a long, low moan, and helplessly cried, — 
" Thou, God, seest me 1 " 

As if it were a relief to speak even to empty air, wringing her 
hands still, she moaned, — 

'•' Oh ! I can ask for no other aid ! I am a slave. Stony hearts 
surround me ! my wishes, my will, my truthfulness, my honor, my 
faithful services, are of no more account to them than the dust 
beneath their feet ! " 


She was startled by the departure of the visitor. She heard his 
adieus, heard his ringing steps down the marble walk, and out inlo 
the dead distance. She roused herself, strove to remove every 
vestige of disquietude, and awaited the carriage. 

Grace first entered the parlor. Mother and daughter held a pro- 
longed conference. Both came up to the chamber together. Zoe 
saw the storm approaching, but was grimly allowed to attend upon 
Grace, before it broke. She was then told to stand and listen, 
while they confronted her with her crime. 

" So you have dared to assume the character of your mistress ? " 
sharply questioned the matron. 

"And you have dared to entice to yourself, the first greeting of 
my affianced husband ! " chimed Grace. "A fine minx are you to 
have about me ! " and the angry blood mounted to her hair. 

" Believe me, my dear ladies ! " meekly interposed Zoe. The 
first words of her justification were rudely broken off by the sharp, 
wild words of Grace, — 

"Believe 3'ou ! believe jw/ ! jjw/ ! full of brazen deceptive airs! 
You slid like a serpent, among the branches of the wisteria, with 
\\\Q purpose oi humiliating Ralph, and bringing gossiping disgrace 
upon this family " 

Mrs. Mowndes came to her assistance, — 

" I saw him salute you myself, at the parlor window. It was 
painful to witness his disappointment, v.'hen I assured him that 
Miss Grace was out taking an airing. He insisted that he had 
seen her at the upper piazza. Of course I would not explain to 
him what I knew to be the shameful truth. I assured him that 
his impassioned gaze had been subject to an illusion." 

"So, so, indeed!'*' cried Grace. "Because I once wore curls, 
you resolved to step into my shoes ! play the lady ! and — steal the 
mistaken homage of a high-bred gentleman! Aha! I will give 
you my shoes, which seem to fit you so admirably. Aha ! 1 will 
teach you to remember the degraded race from which you have 
sprung. I will teach you to remember you are a negro ! " 

The proud beauty, panting with the vehemence of scorn and 
rage, snatched off her slipper, glided swiftly to Zoe, and slapped 
the panic-stricken, defenceless girl's face, with the practised preci- 
sion of an amateur. 


!!illiiijj^' ! 





THE sister's QUAEREL. 


Zoe's hot blood burned, and flamed through her delicate skin, 
wherever the infernal instrument of torture wounded Her pulses 
sprang into a wild tumult. A lightning flash darted from her 
hitherto appealing eyes ! — Then it was, that her " Invisible Friend,'' 
saw her ! — and gently withdrew His sustaining hand from the 
ources of her abused life. Her brain swam, S/u sank scjiseless to 
the floor. She felt no pain, no passion, no bondage. Well, that it 
were so ! for blue blood slumbered in Zoe's veins — natural instinct 
might have stirred its dangerous depths in the maid, as well as in 
the mistress. Greek might have met Greek. Hot blood might 
have met its match in the same temperature. 

The disheveled curls, flattened and tangled by recent blows, 
trailed upon the velvet pansies of the carpet. 

Mrs. Mowndes pointed to this, and made a gesture to her daugh- 
ter. Grace quickly understood the intimation, and caught the 
scissors from the basket of Zoe's green clippings. With the soft 
tread of a panther, the madam crept to the heap of insensibility. 
Wearing a malignant smile, she rapidly severed every vestige of a 
ringlet from the beautiful head ! The shorn locks were indignantly 
thrown into the basket for burning ; there, through their dead and 
severed rings, peeped forth the purple, pink, and white of the dying 
flowers. Zoe's white temples gleamed up stark, and unveiled. 

Mrs. Mowndes and Grace, flushed with success, seated them- 
selves, in whispered interchange of plans. 

After a few moments, animation, unaided, returned to the pros- 
trated Zoe. She arose feebly, weak and calm ! seeming to have 
come from a far off land ! a stranger to those present ! She stood 
for a few instants with lids cast down, striving with quickening 
memory ; with the saddest of voices, she ventured to speak. 

"My dear ladies ! I do not deny that I was on the piazza, and 
that I saw that unfortunate act of politeness extended to me, your 
slave, — but I beg. Miss Gracie, you will allow me to say, I did not 
bow myself, and had no intention of taking 3^our respect and honor 
to — me — your servant ! " 

" Hush ! " retorted Mrs. Mowndes ; " not another word from 
your treacherous lips ! Another falsehood, and I send you to the 
work-house for twenty lashes ! " 

" Your punishment for the present," said Grace, " is to take off 


your finery, go to the kitchen, and do the drudgery suited to your 
impudence and condition. — Go ! — Leave my sight ! " 

Zoe staggered to the stairs, and by the support of the friendly 
railing, was striving to reach the hall below. James, the footman, 
standing near, saw with a shudder the disfigured and tiembling 
gill slowly decending : he took a rapid survey upward, set his foot 
on the second stair, sprang lightly up, and fairly lifted her to the 
floor. He took her arm, and lent her his strength to the kitchen 
door — laid his hand caressingly on the bare head, and flew back 
to his post, unobserved. 

Zoe's mother, warned by the whispers of other servants in the 
kitchen, met her silently ; caught her in loving arms, almost carry- 
ing her up the dark and narrow staircase, to her own room. She 
kissed o'er and o'er the half-blistered cheeks, and laid her upon 
her own humble bed. 


THERE was no flagging in the interest of revival week at 
Cloudspire. Edmund Stone, the hunch-back, fulfilled the 
promise of a sermon upon the abodes of the Blest and the Lost. 
A prophetic and solemn style of delivery, united with a wonderful 
perspecuity of description, presented the scenes of Heaven and 
Hell before the listener's eye with the vivid transitions of a moving 
panorama ; inspiring unlimited confidence. His manner had the 
assurance of a tourist, who had made an official inspection of both 
regions. He laid the Heavenly streets like the walks of an orna- 
mental flower garden, and paved them with pure gold. 

The yellow gleaming of a golden pavement was exceedingly- 
pleasant to those stern heads of families, whose entire earthly exist- 
ence had become a weariness to the flesh, in pursuit of the precious 

He next presented to view a pure river of the water of life, clear 
as crystal, running through the midst of this aerial abode. To the 
audience, this river was well enough in its way ; but not so inviting 
a feature to New Englanders, as it would have been to caravan 


travelers, in dry and torrid regions. Crystal waters are a very 
common incident — they pour over rocks — rush through the 
meadows — wash the feet of forests. The wheels of the hay-carts 
roll through them, dripping sunlighted drops, in showers. Many 
of the audience thought they had seen some beautiful views in 
earthly waters. Pictures of cattle, standing knee deep in the sheeny 
flood, flecked with green, leafy shadows, or flaming with sunset 
hues. The boys remembered the splashing of little birds, wading 
in shallow places — and the white pond lilies which they brought to 
the shore as soon as their height measured the length of a lily 
stem. They thought of the swimming coves, and forgot Heaven ; 
thinking only of a green terraqueous summer; but finally dropped 
the subject by wondering if this " river of life " ever froze over 
hard enough for skatino:. 

The preacher passed from the crystal river to the " tree of life." 
He assured them its varied fruits matured afresh every month. 
To make it available for the millions of glorified spirits who might 
seek its allurements, he described it as a Banyan, — its outspreading 
branches dropping down light shafts, and taking root ; which in turn 
again spread, thus extending over an immeasurable area. It would 
be the sacred privilege of the saints to pluck these delicious fruits, 
such as the scarlet apple, the luscious orange, the tawny pome- 
granate, the velvet peach, the melting fig and plantain; besides 
other heavenly varieties, never tasted by mortals. 

His voice now ceased. He seemed to have gathered his audi- 
ence around the celestial fruit, and left them. 

In anticipation of his next division, he extended his thin hands 
over the people, holding them there, as if from his finger-tips dis- 
tilled the same lofty satisfaction which filled his own thoughts. 
At length, vacant straggling smiles beamed forth at the impressive 
announcement, "There is no sorrow nor crying there! " — A bil- 
low of smiles passed over the crowd of upturned faces, as a wave of 
sunlight rolls over grain fields. Those of the congregation broken 
down by hard and struggling lives, and who had each dwelt from 
childhood in their own separate vales of tears, hollowed out by 
their own industry, this vale being almost their only earthly posses- 
sion, — these felt a strong desire for the solidity of golden streets, 
and the smooth tract of that sea of glass which could fwt be in- 


dented into "vales." Those worn women who had, through a te- 
dious life, listened to crying of all degrees, from the early cradle, 
almost to the grave, looked up refreshed. 

The climax was reached in the description of the foundations of 
Heaven — laid in precious stones; — jasper, sapphire, emerald, 
topaz, beryl and amethyst. He dwelt upon the dazzling brilliancy 
of each — rainbow-hued and perpetual. He showed the twelve 
gates — each gate of one pearl — "a soltaire." 

The young maidens of these rural districts, who had never seen a 
diamond, or a pearl, except in dreams, and as appertaining only to 
royalty and rank, resolved then and there, that heaven should be 
their home; — they would go forward for prayers that very day. 
If, in the course of Providence, they had been denied the lots of 
princesses, with these perishable insignia of rank, in this life, they 
could at least win an ever-enduring palace, whose imperial walls 
and gates should glitter with gigantic gems. 

Edmund Stone wept with joy over the recognition of friends, 
on hi£:h. Mothers would know their children — children would 
rush to parental arms — husbands would again enfold lost wives — 
and vice versa. The hunch-back rose on his toes, turned his eyes 
upwards, and spread his palms towards the ceiling; as if to clutch 
the hands of unseen spirits. Happy thought ! Theologians had 
within a few years changed the locality of " babes and sucklings," 
from the burning pit to the more tender nursery of the '' Saint's 
Rest." They had considerately and paternally placed their tender 
infantile feet on the golden streets, and plumed their tiny souls with 

snowy wmgs 

Hence the Rev. Stone, ever a hard student of contested doc- 
trines, chose that infants should flutter on cherubic pinions to the 
pearly gates, like white doves, to welcome the arrival of long-lost 
mothers. Attenuated Mrs. Limpsey lifted her gaze upon the 
speaker with a filmy glow of joy in her pale gray eyes. 

Dear Mrs. Limpsey had a claim upon this portion of the dis- 
course that few others could boast. In her youth she began as far 
back in the Bible as the time of Noah, piously intending that her 
life should be an illumination of all its pages, to Revelation. But 
she had never found time or strength to get beyond the first com- 
mand, " Be ye fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth." 


Mr. Limpsey, her lawful husband and protector, perceiving this 
spiiilual want of his wife — that of progress in the " Divine life," — 
selected for her the most life giving sentiment of Paul's epistles. 
Wnile stemming the tide of life's cares and duties, he walked 
backwards towards his consort, ever holding aloft, above all minor 
considerations, this flaming torch of the ancient Scriptural Bache- 
lor, — "Wives, submit yourselves to your husbands." Thus did she 
ever feel herself supported in the fulfillment of both the old and 
the new dispensations. 

Mrs. Limpsey had given the town and church twenty-one evi- 
dences of her obedience to the command given to Noah. Thirteen 
of these pious offerings were called back to Heaven at an age 
when no doubts could be entertained of their salvation ; and doubt- 
less they were now flying about the Golden City, awaiting her arrival. 
Blessed thought! A faint smile flitted in among the wrinkles, but 
flitred as quickly away. 

Farmer Windham, who had parted sorrowfully at the graves of 
four wdv'es, and was nov/ living with a fifth — a thoughtless girl 
of eighteen, making sad havoc with his earthly possessions — cast 
a "wishful eye " upward — then bent his head, that he might more 
vividly anticipate the numerous rapturous embraces awaiting him 
in the world beyond. Thus over the old church, smiles, sighs and 
tears wreathed the high pulpit, and formed a halo around the head 
of the marvelous prophet. 

The lizard changes color, conforming to the objects upon which 
it crawls. So changed Edmund Stone. A cloud of gloom settled 
upon his narrow, retreating brow. His lips compressed — his 
head drooped. Then the clenched hands lifted, the crooked form 
straightened ; and in an agonized voice he shrieked, — 

"Who among the congre2:ation would be lost in hell? 

" Who would go down into the lake of fire and brimstone ? 

"Who, amidst flame and torture, through eternal ages would cry, 
I'm burning ! I'm burning ! Tm burning ? 

" Who would plunge into a never-ending eternity of torture, 
wherein the wrath of God will 7ie7^er be appeased ? 

Who would be shut from the pearly gates of Heaven, and drop 
into the bottomless pit ; where the smoke of their torment ascend- 
eth up, forever and ever ? 


*' No limpid ' river of life ' in Hell, my friends ; not one drop of 
water to cool your parched tongues ! No tree for the healing of 
your pains casts its shade in these frightful precincts." 

Taking up the word '■ forever," and dilating upon its length, he 
slowly disintegrated a mountain, atom by atom. He allowed a 
million of years to the removal of each infinitesimal particle. With 
impressive pauses interspersed, he guided the imagination from one 
mountain to a whole range ; and from one range to all the known 
ranges on the globe. 

"And yet, my hearers," said he, "these immeasurable millions 
of years are but the beginning of torment " He pictured whole 
nations launched into this Gehenna ; communities and individuals, 
hosts unnumbered, writhing, cursing, and blaspheming in the sul- 
phurous abyss. A fiendish carnival of moans, groans, shrieks, and 
curses, carried on in every language spoken by men. He con- 
tinued : 

" Over this gulf of endless death, this jargon of lost souls fetid 
with unforgiven sin, hideous volumes of black vapors continually 
lift themselves ; like funereal plumes overhanging the wailings of 
the damned. These deadly vapois, falling back whence they 
came, in stifling mephitic showers, kindle afresh with their noxious 
gases, the fires that never die." 

The hideous acme of success was reached. A glowing Tartarus 
had been uncovered, and its suffocating smoke ascended into the 
very nostrils of his congregation. Grim horror met his gaze on 
every hand. The pulpit seemed to rise up monumented from the 
midst of damned souls. There remained only one point to be 
gained, this frozen gloom must melt to repentant tears. 

A ready tactician, as well as a deep theologian was Edmund 
Stone. With lowered tone as in subdued despair he cried, — 

"No God is there, my friends ; no God is there ! The ineffable 
glory and mercy of His face are veiled from the sight of the Lo6t. 
Amid those lapping tongues of flame. He will not walk, as He 
walked with His servant Daniel ; your deepest prayers will never 
soften His terrible anger. Lost once, my hearers, lost forever ! 
Lost ! lost ! lost ! " 

This was Friday, the last of the active labors of this harvest 
week. Therefore, he chose the great moral engine of Fear ; which 


should move alike the young and the old, the timid and the indif- 
ferent. He worked its levers with the power of a demon, and the 
sao-acity of a connoisseur. He dragged the entire reason and will 
of Ills hearers after him by its sheer mechanical force, whether they 
would or no. He closed by giving the terrific shriek of an engme 
Hearing the " station." His shrill wailing cry dropped into the 
square box pews and rose among the dusky galleries. 

"Woe, woe, woe, unto you who live in this day of gospel light ! 
if you turn not your feet from the black abyss of a yawning^ Hell. 
Choose ye this hour — this moment, your future abode? Will ye 
dwell forever in eternal fire ? or will ye enter the pearly gates, and 
walk the golden streets ? The great Jehovah is here, awaiting 
your decision. Will you let him depart, counting this day as your 
last opportunity ? Behold your Savior, knocking at the door ! He 
beseeches admittance ! Come ! come ! " and with both hands 
extended, he descended to the area within the anxious seats, sing- 
ing as he went, this hymn ; entitled, " Hell, or the vengeance of 

" With holy fear, and humble tongue 
The dreadful God our souls adore ; 
Reverence and awe become the tongue 
That speaks the terror of his power. 

Far in the deep where darkness dwells. 

The land of horror and despair, 
Justice has built a dismal Hell, 

And piled her stores of torment there. 

Eternal plagues, and heavy chains ! 

Tormenting racks, and fiery coals — 
And darts to inflict immortal pains, 

Dyed in the blood of damned souls. 

There Satan, the first sinner, lies — 

And roars, and bites his iron bands ! 
In vain the rebel strives to rise — 

Crushed with the weight of both God's hands! 

There, guilty ghosts of Adam's race 

Shriek out ! and howl beneath Thy rod : 

Once they could scorn a Savior's grace — 
But they incensed a dreadful God ! 


Tremble ray soul, and kiss the Son, 

Sinners obey the Savior's call ! 
Else your damnation hastens on ! 

And Hell gapes wide, to wait your fall." 

An appalling sense of the wrath to come, distorted the lineaments 
of all those who had hitherto remained unmoved. The seats filled 
quickly. No essential mention was made of their sins. It was 
an understood thing — this total depravity. They were to be saved 
then and there, by the acceptance of Christ. Sin was believed to 
be incorporated into their bein^. Sin flowed with vitality through 
every vein. Hereditary sin permeated every pore, and electrified 
every ficre 1 — Sin in mankind, like the intestine fires of earth, was 
believed to be the dangerous core of a specious surface. Its 
proper manifestations were seen in overt acts, — it was known to 
exist by Vesuvius, or ^Vr^w^^^// deeds — of murders, robberies, as- 
sassinations, piracies. 

The town of Cioudspire considered itself happily free from these 
volcanic phenomena. Nevertheless, the elfish depravity of Adam 
was believed to have been implanted in every nature. 

Still, other moral phenomena of a less turbulent character, daily 
occured — phenomena which neither gave offence, nor excited con- 
troversy, — which no more rufiled the religious complacency of the 
church, than summer breezes, or sifting snows. 

There was the hard grasping hand of greed — which wrung the 
wages of the poor to a mere pittance. There were those, who, 
when besought by famishing souls for the bread of love, and com- 
passion, gave "a stone.". There was noble, earnest womanhood, 
crushed to the abject endurance and silence of "menials." There 
were those denominated in the New Testament as " thieves," who 
robbed girlhood of its innocence, and fair fame— then left their vic- 
tims by the wayside, to die of shame, and despair ;— and then there 
were those, in the church and out of it, who " passed by on ihe other 
side." There were those who made color the fierce pass-word to 
gaunt misery, degradation, and crime — and then thanked God 
they were not as black men were. There were tongues, forked 
tongues of scandal; whose scathing fire equaled the "lapping 
flames " described by Edmund Stone, -tongues which roused fra- 
ternal hatred into endless bickerings, and blackened everything 
' green and beautiful," in life. 


These things, and more, daily passed unheeded. They were 
regarded as tlie natural elements of society, and outside the radii 
of their gospel, and creed. 

Cloudspire gospel was a Mosaic fossil — as sacredly preserved as 
the bones of a canonized saint Cloudspire creed was a venerable 
"antique." It was well rooted in the garden of Eden,— it grew 
apace in the Ark of the Deluge. It still bore the sacrificial blood 
stains of the slain bulls and rams of Solomon's lime, — and the 
withered threads of Jonah's gOurd clung in fantastic tracery about 
it. It was a grim old century plant ; which blossomed only at cen- 
tennial, or millennial periods. The pale green mold of ages laid 
upon its thick fibrous leaves. It blossomed last at the crucifixion 
of the Savior; and its vitality seemed shocked, rather than quick- 
ened, by that great event. Its growth ceased at the tomb of a dead 
Christ, Years were yet to melt into the past, before there should 
spring from its sluggish heart the inflorescenceof humanity, charity, 
peace, and reconciliation, which should have been the first fruits 
of His death. The witchcraft of creed mummeries, had weirdly 
dabbled with His blood, obliterated the Golden Rule, and dazed 
the eye of conscience. 

While the Rev. Stone, assisted by the congregation, was singing 
the aforesaid hymn, nothing remained to be done by those under 
condemnation, but to accept the waiting God, and Chiist ; or to turn 
their backs, and pertinaciously refuse them — both of which high 
privileges were granted to these depraved creatures, by the received 
traditions of "the Fathers." 

The harvest of souls that day was unprecedented ! The hunch- 
back was regarded with a shade of envy by the younger portion of 
the ministry ; but was declared by his elders, a sanctified instru- 
ment of grace. 

Night shades, and a heavy snow-storm w^ere falling without. 
After the usual notices w^ere read by the pastor, the Town Clerk 
rose fiom the singers' seat in the gallery, and from a slip of paper 
cried, — 

'• WilliajH Steele of South Ca?'oimaj and Lucy Clarendo7i of Cloud- 
spire^ Massachusetts^ i?itend f?iarf'iage. 

Consternation ensued. The hand of the Lord was surprisingly 
stayed, by the piping voice of the diminutive official. Flashing 


indignation lurked in many a maiden's eye. Mothers bit their h"ps 
from chagrin, — and the astounded visages of hopeful fathers, fell 
with disappointment to the floor. 

The matrimonial prize in the protracted meeting had been 
drawn, and the brown old meeting house was left to itself. 

The blustering snow-storm careering on the north wind, kept all 
at home for the evening. It roared in the cavernous chimneys, 
and howled at the window panes. Tumblers of " sling", and '• hot 
punch " passed freely around the blazing fires. Tongues were flip- 
pant. The " Hill of Zion " was made to "yield " a thousand sacred 
sweets. " 

The clergy, and those of the laity without marriageable daugh- 
ters, were unanimous in the braise of the Southern visitor, and of 
his efforts in the revival. He was evidently a " man of God." 
His talents and influence were greatly to be esteemed in any com- 
munity. His departure from New England was decided to be a 
loss ; but it was conceded to be a great gain to the South, where 
he had taken up his abode. 

Fanny stepped out of the church into the whitened air, wearing 
a joyous face. Her spiritual yearnings were in a measure stilled. 
Within its walls, she had endeavored to yield implicit faith to the 
mysteries of a creed which held within it an angry, and implacable 
God, and a vicarious crucified Christ. She considered it a high 
privilege to meet with Their chosen people, to whose keeping, 
doubtless, was committed the redemption of souls. 

The double green doors were closed, and locked upon the sol- 
emn arcana of creed, and the speculative faith of believers. The 
" Steele " Bible, the price of innocence, and the holiest affection, 
was folded in its linen vestment. The costly silver Font with the 
three brooding angels, rested in its velvet lined box, in a secure 
niche beneath the pulpit, guiltily guarding its dark secret. 

Fanny carried nothing with her from the great Throne-room of 
the universal King, but her personal depravity. It was outside the 
church that the perfections of the great Creator had been revealed 
to her consciousness, and affections. 

The deacon's box sleigh, with a tumble of " buffaloes " and 
blankets awaited them at the steps — Henry in his warm overcoat 
and mittens, sat on the front seat, soothing the fretfulness of Czar 
and Sultan. 


*' Deacon Steele ! " said Fanny, " may I ask the favor to ride on the 
front seat with the driver, that I may see your beautiful horses ? " 

This flattering request put the deacon in an indulgent humor. 

"Yes! yes! climb over there, you little horse jockey! but you'll 
freeze, wont you .'' " 

" Thank you, deacon, no ! I like the snow! " 

"Yes! yes ! you like every thing under the blue heavens, I be- 
lieve. There ! let me tuck you in. Look out for her, Hen. Some 
of these ' thank-ye-marms ' '11 toss her out ! " 

Prudence White's pale, sanctimonious face looked up to her and 
said, " Come down here ! child. That seat's the place for men ! 
Now's the time to think of something else, besides horses ! " 

"Tut! tut! Miss White," curtly replied the deacon; 't won't 
hurt the girl ! She knows there ain't such a span in town as mine. 
She knows it as well as I do." • 

The high spirited creatures dashed away, round the old church, 
down the hill, through the swamp, among the dark green hemlocks 
cloaked with ermine, between fence ra'ls trimmed as prettily as 
Fanny's hood, wdth down. 

" He giveth his snowlike wool ; thought she. " His glory is 
above the earth, and heavens." 

She felt herself very near to Him who made the earth so tran- 
scendently beautiful. Every moment of this ride was spent in 
garnering up into her soul, the beauty about her. Henry ventured 
to bresk the silence in a manner which he knew would not be 
offensive to the deacon, and at the same time would interest his 

" Did you hear that. Miss Fanny?" 

'•The bells, Henry.?" 

"Yes, Sultan is proud of his bells, but the thick air muffles 
them. He gave that sprihg to shake the music out of 'em. 
W^atch Czar, Miss Fanny, and he will do the same thing." 

" There he goes now ! " she replied, with a burst of laughter. 
" What a shower of music he shakes out of his bells." Snow-flakes 
were dancing in and out of their fluffy, flurrying manes, and cling- 
ing to their flying foretops. 

Henry directed her attention to this, adding, — 

" There's a fresh drift across the road just ahead ; keep your eye 
on them, now." 


He drew a taut rein, and braced his feet anew. With a rear 
and a snort, they plunged in, shoulder deep. The light snow flew 
like a cloud, powdering their silken coats from head to heels. Ar- 
rows of frozen breath darted from panting nostrils, as they went 
leaping and bounding on. 

'ihe deacon disentangled himself from the buffaloes, and stood 
looking over Fanny's head. 

" How's this for sleighing ? How's the horses now ? " 

" Handsomer than ever, sir, and this kind of sleighing is delight- 

" But I mistrust that one half of your errand up here to this seat 
was to sit with Hal." 

I am very glad if my sitting here is any comfort to Henr)^ for 
his life is lonely enough. A few pleasant words cost no trouble." 

" I thought you might persuade Hal to go forwards for prayers. 
In this wonderful outpouring of God's spirit, we all hoped he 
would not forget his never dying soul." 

" I did ask him to go, but he said he must be excused. He can 
pray anywhere, you know, Deacon Steele." 

" That is true, Fanny, but when we refuse God's appointed 
means of grace, we are not apt to get his blessing elsewhere, in 
our own willful way. There was a nice place left for his color at 
the altar ; he could have knelt all alone by himself. And God is no 
respecter of persons in His plan of salvation." 

"Yes, I saw that empty seat," said Fanny in a sorrowful tone — 
"And I offered to go and kneel with him, in it, but he said, ' No, 
Miss Fanny : you don't know all I know.' So I didn't urge him 
any more, God is merciful, you know, sir." 

"True! He's merciful, or he wouldn't receive such totally de- 
praved beings as we are into His favor. But Hal should know He 
is a jealous, and avenging God also." 

The horses were wallowing, springing, and panting in successive 

" Let them go, Hal," said the deacon. " They like to frolic in 
the snow. *t won't hurt 'em." 

The candles were already winking in Mrs. Steele's kitchen ; in- 
viting the cold wa)farers to enter. There was the usual stamping 
of feet, shaking of cloaks, hats and shawls, before entering the 


room for supper. This was the kitchen — comfortable and tidy as 
ever. The old stove roared a welcome. The oval braided cloth 
mats around it invited cold feet. The tea kettle instituted a chat- 
tering cantata, entirely irrelevant to " revival weeek." 

The change from the desolate interior ot the meeting-house to 
the papered walls of this room, was more than agreeable. . The 
scarlet nasturtions, and blue bachelor's buttons woven into its bor- 
ders, suggested thoughts of summer and gardens. The '' dark 
abyss of damned souls," slid out of mind. The " New Jerusalem " 
on high, lost attraction before a bountiful spread table, 

"This night is a stinger, mother," said the deacon to his wife, 
who was lifting the warm viands to the table ; — but its worth whiie 
to be out in blustering weather, to hear such preaching as we heard 
to-day. Edmund Stone can't be out-done in the terrors of the 
second death." 

" Was there many hardened sinners melted to-day ? " she asked 
in her sotto sostenuto voice, which was most religiously reserved for 
this kind of topics. 

" Yes, wife. Our w^ork's about done ! It's been a profitable 
and savin' time." 

" Was your brother William's intended at the meeting.^ — I mean 
Lucy. It wouldn't be well for him to be unequally yoked together 
with an unbeliever ! " 

The tone grew more nasal and puerile, still." 

"Yes," chimed in Prudence White in a pitiful whine. "Yes! 
Religion should be the first consideration ui a wife for William. 
His prayers should be strengthened by hers." 

" I believe Lucy ' has a hope ' already — I am told so," said the 
deacon. "William questioned her on it." 

" She ought to be under the guardianship of the church." 

" So I thuik. Prudence. There's no safer place in the world than 
the church ! " quoth Mrs. Steele, as she passed the tea to her guest. 
There ! Prudence. I've made your tea as strong as lye; for I tho't 
you'd be kinder nerved up to-night." 

'• Yes, Miss Steele — the spirit is willin', but the flesh is weak. I 
take my tea strong." 

It was time for the deacon to support the reputation of his 
brother ; for it was not falling into honeyed mouths. He therefore 
came to the rescue. 


"Well, we're all one family, as it were ; and I'll tell you what I 
know. William will not enter into the holy bonds of matrimony 
with Lucy, till she's been baptized, and taken into the bosom of 
the church. He says them Southerners are the most religious peo- 
ple he has ever found, — and a person that isn't a church-member 
can't be reckoned among 'em. Take another cut of this roaster of 
pork. Miss White. The laborer is worthy of his hire. You've 
worked hard in the Lord's vineyard to-day." 

"Without praisin' myself, deacon, I'm never happier than when 
I'm in the Lord's service. Ill take another potatce, and a few 
spoonfulls of gravy, and a couple of onions — I'm very fond of 


" I doubt if that old miser Conchlan would have taken one step 
from the wrath to come, without your persuasion. Prudence ; you 
fairly dragged him up to be prayed for." 

" Father, was it that rich old bachelor, you mean ? " enquired 

The canting twang was forgotten, in Prudence's haste to reply. 
There was an unusual sprightliness in the words, — 

" Yes, dear, the same man. His case seemed to weigh upon me 
from the beginning of the revival. I'll take another cup o'tea, 
Miss Steele. These China cups o'yourn air rather small. Fanny, 
will you pass me the bread ? I'm very fond o'light wheat bread ; 
Mary, give me a little more quince sauce ; I'm very fond o' quince." 

Two kinds of cake graced the table. Both were passed to Pru- 
dence, who took a piece of each, and said, — 

" You make such nice riz cake, i\Iiss Steele ; and I am very fond 
of cup cake too." 

Two kinds of pie were next offered. Prudence regaled her 
weariness by accepting both mince and cream ;for mince and cream 
were the pies she was very fond of. 

Hal and Foxey came in from the barn together. They were the 
best of friends. Hal took his supper from the small side table. A 
bit of the pork, several potatoes, a cube of rye bread, and a piece 
of mince pie, with rye crust. 

Fanny added to the plain meal by transferring to his plate her 
piece of cake, which she had left uneaten. Mary and her mother 
" did up the dishes;" then all repaired to the warm little parlor. 


The Others took their knitting, while Fanny drew from her 
pocket, Aunt Letty's caps, now nearly finished. 

"What now Fanny?" asked the deacon. "Ruffles! ruffles! I 
think you're pretiy enough without ruffles ! " 

" These ruffles are not for myself, sir." 

"Who then?" 

" They are caps for black Letty, down by the brook." 

" By George ! you're hunting up all the black folki ! Hey ? " 

No glow of shame reddened her cheeks at this thrust ; rather, 
the enthusiasm in her eyes intensified. " Do you know Deacon 
Steele, that I want to be a foreign missionary among people of 
their color? My mother opposes this desire. vShe tells me that 
charity begins at home. She says there is missionary work all 
about here, for every good Christian to do." 

She held up her work. 

'• Here are my small beginnings." 

A sacred frown "from on high," lighted on Prudence White's 
brow. She inquired if Fanny's missionary zeal led her to seek out 
the needy among the white poor, as well ? 

"There are none about us, so poor as the colored people, — and 
I must acknowledge. Miss White, my sympathies are strongest for 
the most destitute." 

" My child ! there is a Bible reason for this poverty. These chil- 
dren of Ham are under the direct curse of God^ and they will be, for 
centuries to come. Fanny, they are ' hewers of wood, and drawers 
of water' — servants to us white people. That kind of labor always 
gets small wages. I never see a black face, but that text comes 
right up before me, ' Cursed be Canaan ! * " 

" Then it seems to me, we should be doubly watchful, that we 
may supply their necessities ! " argued Fanny. 

" You see, my dear, you are too young to examine these things, 
as I have. It has been the study of my life. What is to be, inust 
be ! They are to be poor, and despised. We are not to meddle 
with God's decrees, or his curses. It's dangerous work ! This 
passage, ' Touch not the accursed thing', points out our christian 
duty towards them, as plain as a light set on a hill. It's the height 
of audacity to do it, and I've heard this question argued by the 
greatest divines." 

For some time past, Mrs. Steele had vainly endeavored to bring 


the middle of her seam needle in conjunction with the closing 
words of somebody's opinion ; which event happened at this fort- 
unate moment. Dropping the stocking on her knee, she assumed 
an air of as much sternness as she could command. 

She resolved to add to the arguments against Ham and all his 
progeny. She would let her light shine, in rebuking this young 
girl's unworthy, and untaught zeal. 

This dogmatical purpose, however, was but a comic mockery, — 
for, all fixed purposes, and stamina of character had been crushed 
out of her, long ago. In every dilemma of reason or judgment, the 
jaded woman had relied upon the authorities. "J/)' husband,'' and 
"'■ our miiustcr'\ were the two lawful w^eights she threw into the un- 
certain scales of her enfeebled intellect. By these, she weighed 
the subtle essence of metaphysics, Mosaic law, and the Christian 
dispensation. If, in hours of her w^eariness, and nothingness, her 
soul dared to assert its natural right to growth, and its hatred to 
serfdom, '^ My husband''' was thrown into the troublesome balance. 
Weariness, and nothingness kicked the beam. 

If in contemplation of the gibbet, the scaffold, or the hangman's 
rope, any weak womanly chills of horror disturbed her peace, and 
joy in believing, she tied "-our minister ^\ to the victim's heels ; and 
plumb through the drop, went both, together. After thus balan- 
ancing affairs, she pursued the even tenor of the christian way. 
Since the arrival of their Southern guest, she felt that her sphere 
of reference was safely enlarged. There were now, '^ Mr. Steele's 
brother'', My husband ", and " Our minister''. 

To return ; the seam needle still held the others in abeyance. 
The deacon's wife raised her hand; the fore-finger was apparently 
directed to the eluding point to be made. Like the shadow of a 
vision, this point was melting away. 

What a hand to confute the equality of Ham's race! — What a 
hand to fix the stigma of bondage upon color ! No artist would 
have chosen it as a model of God's fair handiwork. That hand in 
marble would have shocked the sensibilities, and disgusted the 
tastes of woman's worshippers. Its natural proportions were de- 
stroyed — the palm broadened by hard usage — the once taper- 
fingers blunted and flattened at the tips — the nails once pinken as 
rose petals, now narrow, and awry — the edges broken into the 


quick — the joints swollen and deformed. In texture, it was rough 
and horny — in color, begrinimed and steamed to redness. 

The bent fore-finger made crooked aim at the point in question. 
She opened her lips and said ; 

" Yes ! Miss White ; you are right ; for Mr. Steele's brother 
says he never was so solemnly impressed with the truth of the 
prophecies of the Lord, as he has been in South Carolina. lie 
says the words of the Lord which he spoke throu,i:;h the lips of His 
servant Noah, ' Cursed be Canaan ! a servant of servants shall he 
be unto his brethren ; ' and this other text of Scripture, 'Blessed 
be the Lord God of Shem ! and Canaan shall be his servant', are 
wonderful ! Mr. Steele's brother says it's enough to make an infidel 
a Christian, to see how that curse is fulfilled down there, so many 
years after, in this Christian country ! " 

Oh, yes, Miss Steele ; we are a favored people, to live in an age 
when we see with our own eyes, the fulfillment of prophecy ; to see 
with our own eyes that our land is the chcsen land, where God ful- 
fills His written word. I hoped to have had more conversation 
with your husband's brother ; but his selection of a helpmeet has 
taken him from us. What other information respecting this 
doomed race of Ham, has he given you .'' I have a great desire to 
know how they bear this yoke of slavery." 

• "Well, Prudence, he says the white people and these black 
slaves down there, are as separate from each other, as the skies is 
above the earth. He says there 'pears to be a natural disgust for 
them, writ on the hearts of the white gentlemen and their families. 
They don't know nothin' but to plant rice and cotton, and a little 
corn. They can't read a word, nor write their names," 

" Miss Steele, how many of these children of Ham does one 
Southern gentleman generally own ? " 

" My husband's gone out ; he knows it all. But I believe he 
said one gentleman had five hundred sometimes — all living in 
rows of cabins away from the master's house." 

"Mother," said Mary, " every gentleman don't have so many — 
some have one hundred — and some have fifty, and less.' 

" Law sakes ! " cried Prudence, — 

" Now you don't say ! a hundred and up'ards to work for you all 
the year round, for nothing ! No wonder them Southerners are so 


rich ! and Miss Steele, I've heard say that these Southern ladies 
don't lift their fingers to any kind of work ; that their hands are 
lily white. So these Canaanites must work in the houses, too. 
Do they take to cookin' ? " 

" Tell her about uncle William's cook, mother ; suggested 


"Yes, child ! Mr. Steele's brother had a nigger woman to do his 
cookin', and he lived as well as he could wish to. Let's see ! what 
was her name, Mary ? " 

" Isabel." 

" Yes, Ishul. She knew enough to make his bed ; and he made 
her dust and sweep his room, as well as he could expect, down 

But, Miss Steele, I don't see how William could bear to have the 
great black thing round in his room, handlin' things. It would put 
me out, dreadfully." 

"Oh! she only came in after he' d gofie out. He didn't see her. 
She cooked in a little cabin away from the house, and slept there 
o'nights, as they always do. Why, Prudence White! he's got a 
little nigger to wait on him. You see he brings in all the victuals 
to William. So he don't see that black wench, as he says they 
call 'em down there, at all. And this little nigger brings his horse 
to the door, all saddled, and stands there with his hat off, till Wil- 
liam comes out. Then he always makes a low bow, and scrapes 
his foot back, out of respect to him. Why, Miss White ! my hus- 
bands brother don't so much as draw a pail of water, or pull his 
own boots off." 

Prudence dropped her knitting into her lap in astonishment, pon- 
dering upon the differ ence between her own hard working life, and 
that of the Southerners. 

" I declare ! " she said, " it must be an edifying life to live, espec- 
ially when we know that to be waited upon without liftin' your 
hand to a stroke o' work, is fulfil lin' the Scripter, and was fore-or- 
davied by God. A person would have so much time for meditation 
and prayer." 

Mary agreed enthusiastically. 

" That must be so ! for father says Uncle William has grown in 
grace since he went South. I've heard a great many say that 


Uncle William is more active in the advancementof Christ's king- 
dom now, than when he was in the Theological Seminary." 

The deacon brought in the customary evening treat, — hickory 
nuts cracked, a tray of spicy reds, and a pitcher of cider. He said 
to Fanny, — 

" Look up here ! Hal has been to work, pickin' out a saucer of 
wa'nut meats for you. I don'tknow what that Hal wouldn't do for 

Prudence rolled up her knitting, and put the needles in the tin 

"I've been expectin' these refreshments ; " she purred. "I'm 
very fond of apples, and nuts, and cider. We've been havin' some 
edifying conversation while you were gone." 

" Well, its a fact ! You women can talk more religion, in half an 
hour, than we men can in a week. Religion's more nat'ral to 
women folks. St. Paul forbids 'em to speak and teach in public 
— but there's a broad field for women to practise religion at ho7ne, 
and in their closets. If we hadn't had so many prayin', women in 
our town, I don't think we should ever send out so many young 
ministers to p'int a fallen world to salvation." 

"My husband's right," chimed in his wife. "I've been to them 
female prayer meetin's regular, for ten years ; and most of our 
church women have done the same. No rain, nor snow, nor sun, 
nor mowin' time, nor harvest ever kept us from meetin' at the 
throne of grace." 

" And you had your reward wife. — Take another apple. Prudence ; 
and another tumbler of cider." 

" I'll try a greenin' this time." Then she addressed Mrs. Steele. 

" Your reward has been in a blessin' on your prayers. If I re- 
member, ten years ago you told me that you had took up William, 
and was strong in prayer for him. We've seen him with our own 
eyes ; and witnessed how manfully he stands up for God, and His 
divine ordinances." 

''That's true ; as my husband says, we had our reward in seein' 
so many of our young men rise up to put down the ' man of sin,' 
and to gird on the armor of Christ — to fight valiantly against the 
powers of darkness. There was the widow Brown's two boys. 
We made them a subject of prayer, for a whole year; — but we 


prevailed at last. My husband knows how bright they came out on 
the side of the Lord. They studied for the ministry, and went 
missionaries to the Greenwich Islands. But them heathen was 
cannibals. They took them two young laborers in the Master's 
vineyard, and roasted 'em, and devoured 'em. But we all felt that 
our loss was their gain ; and that we could still say, blessed be the 
name of the Lord. ' 

"Then there was that tall Hopkins, you know, wife ; he was a 
subject of prayer in your circle, and he's gone a missionary among 
the Jews." 

'* The Jews ! The Jews ! " groaned Patience. 

"I never speak that name without a cold shudder runnin' over 
me. Those crucifiers of Christ ! — and still acrucifyin' him to this 
day. The Jews are worse than the heathen. The heathen never 
saw Christ, but the Jews have seen Him, and his works ; and yet 
refuse to believe in their Savior. They need missionaries ! " 

" Well, Miss White, the Jews have been well punished for their 
hardness of heart. They've been scattered over ihe earth like 
chaff, before the whirlwind of God's wrath." 

" Yes, deacon ! They're under a curse, like the Canaanites, not 
only here, but hereafter, for they will till the pit of despair for- 
ever ! " 

It was time now for Fanny's flesh to creep. She had never seen 
the points of Cloudspire's creed thrown into such glittering salience. 
Yet, if she had set herself to be a Christian believer, she must face 
His resentments. His towering wrath. His revenges on His ene- 
mies, His curses on the beautiful green earth, and His fiendish 
tortures prepared for a never-ending future, beyond the grave. 
She asked Prudence, — 

" Do you think the Jews are all cast off from the presence of 
God, forever ? " 

"Yes, child ; every one of them sink to the bottomless pit, pre- 
pared for the Devil and His angels, with the terrible sin of unbe- 
lief huns like a wei2;ht about their necks ! " 

" Mother, have you forgot Tim Ford ? " asked Mary. 

" No child : I was just comin' to him. Timothy was pale and 
sickly ; he couldn't earn a livin' on the farm. We carried him 
before the Throne of Grace, with the especial purpose that he 


should fight the beast with seven heads and ten horns. Our minis- 
ter says ihis means the Catholic's — and sure enough, he's now 
preacihn' to the Roman Catholics about worshipin' their idols 
made with hands, and about their wearin' so manv beads, and 

Here the face of Prudence grew fairly shriveled with abhorrence. 
Her thin lips trembled, — for the Roman Catholics were the bane 
of her life. She broke in, — 

" Miss Steele, I'm glad to know you've sent out a spiritual David 
with a slins: in his hand for the forehead ofthat Anti-Christ. I feel 
a righteous indignation at the very name ! I hope he won't forget 
to rebuke them for lightin' up so many wax candles, and for fillin' 
their churches with that smoke they call incense. It must be a 
terrible stench in the nostrils of the Almighty." 

'• Tim Fort won't forget none of 'em," replied Mrs. Steele, con- 
fidently : " he abominates Catholics." 

" Eanny, do you like Catholics too ? " asked Mary. 

'■ I know nothing about them, but by accident. I was lost once 
when a child, in the streets of New York. No one would listen to 
my grief, but two Sisters of Mercy. They kindly led me back to 
mv friends. I confess I have ever since, thought it was a Christian 


" Did you ever go to one of their churches, and see their 

idols ? " 

'• Yes. I persisted in being taken there, after the sisters brought 
me home. Everything was so beautiful to my sight. The stained 
glass windows; the colored lights; the wonderful music, the lii-:e 
of which I never heard before ; the dim seclusion ; the splendid 
robes of the priests; the mysterious forms of worship at the altar; 
the solemn chants ; all these drew me from earth and its sinfulness 
into another and holier sphere — like that which Edmund Stone 
described in his sermon, yesterday. It is a pleasant memory, and 
yet I may be wrong in all my thoughts about it." 

" You air wrong ! wickedly aud sinfully wrong ! " hastily ex- 
claimed Miss White. "Your own feet ara standing on slippery 
places, and — 

" No. no, Miss White. We must not be hard on Fanny. Her 
opinions are not formed yet. She is looking for light. You know 


there are no means of grace down to Alderbank. I've known her 
to walk three miles many a summer Sunday morning, over to our 
church ; and to pay more 'tention to the sermon, than half the men 
in the congrefiation, — and then walk the three miles back. The 
Lord is leading her young mind right." 

Mrs. Steele, who had been drawn under the surface in this sud- 
den whirlpool of debate, now came up in the outer circle, to breathe 
again. The rough, knotty, smirchy finger rose to view. She re- 
minded all present that there is but one door to enter the kingdom. 
(In her perspective, that one was the faded green door of Cloud- 
spire church . She reiterated, — 

''There is but one door; and 'he that climbeth up some other 
way, the same is a thief and a robber ; ' and Timothy Fort will tell 
them so." 

" He'll do that, mother. He's a bold soldier of the Cross," an- 
swered her husband. 

Before prayers, Fanny entered the kitchen to thank Hal for his 
remembrance and to speak a comforting word for his loneliness. 
His dark face kindled; for there was no mistaking her friendship. 
His heart warmed towards her religious faith, which included him, 
Susan, and his children. When she said, " God is good, Henry ; 
I want you to believe it," he did believe he?- God to be good. 
When she laid her hand on his arm, and said in a low tone, " Wear 
the clothes that Richard gave you, — protect yourself from the cold ;" 
he felt there was warmth and comfort forhim yet. 

Her return from the kitchen was rudely greeted by the upbraid- 
ing voice of Prudence. 

"Why, my child, I've been thinkin' more and more of your errors. 
Here you are, takin' up for the Jews and Catholics, just as you did 
for the sons of Ham. You are up in arms with the Lord, my child. 
Where He condemns and curses, you pity and excuse. You 
should go to your brother Richard for advice. He is learning 
sound doctrine. Let him guide you." 

The deacon entered, saying, — 

" I think the sun'll come up clear to-morrow morning. I hope 
Fanny ; for we are all anxious to hear Richard. He's a lamb of 
our flock." 

" Oh ! yes," solemnly sighed the hostess, looking towards Pru- 


dence. " If Richard follows in the footsteps of my husbrnd's 
brother, we shall feel repaid for our our prayers." 


THe sun hung above the plumy western woods on the ".Main." 
" Nightingale Hall," on the north-west corner of the island, 
stood lifted airily from the ground, on its tall brick pillars, — so 
high that its mistress used to ride under the first lioor, sitting in 
her saddle, without grazing the white plume of her hat. A long 
flight of broad stairs, hedged by fragrant myrtle and orange shrub- 
bery, opened upon the piazza. This piazza, bioad and saloon-like, 
surrounding three sides of the Hall, was shadsd and embowered 
by glossy green magnolias, and the broad fanning leaves of the 
sycamore. Orange trees held their golden fruit along the high 
balustrade, so that the lounger had only to reach the hand over, or 
through the railing for their delicious globes. Tall oleanders 
scattered pinken and snowy blossoms, side by side with the orange, 
along the balustrade, within easy reach of their admirers. 

The view from the western piazza was one of characteristic 
Southern beauty. Beyond the gardens and enclosures of the Hall, 
the eye rested first on the low cabins of the negro quarters, stretch- 
ing each side of a narrow street, and half hidden by low clumps of 
the fig ; then a strip of soft grassy marsh, beyond which, still black 
and shining from the receding tide, sloped away a broad muddy beach 
to the river. 

Sweeping around this beach, the swift current of the river, or rather 
arm of the sea, hastened back to the ocean whence it came, cutting its 
swift channel farther on through untold acres of golden grass 
grass marshes, as soft to the eye as satin flowers. 

Beyond the river, low level lands roiled out into rice and cotton 
fields, dotted here and there by verandahed plantation dwellings. 
These faded into distant pine-lands, dreamy with the delicious 
purple haze, which only a Southern clime throws so charmingly 
over all its scenes. 

In the north-west chamber of this mansion overlooking the view 


just described, the windo^vs were darkened by green blinds, neaHy 
closed. On a bed drawn into the middle of the floor, lay the pale 
form of a dying woman. The lace pavilion was looped high 
around the carved mahogany posts, to admit the rising evening 
breeze beneath its canopy. On one side of the bed, a tall black 
slave gently fanned the sufferer ; and on the other reclined a fair 
young girl. Her face rested in her hands on the same pillow with 
her mother ; and she was shedding such tears as only one about to 
become an orphan, can know. 

" Raise me up, my precious daughter ! " faintly demanded the 

" Let me look out upon nature once more, before I go." 

Elsie slid her strong arm under the pillows, and raised her so 
that her eyes commanded the view from the window, then drew 
herself upon the bed, and held the invalid tenderly in her arms. 
Hattie, brushing the tear drops from her sight, threw open the 
blinds. The window was protected from the slant rays of the sun 
by the deep sheltering roof of the piazza. She leaned abstract- 
edly against the casement looking dreamily therefrom. 

"Come, Hattie, daughter. I have something more to say to 
you ; " and as she approached the bed, her thin fingers clasped the 
small helpless hand extended to her. 

Hattie's grief poured forth afresh, — and as if awaiting a calmer 
moment, the dying mothers's gaze went out through the open win- 
dow, over the river, the marsh and the purple woodlands. The 
blue eyes gathered brightness for a moment, till mournful thoughts 
exhaled in a mist before them and fell upon the pillow in tears. 

"Hattie" she said, "I have always loved this island and this 
home, since I first saw them. I have had same sorrows in which 
you could not participate. But this dreamy tropical phase of nature 
has a balm in it, which has never failed to calm my soul. I have 
ever borrowed a sweet and heavenly tranquility from the unbroken 
level of these shores and the deep repose of these forests. I leave 
them to-day. If all be true that the wise have asserted, I shall 
soon walk by other waters, — by the River of Life. I shall soon 
look upon other blossoms, and gather the fruitage from the Tree 
of everlasting Life. Do not grieve, my darling, — death is the in- 
evitable lot of us all. A few years, more or less on the earth, are 


but a small spark of eternity. ^ly only regret is for you, my 
orphaned child ! but I can do no more than lo bid you, when left 
alone, to trust in Him who is above man." 

Throwing her arms about her mothei's neck, Hattie p.sked in 
agonized shrieks, — 

"Who will care for me now? Where shall I go? Oh ! my dear 
mother, let me go down into the grave with you ! I cannot live ! 
I did not think you would die ! " 

She caught her mother's hand, crying, — 

" Stay ! my precious mother ! Stay ! I fear to meet this dread- 
ful world alone! Oh do not go ! " — and she rained imploring 
kisses and tears upon her mother's marble forehead. 

"Do my dear young missus touch the bell ! " spoke Elsie in a 
low and rapid tone. " For the dear Jesus' sake, be quick ! " 

Raising herself in haste from the bed, with a face ashy pale, she 
asked despairingly, — 

"Oh, Elsie! tell me, have I killed her? Is my mother dead? " 

'■'• No, honey ! pull the bell quick ! " 

She reached the rope, and fell with a heavy sound upon the 
floor. The chambermaid entered. 

"Minnie," said Elsie, pour some wine as quick as possible, and 
put in a teaspoonful of that medicine in the bottle. Give it to me, 
and then throw cool water in Hattie's face ! " 

The blinds were drawn together j after a time, mother and 
daughter revived. 

"Go now," said Elsie to the chambermaid, — "send little Friday 
to stand by the bell- rope, and tell Mauma Rose to come, when it 



Now Hattie," faintly whispered her mother, " calm yourself. 
Listen for the last time. Colonel Ashland will kindly allow you to 
stay here. I have his sacred promise. I have laid by one thousand 
dollars of my earnings since I have been governess, South. It is se- 
curely deposited in the bank in Charleston. Colonel Ashland has 
the papers — he will acquaint you with the necessary details hereaf- 
ter. It is all yours, my clothes and jewelry are yours also. If you 
should ever go back to my native State, visit, if possible, the scene of 
my marriage, and the grave of your father. Go to the little church 
where he officiated. Lay upon the green mound that covers all I 


loved most in the world, a small chaplet of buttercups and daises, the 
wild flower wreath that his dear hands placed upon my brow, on 
that one happiest morning of my life — mv bridal day. Kneel by 
his last resiing-place ; and looking over the waters of Cayuga 
Lake, join us once more, by your sacred memories of my lonely 
Southern grave." 

The poor mother opened her arms. Hattie's head fell upon that 
loving, fainting heart for the last time. The hush of death was 
broken only by the moans of the young orphan, still enfolded in 
that cold embrace. 

Elsie motioned to Friday. Answering the bell, Mauma Rose 
came softly in, and perceiving the true state of affairs, unlocked 
the unresisting arms, and lifted Hattie from the bed. 

Sustaining and holding her still, she endeavored to assuage the 
terrible tempest of her grief, that shook her young life. 

"Hush, honey! Don't cry darlin', de modder gone — gone to 
blessed Jesus, de moder sing, sing glory now ; lib wid de Lord ; 
hold de palm leaf, and wear de white robe. She neber cry no 

Drawing her towards the door, she went on, — 

" Come wid Mauma Rose, poor Birdie ! IMauma Rose take 
care." She took Hattie to the nursery, begged her to lie down 
and sat by, fanning, and hushing her woe. 

At sunset, when evening dropped suddenly down, the clatter of 
hoofs up the avenue, followed by the yelping of hounds, and the 
discharge of guns, warned the household of the approach of the 
master from the day's hunt. 

Colonel Ashland, gratified with the day's success, sat a while 
upon the high piazza with his English guest; remarking upon the 
two slain deer lying on the greensward below, and engaged in 
mutual relations of English and American gala hunts, till supper. 

A repast of venison, ducks, and fish from the river rendered him 
tolerably complacent, so that ]Mauma Rose, the only one whose 
presence the Colonel tolerated under all circumstances, was al- 
lowed to enter. She courtesied, and remained standing at the 

'' Here comes my black shadow ! v.'ell, mauma, what now.'' " 

" Muss tell de masser bad news ! " 


Long she hesitated. He arose from respect to his friend, and 
entered the hall. 

" Speak now ! '* said he. 

" De guberness be dead, sir." 

"Another funeral! Good God! Who'll die next? I destest 
funerals ! 

" De Lord bring de fun'als, bressed masser." with another 

" Well ! If the Lord brings the funerals, I wish he'd carry them 
away, again. Damnation ! My sport is ruined for to-morrow ; " — 
pausing. " No, I swear by the Roman gods it shall not be ruined ! 
I'll hunt with the Bluffton Rangers, if a Death's head hang on 
every tree ! jMauma Rose, send Monday to me. I will give him 
orders for the grave. Send for the overseer's wife to stay through 
the night. I shall be in the saddle at sunrise ; you will hear the 
horns and the dogs, — after that, make arrangements, funeral at nine 
o'clock. The parson and the overseer's wife will accompany Hat- 
tie in the carriage. Tell the coachman.'' 

Mauma Rose courtesied low, and said, — 

" Will de bressed marser 'low me and Elsie to foller in de mule- 
cart ? " 

•' Yes. yes, you black impudence ! if you won't ask me another 

The governess, knowing that her disease was fatal, sent some 
days previous to Charleston by one of the boats plying between 
that city and the island, for a coffin for herself, and a mourning suit 
for Hattie. This had been confided to Rose and Elsie. The next 
morning, old Parson Still officiated in the spacious hall. Around 
the open coffin gathered all the house servants, and a few field- 
hands who had gained the consent of the overseer. A wreath of 
white roses, still wet with morning dews, lay upon the coffin, — from 
the hand of Elsie. White buds and green leaves- sprinkled the 
pure muslin shroud, and touched the light flaxen ringlets of the 
sleeper. Honora Hudson was as lovely in her w^hite flow'ers, and 
the marble beauty of her last repose, as when she stood at the bri- 
dal-altar, crowned with buttercups and daisies — redolent in the 
flush of her young life and budding hopes. 

True mourners stood about her. With calm faces and meekly 


folded hands, ihey listened to the words of Pastor Still ; feeling 
deeply the loss that took from their chequered lives, the only joy 
and comfort of the Hall. 

The procession, if such it could be called, moved over to " St. 
Luke's" — a lonely little church in the deep shades of sycamores 
and live-oaks by the road-side. It was a pleasant spot, — wild 
birds flitted through the branches, and filled the air with music, — 
light zephyrs gave animation to the trembling sun-tinted sprays. 

A small cemetery carefully enclosed, was near by; but the 
governess' grave was dug outside the palings that enclosed the 
blooded families. Within gleamed costly marble monuments, and 
headstones among roses — yews and palmy grasses; but Honora 
Hudson slept sweetly outside the aristocratic grounds, under the 
deep shadow of a sweet gum, in the wild- wood. She had long 
since ceased to pay any deference to such accidents of life, as 
wealth or birth. 

It was a pictuiesque group, that little band of slaves around the 
grave and its lonely young mourner, in the checkered light that 
sifted like a benediction through the tree tops. The parson lined a 
hymn ; their voices rose solemnly on the air, like sacred incense 
beneath green arches. There was a hidden resignation in the 
clear full tones, which had been garnered from the hopelessness of 
their own lives. 

Hattie turned to Mauma Rose, who stood close by her, and 
whose dear old face watched every changing look of "her chil's," as 
she called her. She clasped her arms about mauma's neck, with 
one long moan of anguish. Mauma held her to her heart, and 
hushed her as she would hush an infant, — then half carried her to 
the carriage door. 

Arrived at the Hall, the servants quickly removed every vestige 
of death's doings; opened windows and doors — filled vases v/ith 
flowers in the dining-room, halls, and sleeping-chambers ; till within 
and without, the very atmosphere was burdened with fragrance. 
The cooks in the kitchens kindled their fires afresh, and busily pre- 
pared for the evening's entertainment. The trusty butler gave 
orders, and a house-full of servants obeyed. 

Silver candelabra for the tables and walls received the final 
touches, and held tall wax candles in their polished arms. Treas- 


ures of family plates were unlocked, and disposed in showy mag- 
nificence on the dining-room tables. 

Picture frames with faces to the walls were tnrned about, pre- 
senting views of the chase in English parks, and Scotch highlands, 
and over each were hung the huge branching antlers of American 
stags ; some of them tipped with silver, and inlaid with a silver 
dafe of the day and year of its capture. 

The row of stables was drenched with water and thrown open to 
the sun. The gardener trimmed truant sprays, and swept avenues 
and walks. Towards sunset, Virgil, a prime jet black boy, was 
sent to the outer gate of the grounds, with orders to " trow open de 
bi<^ gate wide ; quick vou hear de marser horn ! Min' now ! Lis- 
ten boy ! Cowhide comin' ! " Virgil went to his watch, amusing 
himself meanwhile in jumping across the sandy road, Vv-hisUing like 
a grosbeak, turning somersault, walking on his two hands and bel- 
lowing like an alligator. . ,. 

Just as the sun dropped behind the v/estern woods, a winding 
horn brou^h him to his feet. The broad heavy gates were swung 
backwards! Colonel Ashland, with a galloping troop of uproarious 
hunters, rushed through, followed at a little distance by another 
body of mounted slaves, bringing in the game, guns and hired 

hounds. .,, , , , • 1 ^ 

As he arrived first, he blew a long shrill blast on his horn, to 
hasten the movement of the rear. On they came ; the black troop 
dashing after the heels of the first Horses, negroes, panting dogs, 
champing bits, the rattling of buckles, guns and trappings,— the 
lordlv commands of the several rangers to their footmen and the 
quick sharp reply of black menials, altogether made an enlivening 


Beds had been prepared for the '' Rangers ; " they were to re- 
ceive the hospitalities of " Nightingale Hall." The six body-ser- 
vants of the guests, mingling with the numerous house-servants, 
and all running to and fro at the master's orders, imparted a hum 
to hall, dressing-room and chamber. After the refreshing duties 
of the toilet, the party resorted to the inviting moon-lighted 

piazza. , 

Roastino- viands in the kitchen evolved a savory odor. iNou^, tlie 
various " boys," as they were termed, although they might be gray 


with years, stood like statues near their masters ; or gHcled up and 
down the long piazza stairs, like shadows. Brandies and wines 
were handed about on silver waiters, and drunk from silver goblets. 
Each hunter sat enveloped in the aroma of a cigar ; and, as is usual 
at such gatherings, the lide of discussion ran high on various sub- 
jects vital to South Carc^ina's domestic, and foreign interests. 

"Major Pendleton, ho'# are 3''0ur negroes progressing in the 'di- 
vine life ' under the new missionary 7'cguneV 

" Well, Major, I am not iftformed on that point, as religion is 
quite out of my line. However, I have built them a little church, 
and pay a Northern preacher a small salary per year. According 
to all advices, his instructions will relieve the overseer of some of 
his bloodiest labors." 

" Is this Northern preacher sound on the Bible doctrine of sla- 
very ? " 

" All right, I can assure you, sir, — and if he labors as assidu- 
ously to show my niggers that they were designed for bondage, by 
the Creator, as he has labored to demonstrate the same to me, I 
need fear no insurrection at present." 

"When, and in what manner, originated this idea of furnishing 
religious teaching for our slaves ? " asked Captain Mardyke. 

" In the year 1831 — I think," replied Major Pendleton, the Rev. 
Charles C. Jones preached a sermon on the spiritual destitution of 
our slaves, before two associations of planters in Georgia. He 
termed them 'A nation of heathen in our midst.* Of course, this 
stirred the public mind ; and the matter was referred to a commit- 
tee of the Synod of South Carolina and Georgia ; they reported 
upon the religious instruction of our colored population. In sub- 
stance they report, that from the Potomac to the Sabine river, from 
the Atlantic to the Ohio, there are not twelve men exclusively de- 
voted to the instruction of the negroes. They know of but five 
churches in the slave-holding states, built expressly for their use. 
They tell us that "in these years of revival, and benevolent effort 
in this Christian Republic, there are two millions of human beings 
in the condition of Heathen ; and in some respects, in a worse con- 
dition ! " 

"W^hen was that report made, sir? " asked Prof. La Bruce. 

"In Dec. 5, 1833, it produced quite a sensation in many states. 


It was considered at first, you remember, gentlemen, as inflamma- 
ory sentiment, and a dangerous expermient." 

" Yes ! I remember," said Colonel Ashland. We have proved 
that giving information of any kind to slaves is like applying a 
match to gunpowder, in regard to our safety. The more we shape 
them to the grand ideas of our Institution which are labor, and a 
prolific increase, the more secure and remunerative is our owner- 
ship. But after much agitation and conference of leading South- 
ern minds, it has been thought that churches for our slaves would 
make better workers, and prove safeguards for ourselves." 

'' That is the true interpretation of the subject, Colonel," an- 
swered j\Iajor Pendleton. " We concluded that every church would 
stand for an arsenal, in our midst." 

'* We have fostered, and developed one quality in the African 
which will turn to our advantage in this new religious movement, 
— and that is, reverence for their superiors;" said Captain Mar- 
dyke. " They well know that God is the superior of all ; — but as 
they cannot read for themselves, and consequently, can form no 
independent judgments, they will rely upon their white teachers, to 
unfold and construe the dealings of God with men. If this be done 
in a skillful, and proper manner, it will prove of untold advantage 
to our cotton and rice crops ; as well as to the stability of our sys- 

" Certainly ! " replied the rich, musical voice of Fred Warham ; 
" and with th^ proper teaching from the pulpit, that God ordained 
slavery^ — with a hell to intimidate, and a heaven to attract, it would 
be comparatively a much easier matter to hold our slaves in sub- 
jection ! " 

Fred Warham, a young sportsman of the first wa:er, was the 
"one thing needful" in all the social gatherings of that section. 
In the clan hunts of the planters and gentlemen of leisure, his 
horse cleared every obstacle with a bound — from a fallen tree, or 
boundary fence, to a boggy ditch. At the races, his quick glance 
skirting the flying track, was the guide to grey-headed umpires. 
On all political subjects, his sagacity, and high toned enthusiasm 
in regard to the sacred Institution of his beloved State, won him 
admiring auditors. 

His inquiring mind led him to search out the character, and at- 


tributes of God, after the most approved theories of Theoloc^y in a 
Northern Seminary ; and he had received a diploma for his laiowl- 
edge of the same. He was called the "Rev. Fred," — and when 
in Charleston, or other sister cities, of a Sabbath, he ascended 
elegantly into the pulpit, with the air of one who had sounded the 
depths of divine mystery; and turning the full blaze of his resplen- 
dent oratorical 'powers upon clouded doctrinal points, illummated 
the whole theory of the Christian religion. His versatile genius 
made him reliable reference. Hence, on this occasion, there^'arose 
around him a pleasant volley of applause at the expression of his 
quick perceptions. 

'' Right sir ! Right sir ! Right sir ! " echoed on every hand. 

**I believe the Northern churches are generally sound in the 
support of our institution and in the rights of the slave-holder;" 
remarked Squire Meddleton. 

" Assuredly sir I " replied Rev. Fred. •' The churches stand like a 
wall in defence of slavery. Their ecclesiastical robes are unstained 
by heresy in that direction ! Their unyielding patriotism is squarely 
based upon the Constitution ! Why gentlemen ! the spire of every 
Northern church, pointing with prophetic finger to the God whose 
word is our highest earthly authority, is equal to a regiment of bay- 
onets ! We should be weak indeed, without the church and the 
coexisting protection of the National military arm ! We own the 
slaves — they hold them! Really, we put on the manacles — the 
North rivets them. We give the word of command — they pull the 
trigger ! " 

"With their Bibles and bullets we have nothing to fear ! " added 
Major Pendleton. " Emphatically so ! sir ; and 1 desire to read you 
a slip which I cut from the ' Marysville, Tenn., Intelligencer '' " 

"We are your most interested listeners ! "' exclaimed the party. 
"Tom, bring a light ; these magnolias are impervious to the rays 
of the moon. " 

Major Pendleton reqd, — 

"We of the South are emphatically surrounded by a dangerous 
class of beings — degraded, stupid savages, — who if they could 
but once entertain the idea that immediate, and unconditional death 
would not be their portion, would re-act the St. Domingo tragedy. 
But the consciousness, with all their stupidity, that a ten-fold force, 


superior in discipline, if not in barbarit}'', would gather from the 
four corners of the United States, and slaughter them, keeps them 
in subjection. But to the non-slave-holding States particularly, 
are we indebted, for a permanent safe-guard against insurrection. 
Without their assistance, the white population of the South would 
be too weak to quiet that innate desire for liberty, which is ever 
ready to act itself out, wiih every rational creature." 

"A truthful view!" echoed several voices, ''The Northern clergy 
are our watch dogs ! We must place brass collars upon their faith- 
ful necks; engraved with the motto, ''No discussion T Without dis- 
cussion, peace will prevail. Thus the clear rays of gospel light will 
neither be broken, nor retarded." 

"Buc," said Colonel Ashland, "what of this Synod of South Car- 
olina and Georgia? Why has it recently become so solicitous in 
its pious care of the slave ? It laments over two millions of human 
beings in the condiion of heathen and in some respects in a worse 
condition. Our niggers are not human beings! There must be 
some wolves there, in sheep's clothing." 

"I assure you not, sir ! They resolved unanimously, that, 'In 
the opinion of this Synod, Abolition Societies, and the principles 
on which they are founded in the United States, are inconsistent 
with the interests of the slaves, the right of the holders, and the 
great principles of our political institucions, ," 

"That is the right basis for operations, " said Colonel Ashland ; 
" but we may import firebrands into our midst, in the persons of 
these preachers ; for you see they must be white men. We have 
no black preachers, — and if we had, they would not be tolerated. 
These shepherds must be white — and they must come from the 
North. We Southerners have other and better business than 
teaching the word of the Lord. Our own word is sufBcient for 

" There is not the least harm to be apprehended from this 
source, " remarked Fred Warham. " The North turns out scores 
of ministers at her doctrinal schools. Their theology is shaped ac- 
cording to our National Constitution, and the Cons:itution was 
moulded by our own hands. Prof. Stuart of Andover, the lead- 
ing theological mind of that section leaves the right stamp upon 
his students. He pronounces slavery right ; and entitled to protec- 


tion from all American citizens. I was educated there myself ; and 
well remember his sturdy blows at the increasing fanaticism about 
him. I have been thinking quite seriously of getting one of these 
preachers inyself. I have written to one of my classmates. He 
went to Virginia after graduation, and has some experience in deal- 
ing with slaves ; which I consider a valuable acquisition. You 
know there are four hundred belonging to my estate ; and they 
raise the devil, generally. They shirk their tasks, steal, bear false 
witness, and get their backs cut up handsomely. But I must try 
some other remedy. If there is anything in the United States to 
tame them, it devolves upon me to lind it. Speaking of this new 
shepherd for my flock ; I beg you gentlemen to listen to an extract 
from his reply to me." 

He took a letter from his pocket and read, — 

'' Slavery is not only countenanced, permitted and regulated by 
the Bible ; but it was positively instituted by God himself. He has 
in so many words enjoined it ! " 

The ringing of the supper-bell interrupted conversation, and the 
party entered the dining-room. The pictures and flowers, the sil- 
ver and glass, presented a brilliant array. By the light of the Bri- 
arian candelabras, the feasters were helped by their servants to 
venison, turkey, duck, and other wild game. The tables were bur- 
dened with the richest dessert Charleston afforded. The baskets 
containing it had been " toted " to the Hall. from the schooner but 
a short time in advance of the arrival of the master. They ate, 
drank, toasted and cheered till past midnight. 

" Old Holyrood rang merrih', 
That night with wassail, mirth and glee, 
King James wiihin his princely bower, 
Toasted the chiefs of Scotland's power, 
Summoned to spend the parting hour." 

At length wine, the potent ruler of man's godlike intellect, took 
the throne. Wine installed itself master of ceremonies. 

" The fiery flood, 
\Vhose purple blood 
Has a dash of Spanish bravado." 


Still they held the cup, — 

" And bade the goblet pass. 
In their beards the red wine glistened, 
Like dew-drops in the grass." 

"They drank to the soul of Witlaf; 
They drank to Christ the Lord ; 
And to each of the twelve Apostles 
Who had preached Llis Holy Word." 

The toasts were numerous and characteristic ; a few of which are 

The first gentleman offered, — 

'•The words of our illustrious General Hayne. *Next to the 
Christian Religion, I consider Free Trade in its largest sense, as 
the greatest blessing that can be conferred on any people.' " 

Another proposed "Nullificaiion and one of its Ordinances." 
( Cries of Hear ! Hear ! Hear ! ) " The people of this State will 
hold themselves absolved from all further obligation to maintain or 
preserve their political connection with the people of the other 
States ; and will forthwith proceed to organize a separate govern- 
ment ; and do all other acts and things, which Sovereign and In- 
dependent States may of right do. " 

The old slogan, " Disunion ! " " Secession ! " " Sovereign State ! " 
was the hearty response. In enthusiastic anticipation, goblets 
went crashing through the window panes, — a miniature tocsin of 
shivering glass. 

Mr. Fred Warham's figure was a fine type of manly perfection. 

" His form was middle size. 
For feat of strength, or exercise ; 
Shaped in proportion fair ; 
• And hazel was his easjle eve. 
And auburn of the darkest dye, 

His short curled beard and hair. 

Light was his footstep in the dance 

And firm his stirrup in the lists ; 

And oh ! he had that merry glance, 

That seldom lady's heart resists." 

Wine, the magician had a stronger mental, and physical fibre to 
bend in Fred, than in some of his compnnions. The purple 
draught seemed only to have flashed sunshine mto his brain. 


He was promenading in the long, broad hall with Minnie, the 
chamber-maid. Together they swung in and out cf the moonlight, 
like fairies; till her cheek grew tulip red, beneath its film of 

The watchword, "Nullification", arrested his light feet, as 
quickly as a shot fired across the bow arrests a cruiser. He en- 
tered the dining-room. He drank to " Nullification," and ofi'ered 
an additional sentiment. 

"The sacred soil of Carolina! Woe be to its invaders! In the 
words of our distinguished defender : ' I recognize no allegiance 
as paramount to that, which the citizens of South Carolina owe to 
the State of their birth, or their adoption ! '" 

Bacchanalian applause interrupted. But a gallant wave of Fred's 
fair, bejeweled hand restrained the clamorous guests ; and he pro- 
ceeded in slow, impressive tones,-— 

" South Carolina cannot be drawn down from the proud emi- 
nence on which she has now placed herself; except by the hands 
of her own children ! Give her a fair field, and she asks no 
more ! " ' 

Although wine and brandy had stupefied nerve and brain, this 
last monstrosity — Rev. Fred's supposition that South Carolina 
would be destroyed by her own children ; that South Carolina, re- 
gal, haught}', self-poised, should die the death of a suicide ; thereby 
excluding herself from the Mausoleum of an honorable fame; — 
that she should lie in a grave of disgrace ; — these bitter thoughts 
roused the slumbering ire of their souls ! The Spartan motto, 
"With our shields, or on our shields!" was the universal re- 

Colonel Ashland conformed to ihe usual custom, on festive occa- 
sions ; and proposed the closing sentiment. 

"The fair Daughters of South Carolina! distinguished for their 
purity, beauty, and grace ! " Glowing memories were awakened ; 
and sacred names of mother, sister, sweet heart, were reveren- 
tially pronounced ; till the air seemed hushed, and purified by the 

None slept in Nightingale Hall, except the children of Colonel 
Ashland. Their sleep was a deep oblivion which nothing disturbs. 

In that room, Hattie sat on a low seat, — her head resting on 


Mauma Rose's lap. Her eyes were wear}^ and sorrowful. This 
was the first high wassail she had experienced. The confusion 
and uproar caused a throb of fear. Alauma smoothed her hair 
with a slow, mesmeric hand — at the same time expressing her 
own bitter thoughts. These thoughts were not the hasty efferves- 
sence of an excited moment; — they had slowly crystalized around 
her heart during a life-time. 

" Neber mine, chile ! I'se heerd 'em hoopin' an' hollerin' eber 
cence I hear nottin' — de debbils ! — drink! drink! drink! Dat 
all dey good for I ain't half so 'spectable as de hosses in de stab'e ! 
Neber mine, 'em, young missis ! De Lord git arter 'em bime by ! 
Jcs sich noise in tousan' oder house in de Souf. Dey gwine to bed 
now, missis. Hear ? " 

A final peace was concluded. Each footman spread a blanket 
on the floor, and threw himself down by the master's couch ; se- 
cretly thankful the day was over. The remnant of the night was 
left to the lonely hooting of a winking owl, in the magnolias. 


THE last day of revival week v;as dawning. When the bright 
yellow sun peered over the snowy brink of Cloudspire, he 
found himself belated in the morning business. It was plain that 
his majesty was not a revivalist ; and that his royal heart was not 
in the holy work then being carried to its completion. It was 
glaringly evident, that he was not a believer, from the broad self- 
sufficient smile with which he saluted every farmhouse ; and 
quenched the puny flames of its tallow candles ; the candles on 
the smoking breakfast tables ; the candles in the hands of plump 
dairy women, skimming rich cream in amber folds from waiting 
pans ; the candles on side tables ; where rosy maidens stood pack- 
ing into lunch baskets, carvings of roast meats ; slices of bread 
and golden butter ; wedges of cake ; pans of tawny doughnuts ; 
and blocks of cheese. 

In a hardened, unreflective way, he thrust his long tardy rays 
into the faces of the exclusive whale oil lamps, watching on the 


parlor mantles ; and jestingly laid brighter lights on the gray, 
chestnut, and auburn heads of early risen guests. He pushed his 
way through half open barn doors ; and laid golden bars on the 
littered floors. 

He found Henry Hughes, — extinguished his lantern ; and bade 
him walk on patches of the "New Jerusalem come down" into 
frozen barns ! He gilded the snow-shoveled paths to the stable ; 
and bade Hal's ragged feet " walk the golden streets " — the sac- 
rilegious, jocular old sinner ! that sun ! 

When the paths were continued about the house, to the buried 
road, Hal wrought with a golden shovel ; and threw up to the 
light, long massive heaps of the yellow ore. 

Thus he went on; — this god of da}^ thrusting his curious, im- 
pudent glances into bed-rooms, large and bleak, small and cosy, — 
'• up stairs, down stairs, and in my lady's chamber ; " but found no 
one napping. 

Mary and Fanny patted and rounded two plump pillows, as the 
last touch of neatness to their bed. Fanny exclaimed, " There 
comes the sun ! the magnificent sun ! He shames the candle with 
his glory ! Let us roll up the curtains. Oh ! ]Mary ! do come and 
look out! how beautiful 1 The shadows of your maple trees look 
as if they were penciled on white velvet. See ! how delicately 
every twig is drawn ! " 

"It is pretty," replied Marv ; "but I never noticed them be- 

" And Mary ! observe the windows of your neighbors' liouses, 
over the hill ! The panes are of molten gold ! How they flash ! — 
and the pines are wearing fresh white robes, and mantles of down ! 
And look Mary, at the sofi purple veil which the distant range of 
Green Mountains wears! Oh! it all fills my soul with unspeakable 
pleasure ! I can neither express, nor explain the emotions with 
which Nature overwhelms me! There's a divine glory about them, 
and an overshadowing presence of the wisdom, and goodness of 
their Creator, that is bewildering! " 

" I cannot feel as you do, " replied Mary, regretfully. " Why 
are we so different from each other? Tliis morning's sun illumines 
your spirit ! I wish, Fanny, you could see your own eyes ! They 
sparkle like the golden windows over the hill ! Snow is simply 


white, and cold, to me. Summer is haying-time, — and dniry toil! 
The sun seems made to call me from sweet sleep, and its setting 
leaves me tired with day. I have no poetry in my nature, I sup- 
pose, — at least, Uncle William tells me so. " 

"Neither have I poetry in my nature, Mary ; " throwing one arm 
lovingly, around her friend's neck. " There's no merit in me for 
it, ]\Iary. I really love these snows, these shadows, and blue 
mountains. They speak tome! — they calm and satisfy me. I 
cannot help being happy in their presence. Ah ! there come the 
slow, patient oxenout of their stables ! Their breath freezes on 
the sharp winter air. The brass buttons on their horns glitter in 
the sun ; bless them ! the great gentle things ! There come Czar 
and Sultan to stir their blood ! — there they go ! rearing, and pranc- 
ing! How grand and graceful they are! Do you know, Mary, I 
am wicked enough to covet those beautiful creatures ? " 

"Fanny, I imagine you and Lucy Clarendon are very much alike. 
She always looks content, and absorbed with something beyond 
ordinary vision ; as if she were holding converse with invisible 
voices ; and cai'ed nothing for us prosy, matter-of-fact farmer girls, 
as Uncle WiUiam calls us. I beHeve I should love her ; and Lucy 
might have some affection for me, if I could make her acquaint- 
ance, — for you love me, Fanny ; although I cannot see why. " 

" Girls ! why are you standin' idle at the windows ! Breakfast is 
waitin' ! " spoke a chilling, censorious voice, at the open door. 
" Fanny, I hoped to have found you on your knees, askin' a bles- 
sin' on your brother Richard's efforts to-day. Although he is not 
ordained yet, he can bear his testimony for the Lord. Cloudspire 
has reason to be spiritually proud of its young theologian j — this 
town may truly be called the vineyard of the Lord." 

Prudence, for it was none other, motioned to her awe-struck 
companion: "Mary, go down to your mother, and leave Fanny 
with me. I desire to see her alone. 

" Sit down Fanny, and let me give you some advice. I came in 
still, lest I should disturb your wrestlin' wnth the Holy Spirit; and 
heard you admiring the hills, the dumb cattle, and the sun. Now 
Fanny, all these things are vanities. To w^orship them is to be 
like the heathen, who bow down to storks and stones. They are 
not made in the image of God, and have no souls. You should 


meditate 'on the dark solemnit}^ of lost spirits, — you should keep 
that view before your mind, — if, haply, you might be the means of 
pluckin' one, as a brand from the burnin'. The true believer has 
no time for gayety or rejoicin', in this vale of tears. I feel as if it 
was given to me to admonish the young, and to set their feet in 
the narrow path to eternal life. As I shaJl not see you after this 
mornin', remember Vvhat I have said respectin' the curse of Ca- 
naan. Touch not the accursed thing. I want to welcome you 
around the great white throne; but Fanny, remember, if you inter- 
fere and intercept the designs of Providence towards the lower 
races of men, if you g've your love to the sun, stars, to trees and 
mountains and rivers; if you don't maintain a righteous hatred to 
the Jews ; and if you don't turn scornfully away from Roman 
Catholic Cathedrals, an angry God will cast you from his presence 
forever ! Aly duty is done ! Pray that you may be saved from 
these destroyin' temptations." 

Half-past ten approached. The church bell sent forth its clang- 
ing voice on the clear, cold air; drowning the strings of smaller 
bells which rose and fell over the hills, and slid into the valleys, 
which came from the North, the South, the East, and the West ; 
which wound along the frozen brooks, or echoed past the leafless 
forests. Nearer and nearer they came ; till jingle and clang, and 
clang and jingle proclaimed with riotous tongues, the gathering of 
the elect. 

A glow of satisfaction beamed on most of the faces, successively 
alighting at the green church door. A bigoted devotee would have 
recognized this glow, as the new peace wiUi God. A cooler scru- 
tiny into hearts would have found its well-spring of gladness to be 
the near close of dreary revival week ; that the avenging God was 
about to veil His dreaded face ; that the wild sea of human de- 
pravity would cease to be dragged to its turbid depths, for dead 
and hidden sins ; that the sulphurous fumes of an uncovered Plell 
were about to sink into a burned-out crater ; thus ceasing to out- 
rage every earthly aspiration ; tbnt at last they might go to quiet 
homes, yet left standing, amid the crash of worlds ; and tread the 
usunl paths of a terrestrial existence. 

The only blot upon the morning landscape, and the only shadow 
upon the universal content, was Dr. Clarendon's house just across the 


whitened common. Glowering and bereaved glances assailed its 
calm front, and red-curtained windows. There it stood, with the 
same ghastly effrontery as ever ; the tomb of Cloudspire's selectest 
loves, and most sanguine connubial hopes ; the very charnel house 
of skeleton marriages and nuptial bliss ; of projected journeys, of 
blasted orange groves, of the sweetest of maidens* prayers, and the 
most bewitching of girlhood's smiles. Within its detestable walls, 
William Steele had been inveiMed. 

The house of God, standing near, was the only asylum for 
stricken souls ; and resignedly these worshipers of the true God 
turned to its courts, as pale-faced celibate nuns, who have re- 
nounced the world, to enter solemn cloisters. 

On the other hand, this revival week had a few substantial pleas- 
ures. Farmers had time and opportunity to discuss and compare 
the last year's crops, the average price of stock and farms, the out- 
look of politics, the stern policy of Jackson, the NuUifiers and the 
Constitution. Housewives gained new recipes for preserves and 
pickles, for coloring pale winter butter into an article as salable as 
the yellow rolls of summer, and the precise amount of otter which 
would convert a tough, pale, white-oak cheese into the hue of a 
golden aurora, — a conversion quite as thorough, and profitable as 
those supernatural changes wrought around the anxious seat. 
Thus vv-ere furnished subjects of thought and practice, for many a 
rapid month to come. 

Gathered in clusters in the high-backed pews, they had counted 
over the increase of families — sudden deaths ; and marriages pros- 
perous or otherwise, — they had analyzed their trying " complaints," 
•whose name was Legion — compared hydra-headed symptoms, 
till it was a comfort to know that pain and debility are the common 
inheritance of woman ; to be devoutlv endured as the Providential 
chasteners of their wayward spirits. All these points which the 
pulpit could not appropriately illumine, had been agitated ; and, 
aside trom Lucy Clarendon's bold, outrageous assumption, the 
gain had been great. 

The congregation gathered around Richard Beame. A subtle 
manifestation of confidence and pride was observable, as his hear- 
ers got into position, settled their garments and gazed at his 
young and earnest face. Was he not a plant of their own nurs- 


ing ? Would not the world be indebted to that church, for the gos- 
pel preached from his lips ? Had he not been strengthened and 
sanctified by their prayers ? Even so, it seemed in their sight. 

The text appeared a wise selection ; compound, but bearing 
upon the same point. It was from Gallatians, vi. 2, and Hebrews 
xiii. 3. " Bear ye one another's burdens ; " and, *' Remember them 
that are in bonds, as bound with them." In Sanctuary parlance, 
there was no burden but sin, — mysterious, ever-present, all-per- 
vading, undefinable sin. There were no other bonds, but the un- 
seen, Eden-forged chains of depravity; imposed by no mortal, and 
from the power of which no mortal was ever expected to free those 

The mental interpretation of the text, was complimentary to the 
church. " Richard knows how we have labored with those in bonds 
during this whole week, " ran through the minds of the audience, 
like an electric spark. For a time, the speaker seemed to keep to 
the old beaten track ; holding up the example of the Savior of men, 
in seeking to save others ; in going about doing good ; but swerv- 
ing somewhat, when he maintained, that the tenderest sympathies 
towards the suffering in this life, were among tli^ first fruits of re- 
pentance. And when he proclaimed, that bread given to the 
hungry ; clothes to the naked, and tears to those who w^eep, were 
the best evidences of conversion, a great apprehension went through 
the house. Alas ! the promising bud of the text burst into a 
strange blossom! — of foreign scent — and nourished in a strange 

Nevertheless, Richard proceeded to show that the bonds which 
they should remember, were no ideal links which vaguely clank 
through vacant chambers of superstitious souls. The bonds which 
the speaker held up to their perceptions, were real, tangible: hard 
and cold. These bonds were veritable chains, — made by hands of 
flesh and blood ! wrought from iron bars, heated to redness among 
the hot glowing coals of a blacksmith's forge ! welded link by link 
on a smithy's anvil ! where living, muscular arms, in sleeves rolled 
to the shoulder, plied stroke after stroke, and blow after blow, with 
the measured precision of a tolling bell ! and often, too often, toss- 
ing in tlie sharp dissonance with the hallowed roll — both floating 
heavenward together. 


These bonds which Richard pictured to public gaze, were iron 
manacles, hard and heartless, — shaped for wrists of tlesh. They 
could chafe, and blister the skin,— and like hungry wolves, find 
the red blood beneath. These bonds were fetters, riveted by the 
workman ; with his box of tools beside him, upon the ankles and 
limbs of fellow travelers to the great white Throne ; and to the 
golden streets of the saints' abode. These fetters could corrode 
and canker the incarnate images of God ! could eat into the ten- 
dons like cruel fangs; and make each step towards Heaven, in- 

The bonds Richard bade them remember, were the chains, man- 
acles, and fetters of chattel slavery. More! the burdens to be 
borne were the groans, tears, and the privations of the American 
slave. He averred that the exercise of the master's prerogative 
was wanting in every essential of Christianity. 

Indignation and consternation seized his hearers. Each scanned 
the face of the other, for some plan of action. William Steele 
opened the way. He rose, gave his arm to Lucy, led her from the 
church to her fathers, and returned. As he entered, Richard was 
recounting, with liquid eyes, the horrors of the auction block, the 
lash, and the chain gang. For a time, the inherent sovereignty of 
Truth dismayed, and held his mutinous congregation in abeyance. 
The overseer's hasty step was heard advancing up the aisle. This 
pillar of strength came to the front. With a rallying cry, his angry 
voice protested against the further desecration of God's Holy 
Sanctuary. He announced the words of the speaker a delusion, 
and a lie! "Richard Beame is a fanatic ! a leader of sedition! 
He bears the torch of destruction to the fair fabric of our National 
Union, and to Freedom!" His enraged eyes surveyed and ap- 
pealed to every part of the audience. 

" Let him dare to utter those sentiments in Charleston, or any 
part of South Carolina, a dozen ready bullets would stain the pul- 
pit with his traitorous blood ! or, if he escaped therefrom, the 
bowie knife would find its swift revenge.'' 

Springing upon a seat, with both arms extended, he yelled,— 

" My brethren in the church militant ! I call upon you to rid your- 
selves of this miscreant in sheep's clothing." 

Confusion reigned ; the clergy and leaders came to their feet. 


Doors slammed after those rushing out. The tramping, and shuf- 
fling of feet filled pews and aisles ; it came pouriiig down stairs, 
mingled with sharp, resentful voices. Above the din, like the 
harsh piping of the wind in a storm, Edmund Stone, the luinch 
back, begged to be heard. 

" I desire to recoid my testimony against this innovation! Po- 
litical and secular affairs have no place in the church. The 
church repudiates this sanguinary agitation. It incites the savage 
African hordes of our sister South, to insurrection a,)d murder ! I 
hereby free my skirts from joining hands with this unholy and 
misguided philanthropy.'' 

Farther expression was overpowered. The Willies, the Eddies, 
and the Joes, who had just " accepted Christ," the young cubs of 
the iair, set up vehement roarings, — 

'• Put him out 1 Choke the abolitionist ! Drag him down ! drag 
him down !" 

Women rose to their feet, despite the admonition of Paul, that 
they should sit still. They indignantly discussed in under tones, 
assisted by significant noddings and shaking of bonnets, Richard's 
unheard of temerity. From their discussions dropped these 
pearly words, — 

" Niggers ! " " Our daughters ! " " Amalgamation ! " '' Marry ! " 

The ministers left the pulpit; Richard followed alone. The 
crowd obliged him to halt on the stairs — head and shoulders 
above them. Paleness and surprise froze his features. Some- 
thing white and round shied over them, and struck him in the 
forehead. The snow-ball burst, blinding him with fine snow. 
Llesitating, and nearly stunned, something smaller struck him on 
the shoulder, and then again on the side of his head. A praying 
hand hurled these eggs. Richard's fine coat was stained and 
dripping with the strange offerings of brotherly love. 

" Put out the abolitionist ! " " Go home, fanatic ! " " Take an- 
other ! " " Amalgamation 1 " chimed in, with another storm of eggs 
and snow-balls, as handily as they would have sung "Old Hundred," 
or " The Lord into His garden comes." 

Richard reached the floor; there, sheltered by the roystering 
crew, the pelting ceased. He could not advance, but remained 
standino-. Not a friend offered sympathy or advice. The vocif- 



erations of deacons and laymen, of old and young, in vain efforts 
to be heard, clashed like broadswords. "Put him out! put him 
out ! rang through the house. 

Fanny sprang from Deacon Steele's pew, down the aisle, around 
by the East door, where the crowd was thinnest. Workino- her 

way through to her brother, she put her arm through his'' sav- 
mg,— ^ ' J 

"Let us go, my poor brother ! Let us go home for safety I 
will walk with you. Where is your hat, dear Richard .? " 

His head bowed to her ear. 

" In the pulpit." 

Up the stairs she flew; all eyes followed her: glaring uDon 
this second superlative breach of decorum, but ferocity grew tame 
at the sight. In an instant, her flushed and tearful face looked 
over the open " Steele " Bible, reposing on its royal bed ; and met 
the upturned gaze below. Stretching out one small hand and arm 
over their heads, she cried,— 

" Men and women of the church of Cloudspire ! do you dare to 
call yourselves the children of the Most High .? Do yon dare to 
insult and spit upon His young servant, because he has spoken to 
you this day, the Eternal Truth > Do you call yourselves the fol- 
lowers of Him whose name is Love." 

Her hand \yent up in the direction where her faith still cluno- • 
and while falling tears gave a significant baptism to the guilty 
pages which received them, her clear and steady modulation, cleft 
the air ; rang to the ceiling,— 

" Ye never knew Christ 1 ye never knew God ! " In another mo- 
ment, she had glided down, given Richard his hat, and with her 
arm in his, was walking through the space, voluntarily opened for 

Thus will weak, pusillanimous man yield to girlhood's attrac- 
tions ^vhat he refuses to Justice, and to Omnipotence itself. 
V v!^'\ i ;^early gained the door, when a quick hand knocked 
Richard s hat to the floor. Another caught it up, and threw it 
from the green door, rolling on the snow. Deacon Steele hastily 
climbed to the back of a pew, (under more concern for Fanny 
than for her brother,) and cried, 

" I protest against any further abuse, brethren ! I shall take 


that brother and sister in my sleigh. Let them depart in peace." 

Like wild animals whose appetites have been whetted by a taste 
of flesh, there was no restraint. '' No ! no ! no ! He shall 
walk ! " 

William Steele fiercely caught the deacon's attention w^ith a 
saving rebuke, — 

" No compromise with amalgamation and infidelity ! " 

''No compromise ! no compromise ! " was taken up by a hundred 
voices ; till the very air was drunken with the war-cry of their South- 
ern masters. 

They passed out : Fanny picked up Richard's hat, and they were 
allowed to depart without further molestation. 

They took the middle of the road to Alderbank. It was not well 
traveled since the storm of the day previous ; and every step 
plunged ankle deep in untrodden snow. They soon made a turn 
in the road, and a short descent. Just ahead, blocking the path, 
a sleigh waited. Expecting fresh insult and about to step out in 
the deep snow, to pass, the cheery voice of Simon Link bade them 

" Let me drive out a leetle, and then you get in here. You see, 
I slipped out o'that air meetin' house, when they was a fighting, 
and backed out o' that air shed, and come on here, a purpose to 
wait for ye. " 

" No, Simon ; let us walk ! I should be sorry to bring you into 
judgment with the church, for taking me into your sleigh ! Fanny 
dear, you can ride. I will walk. A good soldier must - endure 
hardness for Christ's sake. " 

" Walk or ride, I shall go with you ! " decided Fanny, 

" Git in here ! " urged Simon, ( thrashing his arms. ) " What 
do I care for the judgment of such folks ? It's the Lord that leads 
us beside the still waters and green pastures ! It ain't men ! Git 
in Richard! that's right! What a shameful sight you air! daubed 
over with them eggs, from head to foot 1 and wet through to your 
skin with them melted snow balls ! I've took an extra buffalo to 
cover you up. " 

He tucked in Richard up to his neck, with the best robe, and 
threw the faded one over Fanny. He hopped again into the snow 
on her side, and drew the soft hay in a heap about her. " There ! 


bury your wet feet in that, — it's better'n nothing. This old biiffa- 
ler's tore some ; but I know you won't see it, as long as Richard's 
warm, and there's a horse ahead. *' He was in again, knocking the 
snow from his feet, wrapping his old butternut-colored blanket 
about him, and gathering up the lines. 

" I'll set so you can see Thunderbolt ; this ere sorrel's mine. 
You like bosses. Miss Fanny; and he'll take you to Alderbank in 
no time ! He's of a long-stepping breed. " 

"You are so good, Simon;" said Fanny. "Wall! I ain't no 
better'n I ought ter be. I've knowed you two, for some years. I 
know ye both, through and through ; an' I ain't a goin' to see ye 
walk four mile in the snow, for anybody. Go on thunderbolt ! 
Show Miss Fanny your largest, handsomest tracks! See that? 
He skims over the road like a deer. I never struck him a blow 
yet, an' I never shall. Ye see, Richard, I feared what they'd do! 
I've seen jes such carryin's on out West. I see a man took out of 
a hall; carried to a place where they had a fire, and a kittle o'tar ; 
they stripped off his clothes ; shaved his head, an' covered him 
completely with the tar and a piller full of feathers. There was 
two fine dressed gentlemen there, standin' and lookin' on, and tell- 
in' the rest what to do. Somebody told me they were Southern- 
ers from Georgia. One of 'em took his ridin' whip, gave the naked 
man some sharp cuts ; and told him that was the medicine for agi- 
tarors. The poor feller ran for his life, nobody cared where. It 
was all because he told the people that slavery wasn't a Christian 
institution ! These two men called him an infidel ; and said they'd 
teach him to believe the Bible ! " 

" Did you ever know what became of him ? " asked Fanny. 

" Wall ! I let my drove o'cattle lay over one day to rest. By one 
means an' another I found out a Quaker family about three miles 
off, took him in. That night I went there; told 'em I was a friend ; 
an' they let me into his room. He was sick a-bed ; but them 
Quakers was as good to him, as if he was their own son. I had 
some money in my wallet ; I gave him what I could spare. Be- 
fore the sun was up the next mornin', I was drivin' my cattle 
towards the East." 

They glided on awhile in silence. Fanny knew not how to 


frame words, either to condemn these barbarities, or to reconcile 
tliem with her preconceived ideas of the sjDirit of the church. 

Richard also pondered upon the past few hours. Where had he 
been? In the body, or out ? Had the lost spirits risen up from 
the pit of the damned, and in a dance of demons overthrown his 
reason, and driven him out with the mark of Cain upon him ? Was 
he a sorcerer ? or was the church a body of magicians ? Had he 
been practising the '• black art," or had they ? Had he learned 
anything at the Seminary ? What was sin, and where was it ? 

Simon turned about sideways. An angel seemed to address 
them. Love, mercy and compassion, irradiated his features. 

" Richard, I like the poor hunted critters that our forefathers 
mailed down under the Constitution. I pity 'em." 

That was the cordial both brother and sister needed. That 
was the good Samaritan who placed it to their fainting lips. It 
was the composing draught which settled perturbed ideas, and led 
reason back to its accustomed seat. It was the pure white manna 
from Heaven, on which their souls fed, and were refreshed. 

Good Simon Link knew not the height, or depth of his own utter- 
ance. He knew not that he had spoken words for the healing of 
the nation ; that the simple phrases, " I like the poor hunted crit- 
ters," and "I pity ^em," was the Higher Law, straight from the 
Great White Throne, — supreme above all jurisprudence, and its 
crippled administration of justice, — above all man's complicated 
machinery for governing man, above all courts, above all juries, 
above all jails, above all penitentiaries. He knew not what a halo 
it set about his head, nor when or where it was written upon his 

Did unseen seraphs whisper it in the winds from the mountain 
tops ? Did he learn it from the dumb droves with which he jour- 
neyed league after league and year after year ? More probably 
than from his own kind. Perhaps from the helpless bleatings of 
his tired lambs. Perhaps from the gentle, weary eyes of his oxen. 
Perhaps from the fidelity and aifection of his beloved shepherd 
dogs. Simon Link had neither wife or child. He had never seen 
his father; his mother let go his hands and folded her own in her 
grave, while his little feet scarce toddled alone, and left him an un- 
welcome legacy to the world. That world tossed him up to man- 


hood, as a burly teamster would toss a ragged bundle to the top of 
his well-filled wagon. 

He was never supposed to be a child of God, till this revival week 
— and yet his lips dropped wisdom which wise men rejected. If 
Simon Link's words, " I like the poor hunted critters, an' I pity 
'em," were chiseled on the gates of cities ; at the entrance of com- 
mercial marts \ over banker's and broker's doors ; on college walls ; 
and the desks of common schools; above the Presidents chair; 
and were emblazoned on the dome of the Capitol ; it would have 
been the panacea for years of crimson wrongs and retributive woes. 
It would have changed the clashing of political creeds, the coarse 
mutterings of ignorance, the wailings for bread and the groans of 
oppressed races, into the harmonious music of the spheres. 

Simon kept on talking with the kindly aim of keeping his two 
passengers from thinking on themselves. " There's a black feller 
out in York State that always helps me get my droves over the 
mountains. He's more a brother to me than any white man on the 
road. His name is Monday. He w^as a slave. His master took 
his wife, a black woman, and made her his own wife. There's yer 
high-blooded grandee with a black wife ; stole from her own hus- 
band. He sold jMonday's three children and hired Monday out ; 
as we hire out bosses. Monday run away to the North. His 
story all told is enough to make a stout man's heart stand still. 
Them Southerners'll find a strong hand dealin' with 'em by and by 
for such iniquity. Here we are, at home. Miss Fanny, didn't 
Thunderbolt bring you quick ? " 

" Yes, Simon, he's beautiful, and he's good like his master ! I 
cannot find words to thank you. Come in to a warm fire and 

" No, not now. I've a good many friends in my barn that have 
waited all day for me, I feed them before I feed myself. Good 

The church of Cloudspire, from open doors, crowded windows, 
creaking benches and tops of pews, saw Richard and Fanny out of 
sight, on their journey of martyrdom ; with the feeling that good 
service had been done for God, Moses and the Constitution. — The 
mobocratic effervescence subsided. The clergy withdrew from the 
yet noisy faithful, and held a low conference — William Steele in 


their midst. After this they ascended to the pulpit and were 
seated as before. 

WilHam Steele took a chair on the altar. The people assorted 
themselves out into their respective pews. Those who fled at the 
first mention of "slave," entered at different doors. Prudence 
White came from under the buffalo robes of the deacon's sleigh ; 
whither she resorted as soon as the drift of the sermon broke upon 
her. She afterwards confessed to the deacon's wife that she 
almost riz right up to rebuke Richard on the spot. Indeed she 
had opened her lips for that purpose, and drawn her breath and 
got as far as " I ; " when she felt the cold hand of St. Paul on her 
mouth ; and she ran from the spot. 

At the east door entered Lottie, looking pale and frightened; 
supported by Mrs. Clarendon's Hester; who walked with her to a 
seat ; adjusted a shawl about her shoulders, and turned away to 
the negro pew, under the gallery stairs. Lottie had fainted during 
the melee ; all were glad to take breath after the Holy War. The 
silence grew complete. Everybody's eyebrows were elevated, — 
everybody's eyes were religiously cast down, — everybody's lip's 
were tightly closed, — everybody's mouth properly drew down at 
the corners, — everybody's hands meekly clasped together. 

The revered mouthpiece and representative of Southern Despot- 
ism, rose slowly from his seat on the altar. 

" My brethren in the Lord : I did not expect during this short 
visit to my native land, to have so golden an opportunity of de- 
fending our holy faith, and our united National interests, against 
its rising enemies ! I had not the honor of knowing your zeal in 
defense of the two anchors of our Union and Prosperity, the Bible, 
and the Constitution. Allow me to say, I am more than grati- 
fied at the development of your firmness in this house to-day 1 I 
shall bear your record of resistance to false teachers, and false 
doctrines to the gentlemen of my adopted State. I shall show 
them that your devotion to the institutions of our Country is as 
deep as theirs. Southern gentlemen have ample time for thought, 
and for weighing accurately in the political balance, the rights of 
each section of our Union. Their cool blood is never stirred by 
vulgar or inadequate impulses. They are not neophytes in na- 


tional, or civil polity. But, my friends, they are sorely exasperated 
at increasing instances of Northern treachery. 

Were these insolent, plotting traitors to our country within the 
sound of my voice, I would bid them beware ! beware ! 

' The knightly and the blooded arm 
That holds the lance to-da}', 
Hath equal valor 'gainst a foe, 
As in the ancient fray. ' " 

Signs of commendation fell on his ear, footsteps gently raked the 
gritty floor, stiff camlet cloaks rustled, red bandanas shook out 
their wrinkles, noses gave forth victorious signals, throats cleared 
as if draughts of honey had been passed about ; or, if more pleas- 
ing to the reader, a quick touch of St. Vitus' dance animated the 
joyful congregation. He continued, — 

" As I am about to leave, some counsel may be due you on the 
growing agitation which at present prevails all over our land. You 
may thus be spared the painful exercise of sympathy with an un- 
worthy object. The negro, as you are aware, was imported to this 
country from Africa. He is of a different race from any other on 
the face of the globe. According to great and scientific minds, he is 
allied to the brute. In proof of this I will give you an extract from 
a late author in New York. 

He drew from his pocket a note-book. 

" This book, which I would recommend to 3'our purchase and 
perusal, is entitled, ' Evidences against the views of Abolitionists ; 
consisting of physical and moral proofs of the natural inferiority of 
the nesfroes.' " He read, — 

" ' His (the negroe's) lips are thick, his zygomatic muscles large 
and full, his jaws large and projecting, his chin retreating, his 
forehead low, flat and slanting ; and, as a consequence of this lat- 
ter character, his eyeballs are very prominent, apparently larger 
than those of white men. All of the peculiarities at the same time 
contributing to reduce his facial angle, almost to a level with the 
brute. If, then, it is consistent with science to believe, that the 
mind will be great in proportion to the size and figure of the bram^ it 
is equally resonable to suppose that the acknowledged meanness 
of the negro's intellect only coincides with the shape of his head \ 


or, in other words, that his want of capacity to receive a compli- 
cated education, renders it improper and impolitic that he should 
be allowed the privileges of citizenship, in an enlightened 

"These are my views, my friends, and as you see, the general 
opinion ; — except by a few late fanatics, who are making the vain 
attempt to bring these degraded creatures to a level with them- 

A short, piercing laugh startled the riveted attention, and died 
out in a stifled giggle. It was a ludicrous little scream, apparently 
set going by something ridiculous, or surprising. It was conta- 
gious, for the young girls smiled, as their neads turned in search 
of the offender. It was contagious, for a sunny gleam flashed up 
in the eyes of the young men ; and many a stiff-set sanctuary 
mouth lost its grimace. The watchful ear of the tithing-man 
guided his step to the pew under the stairs. All eyes followed 
him. There sat Hester, guiltily bending her face out of sight, 
under her sheltering hood, and holdmg one corner of her shawl to 
her mouth. She heard the feet stop at her pew, ( it had no door.) 
and raised her head sufficiently to see his hand beckoning. She 
arose, her head still lowered, and came into the aisle. Hester 
heard the tart words, — 

'' This is the house of God ! Go ! Leave it ! " 

She passed slowly out, groping in her pocket for a handkerchief 
to clear away the few blinding tears yet left in her heart for her- 
self, and her trampled race. Something caught in her handker- 
chief and fell upon the floor. A warbling ring of a silver piece 
disturbed the hallowed air. She stooped, picked it up , and re- 
stored it to her pocket. 

Proof sufficient! It was hers — a fifty-cent piece! (Every far- 
mer then knew the exact ring of a quarter, a half-dollar or a dol- 
lar.) A black thief doubtless ! A case for the law ! Pleading 
poverty ! Begging old clothes for her boy ! She should have no 
more ! Destitute of veneration ! of honest}' I Head to small ! 
Brutish in every particular ! So ran exclamatory thought, till the 
man of law and order shut the door upon her. 

Quiet being restored, the speaker read from his valuable notes. 

*if we were constrained to admire so uncommon a being, (a 


pious, highly cultivated, scientific negro,) our very admiration would 
be mingled with disgust, because in the physical organization of 
his frame, we meet an insurmountable barrier even to approach to 
social intercourse ; and in the Egyptian color, which nature has 
stamped on his features, a principle so strong as to forbid the idea 
of a communion, either oiinterestoi oifeeling^is utterly abhorrent' " 
(AL Rep., Vol. 7, p. 331.) 

"This is the feeling of our wisest and best men. One more 
quotation from a high authority and I have done. Henry Clay 
in a speech, said of the free blacks ; ' of all the descriptions of our 
population and of either portion of this African race, the free per- 
sons of color are by far, as a class, the most corrupt, depraved and 
abandoned.' " 

" Now the people of the South who have negroes under their con- 
trol as laborers, are well informed respecting these abolitionists. 
They demand all friends of law and order to suppress discussion 
on slavery. They are resolved to ferret out these emissaries. 
They have formed committees of vigilance, who will punish by im- 
prisonment and lynch law suspected persons. Georgia has 
already offered a rev/ard of five thousand dollars to any one who 
will arrest and bring to that State, William Lloyd Garrison — a 
citizen of Massachusetts. 

" These are a few facts, my brethren, which it will be well to pon- 
der. Our beloved and Reverend minister will continue the subject, 
for the purpose of enlightening you still farther." 

The vigilance committee, the five thousand dollar reward, and 
the lynch law, proved an excellent counter irritant ; and St. Vitus' 
enthusiam cooled. 

Rev. Augustus Johns next made a short, but pointed address 
from the pulpit, on the claims of the Colonization Society. He 
showed that there was no human power to counteract the causes 
which prevent the elevation of free blacks in this country ; that 
Africa was their proper place, and they should be returned there ; 
that the Colonization Society had this beneficent object in view, of 
transporting them thither; that it was founded in i8i6j that the 
Legislatures of fourteen States had already passed resolutions in 
its favor; that it originated in Virginia, and of its seventeen vice- 
l^residents, twelve were elected from Southern States ; that the 


Society opened an avenue in which they could labor for the negro, 
within Constitutional limits. 

He recommended the organization to their earnest consideration ; 
and that they might the better understand its true spirit, read 
extracts from its organ, the "African Repository" ; and also from 
addresses of several States, in order that, as he said, " they might 
be established in their goings." These extracts from pro-slavery 
writers were the side-arms which were carried about for attack and 
defense. Bloodless weapons, to be sure ; but deadly to those un- 
armed with argument or moral courage. Hear him ! 

'' I have made these special selections, my Christian friends, and 
bear them about me ; so that as occasion requires, I may cast them 
like oil upon the troubled waters of our beloved country. My first 
is taken from the Editorial of Af. Rep., Vol. 7, p. 196." 

' The people of color must in this country remain for ages, prob- 
ably y^r^z'^/-, a separate and distinct caste ; weighed down by causes 
powerful, universal, invincible, — which neither Legislation nor 
Christianity can remove.' 

The second is taken from an address of the Conn. Col. Society. 
He read with great emphasis and solemnity, — 

"'The habits, the feelings, all the prejudices of Society, preju- 
dices which neither refinement, nor argument, nor education, nor 
Religion itself am subdue, mark the people of color, whether bond or 
free, as the subjects of a degradation, inevitable and incurable.' " 

"Thirdly, hear my friends, the Kentucky Col. Society in their offi- 
cial address." 

"It is against the increase of colored persons, who tahe a nom- 
inal freedom and cannot rise from their degraded condition, that 
this society attempts to provide. 

" Fourthly, from the Memorial of the New York State Col. Societ}', 
to the Legislature." 

" ' We do not ask that the provisions of our Constitution and 
Statute Book should be so modified as to relieve and exalt the con- 
dition of the colored people, whilst they ?'e}?iain with us. Let these 
provisions stand in all their rigor, to work out the ultimate and un- 
bounded good of these people.' 

" I could proceed much father, enforcing these principles by the 
precedent of other States and eminent individuals ; but I deem it 


only necessary to present a final authority to your judgment ; and 
to convince you that these opinions already presented, are based 
upon experiences fully coinciding with that authority. As an am- 
bassador of Christ, I desire to present you the whole truth, and 
here offer the reference. 

'"The managers consider it clear that causes exist, and are 
operating to prevent their improvement and elevation to any con- 
siderable extent as a class in this country, which are fixed not only 
beyond the control of the friends of humanity, but of any human 
power. Christianity f^;?;^^/ do for them here what it will do for 
them in Africa. This is not the fault of the colored man, nor of 
the white man, but an ordination of Providence ; and no more 
to be changed than the Laws of Nature.' 

" It must be kept before the chucrhes, that whoever persists in 
the agitation against slavery ; and in improving the condition of 
the negro in this country, — I repeat, whoever does this, sets him- 
self against the Supreme Will." 

^ A whispered conference ; and Rev. Luther Winfield came up be- 
hind the purple couch of the Southern gift, — presenting to the o-aze 
a mass of personal attractions. A waxen skin, rose-colored cheliks, 
sapphire eyes, and auburn hair, were the sweet and persuasive 
premises on which his arguments ever rested. He wished to say 
that the sentiments expressed by his colleagues vibrated through 
every fiber of his heart. But he proposed to turn to a more agree- 
able and exalted object of contemplation, — the Southerner hirnself. 

" The political associations of the South differ essentially from 
ours. By this dissimilarity, as well as by birth, the Southerner's 
character is distinctive. His alliances are" ancient — with the Old 
World — aristocratic and royal. This noble, high blood has been 
proudly kept in the purest channels, so that the knightly courtesy 
of the days of chivalry is its inherent, and most brilliant quality. 
The Southerners are a people of rigid integrity, and a most delicate 
sense of honor, — an honor that brooks not insult, from subordinate 
or equal. They have the advantages of unstinted wealth, broad 
culture, and the polish of foreign travel. Their generous open- 
handed hospitality is baronial and world-renowned. They inherit 
the sunniest portion — the garden of the United States. To us is 
given the cold and rugged North. 


"Their slaves are an inheritance of the past, guaranteed to them 
by our common Constitution, from which no human arm can wrest 
that guaranty. These slaves are happy and content; they sing 
every day at their work, and dance around their cabin fires at 
night. They desire no change in their condition ; but are gratified 
to have been brought to a land of religious light and knowledge, 
where they may be taught to know God, and His dealings with men." 

He grew warm. Each cheek flushed into a crimson rose, and 
his lips into two twin cherries. 

"What are the Abolitionists, I ask ? A handful of idiotic dwarfs, 
raising their puny hands against this adamantine wall of obstacles. 
A few years will witness their humiliating discomfiture ! " 

It were a school for a painter of that period whose particular 
genius portrayed girlhood and womanhood, to have studied the 
blu.hing, coquettish, sympathetic enthusiasm of the fair faces 
turned toward the pulpit at that moment. 

The Rev. Luther closed by admonishing his hearers to study 
more critically the pure and noble Southern traits ; to refrain from 
discussion which dangerously stirred chivalric blood ; and above 
all, to assist in returning to Africa the free blacks about them ; 
thus washing the fair escutcheon of our American Freedom from 
the dark stain of a monstrous degradation. " 

Signs of ardent approval were conspicuous in the congregation. 

Rev. Mr. Harstburg, the pastor, felt forced to raise his voice in 
unison with the church. He had clearer perceptions of the char- 
acter of our Creator than he had found in the books. His course 
of thought was more independent than that of his colleagues. But 
he loved quiet, and avoided controversy. He had, in visits to 
Boston, seen and read the "Liberator, " edited by the pioneer aboli- 
tionist, Garrison. Its denunciations fell hke hail-stones on the 
green paths his feet loved to travel. Its keen truths haunted his 
meditations, and came nigh freeing him from the enthrallment of 
bigotry, which the church had woven about him. But he wilfully 
closed hiS'.eyes, and stifled his conscience by his love of ease, and 
a fixed salary. He therefore advised his people to avoid the col- 
umns of that "inflammatory " sheet, the Liberator, — if, by chance, it 
fell in their way to turn from it; as it could but forment the unhal- 
lowed passions of the reader. 


Permission was granted to any one in the body of the church to 
join the crusade against agitation. Mr. Buddington, in his fur-lined 
coat, for one, believed the Constitution was founded on Moses and 
the Prophets ; and urged subscriptions to the African Repository. 
He walked up to the altar, and laid down one hundred dollars for 
the Colonization Society j proposing to remain, taking names, and 

Among the throng, the mill-owner's son, who had driven up from 
Alderbank in his dashing turnout, to have one more look at Lucy 
Clarendon, before her departure, walked up with money, and name. 
Prudence White, Patience Leving, and Charity West contributed 
their mites for the general enlightenment The collections and 
subscriptions were extensive. Under the auspices of their Southern 
visitor and the clergy, the " nigger question " was to be prayerfully, 
and scientifically solved. 

The benediction closed the interesting exercises at a late hour. 
In the orange glow of a winter sunset, the numerous sleighs wound 
away from the green door, over hill, and out of sight, in a long 
procession. For this procession, awaited a welcome, a feast, a 
revel. Esquire Buddington's feet had been placed upon the rock 
Christ Jesus, — and this was his first social recognition of the clergy, 
the church, and its membership. 

How his spacious house twinkled among the snows, that night ! 
It outshone the stars ! What noble fires roared on every hearth ! 
How they crackled, and hissed ! What queer, fantastic, mocking 
silhouettes on the walls, the flames made, of the strange figures, and 
faces ! The long tables smoked with the fraternal hospitality of 
the rich convent. Savory clouds floated to the upper rooms, among 
trifling girls, and hopeful mothers. Mr. Steele remarked to Lucy, 
that 'Squire Buddington's table matched the luxury of a Southern- 
er's entertainment. 

After supper, around the fires in various rooms, conversation 
was sweet. When the flagons of hot flip, and quaint tumblers of 
nutmeg spiced sling had circulated, converse grew sv/eeter still. 
They fell to rehearsing the doings of the Lord. There was no God 
like their God — none at all in all the lands! glorious, girding on 
his sword, filling his quiver with arrows ! going from conquering to 
conquer ; till He shall put all things under his feet 1 


Eleven o'clock was fixed for the final separation of these revival 
laborers. No one presentwould infringe upon the Sabbath. Holy- 
time would begin at twelve. Melting adieus closed the social fes- 
tivities. The ghost of revival week floated away, among the spec- 
tres of things tliat were. 


AFTER Ralph Haywood's arrival from France, he made many 
appointments to visit Vaucluse ; but as often as March pre- 
pared for the journey to the ancestral domain, the idle postpone- 
ment of his master changed his hopes of an early meeting with his 
beloved Flora, into the gloom of disappointment. At length the 
day for the union of the two powerful houses of Haywood and 
Mowndes having been settled, Ralph's presence at the paternal 
plantation mansion was deemed imperative, even by its indolent 

March took his seat on the family carriage, by the coachman, 
with happiest anticipation. He v;ould fold his long-absent wife to 
his breast once more — he would see her gentle eyes kindle at his 
approach. He should hear her sw^eet words of endearment ; and 
feel himself sufficiently rewarded for entering again voluntarily into 
bondage. He repeated to himself the well-remembered passages 
of her letters which had borne her faithful love across the sea. In 
memory he saw the neat cabin as he left it long j^ears ago, — he 
felt again her arms about his neck, and heard again her sobbing 
farewell. A joyful welcome was to banisJi a grievous absence. 

His attentions to his master were cheerful and unremitting. 
Ralph even, roused from his lethargy, says, — 

"March, boy, what's the matter ? Your voice melts on this blue 
air ; and your black face has lost the sulkiness of a few years past. 
Don't become an angel too soon ! I swear I should be lost 
without the services of my slave ! " 

" We are near the avenue now, master ; " he replied cheerfully. 

" Near the devil ! Curse the avenue of live oaks ! It leads into 
a trap ! The open sky, the wild woods and a pack of hounds is 


better ! " Yet the polished carriage roof was brushed by their brood 
ing branches, and a heavy drapery of long gray moss curtained the 
green arch under which they slowly entered. 

Up this magnificent live-oak avenue the horses walked ; the new 
master surveyed his patrimony from the carriage windows. A 
frown clouded his face, when he beheld everywhere the neglect 
portrayed by his Parisian dreams. It was near sunset — one of 
those gorgeous sunsets of Southern climes j when the very air is 

The servants had been apprised of Ralph,s coming. Beds had 
been aired and freshly made. Windows and doors were thrown 
open, and the aroma of the elaborate cuisine floated out to gladden 
the young pseudo lord. The house-servanss came out in a body, 
led by the white-aproned butler, — the field-hands gathered on the 
opposite side to greet their young master with profoundest bows 
and courtesies, — to offer smiles and greetings, propitiatory to the 
evil genius that ruled his moods and deeds ; as some bird of the air 
bad whispered them. 

" Glad ter see Massa Ralph," was humbly offered on every hand. 
" Do all we kin for yonng massa." 

March opened the carriage door with some parade, and ran his 
eyes eagerly among the crowd. Ralph alighted, and with haughty 
pride looked upon his vassals who stood with bared heads, bat- 
tered hats in hand and bowing with abject homage. 

"Splendid! tall! hansum! gran'! fine!" ran round the admir- 
ing circle ; accompanied with servile bows, and courtesies, and 
another flash of white teeth. 

^ " By George ! a good looking gang !" vouchsafed Ralph ! raising 
his hat from his head and saluting. 

" Rice and cotton should grow here ! " 

" A mighty smart chance, sir ! " bowed the overseer. 

" March ! " continued the new master, " deliver the tobacco to the 
overseer. There's a ration for each, — and overseer, bring out the 
v\^hisky ! serve them a ration all round to drink the master's health. 
Order the dinner March, and follow me ! " 

He strode into the verandah, under his own roof, and to his own 
chamber ; better satisfied with his reception than he had dreamed. 

March attended to the master's dinner toilet ; drew on his own 


official white gloves ; followed him down to the dining-room, and 
waited at the back of his chair. With unusual skill, he managed 
Ralph's distastes and relishes : thus keeping at bay the usual impe- 
rious oath and fretful curse. 

After a long sitting, with generous draughts of his father's wine, 
which he declared had grown smoother, and more delectable dur- 
ing his absence, he rose saying, — 

" I am going to the piazza." March followed with a lounging 
chair ; then hurried away for his accustomed cigars. A small se- 
lection of the silver had been taken from the vaults of the bank in 
Charleston, where it had been deposited for safety, and sent up by 
his factors. From this, March took a waiter of the old family sil- 
ver — placed upon it all Ralph's Parisian paraphernalia of smok- 
ing ; and placed it upon a small table at his elbow. As he passed 
the lighted match to his master, he heard the welcome words, — 

" Go now, March — find your wife. She is modest about intrud- 
ing upon your attention before the new master. Go, now. Come 
back in the morning. My father's old servant will sleep on the 
floor by me. He will attend to my wants. Go, greet your pretty 
wife. A long absence you have had of it." 

March bent low, and uttered his thanks with visible emotions of 
gratitude and pleasure ; he turned away to seek his own packages, 
which he had secretly placed in the coachman's box in Charleston, 
with articles for the comfort and luxury of his master. They had 
all come across the sea, from the gay Paris that furnished Ralph's 
costly gifts to Gracie Mowndes. When alone, he removed a 

" How this will please the little beauty," thought March, — and 
the thought blossomed into lively smiles upon his lips, which parted 
over his white teeth, in the anticipated joy. "How she loves blue ! 
and this is blue silk — glossy as any other." 

He unrolled it, held it to the dying sunset light 

" Ah, my Flora in that dress will tempt the white bloods. But I 
have nothing to fear. She has always been the same faithful one 
to me. My father ! yes, my father, and Ralph's father ; my proud 
white father gave her to me forever. He gave me to Ralph, who 
very well knows I am his brother ; that his promise to me con- 
cerning^ my darling wife Flora, should be kept sacred ; and that 


I, his son, might gather into my narrow slave life its few stinted 

He folded the Paris silk back into its envelope, lifted a pink 
gauze dress, a white shawl, earings and necklace of imitation pearls* 
Then his brow contracted as he held the pretty baubles in his 
hand. Imitation, thought he, forever — imitation ! I could have 
bought some pearls for Flora, — I had money for a few real pearls. 
Flora deserves them ; put I dared not. The proud blue blood of 
master's bride, Grace Mowndes, would have boiled and bubbled in 
wrath against my little wife, that she should presume to equality 
with her mistress. " Aha ! ha ! ha ! " in a light, melodious laugh, 
escaped on the evening air. Flora is of blue-blood parentage. 
That test of rank runs in her veins. I remember the time old mas- 
ter's white wife would have him buy the mother and child from 
Colonel Sachuse ; and how all we house-servants saw Colonel Sa- 
chuse's face in the gay little Flora. He was her father ! " 

During this soliloquy, his hands were busy unrolling, and rolling 
again bright ribbons, embroidered handkerchiefs, and tiny gloves. 
He took from one package a pair of blue slippers ; the accompani- 
ment of the blue silk dress. He rested one upon each palm. 

" Silver buckles. Number two. Mistress Grace must never see 
these. Her jealous rage would trample these under her feet, with 
the pearls. Then she would sell my wife on the auction block, as 
heartlessly as she sold her sister Zog. Everybody knows that, in 
Charleston. Flora shall wear these, when the mistress is away. 
She shall wear them for my eyes to see ! and they shall not sell my 
Flora. It was the command of the father of Ralph and me, that 
Flora should not be sold." 

He went on arranging the packages in a pretty French basket, 
bought for her also. " She has not been to see me ; though she 
knows I have come. She will not show herself to Ralph. Will he 
dare to take her from me, and make her his wife ? " 

An agonized thought shot through his heart like a barbed arrow. 
"Heaven knows what he will do ! These masters take to them- 
selves any and every one they choose I " 

His white teeth ground the maddening thoughts between them ; 
and a glittering dagger-light flashed from the calm of his hitherto 
quiet eyes. With a basket on his arm, containing the precious 


gifts, he passed out west of the mansion, down, the road to the 
quarters ; under the sweet gums, now ahnost leafless ; past the 
shining green of magnolias, and copses of sweet bay ; into the 
skirt of the piny woods standing darkly against the yellow evening 
sky. Just in front of him was his own cabin, where he left his 
chiefest treasure. He advanced rapidly to the open door. A 
brawny black woman, a field hand, wearing her coarse, short work- 
ing gown, bare armed, and turbaned with a scant piece of her rude 
dress, met him at the door. Four little toddling, half-clad children 
clung around her bare feet, to see the nice gentleman at their 

*' Where is my Flora?" questioned March sharply. 

*'You' Flora .'* Dunno, mister. I ain't been raise here;" and 
in determined reticence, she leaned her shoulder against the door- 
post. " I bin raise in Georgy ; b'long to de massa Leshyur. He 
die — de hul gang sell in Charleston — agent buy we — tote we up 
here. Dunno, mister. " 

" Oh ! you know more than you are going to tell, till you find 
whether you are safe or not. Slaves never tell what they know to 
strangers. Mv name is March. I am Flora's husband — been 
away with your master several years. I am a slave as much as you 
are. Tell me about Flora. Is my little, loving wife dead, or sold ? 
Tell me ! for you know ; " and with a groan, he dropped, sobbing, 
upon the lower step of the short flight of stairs leading up to the 

The woman sat down upon the lower step, driving away her 
chattering children, to play in the woods. 

"You is March! I heah 'bout March. Well den, I spec de 
same ting happen she, dat happen all we slabe. I heah March 
wife sole, and dis room look so neat when I come, like white lady 
room. " 

The French basket rolled off the unconscious arm to the ground. 
March bowed his head over wringing hands, and groaned. 

" How long since she was here? " he asked huskily. " Give me 
a drink of water ! " 

"Plant rice tree time sence I'se come ; an' I nebber seen her ! " 
replied the woman, with the callousness of despair for herself, and 
all in her condition. 


" Is old Prudy here yet ? " 

"Ole Prudy? yes; Prudy here; she tell me 'bout Flora; she 
know ; Prudy tell youse all. Go see Prudy ; lib right ober dare." 

March took up the basket, and turned from Flora's cabin, with- 
out a look within. The moon sailed brightly among the tops of 
the pines. 

" Just as it used to look when Flora and I walked here. My 
heart must break ; and I've a heart as tender as Ralph's. My 
Savior ! had he a hand in this?" He dropped upon the steps of 
the cabin he sought, and called, Prudy. 

"Who dat?" returned a broken voice within. "Who voice be 
dat ? " She shuffled to the door. 

" I am March, Prudy. Tell me where is my Flora. 

'*Lor a me, March, — dat you? Didn' Marse Ralph tell ye Flora 
done sole ? " 

" No, no Prudy ; he dont know it himself. He sent me down to 
see her." 

She reached over, took him by the arm and said in a low pity- 
ing tone, — 

" Come in, shet de doo', got lightwood fire." She drew him in, 
to repeat the story safely — for Flora had told her all. 

" Take dis same chair ole marse will, to Prudy." 

She brightened the flame by another piece of lightwood, and sat 
down on the bottom of a broken piggin herself. 

" Now Prudy speak soft. You listen. Shutters all tight. Look 
heah. Hush weepin'. Weepin' wont bring nobody back. Hush ! 
Young marse know ebry bit 'bout dis. He sen you down heah 
pu'pose. Dese debbel marsers. Dey sell ebry body; wife, chil- 
der an* dere own childer ; deii look white like angels. Marse Ralph 
lub Flora hisself — vvant her for he wife. He mad an' sell her. 
March, youse fool. W^hat for you come back from France ? What 
for you be slabe gin ? " 

" I was willing to be a slave forever with Flora ; and master gave 
me a letter from her the very week we left Paris." groaned March. 
"In this letter she said she waited for me, and begged me to 
hasten back to her faithful love." 

" Dat very debbel Ralph write de letters hisself, to bring you 
back to Carliny. She sole the nex' year you went way to France. 


She wait for you de oder side, where Jurdan roll. Marse Ralph 
tell ye 'bout Flora fait'ful lub. No slabe woman ken hab fait'tul 
lub. She hab one husban' she lub. Marse come long, take her 
'way — sell de husban' or someting — den make her take nudder 
husban'. De white men's got no fait'ful lub ; an' dey wont let no 
somebody else hab fait'ful lub." 

" Did this overseer sell my Flora?" sobbed March. 

" No, de oberseer dat youse know, sell her — obcose. Marse 
Ralph give de order — an' after dat he ship oberseer hisself — so 
he neber tell. Flora tell me dat same oberseer try to make her 
him wife. He whip her, shet her up. Flora say she die fust ; den 
he gib it up." 

'• How did they take her away, Prudy t Were they cruel to her ? " 

" No matter 'bout dat, Match, she gone ; dat nuff." 

" Prudy ! " he gasped, " tell me the whole — I must know ! Did 
they put handcuffs on her tender wrists .?" 

" What make you ask ? " she hesitated " True March, dey 
did. She cry an' struggle — say dont do dat — I'll go myself. 
But de oberseer wid de debbel's face say, * put 'em on.' Den I see 
de iron red wid her blood. Hush March. Somebody heah. Gib 
it up to de good Lord. Dat young marse Ralph cut you heart out. 
he fin' you blood. Take care." 

" Prudy, do you call the Lord good, when He has the power and 
don't stop these things .^ " 

"I spects Him good. I spects Him come down heah, and walk 
'bout dese plantation sometime. I spects Him comin'." 

"Which way did they take Flora to the boat ? " 

" Down de av'nue youse come up, under the libe-oak. Now heah 
de message. Prudy keep ebry word for you." 

" One night, after de fust fowl crow, Flora come to me in dat ole 
bed dare, she kneel down and say. 'Prudy, listen. If dey kill me 
or sell me 'way, tell my dear March I lub him allers. Tell him .1 
nebber no man wife but him. My heart is brake. Oberseer say I 
go fur as win' an' water can carry me. Tell March I leave my 
kisses in de air in dese piny wood for him. March an' me will 
nebber meet again, till we go up to de Trone ob God,' Den she 
cry and faint 'way. Hush March. Dont 'venge on marse. Gib 
it up to de Lord." 


Suppressed anguish, and falling tears were her only reply. At 
length he spoke, — 

"Prudy, will you go to the gardener and bring me a spade? I 
will return it to you before break of day." 

" What for you want spade ?" she quickly asked. 

" To bury my wrongs, and revenge, Prudy." 

" Den I bring it." 

When she returned and gave it into his hand, she said, — 

"Go March, down to the old palmetto tree, where you an' Flora 
use to pull de yeller jessmine. Flora pray for you dere de las' 
time. Go down dere. De Lord waits for youse dere, de Lord wid 
de shinin' robe." She closed the door after him. In the flooding 
moonlight, with the French basket and spade, he staggered over 
the rough cotton field, under live oaks, past magnolias and clumps 
of laurel, through a fallow field waist-deep with withered grass, 
into the shadowy woods to the old palmetto, spreading out its huge 
fringed fans, aud hiding its ugliness in the burrowed graces of a 
luxuriant vine. The spirit of death seemed to have preceded him, 
even here. 

" Desolate, like me ! " murmured March. He sat upon the 
same fallen log where Flora had so often rested, while he pulled 
the fragrant yellow flowers for her expectant hands. He threw 
himself upon the dried grass, and made a rapid retrospect of his 
past life. He lived over again its rare passages of sweetness, and 
came back to the bitter present. He arose with suppressed 
groans ; took the spade, and carefully raising the brown grass turf, 
dug underneath a small, deep grave ; within, he placed the basket, 
containing all the beautiful foreign gifts to his beloved Flora. 
The dresses, the pearls, the ribbons, the tiny slippers, and the em- 
broideries. Over this he knelt, and dropped above them his 
streaming tears, and a prayer to be kept from executing the wild 
promptings of revenge, which seemed to rend his soul asunder. 
His weak, trembling hands threw back the earth, replaced the turf, 
and carefully added to the ground an undisturbed aspect j yet, for- 
ever marked to his own eye. 

As he rose from his labor, empty-handed and broken-hearted, 
the song of a mocking bird poured forth from the topmost sprig of 
the jasmine, in the old palmetto. " Perhaps God has spoken to m.e 


thus," thought March j " or, is it the spirit of my lost Flora? It has 
flown. Farewell to all I love, or hope for on earth." He turned 
away with the spade, passed through the shadows of familiar trees, 
across the fields to Prudy's door. She was still hovering over the 
fire. She offered March an old blanket to spread upon the floor 
till morning. 

"I cannot sleep. Let me rest awhile in this chair ; " into which 
he s^nk in a state of exhausted despair. Prudy resumed her pig- 
gin, and lighted her clay pipe. Laying on more lightwood, she 
turned to memories of Flora, and related her grief and loneliness, 
after March left America ; told how the dear girl mourned over 
the cruelties of bondage, where all that was allowed the poor slave 
in common with the free, was the tender upspringing of human . 
attachment, but that as soon as it put forth its vitality in tender 
growth, the owner of the being cut it down with the same noncha- 
lance he would reap the rice-field. 

Relapsing into silence for aw^hile, the old woman rose to her feet 
with an exclamatory, — 

" Lor a me ! I done forgot." She went to her box, answering 
for a trunk, and took therefrom a small paper box, securely tied by 
a fragment of blue ribbon. She returned to the piggin, saying in 
a consolitary voice, " Dare, March, open dat. Flora left it for 

He raised the box to his lips, and poured forth tears over it; 
loosed the knot his wife's own fingers had tied, and found within 
two of her long, black, silky curls. He lifted them. Ring after 
ring dropped down in their native twining grace, which could not 
be surpassed. Both looked at them without words ; but the cabin 
was filled with low, heart-rending moans. 

Prudy laid down her pipe, and quietly took the curls from INIarch, 
replaced them in the box, wound the blue ribbon about it, drew up 
a coarse bench by him, and set it there. It was near morning. 

" I must go, Prudy, to dress that man ; that master ; that brother 
of mine by the same father ! that murderer of my darling wife ! 
that lying villain ! that deliberate assassin ! Prudy, pray for me, 
lest I plunge his own bowie knife to its true home, and warm it in 
his life's blood." 

"J'rudy pray now. Kneel down heah, March, with Prudy." 


"No, I can't pray. The good Lord offered me freedom and 
manhood once in glorious France ; but I threw the great offer in 
His face, and came back to these plains and swamps, fouler with 
murderous deeds than with their deathly miasma. I came back to 
these chains, whips and miseries." 
•'Pray, March. De Lord heah." 

" Prudy, how can I pray .'' He may hear you ; not me." 
" Pray, March," she repeated. " Kneel on de blanket, an' take 
dem blessed curl in youse han'." She pulled at his coat. "Pray 
March! kneel down! You's got de blue blood, in ye! Kneel, 
March! you's got de debble blue blood! You's half old marse I 
You han' kin hole de dagger, like him. You han' kin fire de pis- 
tol, an' take de aim like him. 'Member, yon half old marse! 
Kneel, boy, kneel ! " 

He did kneel in view of his danger. Old Prudy raised both her 
bony hands. 

"Will degood Lord heah? Will de bressed Sabior listen to Him 
chile.-* See ! him bow down ! Him ask him Fader in Heaben to 
sabe him from vengin' him belubed wife, sole 'way. Him be de 
Lord's chile. Him ask to hab him own strong fiery right han' hold 
in de holler ob de Heabenly Fader han', so dat he do no murder. 
Bressed Sabior ! walk close by de side ob dis poor boy, troo de 
gret darkness ob him sorrow. Put dy pure white arm roun' him, 
an' walk wid him. Den, oh my Sabior ! he will lib to praise Dy 
holy name." 

An agonized groan, and the dropping of her uplifted palms, 
closed the prayer. 

March, touched by the pathos, trust and prophetic fear of his old 
friend, grew softened. A strong peace stole over his thoughts, 
Prudy laid her hand on his arm at the door. 

" Will ye strike now, boy ? " she whispered. " Promise afore 
youse go." 
" No, Prudy." 

" Will ye Jlre de pistol hehirC de sweet hay hush 1 Promise afore 
youse go." 

" No, Prud3\ I'll be an obedient slave." 

When March entered his master's room, he found him still in 
bed. He called out, — 


" Halloo, March ! so early ? Was Flora glad to see you ? " 

Contrary to the custom of slaves, he gazed steadily into the face 
of Ralph ; and saw there the sly demon of triumph, leap to his 
accursed eyes. Had he obeyed the impulses of his nature, he 
would at once have sprung forward to the bedside and throttled the 
questioner, till he had acknowledged his crime and begged his 
mercy. Old Prudy's prayer still sounded in his ear; and he 
answered respectfully, — 

" I have not seen her, sir." 

" Why not, boy ? " 

" She was sold, sir, years ago." 

"That must have been a cruel mistake of somebody's, by Jupi- 
ter ! When was she sold ? Dress me. How is Greylock ? Have 
you looked into the stables this morning ? " 

'• Greylock is well, sir." 

" Wait the dressing. Go down and order old Job, the hunter, to 
get dogs and horses ready for an early chase. Order the butler to 
lay an early breakfast. You appear deucedly heavy-eyed ; better 
get a livelier spirit into your feet, boy." 

March gave the orders with a ready obedience, — dressed his 
master quickly in his hunting suit, and waited at the back of his 
chair with his usual docility. He had the care of his master's pis- 
tols and guns ; and in the hunt rode after him, "How easy a mat- 
ter," said he to himself " would it be for me to pull a trigger with 
another aim, when others are firing at the deer, and the horses are 
running." Yet he mounted and rode away unarmed. 

At night, old Job brought back a trophy of the day's chase, in 
the shape of a fine antlered buck. On the return of the master, he 
met the force of carpenters and painters ordered at Charleston. 
Festivities and gay revels with the neighboring gentry were in 
order. Field-hands and house-servants met young marse with 
bows, courtesies and flattering praises. Gentlemen, whose families 
boasted the purest blood in the Union, hovered around Ralph ; ate 
boisterous dinners, drank his father's wine, toasted him hilariously, 
toasted each other, toasted Calhoun and his hobbies, toasted their 
royal State and its royal power. This was repeated at the neigh- 
boring plantations, where the new master was made to feel his im- 


portance on the roll of interpreters and supporters of the Federal 

March hid his sorrows and festering wrongs, as best he might, — 
abating not a whit of the subserviency due to his brother, — yet his 
manner was grave, thoughtful and patient. This carriage was not 
pleasing to Mr. Haywood. There must be no " Death's Heads " 
about his board ; no hidden skeletons to mar his rosy dreams. He 
said one day to March, — 

" Here you Saturnine gloom I Take a word of warning ; put away 
your blue devils or I will offer my assistance. Sunlight, gayety and 
the graces must be the attendants of my approaching nuptials." 

At length the paternal mansion of the new proprietor was reju- 
venated. The ample piazzas of two stories, and its tall white 
chimnies among the oaks and magnolias and leafless sycamores 
vied with its vicinal houses. Rose bowers, trellises and grape- 
arbors rose on every side. The oval flower garden, for the pleas- 
ure of its future mistress, was guarded from vulgar feet by a low, 
vvhite, scolloped lace-work fence. The gardener's work in pruning, 
transplanting and laying out the grounds, went on with the work of 
the builders. 

Ralph returned to the city and took with him his father's serv- 
ing man. This occasioned no surprise to March j as he knew the 
few wrecks following were to be occupied with busy preparations for 
his master's marriage. In Charleston, March was daily dispatched 
with notes to Ralph's agents, to Grace Mowndes, to the furnitura 
dealers, and on a multiude of other errands. 

Charlotte, Ralph's chambermaid, bought for his house before his 
arrival from France, and oE whom we have before spoken, was also 
busy with the new furniture of the rooms ; and had more occasion 
to mingle with the other house servants, — yet they all remarked 
her well-preserved dignity of demeanor; and that she artfully 
avoided familiarity with any. She glided over the house as if she 
were the mistress. 

" Marse put dat in Lotty head," whispered Prince Andrew to 
Jane, the washer-woman. " She no better'n me. I kiss heaps gals 
han'some as she ; but I no kiss her." 

" Old men like you no business kissin' the girls. You is a old 
goose, Andrew." 


Prince Andrew shrugged his shoulders, chuckled in his fat throat 
and said pompously, — 

•']\Iuss do what de white mens do, Mistress Jane." 

" Mistress Jane says old men are silly things, white or colored," 
was the curt reply ; and he walked off with his towel and waiter. 

" Oh ! my ears ! " cried Dick, running into the kitchen. 

" Wha's matter.? " asked the cook. 

" Queen Charlotte cuff 'em, cause I tried to sport wid she ! Marse 
needn't git marry ober agin ! " 

One day when Ralph was yielding full rein to his Southern tem- 
per, he gave several orders to March ; among them a note to the 
workhouse, for which he was to wait an answer. He was to attend 
to this note last. 

March ran down the marble steps, crossed the long walk, and 
closed the iron gate after him with unqualified pleasure. It was 
one of those bright days, when Charleston seemed to swim in a 
transparent haze ; like the moss in a milky blue agate stone. He 
was glad to escape from the irritation at the house ; and felt his 
burdens lightened by the beauty around him. 

A note to Ralph's factors took him down East Bay street. His 
eye was attracted by the masts and spars of the ships, at their 

He leaned against an awning post, and reflected. 

"There went the little feet of my Flora, on her journey of Death ! 
There she staggered up the gangway of the New Orleans vessel, 
with her bleeding wrists in the gnawing hand-cuffs ; her tangled 
silken curls in disorder ; and her dear eyes heavy with weeping. 
Down that misty harbor she was borne, heart-breaking, and filled 
with despair. " 

The beautiful morning became dim ; the very sun in the heavens 
eclipsed. Intense anguish still wrought upon his features when he 
arrived at Magazine street; but he presented the note to the gate- 
keeper at the workhouse. After some delay, an attendant returned 
to the gate, saying, — 

" Come this way, to the master. " 

March followed, and found him.self entering the whipping-room. 
He had no fear; but removed his hat, and offered the usual salu- 


'* Come in," said the master ; " and close the door. " He did 

" Take off your coat and vest. " 

" I ? sir ! " exclaimed March, with horror. 

" Yes ! to be sure, you ! yourself ! Take off your coat and vest ; 
and strip your shirt from your shoulders ! " 

"For what, sir.?" demanded March ; drawing back to the door. 

" You know well why clothing is removed in this room ! you 
feigning hypocrite ! Off with them ! " 

" I will not be whipped, sir. " 

A coarse, derisive laugh echoed through the empty room. 

" Sunday," he said to the whipper, a tall, stalwart black, with 
sleeves rolled to his elbows, and spattered with fresh blood, " Sun- 
day, call the assistants, Dan and Bill. " 

At the same time, he drew a pistol from his pocket, and cocked 
it deliberately, saying, — 

" Move, and you are a dead man ! " 

Leaving things in this attitude, let us survey this room, in which 
the creeds, sermons, and prayers of Charleston culminated. 

As its type cannot be found in ]\Ioses, or its plan in the Evan- 
gelists, it must rationally be conjectured that its arrangements for 
torturing the images of God were a later sublimation of a more 
delicate philanthropy than Moses or Christ possessed. 

The room was large enough to allow space and footing for the 
fearful resistance which might be made to this mode of moral sua- 
sion. Its walls were bare, whitewashed, and bespattered with 
human blood. In the centre of the room, a post, planted in the 
floor, reached the ceiling. At its top was a pulley for drawing up 
the arms of the victims; the wrists being previously tied together. 
At the foot of the post were rings for the confinement of the feet. 
Around the room hung whips of various inventions ; the long black 
snake, the shorter cat-o'-ninetails, with multiplied lashes, and 
whips with wire braided into the ends of the lash. There were 
also long, flat, wooden instruments, called paddles, bored with 
holes ; so that the human flesh under its blows, was puft'ed into 
bruised and bloody blisters, healing slowly. A dirty cap made 
from carpet, such as hangmen use, hung beside these whips. 

The floor, which was frequently washed of its gore, and sanded, 



had been recently drenched, and the sand was wet upon it, but a 
whipping had just been consummated, and a drip of blood diago- 
nally across it marked the exit of the punished one from the pul- 
lev to the door ; thence to the pump in the yard, whence a crimson 
rivulet ran into the street gutter, and along the thoroughfare. 

Dan and Bill entered, grim and hatless, with Sunday. 

" Take off your coat ! " again reiterated the master. " Dare you 
resist the law, and the officers of the law.? " 

March, standing firm, replied, — 

" I have committed no crime, sir! I will not be whipped with- 
out resistance ! " 

'• Strip him, boys ! Tear off his shirt ! Can't waste time in this 
way. There's three more waiting to be served ! " 

" Stand off ! " said March, bracing for defence. " I'll die first ! " 

" Give up easy ! " said Sunday. " Mus' come to dat pos'. " 

In a second, Dan lay his length one way, and Bill reeled another. 
Sunday came up with them next time, and the whole four went 
down to the sandy floor. 

It was a happy thought on the part of the Southerners, to em- 
ploy slaves to do the accursed business, that they might receive 
the blows of resistance which were dealt upon the officials, — for 
the law being death to the slave who dared to raise his hand against 
a white man, the master would have been subject to many losses of 
valuable property. So in the case of March ; he would have found 
his death before his captors dragged him, tied feet and hands, to 
the pulley at the post. 

After the second repulse, the three in the attack overpowered 
March by wariness and iron-muscled force. His clothes were torn 
off, his back and shoulders stripped bare, and the rope of the 
pulley was attached to his wrists. Away they pulled ; every turn 
of the wheel yielding a demoniac scream at the dead weight it was 
lifting ; for ]\Iarch, in the struggle, had received a blow on the 
head, causing teirjporary insensibility. The dirty carpet cap was 
drawn ever his head and face, to hide the terrible agony of the 
human lineaments, while undergoing torture. His feet were se- 
cured to the ring and staple at the floor. 

Sunday took down a heavy whip, rolled his sleeves afresh, snd 
stood off, to give the lash a proper purchase. Hissing in the air 



like a serpent, it stung across the bare back and shoulders of 
March, ehcting a sharp, responding groan. Sunday rested, as was 
the custom, for this branch of slavery was reduced to an art • 
therefore Sunday stood holding the heavy whip lax in his ri-ht 
hand, while the lash trailed upon the floor. "" 

''Tame him, Sunday! Tame the infernal devil! That's hi • 
master's orders ! Mind what I say, Sunday, or you'll be hauled up 
there yourself! Try it again, and stop between strokes. That 
vyas a good one ! That's the right kind of a welt across his shoul- 
ders ! 

Sunday gathered up the whip, and stood back again With 
another hiss, it cut across the welt of the first stroke ; like the ser- 
pent's fangs, It bit out a strip of flesh, and the blood trickled to the 

" My God ! ejaculated March. 

"Thats it, Sunday!" grinned the workhouse master. "That's 
the talk!" and he promenaded up and down the damp, sanded 
lioor, whiffing his cigar with a surly nonchalance. 

Sunday took breath, and trailed the lash again. Thus the 
bloody work went on, till Sunday's sleeves were spattered with 
ensangmned stains ; till March's life blood dripped from the o-ory 
lash ; till a red pool lay curdling around the ring and staple confin- 
ing his feet. ^ 

"Take him down ! " ordered the master. "Can't exceed the law' 
He 11 do ! " 

The pulley loosed, turned backwards, and uttered a^^ain its re- 
volting shriek. March's feet were unfastened, and th'e cap was 
drawn from his face. Dizzy and faint, he sank down at the foot of 
the post. 

'' Call the constable with his buggy, to take him to his master 
and come back and put on his clothes." ' 

They drew on his tattered garments, without resistance on his 
part, and bade him go. 

March reeled out, half crazed, and was helped into the buggy. 
At Ralph's mansion, the new coachman met him at the side 
gate, and in pitying tones delivered the orders. 

_ "Master Haywood says you must go up into my room over the 
kitchen. I will go with you." 


Once there, the coachman whispered, — 

*' Bear up, March, I will take care of you. We can't help our- 
selves. May be my turn next ! Nobody knows ! " 

He laid him upon his coarse bed, and drew from a hidden cor- 
ner a bottle of his master's wine. 

"Drink this glass full, and drink it every day. I'll steal it every 
day for you ; and what I don't get, Prince Andrew will, and so will 
Dick. All our hearts are breaking for you, March. But we shall 
have to dance and sing all the more, for this devil's work ; or we 
shall be strung up to the workhouse ourselves. Now, March, when 
you hear us laugh and sing below, and about the yard, 'member 
our hearts are bruised for you. Don't lay it up against us." 

He disposed March upon his face, and covered his gashed, 
bleeding back with soft linen pieces, ointed with healing salve ; 
gave him more wine, spread blankets lightly over him, and went to 
the stables. 

The nuptial day was fast approaching. Ralph Haywood had 
just received the last touch to his dignity as a Southerner — the 
substitution for the dubbing of the ancient knight. 

A mounted club had been formed. Several ancient and honor- 
able companies were dismembered, that the choicest flowers of 
chivalry might fill the command proffered to Carolina's brilliant 
son ; and that they might complete their martial career, under so 
distinguished a leader. Thus he accepted the accolade of Colonel 
of the Feudal Battleaxe Battalion. 

It will be appropriate hereafter, to think and speak of him offi- 
cially, as the gallant Colonel Haywood, and in ordinary life, to 
drop the boyish Ralph, and meaningless mister; never forgetting 
that Colonel Haywood is the synonym for daring bravery, fearless 
patriotism, strict constructionism, inviolable hate, gentle affection, 
crystalized cruelty, knightly grace. State rights fidelity, pious syco- 
phancy, blue- blood debauchery, popular integrity, and private 

Two tasks yet remained to be accomplished, before he should 
bend his gracious ear to listen to the music of Grace's marriage 
vow. One of these he set about in the morning hours, after a mid- 
night revelry at the armory of the " Feudal Battleaxe Battalion." 

Dick, the coachman, and his father's waiting-man, now acting in 


I\farch's stead, were awake to do his bidding, for they had attended 
him at the military rendezvous. When the coachman drew rein at 
the iron gate for the colonel to alight, he heard the order, — 

"Build a fire in the kitchen, and await me there, with Dick." 

"What de debble dat for.?" said Dick to the coachman in the 
barn. "What he want now ? Had high livin' to-night, and 'feast 
er flow ! ' drown out in brandy and wines ! What wese got to do? 
roas' turkey 'fore mornin' ? " 

" Hush ! " answered the coachman. " Keep your tongue silent ! 
You'll be the death of us all, yet." 

At three o'clock a knocking was heard at the carriage gate. 
Dick hurried down the dark driveway, and let in two stalwart 
black men. 

" What yous come fur .? " asked Dick. 
"Dunno. 'Bey orders," was the brief reply. 

"Go in de kitchen ; dere's good fire," said Dick ; and ran up to 

Colonel Haywood followed Dick to the kitchen, and thus ac- 
costed the blacks, — 

" So you're here, boys .? Very well. Put that iron into the fire. 
Rake open the coals, so it will heat hotter than h— 11 ! " 

He paced the floor impatiently, till it was nearly red hot. He 
turned to Dick, who cowered by the door, awaiting his pleasure. 

"Call the coachman." 

He joined the others. 

"Now, boys," said the colonel, "my nigger March is to be 
branded. It's to be done on his right arm, below the elbow. 
There ! you three are to hold him in the bed, while I apply the 
iron. Do as I bid, or I've something in this pocket for you." 

He drew a heavy pistol, saying — 

" Do you hear ? " 

1^' Wese heah massa ; we 'bey," answered the deep voice of Dave. 
Give me the iron, Dave, " ordered the colonel. " Take the 
light, coachman, and move on. I follow." 

The nights of March, since the whipping at the workhouse, had 
been harassed with pain and wakefulness ; and although his back 
and shoulders, cauterized by the lash, were in their tenderest and 
most sensitive condition, nature demanded sleep. He therefore 


slept the heavy Lethean sleep of exhaustion. He heard not the 
subtle steps of the four men — saw not the candlelight. He 
dreamed that chains fettered his limbs — that handcutis bound his 
wrists. He made a half-conscious struggle to free himself from their 
hateful pressure ; and awoUe in the steel-like grasp of men stand- 
ing over him. He was as fast as if clasped in a vise. 

In a second, the hot branding iron was seething and burning into 
the flesh of his right arm. A piercing scream rang out, which 
would have made the blood curdle in a human heart. But the ears 
of Charlestonians were accustomed to these shrieks, — the atmos- 
phere was rife with them, as with the insects' hum. So none 
heeded. Dave, Bill and the coachman, kept a cowed, stolid si- 
lence. The room was filled with the smoke of charred flesh. 

" Cut my throat at once, and have done ! " cried March. '•' Do 
not murder me bv inches ! " 

The master removed the brandinsr-iron from his brother's arm. 

"There, curse you ! You're labelled nov/. That ' Col. R. H.,' 
won't wash out in a day ! Wnen you forget your owner, turn up 
your sleeve and refresh your memory. There's your French free- 
dom ! There's France! Cut your throat? No, can't afford to 
waste two thousand dollars. Take care of yourself. Remember, 
you are part of my estate. Your whipping was ordered to cast out 
the infernal spirit of gloom that hangs around you like night. It 
was to give you a shorter face ; and for putting on airs of mourn- 
ing for a wench you presumed to call your wife. Getting white a 
few paces too fast.'' 

Two days before the marriage of the young planter of Vaucluse, 
he came earlier to dinner than was his custom. He passed 
throuo:h the hall where Dick was stationed and bade him answer all 
calls with "Not in." "Admit a person at that door, boy, and 
you'll feel the raw-hide." He strode up to his chamber, sat down 
to smoke and revolve events. 

This last ante-nuptial arrangement should be accomplished to- 
night ; and although a host of lackeys and factors awaited his word, 
onl}-, this last and pleasant design must be executed personally. 

" March has his quietus. He'll not madden me more by his 
eternally solemn face of mock despair. I've given him something 
for resignation now. D — n him ! he's mine ; mine by the Decla- 


ration of Independence ; mine by the guaranty of the Constitution ; 
mine by the example of the patriarchs ; mine by the laws of Chris- 
tianity ; as much mine as are the horses in the stable; and the 
deer on my plains. Let him talk more of France and freedom if 
he dare ! Let a branded slave try escape. My name — the name 
of his owner, Col. K. H., will be the swift witness that shall return 
him to me. 

"I must see Charlotte this evenins: and settle affairs for her and 
myself. She's the soft silver light that gilds this marriage of mine. 
Her dark, dreamy, liquid eyes melt into my fiery soul and calm its 
restless depths. Her placid, submissive manner puts to sleep the 
tiger within me. Her slow, swan-like movement about me, is 
poetry itself. With Solomon I say, ' Her teeth are like a flock of 
sheep that are even shorn ; her lips are like a thread of scarlet, and 
her speech is comely ; her temples are like a piece of pome- 

" ' She walks in beauty, like the night 
Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 

And all that's best of dark and bright 
Meets in her aspect and her eyes ; 

Thus, mellowed to that tender light, 
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies,' 

" By Jupiter ! Byron had a soul for the lovely and the beautiful. 
With Charlotte, life is romance. Her shy, timid love for me is 
more fascinating than the coquettish charms of Flora. Flora ! 
Well, I am avenged. 

"Grace adores me; yet her love is tiresome, — like the over- 
powering fragrance of giant magnolia bloom ; it sickens every 
sense. £/i, hien^ Gracie and her dower will be mine, de jure. Sat- 
isfactory, surely ; for the law of South Carolina, having once joined 
us, yields a right of divorce to death, alone. Charlotte is mine de 
facto. What union is stronger ? " • 

He directed his waiting-man to call Charlotte, and then to take 
a recess from attendance, and go to the kitchen. 

"Bid her dress," he added. 

A half hour elapsed before Charlotte answered the summons in 
person. The colonel went on reflecting. 

•' This brown girl answers the demands of my nature. What has 


woman to do with the fierce impulses and ambitions of men ? Why 
attempt to place her feeble strength and weak intellect, as irrita- 
ting obstacles, in the way his will directs ? Charlotte will not in- 
terfere : always confiding, gentle and compliant, she seeks to foster 
the tenderest element of my nature, — my constant love. That she 
has affection for me as strong as Gracie, I cannot doubt ; and in 
her fidelity to me alone, I trust. There will be no bickerings con- 
cerning rank and possessions between us. Without questioning, 
without suspicion, without the look of a d — d drooping lily, she 
will ever throw her arms about my neck, with the same welcome 
after absence. She cannot read ; and she needs to read nothing 
but my moods. Par consequence^ she will not prate about literature. 
I shall have enough of that trash in another direction. The litera- 
ture of Haynes and the Constitution is all that yields me one iota 
of interest. 

" I shall be all right ; for Grace believes iii the immaculate purity 
of ma7i — in their perennial constancy to the de jure wife. Her 
observations, restrained with angelic propriety to her father's ele- 
gant parlors — to her own boudoir and her mirror, have convinced 
her of this. La, me, how celestial ! I believe Grace is either an 
idiot, or her vaulting pride overleaps acknowledgment of sun- 
lighted truths." 

A step was heard, 

" She is coming! " he said rapturously. 

Charlotte entered, closed the door, and stood without advancing, 
as was the custom of slaves. The colonel rose to look at her. 
She was dressed with elegance and taste, — her drooping lids and 
long silken lashes veiled her eyes and rendered her coyness doubly 

" Come, Queen of my soul ! " he cried, seating himself. 

Slowly she advanced to his side, slid one arm about his neck, 
and bent her lips to his forehead. The reply to her caress was 
kisses upon her brown cheeks. 

" Sit by me, Charlotte ; I have something to tell you. " 

She complied ; and in her bounding pulses, she felt his silent, 
idolatrous regard, but saw it not beneath her drooping lids. 

" Do you know I am to be married .? '" 

Without a cloud upon her face, she replied, — 

A -Mix!:d love affair. 


" I knew of the marriage, but not the day. " 

"It comes off the day after to-morrow, and this is my last happy 
evening in this honse with you, Charlotte. Don't tremble so! 
This marriage is ex-more, according to custom. You have the 
keeping of my heart, and will continue to be its keeper, as long as 
you are faithful to me alone. " 

He cast his arm about her shoulder, looking into her dark eyes. 

"What am I to expect.?" 

" My faithful love to the last, master ! " 

" And in spite of the calm, sweet smile overshadowing her brown 
face, tears welled up to her spirit's brim, and plashed down upon 
her face. 

He took the delicate handkerchief from her lap, and holding it to 
her eyes, said, — 

" Hush ! No more tears ! My factors have secured a house for 
your occupation, on the street by the river. They have sent furni- 
ture at my order. I have been round to inspect it, to-day. You will 
live like a lady, as you are, and I shall see you there, without let 
or hindrance. It is but a few steps from here ; and when I am in 
the city, my servant will market for you at the same time he mar- 
kets for this family. We shall pass the remaining winter at Vau- 
cluse, on the plantation. I want you there. I shall send down to 
my factors for a seamstress. They will send you up, Charlotte. 
Can you make yourself look ugly, to please me .? " 

The girl raised his hand to her lips, and uttering a silvery laugh, 
replied, — 

" I will do all you require ! " 

"Then you must conceal that bewitching hair under a turban. 
You must leave at your home in River street, most of your charm- 
ing robes, laces, and jewelry. You must wear plain," untrimmed 
clothes; and you must profess to belong to my factors, who will 
hire you to Mrs. Grace Mowndes. " 

"_ Of course, I shall do all you direct ; but you will tire of the 
plain, ugly-dressed seamstress, will you not ? And then the world 
will be dark to me. " 

" Tire of you, Charlotte > Try me, and see ! You must treat me 
with perfect indifference, in the presence of others, and you must 
expect my gallant attentions will be tendered to Mrs. Mowndes. 


But there will be times when you will learn that a plain turban can 
outvie the richest bonnet and plumes. To prove my sincerity, I 
propose that we pass this night in your house, that you gather your 
wardrobe together, in one of my trunks, and that my servant and 
the coachman take it round at nine o'clock. I will go first, to 
point the house to you. You will await me at the next corner, and 
follow. Afterwards you will go with the boys, to direct them, and 
remain. I shall soon join you there. " 

" Shall I go now, dear colonel ? " she asked 

" It is of no consequence how soon ; for 1 shall join you imme- 
diately after the trunk. Can take refreshments there, as well as 
here. I will point the house to you now. Wrap yourself warmly, 
and go. " 

He soon went out at the side gate ; passed her saying, — 

" Come ! " 

At the door, he turned back alone, after giving her the key, and 
whispering, — 

" Adieu, my brown dove ! " 

After a lime, he heard her feet on the stairs ; and then the slow, 
heavy steps of the servants, taking down the trunk ; then the clos- 
ing of the gate. Not a trace of Charlotte remained. His servant 
returned to his master's room. The colonel took up his hat and 
gloves, saying, — 

" Make your bed upon this floor, till I return. '* 

Charlotte's new abode was one of beauty and convenience. 
Furniture, carpets, and sideboard were the reflection of his taste, 
and formed an inviting bower for his chosen companion and him- 

The sun was high in the heavens, pouring his rays over the glit- 
tering waters of the Ashly ; and the streets were filled with busy 
life, when Colonel Haywood passed in at his own iron gateway. 

Dick opened the door for his master, and hastened to warn the 
cook, that " marse done come. " Prince Andrew came bowing 
low, to inform the colonel that " Breakfuss am ready, sir. " 

'•I have breakfasted ! " was the reply. 

Prince Andrew went to the kitchen, where were Jane the washer, 
the coachman, the gardener, the ironer and the cook, in secret 


conclave. A significant smile played about his black fsce, and 
snowy teeth, as he announced with his deepest bow, 

" De colonel hab dun breakfuss, Mistress Cook ! " 

A clear perception of Prince Andrew's smile was quickly evinced 
• by ail present. The cook, holding a hot slice of toasted bread on 
Her tork, caught the contagious expression, and complimented his 
grace of manner with a courtesy ; sayino", 

"■ We know whar marse done breakfuss.' " 

" That's true, cook ! " remarked the coachman. We toted Char- 
ottes finery in one of marse's trunks last night to a fine little 
house in River street. 

A nodding of heads signified entire approval. 

" xMarse get marry las' night, to him slabe bride. He marry -in 
arter to-morrow. " ^ ^ ' 

''Marse dun make wise selec', " giggled the butler. "Charlotte 
be splendid ! should like Charlotte myself ! " 

"Trust the colonel for that ! " said the coachman. " He's as 
good a judge o' women as he is of horses and do'^s i But let me 
warn you all to keep back from your mouths, all you see, hear, and 
know. Your teeth should be the double gate, that lets nothino- es- 
cape Remember! we shall soon have to deal with two\Wh 
bloods instead of o.ue. Remember March and the workhouse " 

He dropped the arm raised in warning, and went out to the sta- 
bles. Prince Andrew broke the awe of the kitchen 

" Mistress Cook, I'll tank you for de dish ob toas' fur myse'f, an' 
111 ake half dat omelet, and half dat shad. You'se brown 'em 
'cisely to my taste. " 

"Don^t you want all we to call you 'marse ', besides ' ole An- 
drew ? angrily returned the cook. 

"Dat would be 'cisely to my taste also, Mistress Cook. Gib me 
gen wine cream for my coffee." 

" Youse a gen'wine ole fool ! Now clar dis kitchen ' " 

The Mowndes mansion on this day before the marriao-e of Grace 
was in a remarkable hopeful and cheerful condition. Durino- the 
vveek past, its posse of servants had applied their labor and skill to 
the domestic exploits of exterminating every fleck of soil, every 
hbre of the spider s industry, and every atom of dust in the various 
compartments of the edifice, from the £ttic to the basement 


A choice force of skilled polishers had been manipulating the 
magnificient and costly display of family silver, for six whole days. 
Solid silver pitchers, wreathed with vine leaves and clustered 
grapes ; solid silver vases, for a profusion of flowers ; solid silver 
waiters, chased, and bas-relieved ; the centre piece, a mirror set in 
silver, and standing upon lion's heads ; stacks of silver plates, sil- 
ver tea and cojEfee services, silver goblets, vine-entwined ; spoons 
and knives of varied devices, and for various uses; silver cake bas- 
kets, and fruit receivers ; silver sugar bowls, and f.all, Egyptian, 
urn-like cream-holders ; two massive punch-bowls, each of three 
gallons capacity ; rich, embossed silver ladles ; besides many other 
appointments of the festive board, were ranged in glossy rows 
adown the tables soon to be spread for the bridal feast. 

Not a shade of discolor, or a dust of powder was discernible 
among the elaborate intricacies of embellishment. The spacious 
dancing-hall was receiving to-day its adornment of numerous and 
costly silver candlebra upon its walls, sheets of silver paper, and 
soft blue tissues were being cut into fringes for the reception of the 
wax candles, whose pearly light should heighten the enchantment 
of costume and complexion, on this coming important occasion,. 

Grace and her doling mother held conferences at intervals, on 
the parlor sofas, in Mrs. ]\lowndes chamber, or in Grace's boudoir. 
An observer would have read upon their countenances, in succes- 
sion, the trustful, hopeful, joyful emotions of woman's soul, united 
with sweet aniicipation, and a passive ecstasy in the present, in 
which each seemed to be transfigured. 

"Ah! my daughter is realizing the highest degree of earthly 
happiness to-day! " sinking down by her side, as if exhausted by a 
tour of inspection. 

"True, dear mamma, my thoughts have at last found a delicious 
peace, that celestial peace which woman must ever taste, when 
sheltered under the pure and manly love of one formed by Nature 
and position to command unfaltering devotion. Such is Ralph, 
my Ralph ! who, during all these years of absence and temptation, 
has preserved my image, high above all others ; and who has 
borne across the sea, and back again, an unswerving affection for 
me, — an affection next the adoration for his God. 


Mrs. Mowndes held her daughter to her heart, imprinting kisses 
upon her radiant face. 

" Ah, my precious child 1 what unspeakable pleasure it gives me 
to hear the sacred words from your lips. Tempest-tossed by 
hopes and fears, as you have been, these years of Ralph's absence, 
it is delightful to know that your happy trust is implicit, and 
that the pure maiden incense of your young heart has not been 
offered before an unworthy shrine. Soon you will take his name, 
and be his alone, cund forever. 

"Everything moves on systematically and harmoniously. No 
item of preparation is omitted. The servants are in iiigh feather 
about their *' dear young missus' ' wedding, as they affectionately 
name you. The silver is resplendent, and — " 

The bell ! 

"Ah! the roses spring to my daughter's cheeks. Ah! the 
sweet lambent light which plays through these trusting eyes ! " 

The waiting-man presented a waiter, with a card upon it. Mrs. 
Mowndes took the card, and presented it to Grace. 

"As I thought. It is he. His footsteps turn hither, as the sun 
to its dawning. Hasten, my love." 

Grace flew down to the parlor. Colonel Haywood's open arms 
held her to his breast, his lips murmured, — 

" I cannot live so long without thee. Ah ! the blissful to- 
morrow. To-morrow thou shalt be mine." 

The morrow advanced. The sun came up from the sea, veiled 
in a silvery, diaphanous haze, which concealed his burning 

"Observe, mamma," cried Grace, an ecstatic thrill modulating 
her voice. " Observe, the very sky, atmosphere and earth, honor 
my bridal." 

" Surely my dear. A silvery opalescence pervades each, in 
harmony with the whiteness of these two lives, about to be united 
into one." 

"Adieu, Charlotte, queen of my soul !" said Colonel Haywood, 
as he stood in the hall, ready to leave her cosy nest, on River 
street. "Look up brown dove. This is my wedding-day. Be 
not dismayed. Once more, come. Let me fold thee to this warm 


heart, that beats alone for thee, the same yesterday, to-day and 

With a light laugh, he caught her in his arms, and sung, — 

" Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, 

And the rocks melt wi' the sun ; 
I will luve thee still, my dear, 

While the sands o' life shall run. 
And fare thee well, my only luve 1 

And fare the well, awhile ; 
And I will come again, my luve, 

Tho' it were ten thousand mile." 


COLONEL ASHLAND was glad and relieved that the gov- 
erness was no longer a tenant of the Hall. He had resolved 
upon his future course ; and that this course of action was warped 
to his own selfish and supreme will, none can doubt. In a land of 
slaver}^ the will of the master is absolute law. The children of 
the slaveholder are allowed the full outgrowth of this arbitrary fac- 
ulty, as indication of a tendency directly towards their imperial des- 
tiny. Therefore, the colonel was addressed as " young Marse 
Frank," while he lay muling and puling in his black mauma's arms, 
before even the white gleam of a tooth had set itself in his baby 
gums. His attendants, young and old, received upon their faces 
and persons repeated testimonials of his Napoleonic instincts, 
through his clenched fists and aggressive palms. 

Throughout his boyish years, arrogance, the deadly parasite, 
sucked vitality from every noble faculty and genial impulse of his 
nature. Like the young " King of Rome " in an interview with 
Josephine ; his sovereign inquiry in a perplexing contretemps^ or em- 
barrassment of plans, was, — 

•■' Why cannot this be, since my papa and I wish it ? " 
Colonel Ashland married in accordance with his own, and his 
father's will. He gave his hand and vows to blood, and a broad 
inheritance ; reserving his heart for love's conquests. The frail, 


high-born wife had reposed in St. Luke's cemetery, two years. 
Her proud dust slept in state within its gates, beneath the splen- 
dors of the Ashland column ; sheltered by marble wings of cheru- 
bim and seraphim. 

After the mistress' death, Honora Hudson guided the helm of 
household interests, in addition to the duties of teaching the chil^ 
dren. In a sudden transport, at a certain golden eventide, musical 
with mocking bird's song. Colonel Ashland, forgetting his heredi- 
tary blood, once offered the fair governess his hand and name ; 
but her watchful eye was too faithful a sentinel for the colonel's 
pathway; and she would not accept a hand, divorced from the 

Stung by the insolence of refusal ; enraged by the temerity that 
dared to bafHe his designs, he still tauntingly pursued his prey. 
He felt himself wearied in the -'insignificant pursuit ; " as he 
styled it. He was like the panting buttertly-hunter,when hi's airy and 
graceful decoy leads him into most humiliating places, and finally 
sails away into blue ether, out of reach either of net or voice. 

The firm refusal of the governess became a thorn in his memory, 
and he would have nothing in " Nightingale Hall " to remind him' 
of her once hated presence. What cared he for promises made at 
her death-bed .? Her requests were verbally granted, to shorten a 
disagreeable interview, and also to grant that satisfaction which 
none can deny to a dying petition. 

The slow, hard earnings of the governess, saved for the daughter, 
had been placed in his hands ; but he had already handed over the 
amount to his own factors, where it mingled with his thousands, as 
rain-drops mingle with the sea. 

Through his lady friends, he had secured a place for Hattie in a 
family of rank in Charleston, as a sort of governess and companion 
for two children. He had explained the anticipated change to the 
young girl in a favorable light,— representing the advantages of 
city life, as more eligible than those of their island home.'' She 
would there see more of society, become more polished in mind and 
habits by contact with it. Progress in music also was made an os- 
tensible inducement for the removal She should leave the next 
week, on the river schooner touching at his wharf. 

Naturally timid, and rendered doubly so by the cold hauteur of 


Colonel Ashland's manner, the lonely orphan withdrew from the in- 
terview with ill concealed eagerness, and rushed to the old nest of 
Mauma Rose's arms. 

"What happen now, chile? Pisen snake done try charm de 
3'oung missus, an' you done run 'way fine ole Mauma Rose ? " 
Clasping her more closely, and brooding the fair brown head with 
her own shadowy face, she asked tenderly, — 

" All safe now den ? Say, honey ? " 

" I must leave ' Nighingale Hall.' The colonel directs me to go 
to Charleston. I am to stay with a lady and take charge of two chil- 
dren. All will be stransrers to me there." 

As the wildwood jasmine clings to the black and flame-scarred 
forest pine, still strong in its living heart, so the fearful Hattie 
threw her arms around mauma's neck, crying, — 

" Oh ! if you could go with me, I could have one friend ! " 

]\Iauma fell to the old habit of strokins: the fair hair, and with a 
gentle swaying motion, crooned an answer in a low lullaby tone. 

"Ole Rose slabe, chile. Stole 'way from ole Guinea ; pack we in 
de ship hole ; chain we here ; drive we ; sell we wid de bosses. 
Can't go wid lily-bud. Marse tie dese feet. Ole Rose gots nottin 
leff, when her white flower done gone. Me one. All Rose lub dey 
steal 'way. All my chilen done sole." 

" How many children, mauma ? " 

" I ben had ten chilen, ^Miss Hattie, fine soun' chilen. Isaac, de 
oles', tall, hansum, ole marse footman. He ben de sun in de hebeu 
to me ; but dey sell him, put on de hancufts in de dinin-room. 
Trader take him 'way, — cussin him an' cussin me, 'cause I foller, 
dras: 'Ions: on mv knees an' be^: dem leave me one chile," 

"Was Isaac the last one sold, mauma? " and Hattie sat looking 
at the sorrowful face, tenderly and unconsciously smoothing the 
bright folds of the turban on the stricken head. 

" Yes, miss, dey sell de odders long fore. But I got suthin to 
'member Isaac ; dey can't steal dat." 

" What have you, mauma ? " 

" Stan' up honey, dere, I show you." 

The black, trembling hands begun to open her diess, and to 
drav/ it from her shoulders. Hatiie assisted, ignorant of the rev- 


elation in waiting. Suddenly her hands dropped from her task. 
She shrieked out, — 

"What is it, mauma? " 

" Dat where I 'member my poor boy. Dat where I mourn. Dat 
where I shed my blood fur him." 

For the first time, Hattie looked upon the human form, scarred 
by the slave-whip. Long welts of the thickness of a man's finger, 
ridged her back, where the ugly ragged gashes had healed. Knots 
of scored flesh, interspersed with seamed patches, disfigured the 
shoulders and struck horror to Hattie's sympathetic soul. Indeed, 
none but demons could look upon those bloody bas-reliefs, un- 
moved. Yet there were few in our young Republic, who even 
dreamed that these and other similar medalions of the slaver's 
lash would ever call to Heaven for its unmitigated wrath, or a na- 
tion which stamped God's image with such hellish dies. 

Hattie made rapid interrogation. Mauma repeated the scene. 

"Ebry day I cry, wring dese ole han', can't eat, grow tin, sick, 
pray God to die. Isaac tall — gran' like Africa palm, gone out ob 
my sight, I neber see him mo'. Den dey cuss me, tie me to de 
tree, cut dis back up — Oh ! Lor Jesus ! till I die, faint 'way." 

"O mauma, how cruel ! but they don't treat slaves so now ? I 
never saw one whipped." 

" Dey don' want de Norf people ter know all dere debble work. 
You' mudder here, Marse Ashland cut de people out ob sight ob 
her eye. But O Lor' ! he whip dough. When you done gone, he 
tie 'em up to ebry tree in dis yard. Now. dear chile, heah ole Rose. 
You young. Don' spect nottni. Ebryting in dis Ian' b'long to de 
slabe marser. He put him han' on ebryting hansum, an' call it 
him own. Ebrybody slabe but him. He'll put dat han' on you, 
poor )ily-bud. Fse seen heap in dis country. ^ Ole Rose know." 

" Mauma, I am a Northerner. I do not belong to the South ; they 
cannot claim me. And besides, I have a thousand dollars to take 
me away, if I chose to go." 

"Jes what I tell ye, 'spects nottin. Dese yere Southerners hate 
de Norf people, dey 'spise 'em. I ben to de Norf wid ole marse 
and missus, when I nurse dis same Marse Ashland. Him wife, de 
missus, say all dem mean, lowborn Yankee; dey work jes like her 
slabe, — mock arter 'em, make gran' sport arter 'em. Dey hate 'em. 


I tell ye, honey. De Norf people treat des Southerners, like king 
an' queen, — kine to we. But dese 'buse de Norf gentleum an' lady 
dere, an' when dey comeheah. jMauma Rose pray for her lily-bud ; 
but 'pears de Lor' done heah prayers out ob dis Ian'." 

In the cup now placed to Hattie's lips, the bitter and the .sweet 
sharply commingled. Bitterly sad was the contemplation of part- 
ing from the scene of her mother's death, and the last look at her 
lonely grave. On the other side, Charleston, Ti'iih rainbow sights 
and sounds, beckoned her away with syren hand. Some tears fell 
among the stores of her trunk in packing. During her twilight 
garden stroll, drops heavier than evening dews nestled into the 
hearts of roses, and plashed upon the leaves of the roses. 

Colonel Ashland had now reached the acme of his wishes ; but 
he had not attained to this, through patient wailing for the fulfill- 
ment of a long cherished desire. He had surveyed all barriers to 
this slow crisis, with the ferocity of an untamed nature. He was 
simply kept at bay by a hand and eye such as enters, unharmed, 
the cages of grovvling lions. Honora Hudson's wand of power, 
althou2:h it budded and blossomed like Aaron's, serenely swaved 
his instincts, and led him to perform many feats of gentleness and 
docility, quite foreign to his plans. 

But now he was master of the field. Death came to his aid, 
and carried his keeper awa}-. He was now sovereign of his own 
destiny ; and in his hands he held the destiny of every walking, 
living being at the Hall. He dispatched his footman to the quar- 
ters, with an order for Cleopatra to come up to the house at the 
expiration of a half hour. 

Cleo's cabin had been given to herself and mother — unlike the 
others in the same negro hamlet. The room was a model of neat- 
ness. There was one glazed window looking out under the foliage 
of a broad-spreading fig. White curtains were looped away at the 
casings ; a new mantel over the broad fireplace held a vase of 
roses; w'ith various other fancy articles rarely found in slave 
cabins. A table with a snow-white cover, held piles of negro 
cloth cut into garments ; some finished, and others in process of 
making. The old black mother was spinning cotton, with her 
turban neatly folded about her gray head. Pieces of carpeting 


covered nearly the whole floor. There were painted chairs also 
and one that had evidently been brought from the '^bi- house'' 
as It rolled on castors, and had its arms and back stuffed with 
crunson covers Its mates were still at the Hall. This chair was 
by the curtained window, and wore its white muslin cover thrown 
loosely over it, as a shield from casual dust. 

There was also a carved bedstead, a counterpane, droopin- with 
fringes, a pavilion also, looped neatly away, and pillows hi-h, soft 
and inviting with a pleasant bit of lace falling from the Sd^e of 
the slips. The rough boards, joists and braces of the walls, pure 
and white with hme wash, had a cleanly, inviting air. The split 
pine fence woven in and out of its upper and lower railings, con- 
cealed Its rude structure by a veil of trumpet honeysuckle and 
fragrant jasmines ; while the walk from the gate to the humble 
door was fringed with snow-drops and daffodils which in early 
spring vied with the breath of English violets and hyacinth bells. 

All these expressions of taste within and without Cleo's cabin 
had a meaning. There were symbols which even the untutored 
minds of her sable neighbors easily deciphered. They knew 
whose feet walked to that door among lilies and violets. Without 
the aid of belles- ettres, they divined the poetry of the crimson arm- 
chair, and the chivalrous romance of the plump, white pillows, and 
the fringed counterpane. i , ^ 

Cleo received the master's orders with a quicker heart-beat : 
laid by the thimble and needle with her half-tinis hed work, and 
employed the half hour in making her toilet. 

She passed out of the gate, glided along the narrow footpath 
and up the broad avenue to the Hall Springing up the broad 
flight of steps to the piazza, and thence up another flight to her 
master s room, she entered and stood by the door, her eyes fallino- 
to the floor. ^ ^ 

Cleopatra, like Queen Esther, "had put on her royal apparel" 
before she stood in the inner court of the king's house " This 
evening, she chose a robe of white, with a deep embroidered 
flounce. Its trimmings and ornaments were of blue A blue 
satin sash encircled her waist, and fell in long ends at her side. 
Blue ribbons looped up the full puffs of her sleeves, and fluttered 
down over a frill of lace to the elbows. Blue pendants trembled 


in her small ears, and a match of bracelets clasped her bare, round 

She was "black, but comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem." 
The sun " had looked upon " her, and her soft skin was of velvety 
blackness. Her genuine African hair was combed away into 
soft masses, each side of her forehead ; a band of blue velvet 
sinking in among the crisp, tiny, curls, gleamed out above the part- 
ing. The white drapery of her attire fell gracefully about her 
tall figure. Iler long, taper, fingers were clasped patiently, and her 
dreamy eyes Vv'ere hidden by drooping lids, and long jet lashes. 

"But not once her lips she opened ; 
Not a single word she uttered." 

A deep tide of joy crept through her pulses ; but having been 
born and raised a slave, a ready self-control veiled every emotion, 
and she appeared as cold and statuesque as marble itself. 

The colonel knew how to speak life into the immobile figure 
before him. He extended both his hands ; in a tender, and 
almost supplicating tone, he said, — 

"Cleo, come to me." 

She came forward, and laid her dark hands in his. He drew her 
to a seat beside himself, looked at her smilingly, and remarked, — 

"You have arrayed yourself charmingly, to-day. Cleo, you quite 
ravish me." 

He retained one of her hands in his own, with the other he ca- 
ressed lightly the soft masses of her jet black hair. 

Oh ! the transforming power of Love. By its divine alchemy, 
the earth is glorified. The vulgar are set upon thrones. The 
.o-lowerin£:s of adverse fate Vv'arm into the smiles of a kind Provi- 
dence. Beneath the wand of the sweet sorcerer, the self-willed, 
supercilious, irascible Master Ashland, became pliant, complacent, 
and serene. His soul, gnarled and deformed by the inheritance 
of absolute power over an abject race, became beautiful as 
Apollo, ill lifting up one of that race to an equality with himself. 

*' Like a man from dreams awakened, 
He was healed of all his madness ! • 
As the clouds are swept from heaven, 
Straightway from his brain departed 
All his moody melancholy ! " 


" Look up, Cleo ! are you frightened ? Where are your eyes ? 
There, that's it! Here's the dimples! Now I have something to 
say I Going to Hsten ? " 

" Yes, sir 1 " 

" Well then ; this is the moment I have impatiently waited for ; 
you will come to my room by stealth no longer; and I shall be re- 
lieved of the necessity of walks to your cabin. It is too much 
trouble ! I shall have a change. " 

Iler eyes flashed full upon him. BrimfuU of startled fear, she 
laid her hand upon his arm, and cried, — 

" Oh ! master ! Shall I be sold .? " My dear master, shall I be * 
sold? " A groan of anguish followed, and her head dropped. 

That harrowing cry was plainly heard in the yard, in the kitchen, 
down the avenue, and among the garden roses, apparently unno- 
ticed. The old' gardener plied his hoe, the servants went on as 
usual. The mosses in the avenue might have been gray stalactites, 
dripped from green, embowering caverns. To all intents, Cleo's 
agonized scream might have been the casual trill of a bird, or the 
crisp rustle of a magnolia leaf, falling from the stem. Not an eye 
raised to the mister's room ; and yet the deaf ears heard, stolid 
hearts thrilled with sudden pain, and low, short prayers in the 
forms of "O God ! O Lord ! O Christ! " floated upward. Doubt- 
less, He who graciously heeds the 

'* Upward glancing of an eye ; 
The falling of a tear ; " 

gave His compassionate attention to these short petitions. Doubt- 
less He comprehended their rare value as the crystalized lan- 
guage of intensest suffering. In the brevity of these appeals. He 
may have recognized the condensed virtue of a half hour's con- 
ventional address to His name ; if, indeed, the learned devotion of 
that era ever disturbed the courts of Heaven. On this immediate 
occasion, although these prayers may have been groundless, let us 
suppose they represented the general necessities and condition of 
their class, and were divinely registered accordingly. 

Colonel Ashland's own heart was shocked by that cry. 'He 
quickly took both her wrists in his hands, in order to draw her to 
himself, in assurance of perfect safety. 


Again the dark eyes lifted full upon him the pleading helpless- 
ness, which only a slave can feel. Another agonized cry rose up 
among the magnolias, and echoed adown the still avenue. 

" O my God ! the handcuffs ! O Lord ! the handcuffs now ? " 

" Hush ! Cleo, hush ! I say. You will not be sold. Never ! never ! " 

He drew her near to him. Sorrowfully, and lovingly he re- 
turned her questioning gaze. 

*' Cleo, listen ! When you are sold on the auction block, they 
will bid me off, also These soft, white hands of mine are all the 
manacles your wrists shall ever feel. Stop trembling, for God's 
sake ! Don't look so much like a hunted doe. Get that terrific 
fear out of your eye.s', girl ! " 

He allowed the wrists to fall ; but with a clasp of his arm, he 
held her still. His lips touched her forehead. He held her from 
him, and studied the tumult in her soul, with the utmost concern. 

*' Sell you, Cleo? Why did you think it.^ The auctioneer that 
would barter you on his cursed table, would find himself suddenly 
disabled for his profession by my friend, here ! " laying a hand 
upon the pistol in his pocket. " One of these bullets would give 
his soul an easy ride to eternity ! " 

For a moment, a fearful cloud darkened all the love-light on his 

Cleo's whole soul gladdened, with a sense of relief from what to 
her, would have been a living death. Like the wrecked mariner, 
she had been dragged from the drowning roar of breakers ; her feet 
now stood firmly upon dry ground. A glad, appealing smile broke 
over her features. 

That smile Vv'as a blossom of the master's cultivation, as woman's 
most approved smiles usually are. Man's pride (may be uncon- 
scious to himself,) is to ever find his pleasure-gardens beauiitied, 
and perfumed with their efflorescence ; constituting a flora of es- 
pecial training, and sickly growth of shade, redolent with submis- 
sion, humilit}', adoration, self-abnegation, tearful hope, and childish 
trust. Such was the grateful, adoring look of Cleo, which gave 
her whole heart into the colonel's keeping. The cloud on his 
brow reflected the brightness of hers, and linally disappeared. 

He well knew that he was her Fate, her protector, or annihilator. 
Although he secretly relished these flattering testimonials to his 


power — the slave girl's agony, and servitnde, — love led him to act 
in the capacity of the former. 

"Now tell me, Cleo, why you thought of being sold ? Have I not 
passed hours at your cabin every day ^ Have I ever forgotten to 
bring back something to please your fancy, in my city goings .'' " 

She did not repl}', but caressed one of his fair hands in both her 
own, and raised it to her lips. 

" Speak ! tell me why ! You shall say what you like, without 
reproof. " 

" Pardon me ! but I thought you might have won some fair, 
lovely Carolina wife, and when her proud step should enter these 
halls, your poor, black Cleo must be far away. *' 

" Pshaw ! I married once in accordance with our custom. I 
married houses, lands, and Southern pride. IVIy v.-ife lies in St. 
Lukes' cemetery, and my Northern school-ma'am lies outside ; 
where plebeians should; whence I trust she will never rise, till 
Gabriel's trump sha.kQS terra Jirma. I swear, I fear to blow my 
dog-whistle, lest she mistake it for that fellow's horn ! " 

" She was white, master ; and had eyes the color of the sky. " 

" Blue eyes ! the devil ! I'll have no more of them. Give me 
dark eyes ! your eyes, Cleo ! soft, and calm as the deep repose of 
Indian lakes. " 

She continued caressing the master's hand ; but asked the true 
meaning of those words, " She should come to his room no longer ; 
and " It was too much trouble to go to her cabin. " 

"Why nothing more nor less, than that my poor black Cleo shall 
come here to the ' big house', into the adjoining room, to live, to 
stay, to sew, to take charge of things, aud to love her cruel master ! 
How's that? How's the last clause, princess?" 

"Do not doubt that my feet will fly to obey your wishes. Oh ! I 
have dared to worship you ! but it was because you first took such 
notice of me. It is too much to know that I shall not be cast away 
from )'Our presence ! I am too happy ! I will follow^ your steps 
like your faithful Spanish hound ' Reina,' so I am only near 
you. " 

She laid one hand on his shoulder, resting the other upon his 
knee. Her eyes filled with regretful humiliation. In an humble 
voice, she bewailed the absence of those charms, which she sup- 


posed most acceptable to him, which would lessen the probability 
of a future separation. 

" I wish God had made me beautiful, so that you might keep me 
near you, forever ! Oh ! why did not my Maker give mc^ too, a 
waxen skin ; cheeks and lips of rose-color, like Ilattie's ? Why 
could I not have had hair — " 

" Straight as an Indian's, hey t Now if you had pink eyes, blue 
blood, and long waxen locks, you could not have mc ! Hear? Do 
you think, my dear Egyptian, that I was born in South Carolina, 
and cannot choose for myself 1 ]\Ioreover, that what my choice elects, 
I will not possess? Furthermore, we hear enough of 'golden 
strands,' and 'auburn tresses,' and all that threadbare nonsense; 
but I know 

" * Hair of glossy living spray, 

Tossed up from midnight into day j 
Beneath which lies in hidden whirls 
Infinitesimals of curls ; 
Meshed into eddies — into rings — 
Like woven lace ! — coquettish things ! 

And every coil so shyly meshed, 
No larget than a dew-drop's nest. 
Holds in its close and coy embiace 
A marvelous, and pensile grace. 
It is a dower of tropic blood, 
That pours its glory like a flood. 

Alike upon the Saxon head ; 

Or round the Indian brow of red, 

Anointing evejy other race 

With Beauty's most entrancing grace I 

It weaves its wild enchantment through 

The veins of Gentile, Greek, or Jew ! 

Where'er a soul holds Nature's trust, 
That mystic power forever just — 
The love that heeds no stifling call. 
Which knows no autocrat, no thrall — ^ 
There doth this dower of tropic blood 
Unloose its dark, bewildering flood ! 

There do these tiny, clinging whirls, 
Unfold and drop caressing curls ! 


Then, laughing waves, and rippling jet 
Show household heads, tiara set — 
Such wondrous beauty rarely falls 
To harem bowers, or monarch's halls.' 

" There, Cleo, what do you think of your hair now, when poesy 
wreaths with fairy measure such a crown f6r you ? What about 
these funny little dew-drops' nests ? " 

" Do not be angry ; but I scarcely understand its meaning. It 
sounds like music. Please explain it. I can neither read nor 
understand. Oh ! I fear the master wall tire of Cleo, and desire 
other society for his happiness." 

" Hush ! Cleo. I can do the reading for both. Your under- 
standing is comprehensive enough to know that I want you fri^e to 
me. That is the beginning and end of it all. I can read poetry to 
you, and elucidate also. This little poem signifies, that in your 
blood lies a mine of beauty for the world j that wherever it 
mingles with that of another race or people, it laughs out in 
showers of long, falling curls, whether that race be White, Indian 
or Chinese. It's true as God is in the heavens, that my faded race 
finds a new baptism of strength, color and elegance, from just such 
as yourself; Cleopatra the Second." 

"Now, let nothing annoy you ; the premises are under my con- 
trol. I shall have no other wife before 76'^<J. Minnie is sold; she 
goes to morrow. That may lessen anxiety on your part. The old 
nurse Rose, will retain charge of my two children, in the other 
wing of the house. I want always to see you in my room when I 
enter, or within hearing of the slightest call. I must hear your 
voice and step, first of all," 

" Can I be heard on one subject, which is troublesome still .? " 

"Yes, Cleo, speak on." 

" When your sisters from Mobile visit here, what if they repre- 
sent me to you as unfaithful to your interests ? Shall I lose your 
esteem, then .? Shall I take the lash at their hands ? Shall you 
allow them to sepatate us ? " 

" By Heaven ! no ! They understand me too well to cross my 
wishes. If they come, go on in your pleasant manner, wait upon 
them patiently, and quietly tell them all. fF/io or w/ia^ shall dare 
to come between a man and bis choice .-* " 


" But I am only yours at your pleasure. There cannot be mar- 
riage between us." 

" Cleo, there is all the marriage between us necessary. In our 
State, there is the legal form of marriage without the soul ; but the 
soul of marriage exists without the form. Ours is the latter. 
Have yonr bureau and the chairs brought to the house this evening ; 
also the French bed, and place them in the ante- room. Hear, 
Princess ? I go over to Major Regnal's plantation for this even- 
ing ; to-morrow morning to Charleston with Hattie. I shall bring 
dresses and trinkets for you. What colors shall your dresses be ? " 

" The colors and material that pleases you most, I prefer." 

"Very well, then. Leave it tome. Ring for the butler; tell 
him to bring my favorite wine and cakes from the pantry, with a 
cut of the old Northern cheese." 

When the silver waiter was brought, by a strange intuition, or 
under a more definite impression, it bore fwo wine glasses, and 
other twin etc. The butler retired with the gravest of bows, which 
covered a sly, comical glance at Cleo. 

"Pour the ruby draught, Cleo. Touch my glass with yours — 
drink to me health, long life, and your own true heart." 

He rose, took a turn around the room, measured the falling sun, 
and sung in rich, rollicking tones an old refrain, — 

" Now tip to mine your glass. 
My bonnie, bonnie lass ; 
Then let their ringing chime 
Float down the stream of Time. 
We'll drain these cups together 
To love, and sunny weather. 
To all life holds in fee, 
Drink ! Hebe, drink to me ! 

She filled the glasses, presented one to the colonel, and touched 
the crystal rim of hers to the one her master held. Then she 
raised the glowdng symbol above the blue band in her hair. She 
besought Heaven to grant all his requests, and more, to the one 
object of her adoration — her master. 

The declining sun carpeted the broad piazza floor with shadows, 
mottling it between the dark bars cast by the pillars, with dancing 
shapes of breezy leaves. The embroidered curtains, waving in and 


out of the windows, admitted a slant beam full into the uplifted 
glass, illuminating its heart like a flame. 

" See ! " she said. " Heaven smiles, and the wine changes to a 
living fire ! " 

Her own eyes kindled, lighted with a deep joy, at the revelations 
of the past few hours. That scene was an inspiration for the hand 
of an artist. It was a picture, which truthfully transferred to canvas, 
would have given the flattest contradiction to the ever-vaunted 
prejudices against color, and the boast of blue blood. Copies of 
this unique bridal of the purest white, and deepest black — of 
power and lowliness; classed among other masterpieces of art, or 
suspended in the Capitol side by side with Rolfe and Pocahontas, 
or illuminating the elegant periodicals of the day, would have shown 
this prejudice to be a fabrication, a myth, finding its futile form 
only upon the deceitful tongues or men. 

Man has ever professed to love, in woman, gentleness, amiability, 
and a placid homage to his self-styled superiority. Slavery had 
molded Cleo into the most perfect type of Colonel Ashland's choice. 
His desideratiwi was, — 

"Health and quiet, and loving words." 

Pride of birth and statutes frowning, "Love is mightier than 
all." He neither could nor would, close his heart against his dark 
"Maud Muller." 

" He thought of his sisters, proud and cold ; 
And his mother, vain of her rank and gold," 

But he was one to tear away, like spider's webs, all the ^^might 
have beens " from his life. 

There was a law in South Carolina, taking away from a slave the 
power to contract marriage. It ran thus, — 

" A slave cannot even legally contract marriage. The marriage 
of such an one is morally good \ but in point of law, the union of 
slave with slave, or slave and free negro, is concubinage^ mej-ely.^^ 
Consequently, Carolina's "pure" and wise legislators, the guardians 
of her well-being, had instituted a system of concubinage, of as 
strong, matted a growth, as were the grasses of her plains and hill- 
sides. It sprung up in the very crevices of their hearthstones. It 
was destined to choke the roses and lilies of every pleasant spot. 


Among the majority of her people, there could be no legal mar- 
riage. Therefore, in law. Colonel Ashland was entering upon a 
course of concubinage ; but in the social practices of his State, he 
had solemnized a marriage '■'' morally goody 

So together they both drank the wine of that sacrament, which 
the law declared morally good. She sat down by his side content. 
But her heart throbbed afresh, when she observed in his eyes the 
gathering gloom of thought, as he thrust their steely gaze into her 

" What is it, dear master ? " she asked. 

" Well, every perplexity must be cleared up to-day. One re- 
mains — that is Aleck, the brown, lithe fellow that hung about you 
some time ago. What of him ? I notice his face wears a dogged 
sulkiness, recently." 

"He has not set his foot within my cabin gate for a year. His 
task work takes him far from here, on the other side of the planta- 
tion. I have no regard for him. Believe me. 

*' Still he waits for you, and does not give up the pursuit. He 
passes me with the customary salutation of a slave ; but the haughti- 
ness of his step and eye allies him to the Bey of Algiers ! I shall 
sell him — take him to Charleston, to-morrow." 

" Pull the bell for the footman, now. Bid him bring * Brigand,' 
saddled, to the door for me, and pony ' Barefoot ', for himself. 
Have all arrangements made, during my absence, as you know I 

The long gallop of " Brigand's," and the patter of " Barefoot's " 
heels passed down the avenue. 

The quarters grew noisy with the evening return from the fields. 
Plumes of purple smoke lifted in turn above the cabins of the toil- 
ers. Dusky figures, in short homespun skirts, passed to and fro, 
to the spring, bearing buckets of water upon their heads. The 
hand-mill which ground the evening meal from the corn ration, was 
turning busily ; and while the crushed grain fell from the whirling 
stones, a low', sweet pathos of improvised song fell also from the 
lips of the crushed humanity which ground there. 

Clear, strong, flute-like notes floated to the listener's ear, from 
loirerers by the river, in the pines, or at the still unfinished task. 


The red sun hung over the western woods, and poured a flush of 
crimson light upon Nightingale Hall ; gilding its pillars, and mak- 
ing its windows burning jewels. It streamed in among the quar- 
ters, glorifying the cabins with a like impartial touch. His level 
rays also lighted up the lofty oaken bower over the avenue, and 
bronzed the lower swaying edges of the moss drapery within. Be- 
neath this golden fringe which trailed over Cleo's hair and shoul- 
ders, she passed in and out of the alternate bars of sunshine and 
shade, formed by tree trunks, and the gilded drive. Her thougts 
wore the same coiileiir de rose as the landscape. Joy gave elasticity 
to her step, and elegance to her carriage. 

When she called Luke and Friday to make the removal to the 
"great house," their ragged brimmed hats were doffed, and their 
eyes glistened. With a deep bow, and a foot drawn back, they 
replied, — 

" Sartin, for sure ! Muss 'bey de missus. We tote 'em, right 

'wav ! " 

When the last article had been " toted," and Cleo had arranged 
all at the cabin, it was dark. Sauntering slowly up the avenue, 
wrapt in delicious musings, a tall form stepped from the trees to 
her side. The agitated girl placed her hand kindly upon the 
shoulder of her spectre-like visitor, saying, — 

" Aleck ! Aleck ! do go away now ! Leave me to walk on alone 
For your own sake, — for my sake, go 1 " 

" I will not go, Miley ! This is the last time I shall meet you ! 
You are going to be the wife of Colonel Ashland ! How can you 
do this ? You do not love that white blood-hound, that makes 
your race dogs and slaves, Miley ? Tell me no ! " 

" Aleck, I cannot tell you no ! I do love Colonel Ashland. 
Before my Savior, I love him ; and before Him there are no races, 
no color, no rich, no poor, no slave, no free ! Why did you not 
forget me, Aleck ? I told you long ago to do that ! " 

" Why don't the mocking bird forget to sing? Does the magno- 
lia forget to blossom ? Why don't the spring forget to come ? I 
waited for 3^ou, Miley, all this long time ; for I thought the master 
would throw you 'way, as all the white men do ; and then I might 
have you for mine at last. Oh ! I hate these whites ; with their 
Bibles, and chains, and slavery ! Miley, will you go with me to- 


night? Before Brigand's feet come thundering back? Ill hide 
you where no tracks are left behind. Say you hate that white 
devil, and^o." 

" Aleck, I cannot stay here, it is not safe for either ; but I must 
go to the house. If the colonel should turn cruel and hard, I 
should love him still. I cannot leave him." 

" Then ask him to sell me, as far as winds and waves will carry 
me. With you, I could bear this cursed slavery, — the lash, or any- 
thing a master chose to put on me ; but I cannot serve ///;// now. 
Do one thing for me ! Beg him to sell me ; or, some day, when 
he think himself safe, this hand may throw 'way his life, as he has 

He grasped her other hand, which hung by her side. "Tell me, 
Miley, what is this other name your master call you ? " 

" He changed it to Cleopatra, and calls me Cleo." 

'* Thank our Lord that your own name, that is to me like the 
song of the Nonpariel, will not be on his lips. Miley, Miley, that 
is mine. I'm going! Good bye, Miley, till we meet where there 
is no parting." 

" He, the strong one and the manly, 
With the vassal's garb and hue, 
Holding still his spirit's birthright 
To his higher nature true," 

strode away between the live-oak boles, and was lost in the masses 
of shadow beyond. 

" God is love ! " saith the Evangel ; " and our world of woe and sin 
Is made light and happy only, when a Love is shining in 1 " 

Cleo moved slowly on to the house. The lights in the Hall, and 
in her room, burned, bleared and dazed. She saw them through 

Hattie was ready for the morning's departure ; and by the ad- 
vice of Mauma Rose, had sought her bed. The colonel's children 
also, through the sweet magnetism of her voice, and hands, had 
forgotten the day's vexations, and were reveling in gay, butterfly 
dreams. This placid state of affairs was not wholly fortuitous ; it 
was the result of a whispered request of Minnie's, during the day, 



that she might have a cosy chat with her trusty confidant, Mauma 
Rose, that evening, as it was her last day at the Hall. 

Minnie was glad when the master and footman cleared the 
avenue, — they would have the house to themselves. The faithful 
old servant left the door of the nursery ajar, and took her low 
chair upon the eastern piazza. Patches of star-lighted heavens 
were discernible above the oleanders, and between the out-reaching 
arms of the trees beyond. The breezy foliage rippled pleasantly 
over the senses ; the calm of nature distilled into the human soul, 
with falling dews. 

It was an hour when the sweetest or saddest emotions, rise to 
their highest intensity, — that delicious hour when the flashes of 
wild romance, and longings for the impossible, which flame here 
and there among our busy day-thoughts, seem to settle into en- 
chanting reality, — when the wo'es and wickedness of life seem to 
have gone down with the sun, and all that is pure and holy, to 
have been left around us. 

Mauma had scarcely composed her spirit, and white apron, as 
Minnie glided round the corner of the piazza, out of the light of 
the south side into the darkness of the eastern verandah, and 
crossed the bright narrow line streaming from the nursery door. 
"Mauma Rose," fell from her lips, like overflowing bubbles from 
golden chalices. Their iris hues of delight were felt by the aged 
hstener ; and tremulous with tenderness was the reply, — 

"Here, chile." Silver bells, both voices — whose blessed 
chimes quivered nearer to the " White Throne " than the Sabbath 
peals of many others. 

Minnie dropped down upon the floor at mauma's feet, as was 
her wont j laying her beautiful head upon her own arm, thrown over 
this ever-welcoming knee. 

" What's dis I smells, darling ? Is you turn into rose-vine ? " 

" Oh, Maum Rose ! I told the gardener I wanted two of the 
white roses that master brought from France. He refused, but I 
insisted. He said, no ; but I shook my curls at him and said jes ; 
so I got them. When he gave them into my hand, he said,— 
'There! don't ask me again ; its agin de rule.' Then I shook his 
old shoulders, and told him I was going where I should have more 
white roses than are in his care, and that I should wear them 


morning and evening, without the asking. You see I wanted one 
for me, and one for Fred. Oh, I am so happy to-night. Here 
they are, on that side. This is almost my wedding day. To- 
morrow Fred will pay Colonel Ashland for me. I shall go away 
to him. I a7n a bride to-night J^ 

" Your weddin' day, my poor birdie ? " 

Minnie's head rose from her arm as quickly as a young fawn's, 
nestled among wood-laurels, when its ear catches the alarm of the 
hunter. Her eyes searched the darkness for Mauma Rose's face 
and expression. 

'•'What is in your voice, mauma? It makes the chills run over 
me. ' Poor birdie.' That sounds like the grieving of a mourning 
dove. Why call me poor birdie ? I am a happy bride to-night. 
Give me joy, Mauma Rose, give me joy." 

" Mus' say what I'se tink, else don' say nottin'. I is ole, Minnie. 
I is seen too much, my day. Rose say ' poor birdie,' cause 
Minnie's in de net. Dere's no weddin', no bride for such like we. 
Dese white lawyer and minister make de law, dat we is all concu- 
bine, at dere marcy.". 

Minnie shook back her curls, as if they tangled thought and 
sight ; and looked up to the starry heavens. They were to her the 
bespangled canopy of her bridal. 

" Yes, they make laws against our marriage, I know, mauma, hut 
they love us all the same. Their laws cannot prevent the natural 
exercise of their affections, and they do not desire that. I am not 
a concubine ! I could not marry Fred, if I would ; and the God 
that made me, knows I cannot freeze my heart against him if I 
would. The Bible says, ' What God hath joined together, let not 
man put asunder.' God has joined us together by the love we 
bear each other; and the State of South Carolina puts us asunder, 
by not giving us the power to live together in a lawful manner. 
The sin is not on my part, it is on theirs. Mauma Rose, the at- 
tachment between Fred and me is the same kind, the same thing, 
as the love they call holy and sacred, among the white people. It 
is the same which is paraded before the altars of their proud 
churches, for a Divine blessing. It is the same love which wraps 
others in snowy white veils, and yet, O Lord ! would wrap me in a 
mantle of shame." 


" Hush, honey ! dere's a pain come in 3'-ou young heart 'ready. 
"We can't help ou'self. We be in de han' of de Flistines. Youse 
talk like de preacher. How you know all dis ? Where you fin' dis 
larnin'? " 

" Dear mauma, I have no pain in my heart. Brides cannot have 
heartache, when their lovers are true like mine. The law makes 
me a chattel, but it cannot take away my power to think and rea- 
son. That silent power, hid from all but God, man's arm cannot 
reach ; and it is this thinking which gives me confidence and hap- 
piness to-night. Now let me tell you one more secret. I know 
how to read. There is where I stole the forbidden fruit of South 
Carolina. Mauma, mauma, I have read half the books in mas- 
ter's library. State laws and all. Oh ! there's a way for a chattel 
to defy tyrants. 

She gathered her amber-hued arms around the neck of her tried 
old friend, and caroled forth another low, melodious laugh. 

" Fred don't dream I can read, but he knows who was my father, 
and he says the polish and refinement of my conversation, and the 
choice language, was inherited from my father's blood. He calls 
me, ' Lady Highborn.' " 

"Don' know too much. Keep the book larnin' 'tween you and 
de good Lord. De mens mus hab de larnin' all to theirself, an' 
de women mus ask dem 'bout all dey 'pears to know. Does ye 
hear, honey?" 

"Yes, Minnie hears, mauma ; she knows how to follow her best 
of counsel, likewise." Another subdued peal of bubbling laughter. 
You see, Fred likes to have me speak correctly what I attempt to 
say, and to call flowers, furniture and colors by their proper names. 
So I have taken pains to get our flowers at ' Nightingale Hall,' all 
right. I found master's list of their names, and their place in the 
garden. These roses in my hair are the French Perles de VLnpera- 
trice, — it means, 'Pearls of the Empress.' The gardener called 
them 'Puddle Peartris.' How I laughed!" — and the warbling, 
merry tones poured forth again. 

Mauma's rickety voice broke out in merriment with hers. This 
culmination produced unheard of hilarity. 

Minnie arose and leaned over the balustrade. She caught her 
breath, saying, — 


" Oh my ! the stars are all dancing, and I have laughed till I 


" Yes, darlin', let us hush, or de chilen will hab dere eyes open, 

and — " 

" Spoil our tete-a-tete, eh, mauma ? That's French. It grew out of 

my French blood." 

Then she bent over and whispered in her ear, — 

"What a wonderful thing blood is, eh mauma.? Oh! I must 

laugh again. No, I'll sing. Hark ! this came from one of our 


" * Oh, gaily in my glossy hair 

I twine these roses, white and fair ! 

My lover, in his dreams to-night 

Shall see me crowned with their pale light, 

I am his bonnie dark-eyed bride — 

The morrow leads me to his side. 

O morning haste, my life to bless ! 

I'm pining for his dear caress,' " 

" There, mauma, did you hear ? The tune came from my own 

" Dat's de mockin' bird tune." 

" If I could learn to sing, Fred says I'd sing the larks to sleep ; 
but I know he loves me just as I am. Mauma, give me your hand. 
There, pass it over my dress. Don't you feel the gloss ? It's blue 
satin ; he sent it to me to make up and wear when I go home to 
him ; and watch now, where my hand goes in the narrow light. 
See that pearl ring? He gave me that, too. I call it my engage- 
ment ring. I've kissed it twenty times to-night. Go on tip-toe, 
Mauma Rose ; open the nursery door just far enough to let the 
light upon me." 

" Yes, honey. I 'stracted wid you now. May de great Marser 
keep Marse Fred heart t?'oo to dis best love.^^ 

She opened the door without noise, far enough for the radiant 
girl to step into the bright flood, pouring from it. The tall, graceful 
figure — the costly satin drapery, falling in burnished folds, like 
the blue sky of day in its sun-gilded glory ; the shining curls, fall- 
ing over her shoulders to her waist ; the two white imperial roses 
among them j the deeply flushed cheeks beneath the softening film 


of brown ; the parted lips, revealing polished, snovvy teeth between ; 
the proud bearing which was her birthright, all heightened by the 
rapt ecstacy which beamed on every feature, made up such a 
being as a any " admirer of woman " might have led exultantly to 
the nuptial altar. 

The Rev. Fred would have taken that hand with the ring of 
pearls upon it. and fulfilled its sacred intent, but for the ban of his 
State's Heaven-defying laws, and the conventional, falsified man- 
hood of those vauntingly called her sons. Well, Minnie, the daugh- 
ter of a French Consul, the American slave-girl, the affiancee of her 
newmaster, still stood in the tide of light ; her jet eyebrows not so 
much arched as clinging to the Grecian contour of the forehead, 
and her eyes shaded from the sudden glare, by heavy silken lashes! 
The vivacity, firmness, sunny languor, sagacity, grace and hauteur 
of four nations centred in her. Indian, American, African and 
French blood, enriched and perfected this rare human blossom. 

Look at her again, dear reader, and give her a niche in memory j 
for Art, which styles itself divine, is still servile. Its brush has 
never yet caused the canvas to glow with such loveliness. The 
chains of Caste yet limit its transcendent powers. 

Mauma Rose brought her hands together in a gesture of wonder 
and admiration. 

Oh I you is beautiful! I'se seen many a white bride — none more 
gran' an' sweet, dan dis one I " 

Minnie turned out of the brightness, kissed the dear old with- 
ered cheek, and with her arm around her, walked to the balustrade. 
Still embracing her, she whispered, — 

" Oh ! you don't know what Fred is to do for me ! I am to go 
into the house at ' Breezy Bluff ', and have the entire charge of Tt. 
The old butler will stay, also the cook, and washer. O Mauma 
Rose ! " Again her caroling voice broke into a warble of laughter. 
"Fred says he will sell 'Jake,* that handsome young footlnan; 
he will take back old Sunday ! He will tell the old servant to look 
after me. Ah I Fred is so jealous ! " 

" Ob course, honey ! you will nebber cross him wishes. You 
mus' try keep him heart wid yoursef." 

" Yes, mauma ; I know what pleases him. I'll do that. I'll string 
my hair with jasmines, I'll wear the dresses he likes best, 1 11 sing! 


I shall lead his blessed feet over roses. You know, ma chcre, that 
my father was the French consul. I have high blood, and our 
children, Fred's and mine, will inherit blue blood — Carolina 
blood J " 

" De blood of all people's de same to our great Maker. De blue 
blood be man's dewice ! You soul know mo' dan we poor slabe. 
You talk 'bove we all. Soun' like de white missus, dead an' gone. 
Come back, birdie, once mo' in de silber light ! De angel mus' be 
hoi* dere breat', to look on you dis night ! " 

Stepping forward, Minnie dropped on her knees in the light, 

" Bless me, mauma ! Bless your poor birdie ! " 

The shriveled hands of the old prophetess folded reverently 
above white roses and curls — the turbaned head dropped over all. 
On the dewy stillness of the night, this petition floated up among 
the stars. 

" De Blessed Marser take one mo' lamb widin him lubbin fold I 
De good Lord feed dis tender blossom wid de sunlight ! De dear 
Jesus keep dis precious heart in de holler ob Him han' ! " 


BOYS 1 " 
No reply. 

''Boys 1 " 

Not a sound. The gray light of dawn straggled down the steep, 
narrow stairway, boarded on both sides, and leading out of Farmer 
Buddinsrton's kitchen. The farmer stood there in his clean, white 
shirt sleeves, holding the chamber door open with one large, sun- 
browned hand. His bronzed face was turned upwards, and 
shaded by a straw hat as bronzed as himself. His pantaloons were 
rolled up above bare feet and ankles, weather-browned, also. He 
had been out in the dew, beading the tall grass; out to the old 
well-sweep, drawing tubs of water for the early washing, already 
commenced by his busy wife. Now, he had just come in from the 
barn — from the care of his horses and cattle. 


Not a shade of vexation could be seen on his face, as he lis- 
tened for a response ; but a look of regretful affection settled upon 
it, in the dim light of the low, half-story window, above. He called 
in louder, but gentler tones, — 

" Thad ! Alfy ! Come ! Connecticut boys must be stirring before 
sunrise — growing late. Texas! Texas, is the watchword this 
week ! Come, my men ! Be down in a giffy." 

" Texas ! Texas ! " echoed enthusiastically from above. " Yes, 
father ! we're coming ! " 

"I'm going back to the barn. Come out there, when you're 
ready. Don't let the sun beat you, and get there first ! " 

There was much scrambling, a good deal of sleepy funning, sev- 
eral rounds of brotherly pugilism, and boyish laughter ; then two 
pairs of bare feet bounded down stairs, through the kitchen, out on 
the dewy greensward, across the broad, sandy road that wound 
around the house, and over the hard, narrow path to the barn. 
Both entered the open doors, at the same moment — one in a som- 
ersault, the other in a long jump to the middle of the floor. 

" Father, we're here ! What shall we do first ? We've beat the 
sun ? " 

" All right ! go clean down the horses, then bring in the pails of 
milk j at breakrast, I will tell you the rest. Thad, make 'em shine. 
There's a lady in the bargain to-day !" 

Mrs, Buddington's kitchen was an inviting place for breakfast. 
It was long and spacious, looking towards the west, over a narrow 
brook valley, and green meadows, to neighboring heights, whose 
crown of orchards leaned agamst the sky. The well-scoured floor 
was neatly sanded. The oaken table, white as rubbing could make 
it, was drawn into the centre of the room ; with the usual dishes 
for the need of a farmer, who lived ten miles from the town market. 
There were slices of sweet home-packed pork, fried to a crispy 
brown, a pile of large mealy potatoes, with bursting jackets, fresh 
eggs, a plate of fried apples, and, waiting on the stone hearth by 
the broad fireplace, a nicely covered nappy of wheaten doughnuts, 
hot, crisp, and brown. 

Mr. and Mrs. Buddington, Thad and Alf, seated themselves at 
table, with folded hands, and bent heads, for the words of grace ; 
after which, conversation on the morning's plans commenced. Mr. 


Buddington never manifested a glum, or morose spirit at home. 
He was genial and companionable in his family. His boys were 
encouraged to offer frankly, suggestions on all subjects; however 
wise, crude, or boyish their ideas might be, the father listened, and 
kindly corrected. His wife was not a drooping flower, crushed 
under a master's foot, speaking only when it might be mercifully 
raised. She shared in conversation as an equal partner in affairs, 
laughed heartily, pelted her husband with mother wit ; and often 
remonstrated on certain objectionable courses ; throwing her re- 
proving glances full upon his own, without the slightest dash of 
anger on his part, and without the abused, hang-dog look assumed 
by so many men, from whom the wife dares to differ. 

" Thad, this is the morning to go for the tailoress ; but I find the 
wagon has loosened a tire. What is to be done now .'' " said the 

"Likewise the roll of cloth is to be brought from the pulling-mill, 
for the tailorers to cut and make up," added the mother. Her iron 
goose, and press-board are to be brought, also. There's a riddle 
for you to solve, Thad," she continued, casting a sly glance at 
the father. 

Alfy, a boy not yet in his teens, hurried to say, — 

" You can ride horseback, Thad, and bring the cloth. 

Yes ! I can take a long sack over the saddle, put the cloth on 
one side, and the goose and press-board on the other to balance. 
Ned won't flare up at that ! " declared Thad, resting a hand each 
side of his plate, and holding knife and fork erect in the air ; as if 
to dissect the quandary. 

"Bayonets fixed! 'Gainst the rules! Look at your knife and 
fork I " said Alf, playfully clashing his own fork against them. 

" The cloth, and other articles are all right," said the farmer ; 
"but where will you put the tailoress? in the sack too, or in your 
pocket, Thad ? " 

This caused general merriment. Alfy laughed till he cried. 

"Here is a better way ; " continued the father, smiling. "You 
ride 'Lone Star' and lead *Ned.' Go for the lad v first. She will ride 
him back, and you will ride ' Ned,' calling at the mill, on your 
return. The first part of the arrangement is right, as you pro- 

White may, and black june. 233 

Alf didn't believe she could ride "Lone Star;" "for he always 
danced sideways, and reared up, so." 

" Oh, yes, Aliy, she can ride ' Lone Star ! ' " said his mother, 
smiling. " Filette Snow can sit upon any horse. I have seen her 
ride her brother's stallion, 'Fire-fly,' which very few men can man- 
age, and she sat him as easy as a lark in a tree." 

"I saw her too, mother ! " cried Tbad. " She looked like Queen 
Elizabeth, reviewing her army, in my English history." 

" True, my son, she did," said Mr. Buddington, approvingly. 

Breakfast over, the house was left to its busy mistress. Alfy 
went up the road, betv/een its wide borders of green, singing "Yan- 
kee Doodle " to the brindled cows which he followed to pasture. 
Thad guided ' Lone Star," his father walking beside him, to the 
stone at the kitchen door, to say ' good-bye' to his mother, and to 
catch her look of pride, as he rode away. She came at his call, 
her sleeves rolled to her elbows ; and exclaiming, — 

O Thaddeus the Great, on his charger ! Look out for those 
white feet ! There's mischief in them, sometimes ! " 

" That's so, Thaddeus. Keep cool my boy ; handle him gently. 
Don't get his blood up. Good-morning." 

The sun tipped the tree tops, " Lone Star's " ears, and Thad's 
hat, as they traveled up the brown road between the velvet strip 
of turf, fringed with alders and yellow birches. 

In due time, tramping hoofs drew Mrs. Buddington's attention 
to the door. She was just in time to see the proud horse, and his 
female rider sweep around the corner, followed close at her heels 
by Thad, with the tailoress' implements. The farmer's wife 
clapped her hands, and showered all manner of appellations upon 
the rosy rider still seated on the mettlesome animal. 

"Hey day, Gipsey ! Mrs. John Gilpin! take a turn up the road. 
Let me see you ride, you winged Mercury. Dear me ! If we had 
a match for ' Lone Star ' — your brother's ' Fire-fly, say — I'd 
mount, and we two would scour Connecticut's hills and valleys, 
till the good staid people should think the witches were out. Yes, 
and they'd tie us to some sacred post somewhere, and whip us 
along with the beer barrels that work on Sunday." 

The ludicrous ideas of either supposition, caused her healthy 
echoing laughter to ring out on the morning air, till it reached the 



hill-orchards over the narrow brook valley. There, the apple- 
gatherers, holding the golden, red and russet fruit in hand, paused 
on their ladders and baskets, to look over to Farmer Buddington's 
yard, where Filette was still wanted. A reflection of mirthful 
happiness touched their faces. They v*^atched the group around 
the door ; and when she reined her horse suddenly round to 
gratify Mrs. Buddington, they saw him rear and paw the air, they 
saw her whip come down smartly on his shining haunches, saw 
him shake his mane and come down to his work, galloping around 
the corner with her little page, Thad, at her heels. Apples 
dropped ; men, women, girls and boys, clapped hands lustily. 

They waited for her return ; for country neighbors divine their 
neighbor's movements. They saw her darting like a shuttle, 
between the alders and birches, north of the house, and then his 
curved neck and white feet came slowly back round the house to 
the step-stone. Filette sprang to the ground. The fruit-gatherers 
cheered her again, and the unbroken air waves brought the sound 
to the house. Filette took off her bonnet, and swung it by the 
strings. Mrs. Buddington made a signal flag of her apron, and 
swung it aloft. Thad emptied the sack, and threw it above his 
head. Farmer Buddington arrived just in time, from an adjoining 
potato field, to join the pleasant pantomime. He sent the lus- 
cious roots which he bad brought for dinner, rolling on the 
ground, and threw the basket to the house-eaves, several times. 
Wherefore, the apples on the hill, contrary to the philosophy of 
Sir Isaac Newton, gravitated upwards against the sky, in crimson 
and yellow gleams, till the party entered the kitchen door. 

Filette caught up the roll of cloth, and entered the north 
room, where a table was already cleared for cutting. The 
farmer followed, to be measured for a whole suit, to be finished 
" this week." He said, — 

" Can you accomplish it ? " 

"Of course she can with my help !" said his wife. "We have 
worked together before. My washing is long ago on the line, and 
my cupboards are full of pies and cakes." 

" You are a ' gude wife,' my ain dearie, and I must set you on a 
richer soil than these hard Connecticut lands. So you see, Miss 
Snow," turning to the tailoress, " I am off for Texas on Monday, 


one week from this morning. I must have these clothes to wear. 
Now I shall be over on the next field, at work j when there is 
any trying on to do, wife, call me." 

Then began in earnest the sponging, cutting, basting and press- 
ing. The hot iron goose hissed and fizzed along the wet seams 
on the press-board. Filette handled it with the same dexterity as 
she had subdued the plunging, foaming " Lone Star." It was a 
pleasant week for the two women. There were no peevish repin- 
ings at the failure of romantic hopes, no tearful aspirations after 
impossibilities. Both accepted the conditions of life. The old 
farm-house was full of mirthful industry, health and common 

When the work was cut and planned, there was time for other 
thoughts. Filette said to Mrs. Buddington, — 

" So your husband starts for Texas soon ? 

" Next Monday." 

" Will he go alone ? " 

" No, his youngest brother, George Buddington, will accompany 
him. He resides in Cloudspire, Massachusetts ; and will arrive 
here Saturday night." 

"Is It your wish to leave New England, and settle in that new 
country ? " 

"Not at all, personally; but I have the interests of others in 
keeping, and what is for their benefit, should be my pleasure. My 
husband has received glowing accounts of the cheapness of land, 
and of the inviting soil and climate of Texas. His lungs are too 
delicate for our severe winters also. Then he has the future 
welfare of our sons in prospect. He thinks that after a life of 
toil in New England by all of us, he shall have very little to 
leave ihem, but the same entailed life of hardship as his own. 

" Then he will buy and hold slaves, of course .'' " 

" I expect that is one object. They are cheap now ; but when- 
ever Texas is annexed to the States, they will increase fifty per 
cent. Slavery has been my great objection to going. I do not 
believe in enslaving human beings." 

"Neither do I," replied Filette, looking up from a coat sleeve, 
into which she was fitting the lining. I could never wrest the 
hard earnings of others, to surround myself with comEort, and 


leave the toilers in destitution. Neither could I buy and sell 
my fellow-creatures, the images of God, as so much merchandise." 

" Do you think a Southerner would acknowledge that a negro 
was the image of God ? You would fall out in the premises, at 
the very first start." 

" Very well, according to their own theology, none but the 
images of God can have souls to save, and they evidently think 
their slaves are possessed of that imperishable article ; for they 
are beginning to show them a way to Heaven by various teachings 
and preachings." 

" Filette, you should hear our minister expatiate on slavery. 
He says the African race was predestinated to Slavery, from the 
foundation of the world. He advises Air. Buddington to go to 
Texas, take up land, and buy slaves. He says they are as much 
articles of commerce as any other means of wealth." 

" I have made the acquaintance of the new minister." She said 
this with a short, knowing nod of the head. " I have made the 
acquaintance of Rev. Augustus Johns, from Hartford. I sewed at 
the parsonage last week. His language and manners pointed to my 
social inferiority. He may preach Christ crucified, but he cannot 
preach to me Christ the living Exemplar. Its my opinion he 
would m.ake a good slave-holder, himself, and handle the lash with 
a relish." 

" Would you express yourself so freely everywhere ? " laughingly 
questioned Mrs. Buddington. 

"Certainly, if called for. False ambassadors of Him who was 
a pattern in all that is just and humane, are less to be revered than 
truth is to be reverenced. His advice on emigration will prove a 
snare, I think. ' If the blind lead the blind, both will fall into the 
ditch.' I am not learned, but I must yield to the dictates of com- 
mon sense, and the plain teachings of the simple life of our Savior, 
so plain, that a wayfarer, ' though a fool, need not err therein.' " 

" I sometimes think within myself," said Mrs. Buddington, " that 
the church ' worship they know not what.' Not God, the omnipo- 
tent, omniscient and omnipresent Deity, as a Being to be much 
loved or much feared ; but in His stead, they substitute a round of 
rites and mysticisms, which only stultify our moral natures." 

"Those thoughts appear to me wise. And further, what is not 


already obscure, they either forget, mystify or reverse. Here is 
this straightforward command, ' sell all thou hast, and give to the 
poor ;' which does not convey the idea that we sell the bodies and 
souls of the poor, themselves — that we shall auction them to the 
highest bidder, and put the price in our own pockets. Yet that 
is the construction of the slave-holder, and of everyone who upholds 

Thus the day passed in pleasant dinners and teas, light discus- 
sions, neighbor's evening calls, after the day's work was done ; and 
in talking over the journey and future prospects. All agreed that 
the farmer's life was a hard one ; but many preferred its honest 
ways to the necessary cruelty attached to a slave-master's leisure. 

The suit of clothes was finished on Saturday, by sunset. 
Filette consented to remain over Sunday, to help on Mrs. Budding- 
ton in preparations for her husband's departure ; to work on the 
boj's' clothes the next week, as well as to relieve the approaching 

Saturday afternoon. Squire George Buddington arrived from 
Cloudspire. Young, handsome in figure, well dressed, with the 
elasticity of hope and anticipation apparent in word and motion ; 
he inspired the household with new faith in the venture, and new 
vigor in its prosecution. On Sunday evening, which in those days 
was the beginning of the working week, a company of friends, includ- 
ing farmers of the vicinity and their sons, assembled by invitation, 
to get new views of the settlement of Texas ; as George Budding- 
ton had correspondence on the subject, and was to present infor- 
mation at that time. 

They gathered in the large kitchen. The floor had been recently 
sanded ; the pleasant fire fizzed and crackled in the capacious fire- 
place. The well-scoured oaken chairs were soon filled ; others, 
smarter in paint and age, were brought in from various rooms. 
Men of bronzed faces were they all. Old and young were mostly 
clad in serviceable home-made cloth, spun and woven by their 
wives and daughters. Their hands were hard and calloused, homely 
to the eye, but true and kindly to the grasp. There were heads of 
gray, and shoulders stooped with labor ; chestnut locks, and figures 
of young, athletic strength. There were breasts enclosing the finest 
sympathies of man's nature ; men who never goaded an ox without 


pain, and from whose hands their well-fed horses never felt a 
stripe ; men who, if suddenly brought face to face with the terrible 
scourging of the South, would have been appalled, and in a frenzy 
of compassion for the victim, would have hurled the sanguinary 
scourger to the stunning embrace of mother Earth. Yet these 
same men, in the determined equanimity of a stern patriotism, 
upheld the Constitution and its nest-egg, slavery. 

They regarded the Constitution as the charter of American free- 
dom ; the sacred instrument freeing them from oppressive royal 
edicts, and too dearly purchased in the Revolutionary struggle to 
admit confession of a blemish or suspicion of a fault. They 
looked upon slavery as indigenous in cotton-growing districts — 
sprouting into hydra-headed life with the germs of the cotton seeds 

— and having a duration co-existent with the cultivation ot that 

"I expect you will have warm weather there, without snow or 
ice," said one of them addressing farmer Buddington. 

" Yes. Crops are cultivated there all the year round, you might 
say, there is no winter. Our grains grow there, besides many 
tropical fruits." 

'• I believe Mexico w^as loth to part with Texas for any price, " 
said another ; " but the Southerners are in earnest, and when 
Mexico wouldn't sell, they went over the border with their families 
and slaves, and set up an independent State of their own." 

" The South have made a splendid success, replied the Rev. 
Mr. Johns, who had just dropped in. " Since the ' Boundary Treaty' 
with Spain in 18 19, which made the Sabine river the western limit 
of Louisiana; and since the 'Missouri Compromise' of 1820, pro- 
hibiting slavery north of latitude thirty-six degrees, thirty minutes, 
there was very little land left for the formation of new slave states 

— not enough for more than two or three. With only this narrow 
area left to it, slavery w^ould be doomed. In 1829, Mr. Poinsett, in 
behalf of our government, offered Mexico five millions of purchase 
money. She refused. He then proposed to loan Mexico ten mil- 
lions, upon the pawning of Texas till repaid. He knew well that 
Texas once pawned, it was ours ; for in the interim, the country 
would have been filled with Anglo-Americans and slaves, and we 
could have held it afterwards, in any event. That loan was a fail- 


ure. Next, he made efforts to obtain from the Mexican govern- 
ment, a stipulation to return fugitive slaves ; for, you know 
gentlemen, Mexico freed all her slaves in 1829. This was a 
failure also. However, the South was resolved to possess Texas. 
Numerous emigrants have settled upon the lands, carried their 
slaves, and obtained control of the Legislature by a separation from 
Coahuila. They have declared their independence, so that our 
friends here, Mr. Buddington and brother, are leaving their own 
country for a foreien government." 

" I saw by the papers," said another, " that of the fifty-seven 
signers of this Declaration of Independence, fifty were Southerners, 
emigrants from the Soutliern States, and only three were native 
Mexicans, and these three were greatly interested in Texan land 
speculations, with companions in New York." 

" I recollect that, likewise," replied the clergyman ; " and when 
we of the North see men so resolute for their own interests, it cer- 
tainly devolves upon us to render them all the aid in our power. 
The bond of Union must be kept bright by these fraternal acts. 
True, her independence is gained and acknowledged by the United 
States ; but every Northen emigrant will swell the vote for annexa- 

"Annexation has been already proposed to our Government," 
replied Squire Buddington ; " and although the proposition seems 
not to have been favorably received at Washington, we all under- 
stand that annexation is the Texan ulti?7tatu7n. As to the ability 
of Texas to maintain her assumed independence, there is no doubt 
about secret assistance being rendered from the States, in arms, 
ammunition and men. Our Government would wink at such clan- 
destine support to Texas, and bid it God speed." 

" I understand," said the Rev. Johns, " if the Texans need pro- 
tection, they will have it. They had it before their independence, 
which was gained by contributions and enlistments in the States. 
There was bloody work there then, between Houston and Santa 

A young man, sitting silently by himself and leaning awkwardly 
upon the white oaken table, had fixed his admiring eyes at the first 
entrance, upon the younger Buddington and his fine broadcloth. 
After plunging his fingers several times into the short, sandy curls 


about his ears, and impatiently throwing one knee over the other, 
offered a question to his notice. 

" Will you inform me, sir, what first called your attention to a 
removal to that country .'* " 

" With pleasure. jNIy attention was called to Texas, by a Cloud- 
spire friend in my own State, who has become a citizen of South 
Carolina. Then, my brother here, has had an uphill course since his 
marriage. The mortgage still rests upon his farm ; some change 
is necessary for him. I am young, and desire to invest where 
something more than New England profit will accrue. This friend, 
Mr. Steele, advised Texas, and sent papers containing Southern 

" Would you read some of those views, if you have the papers 
with you ? " asked a tall, spare, deep-voiced man by the stairway. 

George brought forward a bundle of Southern papers, and read 
aloud numerous extracts. He remarked, also, that Benton of Mis- 
souri, a few years ago, over the signature of " Americanus," wrote a 
series of essays on the importance of Texas, and the necessity of 
its acquisition. He advocated and enlarged upon Benton's asser- 
tion, that " one of the evils resulting from the retrocession of that 
country to Mexico, is that it brings a non-slave-holding empire in 
juxtaposition with the slave-holding South." 

He selected a Baltimore paper, commenting on the essays of 
'* Americanus," and read, — 

" One of the reasons he assigns for the purchase of Texas is, 
that five or six more slave-holding States may thus be added to the 
Union. Indeed, he goes farther than this in one of his calculations, 
and estimates that nine more states as large as Kentucky, may be 
formed within the limits of that province." 

" You perceive, gentlemen," explained the clergyman, " that 
Benton's first calculation w^ould give the South twelve more sena- 
tors ; and in case Texas should be cut into nine States, eighteen 
more senators. This course is absolutely necessary, according to 
Calhoun's theory, ' to preserve the balance of power ' to the South ; 
that our national legislation may not be one-sided and thus dis- 
member the Union ; for the maintenance of the Union gentlemen," 
with an emphatic gesture of his arm, " is the only safety of our 


*' It is also necessary on our part," remarked the bass voice of 
the first speaker, " to resist the encroachments of the abolition 
party, for one section of our country should not override the 

"Never was a truer word spoken," said Squire Buddington ; "but 
my brother James and I must leave you Northern men to deal with 
the villanous abolitionists. We are going to another country, where 
Judge Lynch hangs them to the nearest tree. We shall labor for a 
larger representation of Southern interests in the Senate, by annex- 
ation. Mr. Johns," turning to the clergyman, "your opinions coin- 
cide exactly with the sentiments of a Charleston paper in the 
package sent me by Mr. Steele." 

He selected it, strode to the fireplace, and read by the light of 
two candles on the the high mantel, — 

"The acquisition of the vast territory of Texas, is denominated, 
*an enterprise which could not fail to exercise an important and 
favorable influence upon the future destinies of the South, by in- 
creasing the votes of the slave-holding States in the United States 
Senate.' " 

Flattered by this distinguished coincidence, the ecclesiastical 
countenance brightened ; and he proceeded further to air, pom- 
pously, his intimate study of Texan affairs. 

" Squire Buddington, you will not be disgusted by the poverty, 
ignorance, and crime of free negroes in your adopted residence, 
which I should consider an agreeable relief. The Texan Constitu- 
tion dooms to perpetual bondage, 'every negro, and every mulatto, 
now, or in future, remaining on the soil ! ' The friendly offices of 
no Colonization society will be needed there, to remove such nui- 
sances from the country ! " 

Farmer Walton, who owned a small number of acres in the west 
part of the town, and who sat leaned in his chair against the jamb, 
with gravely-folded arms, here threw more light upon this deter- 
mined seizure of adjacent territory from a friendly power, by pre- 
senting one more Southern motive of self interest. lie observed 
that j\Ir. Gholson of the Virginia legislature in 1832, announced, 
" that the acquisition of Texas would raise the value of slaves fifty 
per cent at least ! " 

" That was natural," replied Mr. Johns. " Virginia is a slave- 


breeding state, and these new cotton and cane fields open a fine 
market for her peculiar productions." 

"The Southern States are a unit, in whatever policy they pro- 
pose ! " said the deep voice by the stairway. 

The young man reclining on the oaken table again ran his 
fingers through his sandy curls ; his eyes fixed upon the squire 
while speaking. He thought it an unsafe experiment for a married 
man to settle among such a mixed population of Southerners — 
negroes, Mexicans and Indians. He thought young-married women 
would need constant protection, amid such lawlessness ! His dear 
Jane Sophy, whom he had just ruthlessly plucked from a neighbor- 
ing family, and made his own especial property, troubled his mind. 
He was thinking how pitifully she looked after him, at his sunset 


James Buddington, who understood matters, knowingly an- 
swered, — 

"You see, Tim, we don't take our wives there. George has none, 
and mine must stay with the boys. But you come out to Texas 
when I get my farm of two or three thousand acres. I"ll sell you 
a square close to my house, to build a ranch for Jane Sophy, if 
you'll bring her along ! " 

These rays from a dark lantern illuminated Tim's suggestion. 
The whole company indulged in a vociferous round of pleasantries. 

"There's no trouble," said a short, square-built member of the 
church, by the buttery door ; " no trouble, if when you go among the 
Romans, you do as the Romans do 1 Them slave-holders are fiery 
fellers, but don't hurt anybody that thinks as they do." 

" Right ! There can be no cause of apprehension, when one fol- 
lows that aphorism," said the clergyman, walking stifHy up and 
down the sanded floor ; meanwhile slowly buttoning up his fine 
black coat. " Tim ! better sell out here, and migrate \vith these 
gentlemen. Buy slaves, advocate ' Southern Rights,' help hang the 
abolitionists, and your domestic happiness will be as safe in Texas, 
as it would be in the snows of Lapland 1 " 

Thad and Alf brought tumblers, and the pitcher of cider. The 
Rev. Mr. Johns proposed prayer before parting ; in which brill- 
iant effort he took occasion to inform the Deity that He had 
made a world full of sinners, for His own glory ; that He had ex- 


alted this Nation ; that the inexpressible beauty of American 
Freedom mio^ht be an exemplar to the extremes of the earth. He 
finally demanded of Divine favor, the perpetuity of its Institutions 
— a signal blessing on the present national effort, to extend our 
peculiar civilizing influences. Especially did he implore God's 
blessing to attend the steps of His two servants, who, in the jour- 
ney about to be undertaken, would further cement the fraternal 
bond of union between distant sections. He closed by invoking 
rich lands, flocks and herds, abundant crops, and increasing pros- 
perity to all within their tropical gates. 

They gathered around Farmer Buddington, proffered good wishes 
and grave good-byes,— for he was beloved by his neighbors. The 
smoke of his chimney was a pleasant landmark in their busy 
goings to and fro. 

One shook his hand, and said encouragingly, — 

" Well, neighbor, I suppose you will be picking strawberries 
next January, when I am shovelHng snow-drifts in great-coat and 

"And digging potatoes in February," added another close by. 

The short, broad-shouldered Roman shook hands roughly, and 
corrected the others. 

" Buddington will not dig potatoes any more, nor pick straw- 
berries, nor reap in the hot sun. His negroes will do all that, 
while he will sit in the shade of his orange groves." 

Rev. Mr. Johns, who had been speaking with the ladies, joined 

"His cattle will in a few years be counted by hundreds. Like 
Isaac, he will have 'possession of flocks, possession of herds, and 
great store of servants.' He will not be forced to arise in icy 
mornings, before dawn, to feed the cattle in their stalls. They 
will run untended, over his broad grassy plains, all the year 
round ! " 

There was a little side scene. The sandy curls were very near 
the younger Buddington. He assured the latter, that in a short 
time he should join him. Says he, — 

"I am married now, and if Jane Sophy finds it agreeable to emi- 
grate, I shall emigrate. I am glad to make your acquaintance ; 
for I should not like to set her down in an unprotected home." 


Rev. Mr. Johns shook hands last ; bidding them remember, — 

*' We all have one Countr)-, one Constitution, one God." Suc- 
cessively the wagons rattled away. 

Candles glided about Farmer Buddington's north and south 
room, long before day. One medium-sized seal-skin trunk was 
sufficient for both ; moreover, it could be conveniently carried 
between them, in changing from stage-coaches to boats, or other 

While sitting at the table for the last time, the husband and 
father gave some directions, yet unsaid. 

" Drive the cows down the hill, to the rowen meadow, to-morrow, 
Alfy. Dig the potatoes faithfully, boys. Take good heed of aM 
mother's command's. Be kind to Ned, feed him well, and treat 
him well. Uncle George will ride ' Lone Star ' to town, to day, 
and leave him. He is sold. You boys will ride with me in the 
wagon that carries the trunk to the Red Tavern ; the stage stops 

Mr. and Mrs. Buddington tasted very little of that morning's 
repast. They exchanged no sentimentality. Each heart felt the 
pain of the other, and silently bore its own. New thoughts, and 
strange, flitted in and out of Filette's mind all that day; thoughts 
not quite in accord with the general sadness. A long lingering 
clasp of a hand, thrilled her yet. A pair of hazel eyes haunted 
her in the dairy, in the kitchen, in the orchard. If she turned 
her glance up the lonely, green-bordered road, a young, handsome 
horseman seemed vanishing from sight, — seemed turning back 
to her, like a sweet memory, and waving a phantom adieu. 


THE toilet of the octaroon was receiving the finishing touches 
from her own hands. She was yet alone. A soft rustle 
filled the pretty apartment, as she turned this way and that, in 
order to bring every part of her gauzy dress under inspection, in 
the deep, oval mirrors ; and as she turned to the open boxes 
about j choosing a trinket here, a jewel there, a necklace, and a 


bracelet, to fasten about her neck, or arms, as the slippered feet 
stole across the carjDet for a spray of pinken roses and buds, to 
fasten in the Grecian fall of curls, gathered at the back of her 
head, and as she parted the tangled profusion about her forehead. 

The last effort was upon the broad, pink sash, that girdled her 
waist, and fell in waves nearly to her feet. Then flowers, jewels 
and laces were gathered quickly into their repositories, and a 
general survey of the room was taken, a few rapid steps, a few 
subtle motions of her hands about the curtains, vases and fresh- 
cut flowers, and she dropped into a velvet arm-chair, as if awaiting 
the coming of another. 

Not a fleck of dust could be seen upon the solid mahogany 
furniture, not a thread or fibre upon the lily- strewn carpet. And 
while her left hand dallied with the fragrant bouquet, on a marble 
stand beside her, her right involuntarily sought her heart, crush- 
ing the light fluting above it, in an agonized pressure. In place of 
the radiant countenance reflected from the mirror, a sudden mel- 
ancholy weighed upon her lids, till they concealed the dark eyes 
shrouded in sorrow. Her watchful ear caught the sound of steps 
upon the staircase, the right hand dropped by her side, a stifled 
groan, a despairing glance upward, and she approached the open- 
ing door. 

The visitor paused upon the threshold with gratified surprise, 
exclaiming, — 

"Superb! Pauline ! charming!" 

The old joy flitted back into her eyes ; with a tender smile, as 
she led him to a seat, she said, — 

"You are suffering from the heat. Let me stir the air." 

She took the elegant fan which he had brought her on his last 
trip to New York, and stood by him, fanning slowly. 

One could not easily recognize in that tall, handsomely dressed 
figure, the coarsely clad and turbaned slave-woman, who came up 
the walk but an hour previous. 

" Sit down, Pauline," said her visitor, at the same time taking 
her hand and drawing her down upon the sofa. " You have stood 
at the ironing table all day. Where is your mistress?*' 

" Gone to the dinner, sir. The carriage left before I did." 

" Did old Jake, the gardener, give you those flowers without 


trouble ? " pointing to the bouquet on the table. " Bring them 


"He said he 'shouldn't cut no flowers for me; but he 'spects 
marse must have his way.' " 

" What about Zoti and her mistress, to-day ? Where is the girl 
now ? " 

" She has had several cuts across her shoulders with the cow- 
hide. She is resting now on my bed at home. O master ! Zoe is 
but a wreck of her former self." 

" Pauline, can you not remember ? Do not call me master again 
in this room. The cursed word has a scorpion's sting." 

" Pardon, its not the heart, but the tongue which disobeys." 

" But Pauline, you know as well as I, that in this retreat there is 
no master, no slave. It is the unconquerable love of years that 
draws me like a magnet to this room and to you." 

" It is true," she said as she raised his fair hand to her lips, and 
then retaining it, continued. " Heaven forbid that I ever again 
thus wound or displease." 

"Were there any threats for Zoe to-day ? " 

"Yes, she has been told that she will be sold as a plantation 
hand, to hoe and pick cotton in the burning sun." 

She pressed the unresisting hand more closely, slid down from 
the sofa to the carpet, at his feet, and on her knees, raised her tear- 
ful eyes to his. 

" Oh ! remove this terrible dread from my heart. Tell me you 
will not sell our daughter, our beautiful Zoe." 

" God knows the answer would be no, if it could be avoided." 

" Why not. Colonel Mowndes ? why not .? " 

Sobbing and half fainting, she bowed her head upon his knee. 
He rested his hand on her dark curls and said in petulant sor- 
row, — 

" Pauline, you do not seem to understand my position. If you 
will but consider, a wife and daughter demand her sale, inexorable 
public sentiment demands it, opposing fates compel." 

" But Zoe is of your blood. Zoe is your daughter. She pos- 
sesses the same lofty, untamed spirit as yourself. She curses the 
day of her birth. She curses her terrible destiny. In her sleep, 
she alternately weeps, curses and prays. Now I ask you, her 


father, what will she become on the auction block ? Oh, listen ! 
Zoe will be a raving maniac, bereft of reason, love and all the 
attractions of her charming girlhood. Is not the punishment suffi- 
cient, to be thrust from Grace's room among the kitchen pots and 
to be made a scullion .-* " 

Colonel Mowndes raised the suppliant and placed her in the arm- 
chair, took from the side-board a glass of wine, and held it to her 

"Drink, Pauline, drink present strength." 

After a few moments of thought, he began, — 

"Do not upbraid me! Do not imagine there is no heartache 
for me, in this matter. I am the victim of the horrid gnome of 
Slavery, which broods over our land like a vampire. Zoe must be 
sold. Let us settle all preliminaries to-night, with mutual conces- 
sions, if need be. I will save her from plantation cruelty. Can 
you not find a purchaser.? " 

"Let me show you, my dear colonel," she said, raising one im- 
ploring hand. "There is a gentleman here in Charleston from 
Mississippi, who knew her before her hair was cut, and before she 
wore the coarse Osnaburg suit in the kitchen. He professed to 
love her, promised to make her his true and honorable wife, if you 
would sell her to him. I did not give it a passing thought. How 
could I part with my proud Zoe.? How could I speak of selling 
from my sight that lovely blossom of my life, and yours ? " She 
wrung her hands in agony, and with stifled moans, then con- 
tinued, — 

" Perhaps he will buy her now. Their mutual love will heal the 
wound of separation." 

Has Zoe an attachment for this man.? What is his name ? '' 

"I believe she has, but she bravely cast it aside for me, and you, 
and Miss Grace. His name is Sillton." 

The colonel spoke soothing!}^, — 

" My poor Pauline I try to be calm and brave. Ordinarily, she 
would be sold from the yard, but as it is, my family will send her 
to the auction table. A sale day occurs day after to-morrow. 
Meantime manage to see Sillton." 

" And if he buys my Zoe, where will she stay then, till he goes 
back to Mississippi?" 


"After dark, she can come here. I will give you a pass to visit 
Zoe early, in the jail ; but instead, you can come here, and prepare 
to meet her." 

"And I will divide my clothing with her, that she may appear 
lady-like, as she was accustomed." 

"No, Pauline, not your clothes. I shall purchase a handsome 
ward- robe for her, myself. You shall have the pleasure of helping 
her make it up, here, in your own apartment." 

" I cannot do that, I have to attend to the fine ironing of Miss 


"True, Pauline; but you can do what I propose — you shall do 
that ! I shall profess at home that your presence in the yard irri- 
tates me — that I will hire you out for ten dollars per month. So 
you will come here, and be always ready to welcome me. These 
apartments are so remote from my residence that you will not be 
discovered. Alphonsc Wallace, Leonore Wallace's brother, will 
give you kitchen room. I own this house, and he hires of me. We 
are on the best of terms ; and his boy will do your marketing. I 
cannot spare you to go with Zoe. I want you myself. Cheer up, 
now. Zoe may have an independent home of her own. You will 
hold intercourse by letters, telling each all about the other. No 
thanks, if you please. Bring wine and fruit from the sideboard. I 
am weary with all this planning. It is an uncommon stroke of ex- 
ertion on my part." 

Pauline's face grew bright at his kindness and pleasantries. 

*'It is my turn to revive now;" and he threw himself upon the 

His departure was made at a late hour. 

"■ I shall go to the dinner," he said. 

"My pass! Colonel Mowndes, have you forgotten it?" She 
hastily placed pen and paper. He wrote and folded it. Pauline 
pressed the pass to her lips, went with her master to the stairway, 
and waved him good night. 

Left alone, the trying future flashed vividly before her. Pau- 
line's handsome features grew rigid with the great pain that 
weighed upon her thoughts. 

'' h bond slave!" she ejaculated, as she turned away, and 
threw herself in turn upon the sofa. '' A bond slave forever ! 


Colonel Mowndes loves me, I know. Yes, he has loved me from 
boyhood; loves me without marriage! And his own lawful 
marriage — what has it been ? but an outrage, a mockery. Thank 
God, his wife knows it not ; and I, the helpless accomplice of her 
wrongs. Am I guilty } Am I to be condemned for this love for 
him, which is the only thing that makes my wretched life endur- 
able ? What if I refuse to see him more ? The auction table v/aits 
for me, and after that, what ? O God ! what .? To be owned, soul 
and body, by a heartless being whom my souls abhors ; compelled 
to drag out an existence to which death would be happiness. The 
sin was in his marriage, for he gave his hand to wealth and blood, 
after he had confided his heart to me. Blood, another mockery! 
My blood is blue. The proudest and purest of three generations is 
my inheritance ; and Zoe, poor, dear Zoe's is bluer still, and her 
beauty more striking than her sister Grace's. Is it a sin to sell his 
own blood .? Sin, O Jesus ! is't a sin ? Is there a/ijf sin, a/iy wrong ? 
Is there any injustice in this church -going city.^" 

A low, derisive laugh quavered through the chamber, succeeded 
by hysterical sobbing which lasted till the bursting heart was re- 
lieved. Then Pauline arose, slowly removed the ornaments, took 
the rose-buds from her hair, folded the pink sash, hung the gauzy 
dress in the wardrobe, and changed the pretty slippers for the 
heavy, slip-shod shoes she wore in her master's kitchens. 

A few moments more transferred the superb Pauline into the 
coarsely clad laundress of Grace Alou'ndes. Again before the oval 
mirror she bound the plaid turban closely across her forehead, tuck- 
ing up every stray curl. She arranged her long Osnaburg apron, 
caught up the precious pass, and glided into the darkness of the 

The day after to-morrow came. Carriages, horses and pedes- 
trians choked the street in front of the slave- mart. Curses and 
oaths mingled with the bustle and bidding. After several sales, 
Zoe was brought forward. She sprang upon the long table with a 
frenzied step, and walked up to the front, with the hunting stride 
of a Diana; scanning sharply the bystanders as she went. She 
still wore the badge of degradation to which Grace had condemned 
her — the coarse dress of the scullion, and her short hair frizzed 
wildly about her head. A hushed murmur of admiration ran 


through the brutal crowd. The auctioneer stepped forward, to ad- 
vertise her claims to a profitable sale. 

"Gentlemen," he cried, "here is a prinie article, young and 
sound. There are, however, certain conditions to the sale. This 
fine piece of flesh must become a plantation worker. She will be 
sold lower for that reason, as there will be some loss in breaking 
her in." 

Defiance flashed from Zoe's dark eyes, as she sought earnestly 
amons: the sea of sensual faces turned towards the table. The 
bidding ran low from the conditions of sale. Two men, standing 
against the wall at the right, held a rapid consultation. One of 
low statue, prominent shoulders and humped, distorted spine, gazed 
up intently into the face of the other. 

" Bid eleven hundred," said the taller. 

" Bid for me, Mr. Steele," timidly requested the dwarf. The 
other bent his head, saying, — 

" It wouldn't do for me, Edmund. My wife, Lucy, might hear 
of it from that dare-devil on the table, if you take her to the par- 
sonage. Lucy's been South long enough to learn the ways. Bid 
yourself, Stone. That girl's just what you want in your house. 
She'd be an ornament and a companion for any clergyman ; just 
what you want, Edmund. Bid." 

"Eleven hundred dollars," said the dwarf. 

" Eleven hundred," echoed the auctioneer. " A prime article ! 
eleven hundred dollars, gentlemen ! Going ! going, gentlemen ! 
going ! " 

The previous bid was one thousand, from a person nearly hidden 
by the crowd in front. At the sound of that voice, Zoe's eyes had 
dropped, and a slight fiush suffused her cheek. Now she turned 
exasperated tow^ards the standing place of the dwarf and his com- 
panion. Her fair cheeks glowed, scarlet as the roses in her 
father's garden. The blue veins of her white neck and temples 
swelled with a sudden tumult of emotion. She extended her small, 
white hands, exclaiming, — 

^^ Not gohig, gentlemen 1 ?iot goin 


Turning her blazing look upon the reverend bidder, — 
" Not going, incarnate fiend ! dwarfed representative of Satan ! 
Do not delude yourself, that you will hold a blue-blooded daughter 


of South Carolina to do your bidding ! These feet will never walk 
the furrows of a cotton -field. These hands will never hold a hoe." 

She took one tragic step forward, lifted a menacing arm and fin- 
ger upward and cried, — 

" No, by the great White Throne of the Almighty God ! No, 
buy me at your peril ! I'll cut this white throat before your eyes ! 
I'll give this hunted spirit back to its rightful Owner, to Him who 
has no room for it on earth. Hear ! ye cursed wretches ! hear ? " 

A sort of terror fell insensibly upon auctioneer and buyers. 

She went on. 

" One man alone is present who shall pay a price for me. That 
one already posesses my heart. He has offered one thousand. 
Dare not, you devils, to outbid him, or I swear by the Savior of 
men, that you will pay for a lifeless corpse ! " 

She stood dauntless and defiant, panting with excitement. Co- 
lonel Mowndes at that moment crossed the opening in front of the 
table, and disappeared. He had heard his daughter's terrible 
words. A folded paper was passed to the auctioneer. 

During the momentary hush of his reading the note, the heroic 
crisis of Zoe's exaltation was passing. The appalling degradation 
of her situation smote her fragile nature to a tottering sense of ut- 
ter friendlessness and abandonment. Through tears, her grieving 
eyes sought the one face, on which she cared to read her fate. It 
was still there, pale and anxious, with his tender eyes fixed upon 
her. His white handkerchief clandestinely waved an "All right" 
to her inquiring gaze. The vender of God's images brought his 
hammer with violence upon the table. 

" Sold ! " he cried. '' Bring on old David. " 

The summer sunset of that evenino: was arraved in all its South- 
ern glory. The skies over Charleston burned crimson, to the 
zenith. A broad path of shimmering rose stretched across the 
Ashley, from the low shores of its farther side to the city. A de- 
licious violet haze filled every street and court and alley, enwrap- 
ping roofs and spires in a memory of the Orient. The whole city 
was out, enjoying its unrivalled beauty, crossing and re-crossing the 
bright streets, or vanishing in their purple shade. 

Zee sat upon the floor, in a dim room of the jail, amid a hetero- 
geneous mass of men, women, and children, from every part of the 


State — in all shades of color, and in every degree of squalor. Re- 
gardless of the groans, tears, prayers and cursings around her, she 
silently nourished the small fiame of hope kindling within her dark 
destiny, and longed for the coming of the stars and her owner. 

The apartment of Pauline was again lighted at an earlier hour 
than usual. She was in reception dress. The same Grecian knot 
of curls, with white jasmine and purple heliotrope, trailed from her 
shapely head. She had chosen white muslin for her toilet, with a 
brooch of amethyst, and a sash of the same hue. A side table, 
spread with delicate china, over which Spring herself seemed to 
have sprinkled bouquets of violets, giaced the occasion. Cold 
meats, salads, fruits, and an ample iced loaf were concealed under 
snowy napkins. She whiled away the tardy moments listening to 
the laughter below of Alphonse Wallace and the dark woman he 
had chosen, and to the noisy romping of his children. The ex- 
pected guests arrived. Zoe, half clad in the soiled garments of 
menial service, fell into the embrace of her mother. 

"Saved, thank God!" cried Pauline. "The worst is over!" 
She held Zoe from her, and pondering, exclaimed, "One sister, 
dwelling in elegance — pampered with love and luxury! The 
other, the more beautiful, sold in the shambles ! Jesus the Christ ! 
let a curse follow those who cause these cruel distinctions ! Let 
poverty and anguish be their final reward ! " 

Gratefully Pauline thanked Mr. Sillton, and begged him to tarry 
till she could remove those wretched rags from her child, and then 
led her to the dressing-room. Caresses and words of endearment 
interrupted the duties of the toilet. The shorn hair was laid in 
short curls about the white brow and neck. A white muslin, shear 
as mist, and finished with fine laces, flowed gracefully about her 
tall form. A sash of white satin encircled her slender waist. The 
soft drapery of the arms was looped to her shoulders with falling 
sprays of white jasmine, and a knot of the same flowers was fast- 
ened among the light puffings on her breast. White satin gaiters 
encased the small ankles. 

When these were brought forward, Zoe remonstrated; and 
asked, — 

"Whence come these beautiful articles.'"' 

" Rained down, my child ! " answered Pauline, with a happy 


laugh. She opened a small casket before Zoe's astonished eyes, 
saying, " Raise your arm ! " and she clasped a bracelet of pearls 
upon it. 

" Splendid, dearie ! Now turn your head a wee bit for the ear- 
rings — a match for the bracelet." 

Upon leaving the dressing-room, Mr. Sillton rose, and advancing 
to meet them, respectfully took the daughter's small white hand, 
saying, — 

" Allow me to compliment this surprising loveliness ! Do I ad- 
dress an houri from the bowers of Paradise f " 

Zoe's lids dropped, and their black silken fringes concealed 
whatever of emotion stirred their loving depths. Her lips said, — 

" I am your slave, sir." 

" Voluntarily so ? " he asked. 

"The slave can have no will — can cherish no preference. The 
master wills — the slave obeys ! " 

"Then, my adored, the master speaks ! " he continued with im- 
passioned tenderness ; "Zoe, my darling Zoe ! I make you fiee ! " 

He hastened to take from the marble table, beneath the fragrant 
flowers from Colonel Mowndes' garden, a long silver box. On its 
cover, in relief, was a dove making her nest among lilies. He pre- 
sented it, saying, — 

"Here are your free papers — the deed of 3'ourself -r- to have, 
and to hold uncontrolled, the noblest, purest womanhood I have 
ever met." 

Dazed with doubt and joy, the full glory of her swimming eyes 
lifted upon her rescuer. 

" It cannot be ! Oh ! no ! " she said fainting, and making a spas- 
modic effort for support, she swooned to the floor. Mr. Sillton 
raised her to the sofa ; and Pauline, bathing the pale temples, 
lavished every epithet of affection. 

" Ah ! my beautiful ! hunted abused and crushed till reason, and 
life itself are dethroned ! O Heaven ! Is there no mercy for the 
oppressed.'* Is there no retribution for the oppressor.?" 

Her lover sat in silent distress, chafing the cold hands, till sen- 
sation returned. Then her languid eyes sought Pauline, with the 
question, — 

" Am I free } Dear mother, is it true ?" 


"You are so! Be convinced ! " She opened the silver box, 
took out the paper, and requested Mr. Sillton to read. 

This he did ; adding, — 

'' You are as free as 3'ou can be in South Carolina ; but you are 
obliged to have a guardian, until you leave the state. I took upon 
myself that office — an act which I deemed the most satisfactory to 

" You paid a thousand dollars for me ? " 

" I did ; and the money has already been sent to Miss Grace 
Mowndes. It was not one third of your value, as the market goes, 
but it seems that Mrs. Mowndes desired the indulgence of jealousy 
and revenue, more than monev. Colonel Mowndes has washed his 
hands of the sale, as far as may be." 

" Can I go out and in at my pleasure, without permission ? Can 
I travel to Columbia, or Savannah, or New York, if I choose, with- 
out a pass ? " 

'•Your air of high-breeding and refinement, added to your fasci- 
nating beauty, will be a sufficient passport beyond this locality, at 
any time ; but to one recently freed from bondage, there might 
possibly be treachery. I believe this kind of treachery is rife in 
certain states. While I remain in Charleston, you cannot have a 
fear, my beloved Zoe. You are as free as the white-winged bird 
that soars into the blue vault of day. Your will is your own, you 
can cherish and indulge preferences, as freely as any lady in the 

A delirium of delight lighted up her eager eyes, and flushed her 
pale face. 

''Alas !" she asked, "how shall I find gratitude commensurate 
with this surpassing favor ? What can I render for this inestimable 
gift.-* Nothing, but my poor thanks ! " 

"Thanks from those lips would be a large reward, but I will 
venture to say, this miserable heart of mine would fain ask more. 
It would seek a nearer relation than your lawful guardian by the 
slave code of South Carolina. It solicits the gift of your hand, 
prompted by the voluntary action of your love — for your hand in 
a speedy and honorable marriage, that no scandal should assail the 
purity of your new-found freedom, or mar the fame of your inherent 


He walked up and down the room for some time, and returned. 
Zoe rose, and without hesitation, laid her hand in his. 

" Take it! " she said. •' Take this unworthy and dowerless hand j 
and with it, the first possession I ever held — myself y 

"My life shall attest my obligation for this happiness ! " he said, 
and raised her hand to his lips. " Will my angel grant her peti- 
tioner an early fulfilment of her generons promise.? Pauline, let 
me entreat you to become my intercessor ! that this eventful day 
may be consecrated by the holy ceremony, which will give me the 
power to watch over, and protect our beloved Zoe, till death. I 
will disembarrass you of the constraint of my presence, and give 
time for considering my proposition." 

Left alone, Pauline explained what she had learned from Mr. 
Sillton during the day ; that his stay could be prolonged only one 
week ; that although the laws of the state prohibited marriage be- 
tween white and any sprung from the colored race, he had an inti- 
mate friend, a clergyman, in the city, who would perform the cer- 
emony privately, and that, beyond the narrow circle of Zoe's 
acquaintance, no one would q'uestion her blue-blooded lineage. 

"My dear Zoe," she continued, "you would not risk staying 
here after he left. You would then be without a suitable protector. 
You surely would accompany him, then t " 

The sobbing girl threw her arms about her mother's neck, cry- 

"Am I to part from you so soon, and never to see you again .? O 
mother ! this freedom brings with if heartache and bitterness of 
soul ! " 

"But consider, dear Zoe ! I am sure you are going to a happy 
home. Mr. Sillton is a Northerner by birth, from Ohio. His 
parents and other relatives are living there. As his wife, you will 
visit them, and be received by every member of his family with 
warm and welcoming love. Although I am left a slave, I shall 
have comfort, yes, even luxury, and the steady, unfailing affection 
of Colonel Mowndes. In a short time, I am to occupy this room 
altogether; to rest and employ my time as I choose." 

" But Colonel Mowndes may change, or he may die, leaving you 
to the mercy of those two women. And God only knows what your 
fate would be then ! " 


"Let US hope for the best, my poor child. It is better that one 
should be free, than that both should wear the millstone of slavery 
about our necks. We shall write letters to each other, in which T 
shall tell you all. The colonel will write for me, and receive yours. 
He has promised that. 

Now let us speak of yourself, dear Zoe. You know Mr. Sillton 
left me to intercede for his marriage with you this evening. He 
desires to shield you from every shadow of injustice and wrong. " 

Zoe's face was suffused with a soft maiden blush. 

"Why not delay my marriage till the end of the week? I have 
not the wedding garments ; and what injustice and wrong can be iu 
ambush for me now?" 

'' We cannot tell, my darling. There is danger in the very air of 
this city. An eleven hundred dollar bid was offered for you, and 
you were destined for a cotton-field. Wliat if here, alone in this 
room, one should enter with violence, seize your free papers, seize 
you^ under cover of darkness, and hurry you out of the city, and put 
you, helpless and friendless, into other shambles? Search your 
memory and recall brown Margeret, who was sold to a young Ala- 
bama planter for his unmarried wife. After two years he died ; and 
he loved her so faithfully, that he gave her free papers, and made 
arranszements that she should hold his house as her own. She, 
ignorant and unsuspicious, returned to his friends here, from whom 
she was purchased. They stole her free papers, made her a slave 
again, put her in the kitchen as cook, cut off her long braids of 
wavy hair, and besides, treated her cruelly. Do you not re- 
member? " 

"Oh! yes, I remember." A shudder ran over her — the sweet 
blushes paled to whiteness, 

" Then, you know also how old Auntie Mamy paid for herself 
twice over, and only got free in her old age." 

" I know, mother. I know. There is no safety here. Mrs. 
Mowndes and Grace are ferocious. They would be more than will- 
ing to put me to torture. I consent to the marriage. Speak for 
me, mamma. Beg my preserver to trust in my eternal gratitude. 
Beg him to doubt not the love of a heart, wholly and forever his." 

Pauline passed out of the glass door, to the piazza. After a 
short delay, she returned with Mr. Sillton. For a few winged mo- 


ments, he held his lovely bride to his breast, amid the blissful 
silence and overflowing tears of both. 

Pauline received her from him, with the smiling admonition to 
nave all m readiness at his return. 

"It will be a short farewell," he saidj and with hurried steps 
descended into the street. ^ 

^ Pauline proceeded to her task of dressing-maid with gleefnl alac- 
rity. Again, in the dressing-room, she exposed to Zoe's astonished 
view, a fragrant profusion of cut flowers, and other bridal decora- 
tions. From a jewelry case she drew a pearl necklace, the match 
to her ear-rings and bracelets, from which depended a locket, 
studded with the same silvery spheres. The chief treasure was 
enclosed within— the picture of her affianced husband. As Zoe 
behe d the proud and manly face, she held it to her lips rever- 
entially, saying, — 

" Dearer than all else, marnma. Dearer than all." 
■ " No more tears to-night, my darling," said the mother, in cheerful 
reproof, as she gently withdrew the bright circlet from Zoe's hands 
and fastened it about her snowy throat. From another receptacle 
issued a bndal veil of gossamer lace, and from another still, a 
wreath of white jasmine ready formed, to which the veil was soon 

Zoe suffered the wreath to be placed upon her head, and the 
folds of the misty lace to be adjusted about her rigid fio-ure in si- 
lent abstraction. The events of the day, so strange, ^rapid and 
overwhelming, nearly palsied perception. Pauline went on with 
her work ; tacking spray after spray of sweet white blossoms, and 
their trailing delicate pinnate leaves here and there upon the flowino- 
veil. ^ 

Zoe, suddenly awakened to reflection, asked abruptly,— 
"Who brought all these beautiful and costly art'icles here 
mamma ? Who can love me so ? " ' 

" The fairies, Zoe. Let there be some mysteries with to dav's 
terrible realities." •' 

" Am I to question nothing ? " 

"Nothing to-night, my queen. It is sufficient that they are 
yours. -^ 

After the veil, the long white gloves reaching nearly to the elbow 


— then the delicately embroidered Paris handkerchief. Nothing 
was wanting. Pauline hastened to place vases of odorous flowers 
about the room in every possible place. She had scarcely taken 
breath, when Mr. Sillton, accompanied by a clergyman in black 
silk robes, entered. They were attended also by a friend of the 
bridegroom, as v^'ilness. 

''Who would have imagined this apartment held such tran- 
scendent loveliness? '' said the witness in evening dress. 

"The fates have been propitious to you, sir," bowed the clergy- 
man. " Such beauty and elegance are rarely combined." 

With affectionate deference, Mr. Sillton took his place by Zoe's 
side. The rites of the ceremony soon performed on the part of 
the minister, were completed by a husband's embrace and his low 
murmur, — 

'• My bel-oved wife." 


IN the ideal of Mrs. Lucy Steele, the South had been a beautiful 
dream ; fraught with fragrant bowers of perpetual spring, with 
laughing skies and balmy airs, with luscious fruits, and with a glad- 
some rest from the ever-recurring and perpetual cares of Northern 
households. The subject of slavery never disturbed the peace of 
the domestic hearth, or vexed her own thoughts. Their tranquility 
was never roused to a consideration of its moral claims upon the 
Republic, or upon the individual conscience. So there was nothing 
in the Southern journey before her to be feared, nothing to sully 
bright anticipation, nothing to mar the serene depths of love for 
the husband of her choice. 

Pier ideal dream of South Carolina has been more than realized ; 
aye, enhanced by charming reality. She passed from drifted snows 
to perpetual greenness. She entered the overseer's unassuming 
house as her future home, without surprise or env}', in its compari- 
son with the lordly mansion of " Le Grand Palais," standing ia 
solitary grandeur at a proper distance, both from herself and the 
slave quarters. She sat down with a smiling trust among her black 


servants, accepting their new and strange offices with content 
bhe partook of \he novel viands placed before her, without her 
direction, pleased with the picturesque change in her life, and Had 
tor the time to revel amid the ravishing beauty without 

For her rides and walks with WilHam, she suffered herself to be 
robed or disrobed, feeling the delicate gentleness of the black 
hands that folded her garments about her, and sensible of the ten- 
derness in the voices that addressed her as " my dear youno- 
missus ' innocently supposing this to be the charmed lot of all 
the ladies in that happy South. 

The little, half-naked, unkempt children of the negro quarters 

hovered about her out-door wanderings, sure to gain a smile or a 

kind word, by some rollicking prank or childish giggle ; they flocked 

about her door, with hands full of sweet flowers for " Miss Lucv " 

till her rooms were a bower of perfume. The slaves in the fields 

dropped courtesies, or quickly bared their heads as she passed bv' 

to look after her with loving, thoughtful eyes, or standin- in their 
cabin doors, said always, — 

" God bless you, honey." 

In the later spring, she went to the" great house " with her hus- 
band, to inspect the rooms and assist in giving orders for its prepa- 
ration for the return of the family from Europe, in the autumn. 
l.ed by the old gardener, she strolled through the gardens filled 
with wonder and admiration of the unheard of floral variety She 
traversed the ample, double piazzas, overhung with climbino- roses 
of a hues; and her eyes ran over the level misty view o1 field 
woodland and river, in rapturous delight. Under the guidance of 
Dorcas, the faithful housekeeper, who, with a solemn bunch of 
gmghng keys at her belt, unlocked drawers, pantries and closets 
she beheld such costly curtains, rolled carpets and French china' 
as her eyes had never before looked upon. ' 

;' My young lady, this is nothing to their house in Charleston " 
said Dorcas, relocking the doors and drawers. 

u ^^^"^ t° ^^^^ occupy this, and when that"? " asked Lucy. 
Marse Fairland comes here in de winter, and stays in Charles- 
ton in de summer, when they don't travel Have been gone lono- 
time now. If you stay here this winter, you will see gayety enou-lf 
Ladies, gentlemen, dinners, horses, hounds, guns and sports'* a 


plenty. De silver is in Charleston in de bank ; box upon box of 
it; tea and dinner service,. plates, cups, ladles, pitchers, goblets, 
candelabra, ever^ything solid silver. Come, my young missus, look 
in de silver closet." 

With an air of family pride, Dorcas selected the proper key from 
the others, walked on with a more stately step than before, and 
threw open the double door. The walls and shelves were covered 
with crimson velvet ; there were grooves and niches, formed each 
to receive the separate pieces of the costly ware, lined in the same 
manner. She opened drawers divided into compartments, and 
glowing in the red covering. 

" We keeps it here t'rough de winter, missus, ready for de grand 
dinners and balls. Then in de spring it is packed in de boxes, and 
carried to Charleston." 

The face of Dorcas suddenly changed, a glittering gleam of 
hatred shot from her eyes. 

"This silver closet is full of dead men's bones and living men's 
groans. It took more slave flesh and blood than 1 can count, to 
buy de silver that fills it. You North people don't know nottin 
'tall about it. i\ly grandmother was Indian. They stole her from 
our tribe when she was leetle girl. Her father was chief. I'se 
half Indian ; see missus, my hair is straight and long." 

She drew out the comb, and let the black mass fall over her 

"These people talk 'bout their blood. Mine is de aristocratic 
blood, a part kingly blood. These lands you see here, missus, all 
these t ousand acres were de Indians. They belonged to my chief 
and his braves. They were ours. De white men stole our lands, 
and stole us. Now I am slave. My mother was slave, and my 
grandmother was slave. Sometimes, my dear young missus, I feel 
like I wish I had a tomahawk with a shinin edge, and that with it 
I would cut my way out to freedom again." 

Dorcas raised herself erect ; her right arm made the fierce 
motion of brandishing the aboriginal weapon to the right and left, 
as she uttered the last words. Her sullen and unforgiving orator}', 
sent a thrill of awe over the face of Lucy. Dorcas was quick to 
perceive this change in her listener. In a calmer tone she con- 
tinued, — 


" Don't be frightened, honey. See, I have no tomahawk, nothin 
but the keys. Come away to de library and rest you. What I 
said is only what I sometimes think in here," striking her breast. 
" In here, all to myself." 

In the library, Dorcas wheeled an easy chair covered with brow-n 
linen, to the window for Lucy. 

" There, sit down and look at these books ; never mind Dorcas 
any more. You can read all here. I don't know one word." 

" No, Dorcas, I cannot look at books now. Sit down by me and 
tell me what I desire so much to know." 

" I never sit down before white missus. I stand and hear de 

" How old was your Indian grandmother, when the whites stole 

" Very young, missus ; but de white man promised to make her 
his wife. She was beautiful, tall, straight, wore a crown of scarlet 
feathers on her black hair; wore fringed leggins of soft, yellow 
deer skin and moccasins covered with beads. Her mantle was 
made of all de bright feathers of de forest birds, which de young 
warriors shot for her; red, yellow, blue, green. She had bracelets 
of beads, and strings of all colored beads about her neck. She 
was de chief's daughter. Miss Lucy." 

" Did he marry her.? " innocently inquired Mrs. Steele. 

After a mocking laugh, Dorcas cried. — 

"Marry her? De Lord bless you, no. He lived with her and 
had children ; some he sold, and some he kept as slaves. My 
moder was one. Don't you see, dearie .? " 

" No, no, Dorcas. I cannot understand such cruelty ! " 

"My sweet missus, that was but one cruelty. All we colored 
women are de same here. De v/hite men love us, live with us and 
never marry us. Sell our pappoose. Sell us if they chose." 

Mrs. Steele buried her face and groaned. The thought of such 
a separation from " William " was agon\\ 

"Look up, honey, you can't be sold ; and poor dear child,^do not 
try to bear our sorrows. De good Lord knows it all. We can do 
nothin but pray to him. Hear ! Marse Steele call his wife now." 

Lucy rose, and her face brightened at the sound of his voice. 
Dorcas drew her back one moment. 


Dear missis, never repeat what Dorcas'has said, to any person — 
not to Marse Steele. We all at de house and on de plantation love 
Marse Steele's young wife ; we all trus' you. Promise dearie, you 
will be our friend." 

"Your secrets are safe with me. I will never betray you." 

Mr. Steele and the servants had opened the boxes from Europe, 
and taken out the paintings and statuary. Their exquisite beauty 
was enrapturing, and restored Lucy to her usual cheerfulness. 
They went on hanging the pictures of choicest foreign scenery, 
palaces and cities. That day and days after were haunted with 
their bright visions. 

The summer was passed in the pine lands, whither, every season, 
many of the white families resorted to escape the deadly miasma 
of the rice grounds. Here" Lucy met her first experience of South- 
ern caste. Mr. Steele's abode was built quite removed from the 
proud hamlet of rough white-washed board-houses in the heart of 
the forest. She learned there was intention in this. Although her 
dress and manner equalled the inmates of the village, no ladies 
called at her door or sent invitations for the frequent merry-makings 
of the summer resort. In her rides and walks, none accosted her 
or noticed her presence. She spoke of it to her husband. He 
endeavored to reconcile the slight, by explaining that they were all 
strangers, and the Southern people were slow to form acquaintance. 
So, in the freshness and nearness of her affection for him, the 
hot season glided away pleasantly in the grassy glades of the hazy 
pines, sweetened by her husband's daily return from the plantation. 

Fall came. They returned to " Le Grand Palais," in the ex- 
pectation of the early return of ALajor Fairland and his family. 
Lucy offered her services to Dorcas in setting the great house to 

" No, honey. I can do all. De carpets are down, and de cur- 
tains are ready to hang. I knows their ways ; I can suit 'em well. 
Shall be all prepared, when de carriage drive 'em up to de gate. 
But come over to-morrow, pretend to give orders, let Dorcas take 
you to her room — Dorcas has something to show de dear missis 

After the departure of Mr. Steele to his duties as overseer, Lucy 
presented herself to the housekeeper, and was taken into an upper 

« ; 


room in the long range of kitchens joining the mansion. The 
chamber was neatly furnished, and contained various mementos of 
the favor of the mistress and her family. Dorcas received her 
v.-ith delight, and a waiting-maid's attention. After she had done 
all, and more than was necessary to testify her love and respect for 
Mrs. Steele, she stood before her, holding a box in her hands. — 

"Shall Dorcas tell the young lady a secret now? Is missis 
rested .'* " 

"You can tell me anything, if you will sit down by me." 

Dorcas courtesied smiling, and brought a chair to Lucy's side, 
insisting she could not learn to sit before a white lady. She placed 
the box upon her knees. 

"Now don't be scared, dearie, there is no tomahawk in this! 
This slow, long-sufferin' African blood which runs w'ith my own, 
and the dreadful power of the * buckra,' puts out de Indian lire. 
It only flashes up 'once in a wa}^' and dies then, as soon. Oh! 
but my dear missis, I want freedom, and I want my pappoose to 
to have freedom I Does Missis Steele know about them? " 

" No, Dorcas, except the two girls here j neither have you men- 
tioned your husband." 

"True, misses. Aleck was coachman, he was kicked by one of 
marse wicked horses, and he died. You say husband, dearie, but 
we slaves never have husbands ; we cannot marry by de law ; they 
sell us any time they choose. But my white folks let me have de 
man I love, and I had six pappOose. Laws ! My oldest gal was 
born when I was fourteen year old. She had straight hair, and de 
nex' one had straight hair. So you see missis, they keep them to 
make ladies'maids for de family. De oder four with curly African 
hair, they sell 'w^ay ! " She clasped her hands, and looked upwards, 
tears rolling down her sorrowful face. 

Sympathetic tears also filled Lucy's eyes, which, Dorcas perceiv- 
ing, she took the handkerchief from Lucy and tenderly dried them 
away ; grieving that she w-as always doing wrong. Then forcing 
back the wild memories, she declared she should call back the 
smiles, after a little. 

Dorcas opened the box with a small key which she carried con- 
cealed in the bosom of her dress. To Lucy's surprise, it contained 
money — rolls of bills, gold and silver coin. 


"There, my dear missis ! beg you will count all de money in this 
trunk correct ! I earn heap since marse and missis been 'way to 
Europe. I must be free — and this money and more, will buy 
myself, and then when I own myself, I can work day and night to 
buy my children." 

Lucy, who like most other women, had never seen or held large 
amounts of money, was pleased with Dorcas' success. She said 
gleefully, — 

" Why Dorcas ! you have more money than I. How did you, a 
slave, accumulate so much .'* " 

"May be not so much, missis ; but I made sweetmeats, jellies 
and marmalade for de fine ladies, and they pay me. Sometimes 
they give me some orange, and I buy little sugar and make it foi 
myself. to sell by the jar. When marse and missis are home, I pull 
down my curtains after they is all bed, and make marmalade — all 
de ladies buy. Then when we have grand company, the ladies 
give me pieces of silver, and every cent goes in this ere trunk. 
Sometimes, in Charleston, I buys the orange and sits up most all 
night, in my rockin-chair, watchin and stirrin the sugar and orange, 
and thinkin of the happy day when I shall hand the whole price to 
marse aad get my free papers. Do missis count it true^ and I will 
'member how much." 

She poured the contents on the table. Bill by bill the amount 

" Two hundred dollars in bills ! '^ said Lucy. She ran over the 
gold, placing it by itself. " Thirty-five dollars in gold ! " she added. 
'• Twenty dollars in silver ! " She placed the old heavy copper 
cents in piles of ten each, making sixty-seven cents. 

" How much, missis ? " 

"Three hundred and fifty-five dollars and sixty-seven cents!" 
answered Lucy, smiling. 

"Is that a heap, missis? Let Dorcas say ! Tree hundred and 
ninety-five dollars, never mind cents." 

" No ! Three hundred and fifty-five ! Three hundred — and — 
fifty-five ! " 

" Tree hundred and sixty-five ! " repeated the housekeeper. 

"No! not right yet!" patiently replied Lucy. "Fifty — fifty- 


" Tree hundred fifty-five ! Tree hundred fifty-five ! " repeated 

Lucy answered in the affirmative. 

*' Is tree hundred and fifty-five a half of twelve hundred, dear 
missis .'' " 

"Not a half, Dorcas, but well towards it! " unwilling to discour- 
age her. " Is that your value .? " 

"Yes, missis. You see I'se sound, and good housekeeper, take 
all care from the ladies. They read, sing, walk, ride. I do all." 

She replaced the amount in the box, locked it carefully, and 
returned it to a safe hiding-place. 

"I shall get twelve hundred dollars if I have to wait till I is old. 
If I could have the wages of my two girls, I should make up my price 
soon. Madge is hired out for four dollars, and Dell for three 
dollars a month. How much is that for a year Miss Lucy ? " 

" Eighty-four dollars ! nearly a hundred." 

"Weill" she replied with a deep sigh, " old mistress has all 
that, and to them its only a drop in the bucket." 

She presented Lucy's parasol, inviting her to go down to the 
conservatory and garden, to inspect the new plants in pots, sent 
from Charleston during Lucy's absence. The conservatory v/in- 
dows were all open to the air, and the bewildering array of flowers 
of every fragrance and color, occupied some time. Dorcas knew 
the strangers' names, and interested Lucy with their probable uses 
during the winter. 

'* Mistress will bring a Paris florist, who will force them to blos- 
som in abundance for de great parties. " 

They entered the house, traversed the chambers and parlors, 
resplendent to Lucy's view, with carpets, curtains, pictures and 
statuary. At last Dorcas ushered Lucy into the small family dining- 
room. The table was set for one. Dorcas stepped to the chair, 
and drew it back, saying with a courtesy, — 

"Be seated, dear young lady. Take some refreshment. Let 
Dorcas be happy in waitin." 

After some laughter and parleying, Lucy took the seat at dinner. 
There was a brace of delicately roasted pheasants, a choice bou- 
quet by her china plate, a dessert of floating-island, creamy Char- 
lotte-russe, orange marmalade, coffee that seemed ready to filter 


through the thin waxen china cup, small iced cakes and a glass of 
purple wine. Dorcas served, changed plates, went and came, ever 
taking her stand at the back of Lucy's chair. 

" Partake, my dear Madam Steele, of all before you. Do your 
servant that honor." 

" Do myself the honor and pleasure, rather say ! " as she arose 
from the collation. 

Dorcas detained her by the window, and remained standing 
silently by. 

"What is it?" asked Lucy. "Is there another secret? Speak 
on, Dorcas," holding her dark brown hand between her own. 

" No secret, darlin ; but somethin that will surely come to pass ! 
You will not 'low de truth to vex you ? " 

"No, Dorcas." 

"Well then, let not your heart be troubled about this fam'ly 
when they come. They is so proud, so blue blood, so debble, 
that they will not notice you, honey, any more than their slaves. 
This dinner is your last one in this * Grand Palais,' this winter. 
You is young and han'som, like a queen, but they will ride past 
you, and never see you. They will never 'low you to walk up the 
marble steps to the grand door, and you shall never come at all, 
except to wait on 'em. Never mind, dearie, never you be their 
servant. Don't look after 'em wishful, or cast down your proud 
eyes before 'em. Don't grieve for their pleasures, nor covet their 
possessions. There's a curse on 'em." 

Indignant blood mounted to Lucy's temples. 

" As to birth, or blood, as they call it, my pedigree will compare 
with any. My mother's lineage traces back to the ' May Flower.' 
and my father has the coat of arms of his English ancestors. 
But I have not yet learned that blood or wealth should exempt 
one from polite courtesy and civility to others. Dorcas, you have 
done me a favor. I shall be on my guard." 

During the year, by the influence of Mr. Steele, Edmund Stone 
had removed South, as pastor to the slaves on the plantations 
"Success" and " Snowfield." He occupied a low-browed house 
on a high bank, sighting the river, and overshadowed by live-oaks. 
Soon after his arrival, the Rev. Stone's directions were received 
from his friend, Overseer Steele, after this manner. He rode over 


to see the " man of God," settled in his queer parsonage, and 
wore a broad-brimmed planter's hat, and high boots over his 
pantaloons, carrying his long, black, field whip in hand. The 
Rev. Stone brought chairs upon the weather-worn boards of the 
roomy piazza, in sight of the early cotton-pickers in the whitening 
fields. Sinking down in the chair, his head almost lost between 
his shoulders, he rolled his prominent, servile eyes upon Mr. Steele, 
as upon his kindest benefactor. 

" I never expected to see this interesting sight ! " pointing to the 

" I suppose you never would have seen it, if you had not given 
the right construction to the Bible and Constitution. This is your 

" I trust I shall ever be faithful to national, as well as religious 

"How do you find things ? Like the climate, and this herd of 
black faces about you ? " 

"The climate is like wine to the weary; but these black faces 
are all alike to me. I cannot tell them apart, or scarcely the old 
from the young." 

" It is often so ; but they will come out in their strong individ- 
uality, after a time. Does mammy, the old cook, suit you ? " 

" Yes, I'm learning to like her bacon and hominy, with occasion- 
ally a fried chicken. She can't keep the house neat ; she's too old ; 
can't go about on her crutch." 

" You must have a handsome young negro wife. You know 
you found marriage difficult North, amongst those dainty v/hite 
misses. You must have a dark wife, Edmund; no need of mar- 
riage here. She'll tidy you up ; and if she don't, why take the 

The pastor's astonishment became evident to the overseer. 

"Oh, you'll get used to color soon enough. Amalgamation is 
the rule here. These Southerners cry out ' Amalgamation ' 
against the North, but I always laugh in my sleeve when I hear 
it. Amalgamation is a Southern practice, not a Northern, and 
they knew it." 

" I rode over to instruct you how to preach to your parish. I 
expect I know them better than a green band." 


Any suggestions will be thoughtfully received, William." 

"Very well. In the first place, you need write no sermons. Use 
the simplest every-day words, when you want them to understand ; 
also the shortest sentences. Preach hell-fire strong ! Make the 
infernal regions deep and broad ! Blow up the fires, old fellow, hot 
and red ! Shake 'em over it, if they dare set up their own thoughts 
or wills. By so doing 3'ou will play into the hands of Fairland, the 
master, and render the overseer's task easier. For heaven, pile up 
the golden crowns and spread out the green fields, where each one 
will bask in the sun, and rest forever. Coax 'em with heaven, and 
drive 'em with hell. You know how to do it if anybody does," he 
added, with a loud, ostentatious laugh that the cotton-picker's 

"There seems to be a difficulty in singing the hymns, as they 
can't read." 

" Of course they can't read ! The devil would be lo pay if they 
could ! Line 'em out, Edmund, line 'em out ! Line out some new 
ones about the wrath of God and damned souls ! " 

*' Certainly, Mr. Steele ; my own memory will supply them." 

"Another thing," resumed the overseer; "give them prayer- 
meetings — encourage them all to pray and speak. Let 'em shout, 
jump, or lose their strength, — anything to keep 'em up to religion. 
But mind one thing. Edmund, you must always be there yourself, 
for that is our law. There shall be no gathering of negroes with- 
out the presence of a white person. Do they bring you anything 
to help you live?" 

"Yes ; some articles out of their poverty." 

"Poverty! Edmund. Poverty is their normal inheritance. They 
are property themselves. i\Iake it a rule that they shall bring you 
so many eggs a week, and so many wild ducks and fowls ; put the 
number high enough. If you have more than a supply, box them 
up and send them to Charleston, in exchange for coffee, tea and 
suo'ar. Your salary is small, but you can manage to lay up as 
much as you would in the North. There are no fashions to fol- 
lov; here — no company to entertain." Striking his host playfully 
with the black whip, " Old fellow, you will lead a roystering life 
here. Do as you please, and no sermons to write — so good day." 
As he mounted his horse, he turned to say, " Come over and see 


US — Lucy will give you a welcome. Let one of the boys drive you 
over in the mule cart." 

After Major Fairland's family were settled at " Le Grand Palais," 
Lucy, forewarned by Dorcas, set herself about making her own 
observations. Dorcas was right. Festivities of all kinds crowned 
the winter days. Gayety and mirth overflowed at the "great 
house." But never an invitation, a call or recognition of any kind 
relieved the monotony of Lucy's solitude. Of a Sabbath, the ele- 
gant carriages of the master of the place, and those of their guests, 
driven by liveried coachmen, passed her haughtily on the roadside, 
without the si ightest salutation. 

She observed, also, that her husband seldom or ever entered the 
abode of Major Fairland. She had repeatedly seen William stand 
at the foot of the matble steps most obsequiously, with hat in hand, 
and with head bared like the slaves, holding the communications 
necessary between master and overseer. Once, she saw him stand 
for some moments in a dripping rain, in that manner, without an 
invitation to ascend to the shelter of the piazza. This act roused 
Lucy to an expression of long repressed indignation, and of the 
deep abhorrence she felt at his humiliation. 

"William," she said, "why did you stay at Fairland's gate bare- 
headed in the rain.?" 

"Because it is customary, my dear." 

" How can you submit to such servility? You are counted no 
better than an African slave. " 

"African slaves do not have a salary, and I do. I buy and sell 
negroes myself. I could not do that North. It is a profitable 
business all round." 

" Profit will never heal my wounded self-respect. William., we 
are neither one of us considered any better than Mr. Fairland's 
bloodhounds, required to lick their master's feet. It is unbear- 
able ! Let us change our business, and leave this land of lords 
and serfs." 

"That would not be for my interest at present. It would be 
impossible. I should be obliged to sell Binah and her girl, and 
their two children. You see the children are getting more val- 
uable every year, and you know I am getting sixty dollars a year 


for their services besides. I should have to sell Marquis, and lose 
his wages every year — two hundred and forty dollars." 

"O VVilliam ! I do not believe in holding slaves. It is cruel and 
wrong ! " 

" Take care, Lucy ! You are on dangerous ground. Then you 
have lost faith in the Bible ? Strange ! You knew we were going 
amid slavery at the time of our marriage." 

"I had not witnessed the operation of the system personally, 
then, his wife replied ; " and more, I did not expect we were to be- 
come slavish ourselves." 

VVilliam Steele had at least a respect for the uprightness of his 
wife. She was the only one whose judgment he feared. He re- 
plied soothingly, — 

•' Come now, Lucy, reflect. In a few years I shall own a plan- 
tation. You can have your servants, and perhaps your carriage. 
Let me explain to you how our matters stand now ; " and he 
opened to her the secret of his possessions. She was surprised, but 
not satisfied ; discontent was not allayed. Within her heart, Wil- 
liam Steele had gradually lost ground. Lucy Clarendon could not 
love the crime that God abhorred, and from which angels veiled 
their faces. However, this was //t-rsecret. She settled into a quiet 
endurance of evils she could not remedy ; and her husband was 
too much involved in his duties, and in getting, gain to probe her 
wishes farther. 

As to the absolute cruelty practised on the gangs in the field, 
she knew nothing. When riding away from home, occasional 
screams reached her ears ; but having a dread of suffering, she 
w^ould ride away without investigation. Latterly, William came 
home with blood stains upon his cuffs and garments. To her in- 
quiries he replied indifferently, that he was subject to attacks of 
nose bleeding ; that his head found relief from it. 

Thus the months and years glided on. It was their custom to 
visit Rev. Stone twice or thrice each season. Lucy rode her pony 
over alone, through the pine woods, dallying among them at her 
pleasure to gather either jasmine or holly berries. In the evening 
William came for her; they galloped home together. On one of 
these visits, Lucy had taken the route more leisurely, tempted by 
the cool greenness, the flowers and moss. Nearing the parsonage, a 


thicket of beauty walled in each side of the sandy road. At her 
left, shielded by a yellow jasmine in full bloom, emerged a slender^ 
dark brown girl. Half hidden by the viny curtains, she beckoned 
to Lucy, and then glided back to her retreat. Lucy reined her 
pony on to the greensward, around the tree into the green cham- 
ber, envelophd by the thick mantle of vines. The girl quickly 
threw her arms around her in the saddle, and raised an entreating 
look to her. 

" Oh, my dear young missus ! I hear you is so good ! beg you 
to listen — beg you to help ! I is libin wid Marse Stone. I is his 
black wife. He — " 

" No, no, it cannot be ! " quickly answered Lucy. " I have been 
to the minister's house every season ! I have never seen you there. 
I fear you are deceiving me." For a moment she shrunk from her 
embrace, as from a maniac's clutch. 

'• jNIy sweet young missus, I is not decebin you. Do trus' 
Rachel ! see how my heart is brake." 

A flood of tears fell upon Lucy's riding habit. 

" Marse Stone dribe me 'way jes fore de lady come, tell me if I 
don't stay out of sight till you is gone, he will gib me de raw-hide. 
'Tis de trut*, my missus. Listen to Rachel. Had young husban' — 
tall, handsome, lib wid him long time. Wese lube one 'nother. 
Dey tuk him 'way, dunno where. Bring me here, me one all 'lone. 
Make me lib wid dat ugly white man, and — " 

" Who made you live with him .? " 

" Marse Stone make me hisself. When I cry an' grieve, he take 
de black whip. Look here, missus." 

Quick as thought she bared her shoulders ; and for the first time 
Lucy looked upon scars and welts injflicted upon a human form. 
Rachel proceeded, — 

" All dat did'n do no good. I grieve in de woods. I grieve 
when he don* see me. I want you to buy me, dear missus. 1 can't 
lib wid dat man." Her voice sank to a whisper. "I hate him! 
I hate him ! " She sobbed again, " beg you buy me, missus. Work 
all my life for you." 

" Tell me who brought you here ? " demanded Lucy, a dark sus- 
picion flashing across her mind. 

" Don't ask me dat, dear missus ; neber min' who." 


"Tell me, Rachel. I shall never expose your confidence. I am 
your triend. Tell me who ? " 

" One ob de oberseer." 

" Which overseer ? I must know. Do not fear." 

"De oberseer at 'Grand Palais!'" whispered the frightened girl. 

"Very well," coldly replied Lucy, controlling herself with a 
strong will, which of late had grown stronger. She leaned over 
in the saddle, and said in a low tone in her petitioner's ear, — 

" Poor girl, I cannot buy you, but I can do something better. 
I can tell you how to free yourself. Follow the north star to 
Philadelphia. Travel by night, and hide by day. Heaven will 
open the way. Now hear, Rachel, and remember. Pretend to 
Edmund Stone to be content, satisfied ; pretend to love him. 
Laugh and be merry. Get him to talk about the North. Lay 
your plans, and keep them in your own breast. After I have 
made one more visit to the minister, look in this hollow tree upon 
which the vine hangs. Money will be there. It will be yours. 
Take it to spend on your way, to buy bread, and to pay some slave 
to help you along, and go when you are ready. Now, Rachel, 
keep the secret, and be careful. Wait here till I turn the corner 
near the house, under the live-oak." 

The dinner was waiting when Lucy arrived. Old mammy sat 
low down on the hearth before the fire, roasting and toasting and 
turning, to keep the viands hot. She hobbled about on her crutch 
as lively as possible, brought in fried chicken, roast ducks, hoe- 
cake, and a nicely iDrowned pound cake from the safe. Rev. 
Stone cheerfully assisted. 

While sitting at table, Lucy condoled the loneliness of Mr. 

''You must," she said sympathetically, "be sorely tried with 
such poor help as mammy offers ; although she doubtless does her 

"Mrs. Steele," (he laid down his fork, and peered into her face 
with a brazen staring look,) "it has ever been my privilege and 
pleasure, to suffer for'Christ's sake. I am alone with mammy, it is 
true, but my solitude is mitgated by the satisfaction of knowing 
that I am laboring in the Lord's vineyard, and that my life is dedi- 
cated to His glory." 


A comforting assurance, Mr. Stone ; but you must be an ex- 
cellent housekeeper, judging from the order and neatness of your 

rooms "' 

" Years ago, in my scholastic pursuits, I gave personal attention 
to the arrangements of my rooms — for you understand, dear Mrs. 
Steele, that this deformity with which Heaven has been pleased to 
endow me, precludes the hope of the near wifely companionship, 
so dear to the Christian heart. I am a lonely and unloved man, 
and my own crucified earthly affections, I trust, are transferred to 
the safe and o?ily keeping of my Savior." 

Lucy was seized with a sudden fit of coughing, and buried her 
contemptuous smiles in her handkerchief. After recovering, she 
suggested that a solitary life like his, might be conducive to greater 

"Mrs. Steele, I would most gratefully acknow^ledged that as my 
experience. In a solitary life the passions are hushed to peace, 
inordinate desires are quelled, the sacred volitions of the pious 
soul go up to God untrammeled by sinful desire. It is sometimes 
good for man to be alone." 

The blood mounted to her forehead and temples, at such un- 
heard of audacity. Again recourse was had to coughing and her 
handkerchief, in which she whispered to herself, — 

" The hypocrite !" 

After dinner, he was blandly persuaded by his guest to leave 
the table to mammy and herself; she, warmly pressing him to 
lay aside family cares for one short afternoon. Old mammy was 
delighted with her assistant; during an excursion to the kitchen, 
Lucy found opportunity to ask the needful question, under 
mammy's turban. 

" Does Rachel live here ? " 

The scared old soul threw up her hands, and groaned. 

" Tell me ! " reiterated Lucy, " does Rachel live here ? " 

Old mammy seized Lucy's hand in her withered fingers, and 
whispered, — 

"Muss say de trut', dear missis," nodding low and solemnlv. 
She clung to her, moaning, "De pretty young missis wont tell on 
poor ole mammy ? " 

Again Lucy's head bent to the faded turban. 


" Is Rachel his wife ? " 

The old head nodded low and silently. 

Lucy took a turn back to the table ; found Edmund Stone's 
stump figure exercising on the piazza. Another errand carried 
her to the kitchen. She gave the crippled old slave a quick 
caress, and spoke in the negro dialect, close to her ear. 

" Don't be afeered, poor old mammy ! Lucy will never tell — 
safe in here," pointing to her heart ; and flew away to walk fhe 
piazza with the clergyman. 

After Mr. Steele's arrival, the conversation became spiritual 
and ecclesiastic. The rapid growth of the church, North and 
South, was a subject of congratulation. Grace was said at sup- 
per, and devout thanks offered by her husband. Before mount- 
ing their horses for home, Edmund knelt in family prayers, — 
prayers for all nations, all persons in sickness, in bereavement, 
for those broken in spirit, for the destitute, and for those without 
any helper. 

Lucy's smouldering scorn broke into fresh flames upon hearing 
these holy, gentle words, on his sacrilegious lips. She did not 
pray with them, but sent up her lonely petitions, winged by her 
pity and her tears, for the desolate, spirit-broken, dark brown girl 
of the jasmine covert. 

The crucial test of Mrs. Steele's love, pride, womanhood and 
religious nature, was severe ; but her crystaline quality of mind 
was not in the least muddled. In weighing the events of her 
Southern life, the revelations of to-day, right and wrong retained 
their value. The results were legitimate j authoritively deduced from 
the premises. She could not love deception, cruelty or despotism. 
With these, pride forbade compromise or complaint. Her own 
womanhood was trampled and debased in the person of Rachel, 
and she doubted «ot in the person of all the slave women about 
her. Her religious nature revolted at the subterfuges of the wor- 
shippers of Him whose throne is Justice and Truth. The tender 
trustful affection for her husband, like the purple bloom of 
ripened fruit, had been rudely brushed away ; the true color of his 
depraved character became more and more apparent. 

William Steele, intent on his profession, and grown more cal- 
lous and brutish by daily acts, missed not the tender thrill of 


his wife's voice, he missed not the light-hearted gayety from her 
laugh, nor the eager kindling of her eye tliat formerly met every 
return of his footstep homeward. He knew not that she had 
settled into a calm and silent detestation of his course of life, and 
her own surroundings. 

Rachel watched the last flutter of Lucy's riding habit, as her 
pony parted the veil of moss depending from the live-oak at the 
c&rner ; then threw herself upon the ground in her jasmine covert, 
to untangle the strange advice of her new-found friend. Rapid 
thoughts revolved confusedly. She had already forgotton the 
word "Philadelphia." She remembered " North Star;" and her 
gaze went hastily up through the tall pine branches, meeting only 
deep, blue patches of sky between their openings. She would ask 
mammy. All her secrets and sorrows were safe with that poor old 
body j and true enough, the memory' flashed upon her that mammy 
had traveled " Norf " wdth her mistress many times in her young 

She was also to feign attachment for Edmund Stone, and to draw 
him into conversation about the North. A suggestive smile played 
over her face. She would deceive him — why not ? A slave's life 
was one tissue of deception from the nature of things. A slave 
must appear to love and revere his master, when hatred lay at his 
heart's core. A slave must sing and be merry, when a death sor- 
row tugged at his heart strings. 

" I could do dat," she said to herself, " dough I hate him ! hate 
him ! hate him ! " 

Thoughts of her dark slave-husband, lithe and agile as a deer, 
straight as a pine and pleasant as the sunshine, drove all else from 
her mind. A flood of tears dropped upon the ground ; her resolu- 
tion to fly away and make herself free became firmer than ever. 

The drama should open that very afternoon with William Steele, 
the heartless man \vho had torn her from all she loved. She knew 
that the way of his approach to the clergyman's abode, was in a 
different direction from that of his wife ; that he came in a by path 
over rough fields, and returned by the pleasant piny road. Her 
last effort before going out upon her purpose was the usual wrest- 
ling in a rude prayer for aid in the undertaking. 

" De good Lord show de way. De blessed Marster in Heaben 


keep 'way de bloodhoun'. Tak' 'way de cloud in de dark night 
from de Nort' Star Merciful Sabior, don' let Rachel's foot git in 
de buckra net. Blessed Jesus, let de poor slabe go free. King 
Jesus wid de golden crown, 'member Guy, all I lub on dis cold 
eart'. Blessed Spirit, tell him I is gone, gone 'way." 

Her prayer was mingled with groans, tears and agonized rocking 
of her figure, to and fro. She arose, dried her eyes with her dress. 
The wild bees' hum caught her ear. 

" De bees busy. Rachel mus' busy too." 

Keeping out of sight of the house, she went across the fields and 
woodland patches to Mr. Steele's bridle path, and waited his com- 
ing. At the sound of his galloping horse, she fell to pulling flow- 
ers ; and met him with a courtesy, and a smiling " how d'e mas- 

" Hey ! girl, you seem in better humor, Guess the minister's 
whip has made you sing a different tune. Like Master Stone now, 
hey ? " 

She dropped another courtesy, saying with a happy face, — 

'• Come to tell Marser Steele, I likes Marse Stone now. I pull 
flowers for his table." 

"You like Marse Stone better'n Guy?" he asked. 

" Better'n all, Marse Steele. Him nice gentleman," dropping 
her courtesy. 

" So so, gal, you'll fare better then," he replied. " Better look 
after your soul, gal. Salvation's in the preacher's house, — get 
saved while you're with him, from the sinner's hell. Pray fast; 
and mend your ways." He galloped on. 

During the intervals betw^een visits, Edmund Stone was aston- 
ished by the change in Rachel. Attentive to his wants, and affec- 
tionate in her manner, she caused his days to glide by without a 
care. She arose singing with the lark, laid dewy flowers on the 
breakfast table, arranged his small theological library, and called 
him " an angel of de Lord." He doted upon her, calling her 
his "household angel." In his walks, she followed him like a 
faithful spaniel ; drew him in at eve from the dangerous damps, and 
seating herself by his side, begged him to tell her all about his 
North people ; how he learned so much wisdom. As she often 
stood combing his wiry hair, she would ask him how he could come 


South to Jove Rachel and deal so kindly with her? She expressed 
contrition for her past sins, and desired to be saved by his holy 

On Sundays, she insisted upon remaining at home, to superintend 
a roasting duck, a sweet potato pone, or the berry dumpling ; and, 
as she said, to have them smoking on the table when he stepped 
over the threshold. 

These were the opportunities in which she held secret council 
with old mammy — learned of Philidelphia and New York; besides 
various other suggestions of worth to a fugitive. 

About the time for the next stated visit to the parsonage, Lucy 
learned that her husband and his friend Stone would make a jour- 
ney to Charleston soon after. She wrote a pass for Rachel, in 
excellent imitation of the minister's chirography, and appended his 
signature. This pass ran for six days. She examined her purse. 
The bills and coin were all too large for the ignorant girl who 
could not count twelve. Dorcas' box of freedom savings came to 
mind. She stepped over to " Le Grand Palais," and exchanged 
twenty dollars for small bits and dollar bills. These she placed 
in a small purse attached to a long cord for the neck. Galloping 
away on her pony, her cheeks flushed with excitement, she neared 
the jasmine vine. She pulled a few flowers, and rode around be- 
neath its shelter, into the open arms of Rachel. 

*-Muss see you 'gain, my dear missis, count ob de good news. 
I'se seen Guy, my Guy, my true lub ! De blessed Lord sen' Guy, 
I sure ! " 

" Did Mr. Stone get an inkling of his visit .? If so, Rachel, we 
are all undone. Do say quickly how and when you saw him." 

"Don' be afeered honey! we is all saf't. You see one night 
when wese all bed, dere wer' great rappin to de doo', and a cry- 

* Do bressed marster come to de rice mill ! big Sam is mos' die ! 
Beg de preacher of de gospel to pray ober him body ! De minister 
be better'n de doctor. Sam be hoopin and hollerin on de floo' ! 
rollin all 'bout. Wese gib de marster two duck — tree — ten — 
tirteen duck to come and pray de Lord for Sam ! ' " 

Marse Stone dressed and went down. Den I hear a small voice 
at de window call " Rache], Rachel ! " She caught hold of Lucy's 


riding habit, '"Bless de Lord, O my dear missis, dat voice was Guy. 
I hurry out, he hold me in his arms, and cry as his heart muss 
broke. He trabel long way, swift as de deer to see me. I speak 
soft to him, and tell all ; how I gwine 'way, how I can't be minis- 
ter's wife. Den he say he stay in de woods and go too. I say no ! 
Guy, wait ! I go first, dey will hunt both more dan me, one ! Den 
I give him corn-cake, bacon, two fried pheasant, and some of 
Marse Stone's brandy to keep him up when he trabel back dat 
same night. I promise to be nobody wife 'cept him, and I shall 
wait for him in de Nort' till I die. Den when I cry so, he kiss my 
eyes, and say ' good-bye.' Oh ! do, sweet missis, 'member Guy for 
poor Rachel ! " 

"Yes, I will; but how about Sam, and Minister Stone? " 

" I find all out, honey. Sam made b'leve sick, to get de minis- 
ter 'way, so Guy could see me. I went down to de mill, to come 
home wid Marse Stone, and I hear Sam hoopin long way off. 
Marse Stone pray, and all de rest shout. When I come, he growed 
better, said he was most cure. Said de preacher had work a mera- 
cle. Den he holler, 'Rachel, you mus' lub and 'vere Marse Stone.' 
Den turn his head, and wink at me." 

" So we have nothing to fear. Mr. Steele and IMr. Stone are 
going to Charleston to be absent three days; they go the day after 
to-morrow in the afternoon. That same night after bed-time, 
Rachel, leave his house, travel all night, look out for the patrol. 
Here is a purse of money that will last you more than all the way. 
Go to colored people in Philadelphia ; they will direct you. Your 
pass is good six days after you start. When your pass is done, 
change your name ; and do not expose yourself. Farewell ! my 
poor girl." 

Lucy spoke in a tremulous voice, holding both Rachel's hands 

in hers, — 

"God watch over you ! " 

She rode hastily away, lest the evidence of emotion should be- 
tray her. 

Lucy observed that the apartments at the parsonage were more 
neatly arranged than ever before. 

^Ir. Steele arrived earlier than usual. The party took seats on 
the broad, low-roofed piazza, where glimpses of the blue river, and 


of the gieen, lush waves of the rice swamps attracted the eye. 
Upland cotton-fields were set against a background of distant ame- 
thystine haze. Ancient live-oaks over- arched the weather-worn 
roof, and solemnly swung their gray beards of moss about the 
eaves and hard-trodden paths. The bland, caressing breeze 
wafted in the deep melancholy music of baying hounds, and the 
sweet pathos of a rich, flute-like African voice, extemporizing a 
mournful song. 

These measured sounds formed an undertone to the brilliant 
Capf'iccios of mocking birds in the oaks ; Capriccios embellished 
with trills, appeggios and inimitable cadenzas. 

" What a paradise of golden sunlight, spontaneous beauty, and 
dreamy indolence this South is ! " ejaculated Lucy. "Its sights 
and melody creep over the senses like balm, and lull them to a 
rapturous languor, beyond the power of language I " 

*'■ Glad to hear my wife express pleasure and satisfaction with the 
South, my dear," replied her husband. 

" I was speaking of its natural attractions," replied Lucy. 

" Slavery may well be considered one of the natural attractions 
of the South, for it is coexistent with its settlement. The very life 
of South Carolina is dependent upon it. In 1788, General Pinkney 
declared in the debate on the Constitution, that " South Carolina 
and Georgia cannot do without slaves, and the slave trade." These 
two States would have seceded then and there from the Union, 
without slavery, and the slave trade. They have improved and 
beautified the land, making it just what you admire." 

" Then if the South cannot do without slavery, what would be its 
condition if sometime it should be abolished.? " 

"A preposterous idea, Lucy. It is imbedded in the Constition, 
and Congress cannot lay a disturbing finger upon it. The meddling 
with it is exclusively a State right, and of course, no Slave State 
will cut off its own right hand, or sever the artery containing its 
life's blood ! " 

" But have religion and humanity nothing to do with a Constitu- 
tion and laws for a republic? " 

" My dear Mrs. Steele," earnestly interposed the host, " allow me 
to quote to you the judicial opinion of our god-like Webster, in a 
speech delivered at Niblo's garden in New York, and you will ac- 


knowledge with Mr. Steele and myself, a justifiable pride in his 
majestic and impressive oratory." 

He brought the speech from his study, and read, — 

"Slavery, as it exists in the States, is beyond the reach of Con- 
gress. It is a concern of the States themselves ; they have never 
submitted it to Congress, and Congress has no rightful power over 

According to this lofty and candid judgment, the Constitution 
holds slavery ''' in pe?'petuu?)i.''^ 

" But have religion and humanity nothing to do with drafting a 
Constitution, and shaping Republican laws.** " she queried. " I ap- 
peal to you, Mr. Stone, as an expounder of sacred ethics 1 " 

She said this with a conciliatory smile, at the same time extend- 
ing her hand for the speech on annaxation. 

Ever taken captive by the smile of woman, his sallow face twisted 
into its sickly reflection, while he answered evasively, — 

" Mrs Steele, a more religious people cannot be found than the 
North ; and almost universally the church champions our Southern 
institution ; and our Northern politicians, nursed in this religious 
sentiment, generally strive to propitiate the goodwill of the Slave 
States, by their adherence to Constitutional obligations. Edward 
Everett, of Massachusetts, when he first entered Congress, declared 
of slaver}', that * While it subsists, and where it subsists, its duties 
are presupposed and sanctioned by religion.' " 

"But you know, Edmund, many Southerners sharply dissented 
from Mr. Everett ; and John Randolph of Virginia said with keen 
sarcasm, ' Sir, I envy neither the head nor the heart of that man 
from the North who rises here to defend slavery upon principle.' 
You see the North must have every subject, institution and object 
decorated and garnished with some pious vine, which sprung from 
'May Flower' seed. Their religion is a parasite — like this gray 
moss swaying about the piazza here, with this exception, that it 
draws its life from every kind of wood — from the apple tree to the 
oak and pine. Their pious excuse of brotherly good vv^ishes swings 
in your face alike from the church spire and the gallows — from 
the flagstaff of freedom and the lash of the slave-driver's black 
whip. They chafe under self-inflicted torments about right and 
wrong, — then sanction black deeds, and mollify conscience by 


prayers and hymns. I have come to the conclusion with Mr. 
Pinkney of this State, in the debate upon slavery in the Constitu- 
tion ; that * Religion and humanity have nothing to do with this 
question. Interest alone is the governing principle with nations.'" 

" That is truth ! " croaked the voice of Rev. Stone. " The true 
interest in the North produces the heaviest parasitic fleece of 
brotherly love for the South, and its domestic institution. They 
would be unwilling to lose the Southern market for their manufac- 

" My dear husband," said Lucy, laying her hand upon his 
shoulder, — " I too have read those Constitutional debates lent you 
by Mr. Fairland. There was one outspoken Southerner among 
them — Colonel George ]\lason of Virginia. He says — ' Every 
master of a slave is born a petty tyrant. They bring the judg- 
ment of Heaven on a country. Now hear!' he continues — 'As 
nations cannot be punished in the next world, they must be in 
this. By an inevitable chain of causes and effects, Providence 
punishes national sins, by national calamities.'" 

Holding one of her auditors by her palm, and the other by the 
pleasing gleam of her eye, she asked, — 

" Is this a prophecy, Mr. Stone ? Does it not become this na- 
tion to free itself from a crime, around which will swirl in a blind- 
ing storm the wrath of a long-suffering God ? " 

"Nonsense, Lucy," angrily retorted her husband. "Do you 
not Vv'itness the increasing prosperity of our country from that 
very day on which these venomous words were uttered ? Lucy, 
I am startled. You are an agitator ! a fanatic ! On this piazza, 
your words are falling upon friendly ears, but I entreat j^ou, nay, 
I demand that such inflammatory language shall never fall again 
from your lips. If you persist, the prison here, or immediate 
banishment will be your punishment. From either sentence, I, 
even I, could not save you." 

He was excitedly pacing the piazza. Lucy rose, and with a 
merry laugh took his arm. 

" Our social intercourse is not so extended that there is danger 
of a conflagration ! " she remarked soothingly. " I should judge 
that the air of this State is foul. The atmosphere is inflammatory, 
not my language. Doubtless I should wear on my lips a wire 


gauze protector, like that on Sir Humphrey Davy's safety lamp, 
used by the miners in the explosive gasses of the mines." 

"Wear anything, my dear, that will muzzle or stifle the danger- 
ous utterances in which you have just indulged. The South will 
not have agitation. Through Congress it has laid its silent hand 
on the lips of the North. Did I not read to you the resolutions of 
Charles G. Atherton of New Hampshire, which passed by an over- 
whelming majority ?" 

"I concluded, WilHam, that concerned men, politicians — not 
women. They have slipped my memory." 

"They imprison and banish women here," he replied. " Re- 
member now. The climax of Atherton's resolutions is, 'That every 
petition, memorial, resolution, proposition or paper, touching, or 
relating in any way whatever to slavery, as aforesaid ; that is, with 
a view of disturbing or overthrowing that institution, or the aboli- 
tion thereof, shall, on the presentation thereof, without any further 
action thereon, be laid on the table, without being debated, printed 
or referred.' 

"This is Congressional logic. Now every State has a right to 
make its own special provisions against agitation. Some of these 
provisions are bowie-knives, revolvers, the gallows, prisons, and re- 
wards of five to ten thousand dollars for the heads or bodies of 

Lucy stepped in front of her husband, and playfully holding him 
by both lapels, said archly, — 

" I stand appalled ! Henceforth I become a disciple of Sir 
Humphrey Davy! Allow me to retire from the contemplation of 
barbarism, to dressmaking for old mammy." 

" A much more fitting employment for my wife, than striving 
with her delicate hands to loosen the corner-stone of the Constitu- 

She flew away, and brought back to Rev. Stone a stout, new, 
gingham dress pattern, querying, — 

'' If the making of it for old mammy would be an offense to 
' State Rights.' or endanger the Constitution ? Old mammy is so 
good to you, keeps your rooms so neatly, I wish to reward her 

A hearty laugh followed, and tranquility was restored. 

> 5> 


"Go look in Edmund's bedroom," suggested Mr. Steele, "and 
see what a blessing old mammy is to him." 

Lucy entered, and saw thrown over the foot of the French bed- 
stead a pink gingham dress and a pretty white apron, — a casualty 
which she fully understood. There were snowy pillows and counter- 
pane curtains gracefully looped, clean matting, orderly books, and 
a bouquet of sweet flowers in a vase upon the stand. 

" Poor Rachel," she soliloquized ; " a victim to ' State Rights.' 

She stepped upon the piazza. 

" Mr. stone, I congratulate you upon your home comforts. Old 
mammy deserves a new dress in return for her neat-handed care 
for you. Husband, you could not have procured a better house- 
keeper for Mr. Stone than mammy. Adieu." 

Left to themselves, Mr. Stone unburdened his troubled soul to 
his guest, respecting a letter which the boy brought from the 
post-ofiice the day previous. It had been opened, and was en- 
closed to him in another envelope, 

" How is this ? " the clergyman inquired. " Can our letters be 
examined by prying eyes in this manner ? '* 

The overseer took it for examination. 

" The post-mark is Charleston on the outer sheet, and Alderbank, 
of Massachusetts on the inner. It is from Richard Beame, that 
rascally fanatic and disturber of the public peace. He arraigns 
your conscience, and entreats you to leave surroundings which 
callous every righteous aspiration, and brutalize every human emo- 
tion. He begs you to go back to your trust in the North. The 
infernal meddler. Haman's gallows is ready for him here, if we 
could trap him to come down. 

" Ah ! he knows better than to visit these parts," chuckled Mr. 
Stone ; " but how is it, William ? Must all our letters go through 
this ordeal .'' and what will be the result ? " 

" Well, I can explain in few words. The South will not have 
insurrectionary papers and letters sent into their midst. Don't you 
remember the burning of the mails in Charleston a few years since, 
and what a hue and cry was made in Congress about it ? Jack- 
son's message favored a repression of incendiary matter by law. 
Calhoun had sagacity enough to perceive that if Congress could 
decide what incendiary publications are, they may next decide what 


incendiary publications are not ; and thus flood the mails with real, 
or covert abolitionism. He advocated this principle. ' It belongs 
to the States, and not to Congress, to determine what is^ or what is 
7iot calculated to disturb their security.' Webster opposed this, as 
abridging the freedom of speech and of the press. Clay also 
opposed. ]Mr. Buchanan supported the measure, as '' dejnandcd by 
the necessities of the country.^ The debate lasted for weeks, Amos 
Kendall, Postmaster-General, neither blamed or approved of an 
inspection of the mails ; but he said, * we owe an obligation to the 
laws ; but a higher one to the communities in which we live ; and 
if the former be permitted to destroy the latter^ it is patriotism to 
disregard them.' He said the postmaster's ^justification must be 
looked for in the character of the papers detained, and the circum- 
stances by which they are surrounded.' 

Now, Edmund, how are postmasters to know the character of 
papers without opening and inspecting them ? Your name at 
Charleston is a new one; you are comparitively a stranger; but 
being employed at 'Le Grand Palais,' whose master is a fire eater, 
they send you this letter opened, as a warning for the future." 

" What will be necessary to allay their distrust of me ? " timidly 
inquired the clergyman. 

" We are going to Charleston, and we must explain to the post- 
master, I shall account for you, and you must write a blood and 
thunder letter to that imp of hell — Beame. Td like to put a bul- 
let through him myself. Ah ! we'll make it all right, old boy. If 
I can manage that irrepressible wife of mine, I shall be all right all 
round. Jupiter ! we've managed adroitly to conceal from her your 
possession of a black wife. If she knew the truth, her foot would 
never cross your threshold ; and I should be in hotter water by 
several degrees Fahrenheit than I am now." 

" 1 should mourn her absence, for her entrance to my parsonage 
is like the dawn of a bird-caroling morning, or the flower-burst of 
an apple orchard. There is a breezy fragrance about her ways, and 
a crisp freshness in her independent thought and expression. I 
watch for her, till I hear the 'fleet step and joyous bound ' of her 
pony, till — 

' I see the jaunty hat, the plume 
Swerve bird-like in the joyous gale ; 


The cheeks lit up to burning bloom ; 

The young eyes sparkling through the veil.' " 

" Ha ! ha ! has Rachel found a rival ? Perhaps it's time for the 
green-eyed monster to dash out in my defense." 

*' By no means ; don't trot out the monster yet ; no necessity. 
Rachel is the angel of my home. Rachel's presence is like an In- 
dian summer, in whose idle haze my moody soul is lulled to happi- 
ness and rest. She has forgotten Guy /and the warmth of her 
tropical nature is lavished upon me. My life is wrapped in hers. 
I shall buy and own her." 

Lucy's quick step arrested farther conversation. The ring of 
cups and table-ware, and the stumping of mammy's crutch an- 
nounced the tea hour. 

"Look here! I've read Daniel Webster's whole speech, and 
find that he says," (holding up the paper and reading), " Slavery 
has arrested the religious feeling of the country; it has taken 
hold on the consciences of men. He is a rash man, indeed, and 
little conversant with human nature : and especially has he a 
very erroneous estimate of the character of the people of this coun- 
try, who supposes that a feeling of this kind is to be trifled with or 
despised. . . But to coerce it into silence, to endeavor to re- 
strain its free expression, to seek to compress and confine it, warm 
as it is, and more heated as such endeavors would inevitably render 
it J should this be attempted, I know nothing, even in the Coustitu- 
tion or the Union itself, which would not be endangered by the 
explosion which might follow." 

" Pooh ! the superstitious old thunderer 1 Could you not esti- 
mate for yourself the quality of religious interest which Cloudspire 
church manifested on this subject, in the revival, at the time of our 
marriage ; when we mobbed Richard Beame, the vile agitator, and 
drove him from the church with eggs and snowballs, and forced him 
and his sister Fanny to walk miles home in the deep, new-fallen 
snow ? That's the kind of religious feeling for anti-slavery, which 
the churches propagate. As for breaking this Union, the South 
has been upon the verge of secession so many times, and yet co- 
heres, that Webster's prophesied explosion may be denominated a 
pohtical soap bubble, — nothing more." 


"Glad to hear your comments; they are assuring, William. I 
do not relish living on the crust of a Southern volcano." 

Old mammy appeared in the door, on her crutches, in patched 
apron and turban. 

*' My good marser, de tea be ready." 

The ride home along the southern skirts of fragrant pine forests, 
over she sandy road, checkered by moonlight and pictured 
shadows, should have been delighful to both ; but a lingering offence 
lurked in William Steele's moody silence and short answers to 
Lucy's attempts at conversation. She resolved to manifest no irri- 
tation at his sullenness, but constantly brought before his mind the 
exquisite beauty of the evening — turning with tact to the virtues 
and self-denial of their friend Stone — bestowing upon him that 
mock sympathy and admiration, which she knew to be gratifying to 
her husband, and of which he had no reason to doubt the sin- 

He was not placable. His tone relaxed none of its gruffness till 
their arrival at home. There, both hastened to the couch of their 
sleeping boy. Both eagerly interrogated the doting old black nurse 
who sat close by her precious charge, of his welfare during their 
absence. Was he well ? Had he wept for them ? Had she taken 
him out airing? Had he fallen? How long had he slept ? To all, 
old nurse gave fond and satisfactory response. They lifted the 
pavilion, and studied the budding beauty with affection and pride. 
A few tender tears welled up from the fountain of a young 
mother's love. 

William Steele gently lifted his precious child from the pillows, 
pressed him to his breast, carried him to the sitting-room, listened 
to his glad and innocent prattle, with a softened heart, and a fresh 
love upspringing for its lovely mother who sat by his side. He was 
mild, but abstracted. Secret memories took wing and fluttered 
through the guilty chambers of his soul. 

From the same couch whence he lifted his little son with pater- 
nal pride, he had raised his daughter Lillian, to barter with the 
New Orleans trader. He saw again her flaxen hair, the innocent 
confusion of her blue eyes, wakened at midnight. He heard again 
her pleading voice, " Me sleepy, papa," blazing along his memory 
like electric fire. The dropping rain of that dreary night haunted 


his ear. Her little cry as she clung to him when he bore her into 
the pitchy darkness and mounted his horse. 

" Dark, papa ! all dark ! me f'aid. papa, me f'aid ! " 
He heard the nimble thud of his horses hoofs on the turf through 
the forest. He saw the dim shape of the bellying canvas on the 
huge wagon which had been purposely removed from the campfires, 
where the chained gangs were lying. He felt the roll of bills 
clutched in his palm, which he took in exchange for his dead Isa- 
bel's sleeping daughter. 

He remembered the heartless traders words, — 
"Plenty of pickaninnies in there — we shall start in an hour!" 
Little Lillian's last sobbing cry, as it issued from the receding 
wagon, " Papa, papa, papa ! " pierced his callous heart with pain. 

Little Willie, (he was named for his father) was gayly toddling 
about, from nurse to mother, with equal affection for both. The 
father sought the open air. A voice seemed calling from the 
magnolia by the moon-lighted river. It was Isabel's. He turned 
to the stables; like the dying echo of a distant bell, the voice pur- 
sued his steps, till fascinated by the weird spell, he wended his 
course towards the river bank. The voice seemed hushed at poor 
Isabel's grave. He paused by the green mound, beneath the shiv- 
ering trees. A quickened inner sight pierced the earth above her 
breast and seemed to meet again the suffering face, the searching 
eyes and lips that moved to say, — 
"Where is my child.'* 

* Oh ! where is my child ! 

My beautiful child ! 
That I left to its father's dear care ? 
Say where do her feet — 

Her poor little feet — 
Go pattering, wandering — where ? 

Does she live in the love, 

The bright, warm love. 
Of the roof where her life first began? 
Does she sing with the lark — 

The caroling lark, 
Where the sands of my life swiftly ran ? 

Do you kiss her at nignt — 
The dark, gloomy night ! 


When her blue eyes look up to your own 
Does she lie in your arms — 

Your brooding, strong arms, 
When she utters the low, fever moan ? 

Does she know Isabel ? 

The dead Isabel ! 
In her grave in the magnolia grove ? 
Does she call me mamma ! 

Her loving mamma. 
When her runaway feet hither rove ? * 

The subject of his remorseful and disordered thoughts assumed 
the familiar form of the improvised songs of the slaves ; neverthe- 
less, his lashings of conscience were no less potent. Borne " Ma- 
zeppa " like on the unrelenting past, whirling through sturdy 
memories cold and stark ; 

"The skies spun like a mighty wheel ! 
He saw the trees like drunkards reel ! 
His heart grew sick — his brain grew sore ; 
Then thtobbed awhile, and beat no more ! " 

The strong man fell prone upon the grave of his first and deepest 
love. Arrows of remorse had cleft the brazen armor of defiance in 
which he took up the gauntlet of life, after he had hidden the 
stricken Isabel and her darling Lillian from his sight. 

At length, fanned by the cool evening breeze, and restored by 
the oblivious draught of insensibility, he gathered himself upon his 
feet, and strove to become master of himself. The haunting of 
sweet voices had gone. Mysterious Night studded with stars, and 
flooded by the " unclouded grandeur " of the moon, enwrapped 
the gurgling river, the quiet fields, the whispering magnolias, 
William Steele and Isabel's grave. He said, — 

*' Night is the time for dreams ; 

When truth that is, and truth that seems, 
Mix in fantastic strife ! " 

He cast one tender glance behind, and strode away cursing in 
superstitious self abasement. 

"Am I a woman, to faint at ghostly sights and sounds? Fool ! 


coward ! that I am ! " and his clenched hands beat the hoUow air 
Ihe past IS among the things that were. The present is the rock 
on which we stand. My boy, the legal fruit of marriao-edaTms 
the holiest trials of my streno-th " ° ' '-'^""^ 

no^chalancf '"'° '"' '^'""""'' °^ ^'' ^'"''-^ """ ^ ^"''^'^ ^^' °f 
■ "VVh3' I expected to find you all asleep. Why watch for me 
Lucy.' You have had a fatiguing day." lor me, 

1' S'^'^r''* ^' ''^^' ' ^"'^ w'^^t has happened, William ' " 

couple of the neighboring negroes ; stopped to learn the news 
The night is pleasant, you linow." 

p.^^'^'^b'? ."'«„«"S"'"S "inter, a gay company gathered at "Le 
Grand Palais ;" among them, several young Soutliern ladies In 
the fine mornings and evenings, a troop of p°onies and horses were 
led to the, and a laughing bevy cantered away with 
no other cavaliers than two or three black servants. Lucy's health 
enfeebled during the summer, demanded by the physician's ad- 
vice the same bracing wild riding. She took care, ^lo^ver to 
choose an opposite direction, and a later, or earlier hour ' 

.UaT '?'°™'"S' however, as she made a sudden turn in'to a brio-ht 
glade, she had the deep chagrin of riding briskly into their midst 
moLnT/:''' ', T'" ='™°"° "'^ high-spirited animals, and for a 
moimted cir'cjs "'"^ ''""'^ """""''"^ "'^ brilliant'../... of a 

"Pardon, ladies," said Lucy, bowing low as she rode out of the 
arena into her own solitary bridle p°ath, congratulatiing herself 
upon the happy escape from Caste, when a sw'ift clatter°of heels 
came after, gradually halting in speed as they came up abreast 
Bon jour, madame." spoke a cheery voice 

"J3o,t jour, mademoiselle. II fait ieau temps," -Lucv rtuWed as 
she^turned to looked upon a pair of vermeil'cheeks! and glinting 

" You have a lonely ride, Mrs. Steele. Shall I have the pleas- 
ure of accompanving you .> " uie pieas 

yourself."" *"" '"""'' '"''"'''"^ ^°' companionship, if agreeable to 
"Entirely so," replied Leonore ; for it was none other than 


Leonore Wallace, the bosom friend of Grace Mov/ndes " There 
is a picturesque little church in that direction, and a majestic or- 
chard of oaks ; shall I be your guide ? " 

The ponies walked while the ladies chatted. Leonore ordered 
Sunday, the little groom, to follow at a distance, so they might 
have the path all to themselves. Leonore, threading the turf 
among the trees, gave Lucy the trodden way. Soon coming into 
the open road, they struck into a canter. 

"Do you hear, Mrs. Steele.'* The baying of hounds is music to 
a Southern ear." 

Before she could reply, a tall, lithe, b'rown figure dashed from 
the coppice in front, and seized both ponies by the bit ; backing 
them suddenly. 

"De hunters, missis ! De gun, missis, de gun ! " 

A deer bounded from the copse across the road to the field. 
Rifle shots followed across the way ; the deep-mouthed hounds 
were in full pursuit, followed by rushing horsemen, plying whip 
and spur. When the din of " sylvan war " was over. Lucy found 
herself standing upon the sward, her saddle girth broken, and her 
pony's head pulling wildly at the hand that held him like the grasp 
of a vise. 

" So we owe our lives to you, my brave fellow," said Leonore. 
" What is your name ? " 

" I is Guy, missis ; too glad to sabe you missis. I b'longs to 
Marse Fairland." 

" Guy, can you mend Mrs. Steele's saddle girth ? Let go ' Ma- 
homet/ I can manage him." 

" Ole hunter, missis ; might follow de houn'." 

"Let go, Guy." 

He obeyed. 

* Mahomet ' bent his fiery head to the ground, shook his flying 
mane in the air, and reared. 

" Go on then, and take a turn about, " laughed Leonore. He 
struck into a flying gallop towards the field, whence vanished the 
horsemen ; made a grand leap over the fences, clearing every ob- 
struction, and neighing wildly half way across. Then he turned 
with a long sweep back towards the road. Guy gave Lucy's rein 


into her hand, and tore down the upper part of the fence like a 

On the bold rider came ; her spirited eye and courageous hand 
guiding the hunter to Guy, chafing with disappointment, yet tamed 
to her wish. 

" Now his frolic is over, 'Mahomet' will stand." 

" Fine rider, missis ! Set proud and beautiful, missis," his 
splendid teeth showing white as a hound's. He led him over to 
the bush, saying, " De green leaf cool his foaming mouth, missis." 

"You compliment me too highly, Guy. The riding is all in 

Sunday arrived at the time. Lucy's face was all aglow with 

" My dear young lady ! " she exclaimed, " it is worth my whole 
stay in the South, to witness your horsemanship. It is better than 
medicine for me." 

" That kind of exercise stirs the blood of our lauguid Southern 
lives. There's health and exhileration in a mettlesome steed. 
The other ladies refuse to ride ' Mahomet.' However, he is my 
choice. We have had many a race ; " pleasantly responded the 
flushed rider. 

"I am reminded of Queen Dido's steed in Virgil. Ac fracna fe- 
rox spiunaiiti mandit.^'' 

" Now, Mrs. Steele, I confess myself worsted, and am obliged to 
ask for the translation. I have never lifted the veil from the beau- 
ties of the dead languages." 

" I am indebted to the severe drill of my father. Mahomet 
* fierce champs the foaming bits;' like the steed of the Cartha- 
ginian Queen." 

"That is very fine. Those old Romans lived in the saddle; 
they have sent down to us some choice word painting." 

Sunday drew up at that moment with a curious *' What de mat- 
ter, missis ? " and Lucy took the opportunity of attending to the 
repairing of her saddle girth. Leonore's restive horse cropped the 
leaves, walking away j thus making the distance yet more favor- 
able to Lucy for her design of fulfilling her promise to Rachel, to 
^^'??iember Guy^ Suddenly he had been thrown in her way, — and 
she seemed to have ridden on Rachel's errand this morning. Guy 


addressed her in a low tone, with his eyes riveted upon his busy 

" Miss Steele, Rachel neber come back ? " 

" No, Guy, never return ; must be safe now in the North." 

*'/goin now, missis. De good Lord bring you here dis day. 
Where am Rachel gone? Dun fergot. " 

" Lucy stooped to try the girth, and pronounced distinctly, — 


" I goin nex week," his eyes still on his work. "Fin' Rachel. 
Marse Fairlan' take bloodhoun ten mile 'way to de club-house; 
hab gran' hunt whole week. I go den." 

Lucy walked around her pony, and delayed for Guy to come 
round and adjust the belt, and hand her upon the saddle. She 
bent to arransre her habit, and thrust into Guv's hand five dollars, 

" De Lord bress young missis," was all she heard, as she sprung 
into her seat. 

It was late. The visit to the old church was given up. Drring 
the ride home, Leonore led in a carnival of gayety — laughing, 
satire and singing, that sent the happy blood bounding through 
Lucy's weakened system. The exhilaration mounted to her 
cheeks, and brightened her lustrous eyes. 

" Oh ! madam is beautiful ! " said Leonore. " A few hair-breadth 
escapes like ours to-day, would be an excellent tonic ! " concealing 
beneath the careless words a heart full of sympathy. " But I shall 
soon return to Charleston." 

Nearing home, she invited Lucy to come to Charleston, if her 
health grew more feeble, or in case any other event might render it 
necessary for her to go to the city; gave her the street and num- 
ber, demanding a promise in the affirmative. 

*' If any unforeseen misfortune should fall, and you need a friend, 
come to me !" she said cheerily. "I am not a stereotyped South- 
erner. Make my acquaintance, my dear friend, as an exception to 
the species. When memory has no other bright image, remember 

Her parting hand sent a grateful and lasting warmth to Lucy's 
isolation. The balm of that morning's unexpected and unsought 
friendship lingered about the steps and occupations of Mrs. Steele 
for weeks. The airy laugh, the burst of song, the sisterly voice 


broke upon the silent air, and caused her pulses to throb with an 
ecstasy quite alien to that of former days. The reflection that the 
tender mind of her darling boy must inevitably be molded by the 
very influences which her soul detested, that he must gradually 
become cruel and indifferent to the woes of others, by constant 
contact with slavery, that every divine and lovely attribute of his 
childish nature would grow to a tyrannical and thorny selfishness, 
were daily her most painful thought. Yet there seemed to be no 
remedy ; a thick set wall seemed to hedge in her dearest wishes. 

A few weeks after Leonore's departure, when the fires began to 
brighten on hearths in country and town, a new revelation dawned 
upon Lucy. Her husband often returned at evening with flushed 
face and angry eyes. Excited and irritable, he forgot the respect 
due to his wife ; accosted her and replied to her mild words, as if 
she had no stronger claims upon his tenderness than the slaves he 
herded in his fields. His little son, the idol of his pride and expec- 
tations, often felt his father's harshness and fled sobbing to his 
mother. It was evident to her that the common habit of a morning 
glass of wine or brandy had grown to a giant, greater than he. If, 
in his cool moments, she remonstrated with him, proposing to re- 
move the dangerous stimulants from the sight and taste of litte 
Willie, he rudely answered, — 

'•' Let him alone. Everybody takes wine and brandy, at least 
every Southerner. You would not be so squeamish, if you should 
once look into the vaults of Mr. Fairland. There's a hogshead of 
wine there for each of his children ; put in there at their birth, to 
remain till they are married. Then there's every kind of liquor a 
gentleman need to have ; old wines of every variety, the smoothest 
gins, rums and brandies for common use. Surely you must be 
ignorant indeed, when you don't know that at every high dinner 
old cocks give, and young cocks too, for that matter, half these 
grandees have to be put to bed by the servants. 

My boy will drink toasts with the aristocracy. He'll drive 
blooded horses with his pack of hounds. I'm in a fair way to set 
him up. Willie Steele will be a politician, and politicians know 
bow to drink. My Willie may go to Congress. And who ever saw 
a Southern Congressman who does not know by practice, the exact 
quality of brandies and wines. You are a woman, Lucy. What 


woman understands the requirements of a public man ? It is for 
me to dictate, and for you to acquiesce." 

Thus the dull, dreary days ripened and fell like the bitter fruit of 
a blasted tree. Letters from home were frequent and affectionate, 
but they afforded her only superficial comfort. She had never 
unburdened to her parents her sufferings and regrets. 

At the close of one of those rainy days when the clouds seem to 
drift bodily to the earth, drenching woodland and plain with shining 
sheets, Lucy ordered the spacious fireplace to be heaped with logs 
and light-wood, that her husband should meet its cheery blaze and 
pleasant warmth. Night shut down. The driving drops splashed on 
the panes with unabated force. The supper waited. The old 
black nurse crooned over her sleeping Willie, The cook in the 
kitchen basted the roasted fowl, turned the long-done sweet pota- 
toes, anxiously lifted the lid of the rice kettle, and soliloquized, — 

" VVud be spile 1 " 

Lucy watched the fire thoughtfully, and when the illuminated 
room grew dim, had the fire replenished. Still Mr. Steele remained 

The mantel clock struck eleven. Alarm took possession of the 
household. Cook came courtseying to the door. 

"My dear missis! where be de marser.'* ebryting spile." 

Nurse laid Willie to rest, and suggested sending the boy to the 
quarters to ask old Fry. He went and returned with Fry, who, 
bowing low, knew nothing. 

"See Marse Steele in de fiel' wid de mule-hands ploughing; de 
rest clean trench, in de rice fieP." 

"Take the lantern and go to the stables," said Lucy. "See if 
his horse is there, Fr}\" 

Old Fry obeyed. He soon stepped hurriedly back upon the 
piazza, and dripping with pouring rain, answered, — 

"De hos be dere, missis, wid de saddle on, stan' wid he nose on 
de lock ; he wet as de groun'." 

A premonitory fear of some impending horror paled her face 
and deprived her of speech. Old nurse, ever watchful, spoke for 

"Go Fry! touse up de men in de quarters. Take dis lantern, 
an' git de coachman lantern ter dQ big house, an' go straight to de 


rice-fiel'. Look sharp on de way. Mebby de bos stumble and trow 
Marse Steele, an' he break he leg. Tak' de pine torch for de man's. 
Look all roun' ! Boy Bob, you 'tay here, by missis." 

Turning to Lucy, she continued, — 

" Beg missis to set dow' in easy chair ; keep up de good heart. 
Ole Fry fin' marser soon. Bob, youse go in kitchen, tell cook stir 
up de fire. Marse want suthin warm." 

The clock struck twelve. Lucy opened the door, and anxiously 
searched the darkness. The flaring torches and lanterns were 
coming slowly up the bank. She closed the door and dropped into 
her chair, stricken with dread. She heard a busde in the yard, 
and then heavy steps on the piazza, as if they bore a weight. 

Nurse motioned Lucy to remain, and stepped out, closing the 
door after her. The heavy breathing of the men reached Lucy's 
ear, and the sound of shuffling feet, depositing something heavily 
on the floor. She hurried out. 

*' Have you found my husband ? " 

"Beg de' missis to go in. Ole Fry come in, tell all.' 

" No, Fry, tell now ? Did you find Mr. Steele ? Where is he ? " 

" He be here, dear missis — too muddy ! Fin, him in de trench. 
Him can't speak, missis ! mebby he faint way." 

" She pushed the men aside, peered at the floor, and called, — 

" William ! William ! speak to me ! come in to the fire ! " know- 
ing not what she said. '• Bring the lantern. Fry." 

Nurse came after her, threw her arms round her mistress, and 
strove to draw her in doors. Old Fry had whispered the dreadful 
tiuth in the old nurse's ear. 

" Come, dear missis ; wait a leetle ; com 'way ; mus' not look now. 
Let ole Fry an' me ten' to marser. Come 'way." 

Lucy tore open the old arms, caught the other lantern, and 
rushed to the spot where her husband lay. The glare of the light 
fell upon a stony face, besmeared with blood, and the mud of the 
trench. Narrow rivulets of blood and muddy water dripped from 
his clothes, and ran across the floor. She caught up his hand, cold 
and stiff, calling wildly again, — 

" William 1 William ! Dead ! Oh ! my Savior ! Dead ! " 

The lantern fell from her grasp. The tender hands of old Fry 
and the old nurse, supported Lucy, moaning, sobbing and trembling 


to the room, and laid her upon the settee. Old nurse directed Fry 
to go to "Grand Palais" for Dorcas. 

"I stay here wid poor, dear marser. Dorcas do all." 

Lucy did not faint, but lay passively moaning and sobbing, her 
physical strength stricken away, her mental action intensified. 
She could see nothing but the stark, stony face of her husband. A 
continued chill seemed to creep from his cold and rigid fingers 
through her own, and settle with icy coldness upon the subtle 
springs of life. Old nurse held the trembkng hands, stroked them 
with a soft, magnetic touch, and smoothed her throbbing head. 

Dorcas came lightly in, knelt by the lounge, slid one arm under 
Lucy, and held her to her breast; murmuring dear and healing 
words. She then stole out on her terrible errand of robing the 
dead for his eternal sleep. The women at the quarters saw the 
moving lights at the overseer's house, stole from their pallets, and 
crowded the piazza around the dead man. Dorcas and Fry 
hushed their astonishment and superstitious horrors to whispers. 

They carried Mr. Steele to a vacant room in the kitchen build- 
ing ; the women brought water and washed from the piazza every 
trace that would " pain de dear missis eyes." Old Fry chose three 
of the best men, and directed the others to go to their cabins. 
Two women offered to stay" wid de cook." Dorcas was in the 
kitchen with them, when Fry called her. The dead man's coat 
and vest lay upon the floor, clotted with blood. Old Fry lifted the 
blanket that covered William Steele, and pointed to a gaping 
wound on his left side, over the heart. 

" My Jesus ! " groaned Dorcas. "' Marse Steele was murdered. 
Who has dared to do this ? to take this life .? " 

"Dunno," solemnly answered Fry. " Dese hands do no mur- 
der," showing both palms. " Ise wait de Lord time, howsomeber 
I's sufferin." 

Cook crept in and looked with frightened gaze over Dorcas* 
shoulder, then shrunk back groaning, with her coarse apron to her 

"Pete, do you know anything about it?" questioned Dorcas. 

" Dunno, Dorcas, more'n Fry. Marse Steele has bin drefful wid 
we people las' fall an' dis winter. Cut up we back wicked." 

" Dat so, Pete," said another of the three in a rich, powerful, 


subdued voice. " Bribe, whip, cuss ebry day, till wese wear out. 
I know tree of de people lay stiff in de groun' now, wid de bloody 
flogin. But I dunno who stab dat big gash in he heart. My hand 
clean like Fry." 

" Marse Fairland gone way," said Dorcas; "so the best to be 
done is to bind cotton on the wound, that young missis shall not 
know to-night. Pete, you do hide dem clottered clothes, till Marse 
Fairland see." 

In the kitchen, Dorcas confided to the cook, that "it was spoken 
by missis and de young ladies, dat de oberseer was too cruel, and 
de negroes might revenge." 

"Well," replied cook, placidly, "we flesh an' blood too. Can't 
b'ar ebryting. Poor Miss Lucy, all 'lone now. She one. De 
Lord bless her. IMarse Fairland do nottin for nobody, but hisself." 

" I shall vise Miss Lucy to go to Charleston," whispered Dorcas. 
" Miss Leonore, so gay and so beautiful, told me to persuade 
her to go to her house, if anything happen." Drawing nearer to 
cook's ear, " I believe Miss Leonore know de oberseer in danger." 

"I glad de young lady lub Miss Lucy," said cook. "Marse 
Fairlan' young ladies neber turn head towards her." 

Dorcas had everything prepared for the body in Lucy's small 
parlor, and soon the heavy, shuffling steps of the four black men 
moved slowly past the door of Lucy's room, with the lifeless bur- 
den. Lucy noticed the sound, and clung closer to nurse, sobbing 
and moaning more helpless than before. Dorcas came in soon 
after, knelt again by the lounge, soothed the aching head of Lucy, 
informed her that her work was finished, and insisted that she and 
the nurse must take rest and sleep if possible. She herself would 
stay till late in the morning. 

Lucy rose quickly, and proceeded to the room where her erring, 
but still beloved husband slept in death. Dorcas slid her strong 
arm about her waist, and walked by her side. The wife was struck 
by the fierce bitterness, frozen into his last expression. The white 
face lacked the calm, restful peace which often settles upon the 
beloved, and robs death of half its agony. Lucy laid warm kisses 
upon the cold, passive forehead, and upon the white, unanswering 
lips. The thought of this sudden and insidious approach of her 
adversity caused her to exclaim, — 


" Can it be possible that I shall never hear his voice again ? 
Is it true that William is dead? Dorcas! Dorcas! what could 
have been the cause? He was perfectly well this morning. He 
rode to the door and took little Willie in front of him, and gave 
him a short canter. He was in good spirits." Breaking down 
with moans and tears, she exclaimed, " What can have done this ? " 

Dorcas adroitly veiled the truth, by showing how the horse 
might have become frightened, and thrown his master stunned 
into the muddy water of the trench, where he might have been 

Old nurse, who had followed them into the room, raised her 
voice in comfort. 

" Dear missis, mus* trus' de Lord. Him hab done all. Wese 
nottin but de rice stalk. Him cut we down when he be ready. 
Trus' de blessed Jesus, my dear missis. Lay you griebin heart in 
his han'." 

"Come out to de fire," urged Dorcas, gently drawing her away. 

"And leave him here in the cold alone? " sobbed Lucy. 

" Yes, missis must do ihat. You will get sick. Marse Steele 
will never be cold no more. De lamps will burn bright in this 
room till day, and I shall be often in and out." 

So the dear girl yielded to tlie loving care of her black friends, 
and laid her head upon her wretched pillow. 

Rev. Edmund Stone officiated at the burial ceremony. Lucy, 
leaning on the arm of Dorcas, and followed by the overseers at 
" Success," " Staple " and " Snowfield," with a few of the men at 
the quarters, went down to the magnolia grove by the river, and 
laid William Steele in the bosom of the land he had chosen for his 

Lucy now felt that the bond of her stay in the South was bro- 
ken. She longed for hoipe, and the social freedom of New Eng- 
land. The desire of removing her son from the baleful influence 
of a slave district, urged her departure, -^he financial settlement 
of her husband's affairs demanded the advice and labor of an 
attorney. Thus she was compelled to visit Charleston, a city of 
stangers and high caste. The remerabrance of Leonore's strange 
request occurred to her mind, — "I am not a stereotyepd South- 


erner, make my acquaintance," was a frank invitation,— yet she 
hesitated to comply. 

Dorcas came to the rescue. 

"Go to Miss Leonore," slie urged ; "she good ; she want you or 
she never mvite. Now Miss Steele, she told me to 'member and 
tell you to visit her whensoever vou go to the city. Write note, 
missis ; get anoder to-morrow. Write now. Bob carry it to de 
office right 'way." 

The note was written. The next day post brought a warm invi- 
tation. Was received for a week ; also information that Leonore's 
iincle, a lawyer, would undertake any business she might desire to 
place in his hands. Mr. Fairland allowed her to be driven to 
Charleston in a chaise. She arrived after dark. At sight of the 
brilliantly lighted mansion, courage nearly deserted her.° A trem- 
ulous pull at the street bell brought the quick step of a servant 
down the marble walk. He seemed to have received instructions, 
begged to know if her name was Mistress Steele, and ushered her 
up the high-lighted staircase to Leonore's private room, where the 
brave girl awaited her arrival. 

The Wallaces dwelt in the luxury of " Le Grand Palais." 
Amid the carpets, curtains, pictures and upholstery of her friend's 
elegant boudoir, Lucy feft herself an intruder. It was the tea 
hour. Lucy's dread of meeting the aristocratic glances at the 
family table, was relieved by Leonore's ring, and the appearance of 
her short, dwarfish m.aid. 

" ' Toad,' bring tea to my room for two ; my friend is weary with 
a long ride. Toad, bring the tea hot, and plenty of goodies ! 
remember, I am voracious to-night." 

The blackj stumpy figure courtesied, while her face warmed into 
an affectionate smile. 

" Do all for missis." 

"And for my friend, Toad," said Leonore. 

A cheerful "Yes, missis" was the reply. 

Toad repeated her mistress' order in the hall, and returned to 
draw two Chinese tables from their nest. These tables of shining 
black, were embellished with gilded pagodas, fanciful bridges, 
boats and fantastic trees of weeping foliage. Toad farther adorned 
with purest china and silver. 


The tea was delightful, seasoned with the hearty welcome and 
consideration of the lovely hostess. Toad stood near and waited 
with evident affection for her young lady, and seemed to be in no 
wise excluded from her plans or discussions. 

" Now, Mrs. Steele," said Leonore after tea, " I beg you to rest 
and feel as much secluded from intrusion as you desire. These 
apartments are ours. I have given orders to receive this week in 
the parlors." 

"Your friendship and attention are grateful to me beyond ex- 
pression 1 " replied Lucy, " more especially since my bereavement. 
I desire not to trespass upon your time, or the tastes of your 

"Oh, my time is nothing, the house is full of servants, and my 
dear, you are not the guest of my family, but my own, and I have 
a darling old uncle who will meet you as his own daughter. I 
have apprised him of your coming." 

Wisely avoiding the subject of her husband's death, Leonore 
inquired if Mrs. Steele intended to go North. 

"I do intend to leave in the course of the winter, if my affairs 
can be adjusted in time. Mr. Steele held slaves, r^Iiss Wallace. 
It is my design to take them as my portion of his property. I 
trust what I am about to say will give you no offence. I intend 
to free therrf, and take them North with me; or if it is better, to 
take them North and free them there." 

" No offence whatever, my dear friend. I sincerely believe 
freedom to be the birthright of every human being. Our slaves 
are styled chattels, but that does in no wise change the case. 
They belong to the universal human family, and freedom is their 
inheritance, robbed of it as they may be. However, Mrs. Steele, 
I can do nothing. My dearest associations, my happiest memo- 
ries, my home alfectiuns, my earthlv^ possessions are held in the 
ghoulish clutch of our ' domestic institution,' as it is termed, il'w 
are free to act. A Northern home, and a parental welcome await 
you. I most heartily approve of your decision. My Scotch blood 
bears with it a noble germ of freedom, but it can never germinate 

"My way seems to have been prepared before me, in receiving 
the offer of your valuable friendship, Miss Wallace, and I assure 



you it is most gratefully appreciated. How will your good uncle, 

the attorney, meet my proposition ? " 

'•With entire approval, and all requisite assistance. He detests 
bondage as I do, and yet the very fibres of his life are entwined 
in it." 

Toad provided a basket of oranges and bananas. While par- 
taking of these, Lucy discussed with her friend a suit of mourning 
for herself. Leonore would have crapes, bombazines and bonnets 
brought to her room for Lucy's inspection and choice. She also 
insisted upon having her dressmaker come to the house, to cut 
and fit Lucy's dresses under her eye, tliat she might take them to 
the country for completion. 

Lucy's faded eyes slowly brightened — a transient flush flitted 
often to her cheek. She felt a new, healthy hope infused into her 
spirits by the frank and genial manner of her young, high-bred 
hostess. A luxuriant, refreshing sleep also fortified her for the 
events of the next day. At an early city hour, the carriage, with 
liveried driver and footman, was at the door. 

"Come my dear — shall I call j^ou Lucy? — allow me, my dear 
Lucy — that is better. We are going to uncle's office ; he will have 
more leisure for us at this hour." 

Now Lucy's heart misgave her. Mr. Fairland's carriage had 
ever passed her and rolled scornfully away. To enter this elegant 
equipage, when custom, caste, and her own pride forbade, must be 
but a polite acquiescence in the wish of her friend. 

The drive was animating. The horses dashed off, exploring the 
blue, hazy, level streets, turning corners briskly, clattering over 
jDavements, or throwing sand from springy heels, in the suburbs. 
Mansions of American lords, and huts of their serfs, glided past. 

"This is a long drive," remarked Lucy. 

"Not too long," gleefully responded Leonore. "TVe must take 
an airing this lovely morning. You must see Charleston. This is 
not equal to our forest gallop at 'Le Grand Palais.' That was an 
eventful one. We rode into the jaws of death, and were halted 
none too soon." 

"It was an eventful ride, especially to me. Miss Leonore. I 
cannot understand the promptings that led you to follow my lonely 


path, or that induced you to offer hospitality to one reckoned so 
low in the Southern social scale." 

"That enigma has an easy solution. I liked j-our face and ap- 
pearance. I abhorred the foolish pride that would condemn you 
to years of ostracism, simply because you were the wife of an over- 
seer. I discerned your worth, and resolved to pay your haughty 
neighbors well for their cold neglect. The ride proved my judg- 
ment correct. My dear Lucy, you should never have married in 
the manner you did. It was a misfortune. It has dwarfed the 
noble and lovely aspirations native to your soul. In yielding, you 
have felt yourself debased; yet with woman's patient tact you have 
striven to be happy — a desire which you could not accomplish. 
Am I not a seer ? " 

As these words were spoken, Lucy's eyes met the keen, respect 
ful glance of Leonore. She hesitated in giving a reply that would 
lay bare to the eye of another the bitter dregs which lay at the 
bottom of this cup of marriage, of which she at first drank so ea- 
gerly, and later, so resignedly. It seemed that her husband's grave 
should conceal all past sufferings from mortal sight. 

" Pardon me — have I wounded you ? " asked Leonore. " It was 
not my intention ; I desired to prove my sincerity in offering 

" Far from it, Miss Wallace. I cannot doubt the sincerity of the 
disinterested friendship which you offer. But I have deemed it a 
duty to bury in my husband's grave the painful experiences of our 
Southern life. You have read my secret too well." 

" My dear Lucy, do you not see } We cannot follow the divine 
injunction, 'Bear one another's burdens,' unless we know the na- 
ture and weight of those burdens. We cannot put forth the neces- 
sary strength. It is a relief to you to be well understood by the 
one who attempts to sympathyze." 

"Truly, my dear friend, your words are a cordial to my needs ; 
and believe me. Heaven must reward you for extending to me in 
this most t-iying period of my life this unlocked for comfort and aid. 

The carriage drew up before the office of the attorney. A stal- 
wart gentleman, past the middle age, with a sprinkling of gray upon 
his head, hastened to the carriage steps, and met his niece with a 
hale, cheery welcome. 


"Here comes my ' Heather Bell' ! " He extended both hands 
to assist her from the carriage, meanwhile quoting Burns in a sono- 
rous voice. 

" O my luve's like a red-eed rose, 

That's newly sjDrung in June 1 
O my luve's like a melodie, 

That's sweetly played in tune ! 
As fair art thou, my'bonnie lass ! 

So deep in luve am I ; 
And I will luve thee still my dear, 
, Till all the seas gang dry I " 

In his office, Lucy felt constraint banished, by his genial man 
ners, by the heartiness with which he advised and entered into he- 
plans. She could return to the country, leaving all in his handsr 
He would collect the dues for the hire of Marquis, he would make 
out the free papers for him, and for Binah with her children • he 
would arrange Mr. Steele's cash deposits in the bank, so thai it 
should await her order in New York. The passage ticket for her- 
self and her freed slaves should be ready for her departure 

As she rose to take leave, he seemed to have observed the shade 
of anxiety on her face, and when he kindly bade her ^ood-mornino- 
he said, — ^ ^* 

" Be of good cheer, lassie ! Get the roses back to your cheeks 
before you meet your Northern friends. Have no fears concern- 
ing the course you have taken. Be assured upon my honor, that 
our interview this day will not reach the public ear, or subject you 
fair lady, to the least inconvenience. I return you to the kind 
hands that led you here. Leonore is a bold defender of the ri^ht 
and she'll be as true to you as Jennie Deans." ^ * 

^ He turned to his niece with a look of fond idolatry, a^ain repeat- 
ing Burns. ^ ./^ £3 I' 

" Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! 
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! 
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure." 

Lucy drew a sigh of happy relief, when the dashing horses 
whirled away. The dreaded task was over. 


*'Gocl bless him!" she soliloquized. " There are noble men 
and woman everywhere, if one but finds them." 

So say we, dear reader. God bless him! for he had poured the 
wine of his strength into the fainting spirit of his stricken //-d?/^;^^^. 

The nascent impulses of her being were springing into life, the 
harbingers of happier days. 

" I am so glad it is all over," she said to Leonore. 

"I am glad for you, dearie," replied the proud girl. "That 
uncle is a shield and buckler to the defenceless. 1 have done 
nothing for you yet. I shall set directly about t-aking my turn now. 
I shall call at the shops, and order your mourning suit sent home 
this morning. In the rest and quiet of our own room, we will se- 
lect. I have already ordered Madame Le Ronde to send a dress- 

The driver reined up several times to fashionable shops. The 
footman flew to his post at the carriage door, \\ hence Leonore 
fluttered in and out, like a happy, careless bird from its cage. 
Curious eyes of piomenaders cast scrutinizing glances between the 
curtains, upon the face within, but dropped them as quickly, or 
turned away with a respectful feeling of intrusion. Lucy heard one 
remark to another, — 

" Faultless as Juno! High blood there." 

" That's so," replied the other. " You will find no other in the 
Wallace carriage." 

At home again in the lovely room of her hostess. Toad served a 
delicious lunch ; iced cakes, preserved fruits, cream, flavored as 
usual with the bright words and delicate attentions of her Leonore. 
In the ante-room, a young and handsome quadroon seamstress 
waited their pleasure. The goods arrived quickly ; merchants and 
sewing-women appeared, bent upon pleasing this high-toned family. 
The remaining time of her stay, devoted to cutting and fitting, 
passed rapidly away. 

One evening, as both sat before the glowing grate, conversation 
turned upon the pretty dressmaker, who had sometime before taken 
her departure. 

'' Is she not handsome, Lucy ? " asked Leonore. 

" I have often found myself admiring, not only her figure and 
features, but have been struck by her gentle grace and vivacity.^' 


*' True ; the same with myself ; but then I know she has a law- 
ful claim to these singular attractions ; three-fourths of her blood is 
what they term the blue blood of the South. It crept into her 
veins from two of the most illustrious names of this State ; and 
yet she is but a slave ! subject to the vices of her condition ! 
condemned to labor for her scanty bread ! forced to accept the love 
of Carolina's proudest sons, and to yield it up at their capricious 
mood, though her life go with it. I knew her father well. He 
was about to marry a Saxon wife, when he forbade this girl an 
entrance to his princely mansion, lest a chance sight of her should 
give pain to the fair new claimant of his affections." 

'• It is to be hoped there are not many such instances of aban- 
donment," replied Lucy. 

"It is the general rule ; this girl may be multiplied by thou- 
sands! These beautiful creatures of mixed blood have their horo- 
scopes cast under ill-fated stars. Their wrongs cry to Heaven for 

" Leonore, you do not suppose these girls are chosen at the im- 
pulse of affection ? " 

'' Most assuredly I do. A Southron never chooses what he ab- 
hors. It is love — the same love that would lead a wife to the altar. 

* Love, like death 
Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook 
Beside the sceptre ! ' 

" Man molds law and custom to his own liking. For woman, he 
changes his divinest attributes to instruments of torture." 

"And none shall say nay," answered Lucy. 

" Not in this day ; but by the intuitive aspirations of my own 
nature, by the irrepressible indignation of my own soul, there must 
be a ' red-letter day ' somewhere in the economy of progression for 
woman. There must be honor and justice awaiting her some- 

" Lucy, I congratulate you upon your return to New England, 
to a more wholesome, social atmosphere than this. I should 
prefer Northern snows and ices, to flower- wreathed corruption. 
In enslaving the African race, we have become mutually enslaved 


" I have not the courage of the Misses Grimke, who left homes 
of luxury and opulence, for the rough paths of Truth and Right- 
eousness. It requires much self denial and strength of purpose, 
to leave this pleasant land, friends, luxury, and the ease of a life 
like yours, Leonore." 

•' Those two requisites the Misses Grimke possessed. The 
sacriiices of those two ladies in going out from all they held dear 
in Charleston, has no parallel, I am confident, in this country. 
They were delicately reared, followed by slaves from infancy, of 
excellent ancestry, and surrounded by the allurements of rank and 
wealth. They have lectured in the North, in New York and 
Boston. Have you ever had the pleasure of their acquaintance ? " 

Lucy replied in the negative, adding, — 

" My life till marriage passed mostly in the quiet home-nest ; 
the voices of reformers seldom reached us. This distracting 
Constitutional question of which I have heard and seen so much 
in this section, scarcely disturbed our peace." 

" Very different here," said Leonore. " It is the subject of 
conversation at home and abroad. One would suppose our 
'Southern Institution' was the axis on which the religious, moral 
and political destiny of the universe turned." 

This was Lucy's last evening in Charleston ; every word of this 
closing interview endeared Leonore to her grateful remembrance. 
She had not been presented to the members of the family, or the 
family table, except on one occasion, when the good uncle dined 
with the Wallaces. 

Leonore's mother, after a long remonstrance against the 
vulgarity of admitting an overseer's wife to the family table, 
absented herself therefrom. The advent of this dinner was a cold 
one, but the father and brother yielded to the charms of their 
guest, and Lucy shared in the gallantry and etiquette due to her 
culture and attractions. 

The servant and chaise of Mr. Fair! and carried her back to her 
beloved child the next day. Dorcas took her from the chaise 
into her own arms ; old nurse stood by with little Willie on her 
shoulder. The cook ran from her kitchen, breathless with warm- 
hearted " Howdies ; " young Bob showed the handsomest set of 


ivory ; and gathering his arms full of packages, fell into the rear of 
the procession into the house. 

" De young missis look well," they exclaimed. 

" Look so better/' said the old nurse. 

"Miss Leonore good frien','' said the cook; "make missis look 
hansum gin. Little Willie been good chile ; Dorcas tote him ebry 

The affectionate greeting of Lucy's true-hearted friends was 
another draught of strength. Her boy had never been so dear as 
after this long absence. She held him to her heart, bestowing 
kisses upon his chubby face and dimpled hands. Surely, she 
thought, out of my barren life, one snowy blossom has sprung. 
*' Oh ! he shall be saved from a Southern destiny. I will guide 
his feet into pure and innocent paths. He shall redeem his 
father's errors ; he shall be my pride and joy." 

Preparations for her departure went steadily forward. Accord- 
ing to her commands, Binah, her children and grandchildren, were 
sent to the house to make the acquaintance of their new mistress, 
and to get the confidence of little Willie, for Binah should be his 
traveling nurse. 

One day when Binah and her mistress were alone, Lucy asked, — 

" Do vou like the North, Binah ? " 

" Dunno missis ; dunno de Nort, missis." 

" Would you like to be free, Binah ? " 

" ]\Ie no free in 'Merriky ; me free in Afriky ; me free dere in de 
big wood ; free under date tree. Me free by de riber wid de gol* 
san'. No free in 'Merriky." 

"Yes Binah, you can be free, and I shall make you free in the 
North, where we are going. Binah will be no slave there." 

" Dat can't be nowhar ; mus bab de marse, de oberseer." 
coolly replied the unbelieving voice of the African. 

"Yes, it can be, Binah ; it willho.. You will have no master, no 
mistress, or overseer." 

The articles she held in her hands fell into the box she was pack- 
ing. Dropping quickly upon her knees before Lucy, she bowed 
before her even to touching her forehead to the floor, after the 
manner of a Moslem worshipper. Since she had been stolen from 


the green labyrinths of her native country, she had learned a better 
name than her dumb idol or Fetich. She therefore called upon the 
new Helper; sighs and groans mingled with "Oh! Jesus, mine 
Jesus! Heabenly Marster ! Binah free! Tink Binah chilen all 
sell in de Nort country ! " 

Lucy counteracted the mistaken sorrow by soothing words, bid- 
ding her rise to her feet. She was so perfect a slave, that to have 
undertaken to make her sit, would have doubled the difticultv. 

" Now Binah, do raise your eyes and look at me while I make 
you understand all." 

" Can't look * buckra ' ! You be missis ! " 

Her eyes raised however, but raised wide of the mark. 

"Now look me in my face," said Lucy, "you are looking to my 

" Look to young Marse Willie," said Binah. 

The ludicrousness of this first lessen in freedom struck both. 
Lucy could not restrain a burst of laughter. A frightened smile 
played round Binah's snowy ivory, whiter than the elephant tusks 
in her native jungles. 

" Binah," resumed her mistress, "you must look people in the 
face, North, for you will work for them, and take the money in your 
own hands. It will be yours, and you can go to the stores and buy 
what you please with it for yourself and your children. Your chil- 
dren will be free also, and never be sold away. They will live 
with you forever. They can go to school and learn the book, like 
Mr. Fairland's children." 

Binah moved not. Her hands and eyes were raised upwards. 
The smile changed into a look of intense and solemn adoration. 

" Tank de Lord ! Bress he name ! " 

Lucy recalled her attention. 

"Do you understand, Binah?" 

" Yes, missis ! me dig sweet tater, tote rice, hoe de cotton in de 
Nort, an' hab de money me one ; hab my chilen, neber sole." 

Her weak conception could not grasp the full idea of freedom. 
She asked, looking away to the south window, — 

" No driver whip dere missis for Binah back ? No t'umb screw ? " 

" No, no ! no driver, no whip, no cotton, no rice, no thumb-screw, 
no overseers there." 


"What Binah an' de chilen do widout de cotton and de yam?" 

" You can learn to scrub and wash, perhaps to cook. You will 
get plenty of work and heap of money ; wash for everybody. Now 
you see we are alone in this room. I have told you that you w'ill 
be free, so you can be happy on your journey ; but Binah, look at 
me ! No one here knows a word of it, not even old nurse. Can 
you keep it a secret .^ keep it in here ?" pointing to her heart. 
" These masters might prevent it ; do not tell one of the servants." 

"Me neber spoke one settle word. Me tell only Jesus in de 
dark night, when roll up in de blanket on de fioo'." 

Binah went on packing. It was a happiness to Lucy, to witness 
the daily change settling upon the seamed and patient face of her 
slave ; the mysterious elasticity which crept into every step ; the 
quickened ear to catch the least expression of her mistress' wishes, 
her tender devotion to little Willie, and her watchful reticence 
towards the other servants. The dull, apathetic bond slave became 
the quick, eager, active, sisterly woman, almost bearing Lucy in her 
arms through the difficulties of a final removal from the home of 

One week had passed since she left Leonore. Little Willie, wild 
with infantile gayety the night previous, awoke in the morning, hot 
with the ever-dreaded fever flush. All day the pale mother held 
her darling in her tired arms. At sunset, his pulses indicated no 
improvement. The parish physician came, thought the malady 
might yield to prescriptions, and left. 

The watches of the long, anxious night were kept with Lucy, by 
Dorcas, Binah and old nurse. She was forced to yield the charge 
of her boy to others, and to sink weeping and fainting upon a couch 
of rest. 

Morning symptoms excited new alarm. His weak voice called 
deliriously for papa. " Papa ! papa ! papa gone ! " thus innocently, 
painfully weaving Lucy's past with the agonizing present. 

The setting sun cast his crimson rays upon the marble face and 
white shroud of little Willie, in the same room where his father was 
laid. On a sofa, drawn close to the side of the child, reposed the 
w^hite and scarcely breathing figure of Lucy. Her heavy eyes were 
fixed upon her lost darling, and no persuasion could separate her 
from him. Equally inflexible was Binah, standing hour after hour 


at the feet of her bereaved mistress and the beautiful dead. Her 
hand hushed every voice and softened every step. 

Two days after, a mournful procession move again to the shade 
of the magnolias by the river. Lucy's heroic fortitude failed at the 
open grave, prepared for the tender being which had nestled in her 
fondest affections. She sank upon the sod and embraced the tiny 
flower-wreathed cofhn, as if to hold it forever from its tomb. Her 
moans and uncontrollable grief brought tears to every eye. 

Dorcas and Binah wound their loving arms about her and im- 
plored her to return with them. 

"Leave him wid his papa, dearie. See how de sun smile roun' 
him now. De Lord take care Willie ; come 'way, dearie. Him 
anoel now,'* whispered Binah, motioning to the others to let his 
coffin remain on the grass, till they had reached the house. They 
almost bore her there, to her apartment and to her bed. 

A long, tedious sickness followed, in its terrible and debilitating 
course. Reason became dethroned and thus the two-edged sword 
of her calamity became blunted. Youth and a good constitution 
prevailed. She slowly recovered and calmly took up the thread of 
life, where it had been parted. 

Thus perished the name of William Steele from the face of the 
earth. Thus, in the death of his son, did retributive justice demand 
payment for the fair and frail young life, which years before, he 
threw out upon the surging waves of a cruel destiny. 


THE library of General Terreciene was thrown open to the 
charms of the surrounding gardens. The general, with his 
four guests, reposed in various easy positions on the broad piazza, 
in front of the long windows open to the floor. 

These were Dentelle of Georgia, Rev. Fred Warham from 
*' Breezy Bluff," South CaroHna, Colonel Ashland and Chancellor 
Mowndes from Charleston. 

It was just after a luxurious dinner; continued conversation was 


a fruitless effort, and each held a book or paper, reading, ponder- 
ing or smoking, each to his liking. 

Within, the glass doors of the oaken book-cases lined with green 
fluted satin, were either ajar or swung open, disclobing the costly- 
treasures of the world of science and mind in their material dress 
of elegant bindings. 

The air within and without, was perfumed with sweetness. The 
sun sank lower, till the slant rays of its setting so illuminated and 
vivified the floral colors and greens of the garden, that massive 
rubies, topazes, amethysts, turquoises and pearls seemed suspended 
among Aladdin-like foliage of beryl and chrysoprase. 

Here and there, in the grounds, were evergreen divans and chairs, 
trimmed into forms according to French taste. There were ever- 
green tables ; from the centres of their clipped velvety plains, roses 
and clustered blossoms spring up as if a vase of cut flowers were 
placed thereon. There were roses of vivid, fiery-red, and carmine 
shaded with purple ; overhanging the arms of these leafy divans 
and chairs, climed Bourbon Roses for the pleasure of the fays and 
fairies that might sit there in the dewy moonlight. 

The greenish-white "Bourbon Queen" here, and the "Glory of 
France," there. 

Down at the end of a broad w^hite, gravelled walk fronting the 
library, stood a white marble "Terpsichore," whose stony grace 
warmed to pinken flesh in the crimson evening rays. Her fingers 
rested on the strings of her lyre ; her bare feet and half nude limbs 
were in the attitude of an airy dance. 

A tall, thrifty rose, the Empereur dii Moroc appropriately shot up 
by her side, and laid a voluptuous blossom and bud of blooded car- 
mine on her marble shoulder, and a royal cluster on her rounded 
arm. She seemed to dance on their velvety hearts, which bent 
purposely around and beneath her feet. 

On the right of the walk towards the red sun, a glittering foun- 
tain threw up its slender jets, which broke into crystal spray and 
drops of rainbow hues, as they fell back in curves into the shallow 
marble basin, and dripped musically from its scalloped, shell-like 

The carriage drive into this paradise of beauty and fragrance 
led from the dusty street, under an ornamental iron arch, festooned 


with ivy, its hard track ran past the piazza and wound around the 
garden and fountain. From the piazza eaves, over the entrance to 
the Hbrar}^ dropped heavy yellow buds and blossoms of the " Cloth 
of Gold " intertwined with the tiny pink clusters of a more delicate 

Soon the glories of the garden in dusky twilight faded into beau- 
tiful phantoms, and the library was lighted by its gold-bronzed 

Tier upon tier of crystal fringes around this corona of light, 
caught up the fragmentary rainbows of the fountain, and cast their 
fairy scintillations down upon the guests, now slowly gathering be- 
neath its glory. Carriages rolled in, under the ivy-wreathed arch. 
Servants in livery waited on the piazza to welcome those arriving to 
the luxuries of Southern hospitalities. 

Two spacious parlors in a line with the library, opened from it 
into one. The elegance and extravagance of the French furniture 
satisfied the most fastidious. Vases of living flowers scattered 
fragrance from every corner, table, bracket and other improvised 
repositories. The mossy carpet vied with the garden in roses, 
campanulas and Eleur-dc-lis. These two salojis were lighted by 
several massive silver candelabra, fastened to the walls. From 
their bases were suspended silver baskets of exquisite flowers, 
whose tall clusters shot up among the bright chasings or entwined 
the polished shafts, seeming to feed the soft flames of the waxen 
candles with their delicious aroma. 

General Terreceine, the lordly owner of this palatial home in St. 
Louis, had never done a hand's turn of labor in his life. The ex- 
tent of physical exertion from his childhood, was the conveyance of 
epicurean morsels from a china plate to his mouth ; to lift to his 
critical lips crystal glasses of various-hued wines, from the most 
celebrated vintages of the old world : to inhale the indolent narco- 
tine of tobacco leaves rolled in seductive forms ; to rise, unaided 
from his chair and pass through doors opening at his approach and 
closing after him, without an effort on his part ; to proceed to his 
waiting carriage and be driven with ease and swiftness to any point 
his will might dictate ; to hold the papers of the day in his two soft 
white hands, and to gloat over Southern political successes, or to 


Stamp with fury under his feet, editorials and items hinting at any 
accountability higher than the American slave-holder. 

General Terreceine's manners often attained to the address of 
the courtier; when occasion required, his sweetness of speech 
could not be surpassed. This evening was one of those occasions. 

His salons were filled with the proud and gay elite of St. Louis. 
The fashion, beauty, wit and sentiment of his native city thronged 
the fairy rooms, or swept out into the broad and fragrant walks of 
the moonlighted gardens. Balmy as a morning zephyr, his voice 
attuned to the low, soft tones of an Eolian harp, the general glided 
among the smiling dames and demoiselles of Missouri's peerage. 

It was well understood that the brilHant assemblage was called 
together in honor of his distinguished guests from the two Atlantic 
States, South Carolina and Georgia, Colonel Ashland, Rev. Frederic 
Warham, Major Dentelle and Chancellor Mowndes. 

_ The introductions were unexceptional on both sides. Ladies 
vied with each other in bestowing marked favors upon these emi- 
nent sons of the South. The silver moonlight, the flower-fed can- 
delabra, and the iris-hued chandelier paled beneath the sparkling 
brightness and the welcoming glances of Missouri's fair daughters. 

The public prowess of Calhoun and Benton, their respective 
leaders, received the sweet-lipped homage of woman. Madame 
Archibald, the elegant and acknowledged leader of St. Louis ton, 
sitting near Colonel Ashland, congratulated him upon the public- 
spirited demonstration of the freedom-loving citizens of Charleston, 
in the burning of the Northern mails, holding incendiary matter. 

Mrs. Lambelle, who had just entered from a stroll in the garden 
on the arm of the Rev. Fred, begged to be informed of the particu- 
lars ; she had but just returned from Italy and knew nothing at all 
of the affair. 

^ " Colonel Ashland, let us all hear. We are your most attentive 
listeners " echoed several voices. 

"I am forced to say, my dear ladies, with much regret, that I 
was not present; but can refer you to my friend. Chancellor 
Mowndes, a Charlestonian and a participant in that scene." 

With a slight motion of his hand, he called that gentleman from 
the library to the inquiring group about him. Mrs. Lambelle, still 
standing, preferred her request to the chancellor. She was the 


most beautiful woman in that assembly; youthful, and in the luxu- 
riant bloom of those physicsl perfections, which are considered 
necessary to the idols of high-bred gentlemen of the world. Her 
skin was of satiny whiteness, with a color of palest apple-blossom 
tint. Her child-like, dimpling neck and rounded arms were bare, 
and glittering with diamonds — the insignia of rank in those days. 
Her abundant hair was the admiration of every beholder ; its color 
was unique. Neither sandy, that were too warm; neither flaxen, 
that were too cold. It was not maize, but had a shade of each, 
something between the shining filaments of corn- silk and the pale 
gloss of wheaten straw. She came at sunset, to Madame Terreceine, 
wearing it in long, braided coils about her head, supported by a 
comb of Turquoise and diamonds. The madame, meeting her in 
the spacious dressing-room with an affectionate embrace, begged 
her consent to wear those braids unbound for the evening, as she 
saw it in a recent call at the house of her friend, with whom Mrs. 
Lambelle was staying. 

" Oh ! " said Madame Terreceine, " your entrancing vision has 
haunted me ever since that day. You shall be the goddess " Ceres " 
with the beautiful wheaten harvests of our Western land floating 
about your superb shoulders. Mo?i Dieu ! ravissant f " 

" Since you desire it, my dear madame, I cannot doubt the pro- 
priety," replied the fair Lambelle ; and calling Cossetina, her little 
Italian maid, brought from Florence, she bade her in Italian re- 
move the comb and unloose the braids. The maid took from her 
mistress' dressing-case, a diamond crescent, fastened it to a narrow 
band of blue velvet, and fixed it at the parting above her brow. 
Now, as she stood in expectation, leaning upon the arm of her 
escort, every eye was fixed upon her wonderful beauty. 

Her trailing robe of pale blue gauze, sprinkled with silver, was 
gathered in one falling hand, and her figure had the graceful pose 
of inclination to the last speaker ; and the long, wavy, silken straw of 
her hair, fallen forward, veiled her rounded, shoulder and the white 
arm at her side. 

From lip to lip passed whispered praise. 

" Entrancing ! " " Raviseante ! " Perfectly unique ! " 

" A lovely vision of mythology " General Terreceine, an adept 


in feminine charms, exclaimed to his friend standing in the win- 

'■'■Quelle merveille/^- Quelles tresses!" To which the other 
quickly responded, — 

" Man Dieu ! c'est une ange ! c'est une enchantemeiit P^ 

Chancellor Mowndes' egress from the library caused a break in 
the conversation, and the glances of several inquisitively followed. 
Dentelle was engaged in deep discussion of the turf and the 
chase, with a young Missourian of the same sporting tastes as 
himself. The latter, glancing through the folding doors into the 
parlors, said excitedly, — 

"Juno! Venus! Calypro ! and all the rest! Dentelle, look 
at that ! Did she drop down from Olympus, or the third heavens ? " 

" Why, I suppose she must be the belle of St. Louis. I have 
heard high praise of your Western beauties. I am prepared to find 
our Charleston belles eclipsed." 

"Highly complimentary, my friend ! Under many obligations! 
but I swear, Dentelle, that goddess is not a native of this city. I 
know every lady here that is worth knowing, and they're all under 
a cloud, now. By the gods ! I must ask an introduction this night, 
and sue for favor." 

" New opinions differ on woman's charms," said Dentelle. " I 
might adjudge the silver cup to your Western reigning belle. Is 
she here to-night?" 

Bloodling, the young sportsman, sat erect, throwing a rapid look 
over the gay throng of the two parlors. 

" Do not see her," he said. " She is petite^ however ; is prob- 
ably overshadowed by the majesty of those in front. Nwiporte I 
I am lost in the transcendent charms of this stranger. Gods 1 what 
tresses ! It's a wheat harvest woven of the sun's rays. Let us 
draw near the mystic circle." 

" Let us follow the chancellor," suggested Dentelle. 

"Precisely! I'd bolt the dem'dest, finest steeplechase in the 
world, for a smile from such lips." He rose ; his tall, slender 
form was a match for the Georgian's. "Let us go," he urged, "or 
those pale yellow tresses will turn to Psyche's butterfly wings, and 
bear her heavenward! I adore horses, but woman, more." 


The chancellor had already begun his narrative of the burning 
of Northern mails at Charleston. As they drew near he was say- 
ino" — ^ 

" I was an actor in the scene. We had intimation that the 
mail of that day would bring toCharleston an unusual quantity of 
incendiary documents. You know, ladies and gentlemen, aboli- 
tionists take it upon themselves to send to leading Southern men 
such speeches, proceedings and arguments against slavery as they 
falsely suppose will appeal to our religious natures." 

" And soften our inflexible hearts," added General Terreceine. 

" There are no arguments higher than the Bible," said Miss 
Nina Call, a young lady of the severe Minerva type. 

" Very true," bowed the chancellor. " It was that issue that 
called together the clergyman of our city in a body on the occa- 
sion, and also to show these meddling Northerners that our State 
Rights should remain intact. But, as I was saying, the reverend 
clergy came forward voluntarily, in a body, to assist in searching 
and rifling the mails of its dangerous elements ; they tore open 
letters and papers, refolded and sealed business and commercial 
communications for their lawful destination. A// were as one man ; 
brokers, bankers, consignees and commissioners, received their 
mutilated correspondence, as sacred relics of a declaration of our 
sovereign will." 

Here arose an enthusiastic clapping of soft gloved hands, and a 
confusion of exultant cheers. 

"Do inform us, my dear chancellor," asked Mrs. Archibald, 
"what part the ladies took upon themselves." 

"True! what did their faithful patriotism proffer?" joined 
Madame Lambelle, at the same moment tossing back the wavy 
mass from her snowy neck and arm. 

"My fair lady," answered the speaker, "their sacrifices far 
exceeded ours. They voluntarily offered the exposure of the most 
delicate trersures of their hearts ; their precious friendships, the 
delicious language of tender sentiment, the ardent vows of absent 
loves, every blossom of woman's purest confidences. They gave 
all to the public gaze, for the public good." 

" Bravo ! bravo ! bravo ! " tinkled forth voices sensibly affected 
by such lofty martyrdom ; a few hands nervously clapped, and 


many elegant bits of embroidered linen and lace were carried to 
tearful and downcast eyes. 

After a short and respectful silence he continued, — 

"When the search was concluded, there was a large pile of 
obnoxious matter lying on the floor of the post-office. These 
were gathered up and carried to the street. Every avenue lead- 
ing to the spot was crowded by interested spectators of the South- 
ern Holocaust ; the fury of our people knew no bounds ; they w^ere 

" They alternately cheered and cursed. — they bellowed forth 
threats of vengeance against Northern fanatics. The windows 
and roofs of surrounding buildings swarmed with applauding 

'•' It must have been charming," exclaimed Miss Call with 

Chancellor Mowndes bowed and proceeded, — 

*' A committee of clergymen and planters advanced with lighted 
torches. And w^hen the lapping flames arose over the insurrection- 
ary missives, consuming them to blackened ashes, from street, 
from pavement, from roof, from verandah, arose a prolonged cheer 
and a yell which proclaimed to the North, ' TJius far^ ajid no farther^ 
Here let insolence be stayed. " 

Tumultuous approbation, quite overstepping the conventional 
politeness of an evening party, prevailed 

General Terreceine, the last to forget his impromptu blaridness, 
rose fiercely, and with fervid gestures asserted his belief that the 
burning of that Charleston mail had been conclusive, that the 
smoldering flames of that cursed heap of fanaticism had broken 
out in a running fire from post-ofiice to post-office, throughout 
our section. That step, united with the Southern threats which 
had already been promulgated against the abolitionists, would 
deter them from further interference in Southern affairs. 

His face grew livid, his enunciation rapid. Pointing south- 
ward, he exclaimed, — 

" New Orleans is wide awake ! The ' True American ' assures 
the Bostonians, 'if those who have embarked in the nefarious 
scheme of abolishing slavery at the South show themselves in 
Louisiana, their backs will be spared lashes, but they shall expi- 


ate their crime by being burned at the stake ! ' " His figure 
moved ominously to the east, and vehemently shook as he 
exclaimed, — 

"The dastardly poltroons dare not set foot on Southern soil !" 
Every lip murmured assent. 

Madame Archibald related her experience in Mississipi after 
the burning of the mail in Charleston. 

" The parish came together in a church. After a most touch- 
ing and most beautiful prayer by the pastor, the people entered 
into excited deliberation ; and finally passed this resolution. 

'• ' That any individual who dares to circulate any of the incendiary 
tracts and newspapers, now in the course of transmission to this 
country, is justly worthy in the sight of God and man, of imme- 
diate DEATH.' " 

" Madame Archibald's relation fully substantiated the sagacity 
of our honored host," observed Major Dentelle. " I also have the 
pleasure of showing that Georgia responds to that sentiment. 
The tocsin from Augusta is heard in these words. 'Theory of 
the whole South should be death, instant death! to the aboli- 
tionist, wdierever he is caught.' " 

" Let me speak for my native State," added Captain Bloodling, 
his eyes fastened upon Madame Lambelle. " Missouri is on the 
' double quick ' with other States. The ' Argus ' has it that ' aboli- 
tion editors in Slave States dare not avow their opinions. It would 
be instant death to them.' " 

Colonel Ashland thought with Henry A. Wise of Virginia, that 
the surest prescription for abolitionists, was " Dupont's best (gun- 
powder) and cold steel.'"' 

"The same righteous determination pervades every Southern 
State, I believe," remarked the silver-voiced Madame Lambelle, the 
apple-blossom color deepening, and the clear blue of her eyes light- 
ing up with a singular fire. " I saw a communication from the 
Rev. J. S. Witherspone, an Alabamaian, to the ' Emancipator ' in 
New York, in which he says, * If their emissaries cross the Potomac 
he can promise that their fate will be no less than Haman's." 

" You are right, my dear lady," replied General Terreceine. 
*' This determination is unanimous;" but, in a manner visibly 


disturbed, he asked, " how her attention was called to the ' Emanci- 
pator ? ' " 

With a bright smile and another sparkle of the singular light in 
her blue eyes, she replied with a most courteous inclination of her 
head, — 

" By a Southern gentleman, sir, staying at the same hotel." 
Turning carelessly to Rev. Mr. Warham, she remarked, '' The North- 
ern people know very little of slavery ; its real necessities or its 

His admiring gaze was turned upon the speaker by his side. 

" Very true, Madame Lambelle ; neither do they understand that 
they are meddling with red-hot coals, when they meddle with it 
and us." 

"Nor will not, until their fingers are burned to blackened crisp," 
ejaculated the host in his usual defiant style. 

" A.nd yet, sir," resumed the lady, "I wish to exhonorate my own 
State, New York, from deserved accusation. Shall I take the lib- 
erty of doing so t " 

'• Most assuredh^" was granted on all sides. 

"Thank you. Not long since, those holding Anti-Slavery princi- 
ples were to meet at Utica for the avowed purpose of forming a 
State organization. They were, however, driven from the Court 
House by a body of prominent and respectable citizens, who inten- 
tionally occupied that building beforehand. These people arrived 
to the number of six or eight hundred. They entered one of the 
chambers ; there, they were met by a large concourse of citizens, 
who accused them of plotting the dissolution of the American Union. 
The abolitionists were driven from the church with denunciations 
and threats. The Honorable Samuel Beardsley, member of Con- 
gress, declared, 'the disgrace of having an Abolition Convention 
held in the city is a deeper one than that of twenty mobs, and that 
it would be better to have Utica razed to its foundation, or to have 
it destroyed, like Sodom and Gomorrah, than to have the conven- 
tion meet there.' " 

" All honor to New York ! " said the sportsman Bloodling ; " and 
thrice honored be the Honorable Samuel Beardsley," from several 

While she was speaking, a bevy of guests from the bright gar- 


dens drew around the doors and windows of the parlor, — five 
gentlemen and two ladies. One of the two ladies, about whom the 
others seemed to revolve, had features coldly Grecian, with the 
complexion of a brunette. Her eyes and hair were of shadowy 
blackness. On the left side, among her braids, glowed a bright 
scarlet rose, trailing its leaves and red buds down her Spanish 
shoulders to her bodice of cherry satin. Her trailing skirt of India 
muslin was banded and fluted with the same bright color. 

She might have had a more imposing line of descent than others 
present, — running back to the Indian hills. Her ancestors might 
have gone up before the golden cherubim of " Solomon's Temple," 
and before the " molten sea," standing upon twelve oxen, the brim 
wrought with "flowers of lilies." She might have inherited that 
shadowy hair and eyes from the Moorish and sun-ripened blood of 
the hidalgos of old Spain. A few pages of Time, turned backward, 
might have allied the dark, fascinating hue that crept over brow, 
neck, shoulder and arm, to that beautiful paradox of American 
women, who, denied all lineage, denied a country or a name, never 
cease to captivate. A careful paradigm of her ancestry might have 
revealed this startling fact. 

Leaving this doubtful point to the exactness of American Her- 
aldry, we must be content to know that the person in question was 
none other than the belle of St. Louis, — the flattered, adored and 
caressed Miss Honoria Duel. 

A young Louisianian, Lieutenant Azucar, son of a cane-planter 
led the quintette. He was upon her right side bearing her fan. 
Colonel Selman, an obese, gray-headed Mobilian, commanding the 
"Cherokee Artillery," moved up on her left, smiling, bowing and 
toying with Miss Honoria's gold-enameled vinaigrette. Following 
en traine, was Cadet Call, a smooth-faced, lithe Missourian, home on 
a furlough from military studies. He was elevated to the office of 
glove-holder, for he bore with knightly care Miss Duel's white kid 
amulet glove. Admiral Dane of the Navy, a corpulent, florid-faced 
widower of sixty, was also en traine as a gallant page, and blowing 
like a stranded porpoise, convoyed the belle's bouquet as stiffly 
upright as the mast of the "Warrior," his own flagship. 

Thus they caricoled to the window, coquetting and jesting. 
Hearingf but one musical voice, and observing the deep interest 


Upon the faces within, they paused and became listeners likewise. 

At the conclusion of Mrs. Lambelle's eulogism, la belle Duel 
clapped her hands and cried, — 

" Vive New York ! Vive New York ! " 

This was a signal for her suite; they failed not to obey, and the 
demonstration became general. La belle set her cherry-slippered 
foot upon the low sill, declaring, — 

" Aha ! I see ! just as I supposed. Madame Lambelle charms 
all hearts. She holds tout le motide entranced by the magic of her 
azure eyes." 

A soft flush suffused Madame Lambelle's cheeks, as she re- 
plied, — 

'"'■ Mifa un eofnpliinento al quale non so eke rispondere ;''^ and with 
a grace which rivited all eyes, she waved her hand to those about 
her, saying, — 

'■'•No le c^edianio,''^ at the same time pleasantly bowing herself out. 

Eev. Fred conducted her into the fragrant air, upon the broad, 
carpeted floor of the charming piazza. 

" Faccia7iio un giro e?i el giardino,^' suggested Madame Lambelle. 

Rev. Fred had once known Italian, had once spoken it in Rome 
and other Italian cities ; so after some little hesitation, in search- 
ing memory, he replied, — 

" Faro no chevorra .^" in the tone of homage to a divinity. 

They passed out beneath the twining " drap d'or " climber, under 
the deep blue sky and unclouded moon, on to the fountain. They 
discussed objects and places of interest in the Old World, which 
were perfectly familiar to both, and forgot the unpleasant American 
subject — Slavery. Within the brilliant ^^^^/i- it remained a fruit- 
ful subject of conversation. 

" Miss Duel, my dear, we have had a delightful narration of the 
burning of the mail at Charleston. Chancellor Mowndes has con- 
ferred a great favor in relating the interesting particulars. Miss 
Honoria, you should have been present. You have lost a great 
pleasure," said Madame Terreceine. 

" I beg pardon, madame," interfered the chancellor in a com- 
plimentary manner ; " but Miss Duel herself dispenses higher 
pleasure than the prosy relation of a stern political duty could pos- 
sibly confer." 


" I am a daughter of the South, chancellor, and am, therefore, 
deeply concerned in her welfare. I have a great curiosity to know 
something of the contents of those letters. Were any of them 
saved, sir , or any of the pamphlets .-* " 

" Miss Honoria would be pleased to hear them read," com- 
manded Admiral Dane, still holding mast-upright that lady's 

" I shall be most honored to comply with Miss Duel's desire. 
There are two or three still in my possession." He bade his ser- 
vant bring a certain package of papers. It was found, that through 
mistake, he had brought but one from the mail-burning, and one 
other, received since. The latter, he opened with the remark, that 
" this specimen alone, would show the audacity and stubbornness 
of Northern spirit ; that as it was poetry, he considered it the very 
topmost shoot of their general sentiment." 

" The name of the poet ?" asked Cadet Call. 

" Whittier ; a more insidious incendiary than Garrison himself. 
Garrison professes to deal with facts, which he hurls with artillery 
practice among the horrified masses, while Whittier attempts to 
rouse those intellects which are moved only to the cadences of 


The letter was passed to Colonel Selman of the " Cherokee Ar- 
tillery," with the request to read. The colonel rose, and after 
glancing over its contents, complied. The rich bass of his sono- 
rous voice rang out the flinty words against the iron wills of his 
listeners. The latent spark flashed along every line. His modula- 
tion was perfect. The daring, defiant language found a living beauty 
in its magical delivery. The poet himself could not have desired 
a more impressive rendering of the majestic grandeur of his 


" Is this the land our father's loved ? 

The freedom which they toiled to win ? 
Is this the soil whereon they moved ? 

Are these the graves they slumbered in ? 
Are we the sons, by whom are borne 
The mantles which the dead have worn ? 

And shall we crouch above these graves, 
With craven soul and fettered lip ? 


Yoke in, with marked and branded slaves, 

And tremble at the driver's whip ? 
Bend to the earth our pliant knees ; 
And speak, but as our masters please ? 

Shall tongues be mute when deeds are wrought, 
Which well might shame extremest hell ? 

Shall freeman lock the indignant thought ? 
Shall pity cease to swell ? 

Shall honor bleed — shall truth succumb ? 

Shall /£•« a.nd press and sou^ be dumb ? 

No ! by each spot of haunted ground, 

Where Freedom weeps her children's fall. 

By Plymouth's rock and Bunker's mound, 

By Griswold's stained and shattered wall, 

By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade. 

By all the memories of the dead ! 

By all above, around, below. 
Be one indignant answer ; NO ! " 

He read the last two lines ending with its triumphant " No ! '* 
in deep, guttural tones, like the low moanings of distant thunder. 
During the reading, silence like a pall fell over the assembly. 

"There's a challenge to accept," suggested Dentelle. "That 
last ' No ' has the cannon's boom." 

"Whittier is a Quaker," said another; "a man of peace." 

General Terreceine's face grew dark and austere. 

" Quaker or no Quaker," he said, " whoever flings that gauntlet 
in our faces needs wear the epaulets of war." 

" Such Northern men are few," complacently observed Colonel 
Ashland. The Free States, as a whole, are most pliant and sub- 
servient to our demands. You are aware that the resolutions of 
the South, demanding that the Non-slave-holding States shall enact 
penal laws for the suppression of Abolition Societies, and making 
it also a penal offense to print, publish, or distribute anti-slavery 
newspapers, pamphlets or tracts, has been officially communicated 
to the governors of those States. Their requirements have thus 
been brought before the notice of their several legislatures with 
most gratifying effect." 

"True," replied Colonel Selman, the Mobilian, "Governor Marcy 
of New York, and the Legislature, have declared themselves ready 


to make almost any concessions to Southern allies and friends." 

" But Massachusetts ! — curse her ! — fosters just such bandeleros 
as this Whittier. And her cursed Plymouth Rock is already half 
chipped awav, making sling-stones for giants ! " growled the tall 
Major Blood'ling of the " Missouri Light Guards." 

The chancellor, who sat thoughtfully turning over the papers in 
his hand, looked up at the young major with a smile, saying, — 

" With true respect for your Southern enthusiasm, let me assure 
you that Massachusetts, with all her blemishes, is still an ally to 
the South. I was in Boston at the time when Edward Everett, the 
Governor of Massachusetts, made his response to the official de- 
mands of the Southern States, to which my friend. Colonel Ash- 
land, just alluded. Governor Everett said, in his message, 'What- 
ever, by direct and necessary operation, is calculated to excite an 
insurrection among the slaves, has been held by highly respectable 
legal authority an offense against the peace of the Commonwealth, 
which may be prosecuted as a misdemeanor at common law,' and 
also ' that the patriotism of all classes must be invoked, to abstain 
from a discussion which, if not abandoned, there is just reason to 
fear will prove the rock on which the Union will split.' This part 
of the message was referred to a committee of five, of which George 
Lunt, a senator from Newburyport, was chairman. The anti-slavery 
society was roused to its own detence and to the prevention of any 
action against " Freedom of speech and the press. " 

Some of those men obtained a hearing before the committee. I 
was present, a curious and unmolested listener. Samuel J. May 
spoke first, and was followed by Ellis Gray Loring. He dc?iied the 
right of the legislature to enact penal laws, and claimed the moral 
right to labor for the extermination of slavery or any other crime. 
Garrison followed, in an onslaught on the Union." 

"This is exceedingly interesting," remarked Miss Duel; "dear 
me ! You did see Garrison ! that blood-thirsty instigator of insur- 
rections? " 

" Very interesting," repeated all the ladies. Do describe Garri- 
son to us, if you please. Do ! do ! " said all. 

" Ugh ! I shiver at the thought of him," said Miss Duel. " He 
must be a monster." 


"Will Miss Duel first describe the great abolition leader, from 
her imagination? " laughingly requested Lieuteuant Azucar. 

" We are eager listeners," joined several voices. 

"Miss Duel said coquettishly, "You will see a gnome ! an ogre ! 
which I scarcely dare, myself, portray. My ideas are, that. Garrison 
is dwarfish in stature, with wiry, unkempt hair, falling over a low, 
malignant brow ; that his features are half hidden by a long fanati- 
cal beard ; that his wild eyes glare, without one Christian expres- 
sion j and that his hands and feet, ungainly in size and shape, 
complete a picture of ugliness, from the sight of which every right- 
minded person must turn away with horror and disgust." 

General merriment succeeded, when Chancellor Mowndes came 
to her aid. 

" Miss Duel, if Garrison's principles and acts were embodied, 
you have given us a fine drawing, but I am compelled to acknowl- 
edge, that in person and manners, he is prepossessing ; has a fine 
head and features, and an agreeable, impressive voice. Were he 
in Congress, he would be eclipsed by few." 

"Perhaps your audience would not be too much fatigued to listen 
to some of his oratory," suggested Colonel Ashland. " It will 
show that our determined threats of revenge and death to those of 
his ilk who may venture upon our soil, with our rewards for his own 
head, have had a satisfactory result." 

" Let us hear, chancellor. Let us hear," said the host. 

"Aye ! let us hear," reiterated Commodore Dave. 

Chancellor Mowndes resumed ; " Mr. Garrison declared that the 
people of New England have two alternatives ; either to consent to 
be gagged by ' Southern task-masters,' or to labor fearlessly on, till 
slavery should be blotted from the land. But here comes the point 
referred to by my friend, the colonel ; I give it, in Garrison's own 

"We loudly boast of our free country, and of the Union of these 
States ; yet I have no country / As a New-Englander and an Aboli- 
tionist, I am excluded by a bloody proscription, from one-half of 
the national territory, and so is every man who is known to regard 
slavery with abhorrence. W^here is our Union ? and of what value 
is it to me, or to any one who believes that liberty is the inalienable 
right of every man, independent of the color of his skin, or the 


texture of his hair ? JFe cannot enjo}^ the privileges of the Union. 
T/ie right of free aiid safe locomotion^ from one part of the land to the 
other ^ is de?iied to us J except on peril of our lives ! They who preach 
that slave-holding is sin, and that immediate emancipation is the 
duty of every master, might as safely leap into a den of lions, or into 
2i fery furjiace, as to go into the Southern States ! " 

"Let us rejoice," said Miss Hanoria. "Garrison shall never set 
his foot upon citr soil." 

" We have accom.plished something," said Dentelle, " when we 
have drawn a dead line, which these ruffians dare not pass." 

" What was the termination of the hearing, chancellor," asked 
the host. " Were the committee convinced by the abolitionists ? " 

" Far from that, sir. George Lunt, the chairman, was * true 
blue.' He became exasperated at the assertions of one Goodel, 
and said abruptly, * Stop, sir ! Sit down, sir ! The committee will 
hear none of this ! ' He was proof against further pleading ; said 
the committee had heard enough. Thus ingloriously was the ex- 
cited audience dispersed." 

"But one echo of Whittier's "no!" has been heard from all the 
Northern governors to whom our official orders of repression have 
been sent," said Colonel Ashland. 

"Pray, which one is that? " asked an excited feminine voice. 

" Governor Ritner of Pennsylvania. He commented with 
Roman firmness and severity on 'the base bowing of the knee to 
the dark spirit of Slavery.' He counseled the State ' never to yield 
up the right of Xhefree discussion of any evil which may arise in the 
land, or any part of it.' 

"Thaddeus Stephens w^as chairman of the committee to which 
our Southern resolutions were referred : of course his report denied 
our right to claim legislation against free discussion, and it affirmed 
* if the claim could be legitimate, the legislature and the citizen 
would be reduced to a vassalage but little less degrading than that 
of the slaves, whose condition they assert the right to discuss.' " 

'•' The only remedy for Ritner and Stephens is ' Dupont's best,' " 
said Cadet Call ; ''but we shall bring these rebels to terms." 

" It is only a matter of time," replied Colonel Ashland, confi- 
dently. The chancellor had returned to the papers in his hand. 


" I have it," he said quietly, while a curious smile played over 
his face. 

" Ladies and gentlemen, here is a sworn relic of the late Charles- 
ton Holocaust. Captain Bloodling, shall we have the honor of 
listening to you, sir ? " at the same time extending to him the 

The amiable hostess begged him to summon her beautiful 
" Ceres." 

" Madame Lambelle is so thoroughly interested in our political 
situation she will be most eager to hear." 

A servant was dispatched to the garden ; she soon entered, 
still leaning on the arm of her reverend friend. A general wel- 
coming smile greeted her. 

Bloodling nerved himself to the task of a finished elocution, that 
he might " do the heroic " as acceptably as his predecessor the 
colonel ; but, as he scanned the unfolded letter silently, a visible 
change swept his proud face. Its mail clad look softened into 
pity first, and then contempt. He began to read. 

'■'■Happy Home, July, 183 — 

My Beloved Friend, — I cannot longer delay some expression of the un- 
fathomable sentiment of gratitude which daily pervades my life towards you, 
the one to whom I owe all I have, and all I am. Nothing but the fear of en- 
dangering your safety has set the oblivious seal of silence on all this interven- 
ing time. 1 can never, for one moment, fail to bless you for your efforts in 
giving me that freedom which has grown so unspeakably precious with the 
yearly appreciation of its blessings. Ah ! what would have been my condition 
now in Charleston, or sold perhaps, for other shambles, without your assistance 
in escaping from that terrible bondage- Perhaps it will be sufficient for you to 
know that I am well, happy, and being educated. This letter will bear witness, 
for my own hand pens it. 

*' Enclosed, you will find a small return for your inestimable and dangerous 
service to me. Accept it, with my daily fervent prayers for your continued life 
and happiness. Evening Star." 

" That is a cunningly devised letter," remarked Mrs. Archibald. 

" And gives no clue to the fugitive," observed the Rev. Fred. 

" Its chirography is fine ; Major Bloodling, will you do me the 
pleasure to pass it to the ladies, for inspeccion t " said the chan- 

Miss Duel extended her gloved hand for it, ran her dark eyes 
over it, and pronounced it, — 


"Beautifully written, clear and delicate as copper-plate." 

Madame Lambelle declared it written in a woman's hand. 

Rev. Fred agreed with her opinion. 

" To whom was it addressed } " inquired the host. 

"To Deiderich Weintze, a German, keeping a corner shop in the 

"What was the small return, mentioned ? " 

" A bank check for a thousand dollars." 

" Of course you gave the Teuton thief his w^ell-earned remunera- 
tion?" questioned the general, ironically. 

" Not precisely in money, general. We handed the thousand 
dollars over to the * Society for the adva?icetnent of C/iristia?iity in 
South Carolina' " 

"To have put the check in Weintze's hand, would have been 
paying a premiuni for a crime against the laws of the State, would 
it not ? " inquired Madame Lambelle, turning her startled blue 
eyes full upon the face of her admiring companion. 

" May I ask what are the laws of Carolina concerning it ? tor 
surelv, there must be some penalty attached to the loss of slaves in 
this manner, as well as for the loss of any other valuable property, 
I should suppose." 

" Indeed, my dear lady, you are right," he replied. " By an act 
of 1754, all and every person who shall aid a slave in running 
away or departing from his master's or employer's service, are de- 
clared to be guilty of felony, and shall suffer death as felons, with- 
out the benefit of clergy. The inveigling and carrying away slaves, 
was a great and growing evil at that time." 

" Deiderich Weintze was punishable under that act," remarked 
Colonel Ashland. 

" But you recollect," politely interfered the chancellor, "that by 
an act of 182 1 'whoever shall harbor, conceal or entertain any run- 
away or fugitive slave, shall, be fined or imprisoned at the discre- 
tion of the court ; not exceeding one thousand dollars fine, nor one 
years imprisonment ; ' and as justices and freeholders who try 
these offenders, can exercise such discretion as they think fit. 
Deiderich Weintze was sentenced to the whipping-post, to one thou- 
sand dollars fine of his own property and imprisonment. We made 


an example of him, I assure you, gentlemen. I was in Charleston 
at the time." 

" It was quite necessary," coolly continued the chancellor. 

" He was seized at his store, carried to the public whipping-post 
amid an angry crowd, stripped as to his back and shoulders, and 
bound to it. We had previously sent for the muscular negro- 
whipper of the work-house. The air was rife with the same signals 
of approbation as at the burning of the mail. Cries of ' Kill the 
Dutchman ! ' drownded every other sound." 

" How many lashes were considered sufficient remuneration," 
bitterly asked General Terreceine. 

" The lashes were not counted, they were discretionary ; but when 
he fainted he was put in a cart and sent to the work-house, where 
he has since been indulged with the pleasant recreation of the 

" Had he to pay his fine ? " 

" His wife sold out his small store, and met the fine, I believe." 

"You came out gloriously!" exclaimed Colonel Selman of the 
" Rifles." 

" Gloriously ! gloriously ! " echoed other voices. Major Blood- 
ling complimented Charleston, as the banner city of the South. 

Miss Duel, reclining among the sofa cushions and zephyrs 
wafted from her fan, in the hands of the languishing Lieutenant 
Azucar, indolently declared, — 

" All that is wanting now, is to search out and drag back the 
runaway to lashes and double tasks." 

Before the sentence was wafted from her lips by the lieutenant's 
fan-formed zephyrs, sudden ejaculations and a startled clamor 
stirred the assembly. Gentlemen sprang to their feet, ladies 
clasjDcd their hands looking pitifully, yet remained fixed in their 
seats, as if stunned. 

The lovely Madam Lambelle lay motionless on the carpet, at 
the feet of her Carolina friend. The hostess first rushed to her 
side with tenderest epithets of loving endearment. Rev. Fred 
knelt reverently, and raised a cold hand between his own. 

While he strove in vain to find the pulses which had so mysteri- 
ously fled, the little Italian maid Cossetina, who had been quickly 


informed by the servants, came wildly in and threw herself down by 
her beloved mistress. She called to her, — 

^^ Cara Zaffiri ! Zaffiri ! Begli occhi ! che avesti ! She drew back 
the ravishing tresses from her temples, caressed them, moaning 
over and over, " Ca7'a Zaffiri ! a chio?iii sciolte ! " 

Fred murmured low as if to himself, — 

''Bella a verdere ! Bella!'' 

Cossetina was frantic with grief. She clasped her hands, raised 
her eyes to the ceiling, passionately exclaiming, — 

'' Bella Zaffiri I sul pavi7nente ; siil pavi?7ie}ite ! Stamala!'" Ris- 
ing hastily from the carpet, she extended both her hands to General 
Terreceine. and pleadingly cried, '■'■ II letto I II letto P^ Then the 
English word came to her memory, "Bed! Bed! Aiutatemi far 

The general advanced and lifted the still figure in liis strong 
arms. ]\Iadame Archibald gathered the trailing veil of flossy hair, 
laying it upon her breast, then sadly followed the strange cortege up 
the stair-case, to the quiet of a distant chamber. 

There had been music and feasting during: the eveninGf, which 
had been partaken with convivial zest by those well trained in the 
art of enjoyment. The dancing-hall, a handsome appurtenance to 
the Terreceine mansion, had been filled with the gay, changing 
throng. Its frescos, flowers, brilliant lights and entrancing strains, 
had in time drawn all within its eddying circles of pleasure, and 
these had turned again to the cool gardens and stately salons for 
the agreeable interchange of cultured thought. Authors and their 
works, artists and their productions were discussed as familiarly as 
those only can do whose time and means are unlimited. Pleasant 
memories and incidents of travel were compared; many a group 
sat again for a passing hour beneath the grandeur of the Alps, — 
in the shadow of ancient cathedrals, or in fancy trod again the im- 
perial palaces of royalty. 

It was the custom at every concourse, public or private, at the 
evening party, the crowded ball, at hilarious dinners, and even at 
the fashionable call, throughout the South, to discuss one unflag- 
ging topic of discourse. This was slavery, its enemies and sup- 
porters. On this festive occasion, when strangers from other 
Southern States were present, this home subject was presented with 


deeper interest ; and because the sentiment of the group of conver- 
sationists is relevant to our purpose, their ideas have been given to 
the reader, to the exclusion of other subjects. 

But for the occurrence of this last touching event, Madame 
Lambelle's calamity, the evening's attractions would have held 
fascinations for hours longer. But the strange malady which had 
stricken down the beautiful stranger, cast a gloom over the spirits 
of every one present. 

Thought and conversation changed to her personal beauty, her 
high-bred ease of manner, her sprightliness of humor, the taste and 
elegance of her attire, the number and brilliancy of her diamonds, 
and above all, to the interest displayed in whatever pertained to 
the South. 

Disquiet marked the usually calm faces of the servants as they 
waited for some order, whereby they might do loving service for 
the " dear lady," in return for the soft words and condescending 
smiles with which she greeted them. 

Fred Warham sat silently apart, as if he had seen a divine trans- 

After a half-hour's suspense, a gray-haired physician, holding the 
respect and confidence of the circle, entered the salons from the 
lady's chamber. A volley of tender inquiries assailed him, to which 
he gave the pleasant information, that he apprehended no immedi- 
diate danger ; his patient had opened her " bluest of blue eyes, as 
fresh as spring violets." She would fully recover from the effects 
of the swoon, in two or three days, " to the joy of us all," he added, 
with a bow and-benignant smile signifying the dismissal of anxiety. 
He declared there was never such another " Rome in America " as 
that chamber. " Why," said he, " the little Cossetina fills the room 
with chattering Italian. The air is heavy with the soft language, as 
her churches are of incense ; yet with all her censor-swing of her 
native tongue, the only distinguishable aroma is ' Zaffiri ! Zaffiri ! 
Zaffiri caressed, Zaffiri moaned, Zaffiri wept, and Zaffiri adored.' " 

A unversal smile gladdened the dull salons. 

"Zaffiri is a singular name," remarked one. 

" Zaffiri is Italian for sapphires. It must signify her blue eyes," 
replied Fred Warham. " She is American born, however j a na- 
tive New-Yorker, of one of those opulent and travelled families, 


which form so pleasant a counterpart to our chivalry and blooded 

" Ah, yes," said Miss Duel ; " her husband brought the proper 
letters of introduction from New York. You know we do not 
receive into our social regards any strangers of doubtful prece- 

" Her husband dotes upon her," said the hostess, " and would 
not trust her health to the climatic changes of Texas, at present. 
He is equally interested with us Southerners, in that country, but 
will not take Zaffiri there until winter." 

"A splendid fellow he is, too," said the general. " Nobility is 
stamped upon his face. I made his acquaintance on his way out 

Carriages came one after another to the piazza, and rolled 
away, leaving love's tender regrets and regards for the invalid. 

General Terreceine invited a few of the choice spirits of St. 
Louis to tarry in the library for a short conference with the Caro- 
lina friends. 

Between the grand dining salo?i and library, white-gloved slaves 
glided about, bearing those refreshments which the company de- 
manded. From the costly buffet, glittering with the cut glass para- 
phernalia of fashionable wine-bibbers, were brought on trays of 
solid silver, decanters filled with the blood-red, the amber, and the 
purple juices of rare vintages. 

The sliding doors of the salons were closed around the conclave, 
and the polished mail of gallantry worn in the presence of ladies 
was rapidly doffed. 

Belles, horses, women and hounds were brought upon the tapis 
together. Various degrees of eulogism, sarcasm or contempt, 
were bestowed upon the mingled array, and they were banished 
from inspection amid toasts, resolves, and responses drank in swift 

Tongues grew voluble and reckless. Short patriotic speeches 
were indulged in, flaming with vituperation and lurking revenge. 

Cadet Call was of the opinion that Congress had the power, and 
therefore should control the diabolical Northern agitation. The 
Northern Whig vote of that body assimilated so generally with the 
Southern Democrats, that they could easily carry any resolution. 


Northern States should be forced to make penal enactments for 
their agitators. In the very /aces of these public disturbers, they 
should enact the gibbet and the gallows. ^^ 

Colonel Ashland advised to declare to the North, if the question 
of slavery be further discussed in any shape, at any time, at any 
place, the Slave States would secede from the Union ; they would 
show the world that the old saying, — " The pen is mightier than 
the sword," is reversed, and that the South would abide only by the 
decision of the latter. 

General Terreceine cried out hotly, — 

" Drink, gentlemen, drink ! to the sentiment. We will muzzle 
their foul, incendiary mouths ! We will make bonfires of their 
moral convictions ! We will grind their logic to powder beneath the 
upper and the nether millstones of our adamantine will. And the 
Constitution ! Ah, we will hurl their printing presses to the bottom 
of their rivers, a-la James G. Birney's, in the Ohio." 

Judge Pitts, a Missourian, roused to heroic remembrances by 
the name of "Birney," held up his glass. 

" To Cincinnati, the friendly watch-tower midway along the 
moat of our Northern border." 

A long hip — hip — hurrah ! responded, and a drink all round. 

Dentelle was complimentary. " I give you, my friends, ]\Iizzouri, 
yet in her ' teens,' but the fair young mother of Texas, after the 
mother, Texas herself, the eagle's nest, hatching forty-three IMassa- 
chusetts-ess;" his brandied tongue slipping on the smooth termina- 

Angry cries of '■^ No I No I No! By Heaven, no P^ accom- 
panied by a heavy blow upon the table, and accidents among the 
cut-glass, interrupted the toaster. 

Dentelle, intent upon his idea, and perceiving the rock on which 
he had split, reiterated, — 

'• Gentle'em, Texas ! The house of the free and the land of the 
brave. Beg pardons-es. Cut her up — through — Dainme I cut her 
up I into eighty-six senator-r-r-ors from elsewhere, and p'serve bal- 
anc-ce of power." 

More accidents. 

The tall, lithe figure of Lieutenant Bloodling for a few moments 
overlooked the table and its surroundings. His right hand ran 


through his disordered flaxen hair, and then slowly drew forth to 
the light of the chandelier a gleaming knife. He was still silent, 
but busied himself in so turning the blade, that its white, reflected 
light danced here and there on the walls and book-cases ; and so 
that all could read the sanguinary words, death to abolition 
etched darkly upon its surface. 

Another " hip — hie — hip — hurrah ! " welcomed its ghastly 

Bloodling flourished the blade, wildly repeating with furious 
voice, — 

" By Calhoun's soul, by Bowie's blade, 
By Southern blood of bluest grade, 
By all above, around below. 
Be our indignant answer ; so ! " 

accompanying the last syllable by a portentous plunge of the dan- 
gerous steel downward. 

"Our Southern Whittier," exclaimed a round of voices, the re- 
ward to his poetical effort. 

Weapons of various shapes and powers slid out of their sheaths, 
and insanely brandished lightnings under the trembling prisms of 
the chandelier. 

Bloodling's new style of knife was passed about, and gave gen- 
eral satisfaction. Its British manufacture, its excellent temper, its 
studied proportions, its fine, razor-like edge, and especially, its 
deep, threatning words "death to abolition," along its blade, 
were each in turn subjects of comment and praise. 

The gra3'-haired doctor stepped lightly in from the piazza, took 
the weapon in his soft hands, read the inscription, and pronounced 
it, " the greatest moral invention of the age." Returning it to 
Bloodling, he said, — 

" Make good use of it, my young friend. In the sacred words of 
the Evangelist 'the fields are already white to the harvest' " 

" Doctor, how is your lovely patient, Madame Lambelle .'* " A 
general and subdued attention awaited his reply. 

" I congratulate you, gentlemen, upon the success of your social 


festivities ; but I came to say, with deep regret on my part, and I 
am sure with sorrow on yours, that the lady has just experienced a 
sHght spasm, whicli is unfavorable. I therefore suggest perfect, 
unbroken quiet as a sovereign remedy. Her delicate nervous sys- 
tem will not endure the least shock." 

The decision to adjourn was immediate and unanimous. 

Bloodling offered in a parting bumper, " the health of the lovely 
Zaffiji." They drank it standing, in the sympathy of silence, each 
man's hand upon his heart. 

The last carriage rolled out under the ivy arch. General Terre- 
ceine said to his Carolina guests, — 

'' We are to have a high old day to-morrow. I had forgotten to 
mention it. The officers are in pursuit of two fellows who are sus- 
pected of tampering with our slaves, and running them off. They 
have fled to Alton, and if they are caught, I invite you to witness 
their trial. Damn them ! Good-night." 


" T TOW delightful is the morning," said Fanny to her mother, as 

J~i she came down from her chamber. 

" And you are as rosy as the morning," was the reply. " I don't 
think there is a fresher looking girl in Alderbank." Passing to the 
open window of the dining-room, Fanny threw her usual look of rap- 
ture over the bright sky, the many clouds, the mountains, the white 
serpentine wreath of fog, along the base of the wooded hills, mark- 
ing the course of the river, and over all with what her childhood 
was familiar. Her eyes were aglow with the happiness of the deli- 
cious reverie. 

The voice of her mother, as often before, roused her. 

" Come, Fanny dear, there is work to be done ; the clock has a 
story te tell as well as the landscape." 

" That clock is my task-master ; but come here, mother. Do you 
observe that bunch of asparagus ? It is heavy with the glorified 
spirits of precious stones. Red, blue, purple, yellow and green, 


sparkle from every spray. Aladdin's cave had not more splendid 
jewels than these." 

*'The whole universe is an Aladdin's cave to you, Fannie ; come, 
take those rolls from the oven, fill the coffee urn and arrange the 
chairs at table. Richard has been reading two hours. This will 
be a busy day, for you know you have preparations to make for to- 
morrow, the Sabbath. As you have been propounded for admission 
to the church, and no one has made objection to your being re- 
ceived, I suppose you will take the vows of Cloudspire church upon 
you to-morrow. I cannot think you understand the course you 
insist upon taking, and I wish, Fanny, you could have consented to 
wait till you are older." 

The countenance and tone of Mrs. Beame was grave and remon- 


" 1 am sorry to meet your disfavor, dear mother, but I am 
eighteen ; too old to disobey the commands of our Savior, and my 
own conscience. In matters between the soul and its Creator, each 
one must be accountable for one's self." 

" Then, I think, Fanny, that Cloudspire church has a great weight 
of accountability resting upon it, which the simple act of eating 
bread and drinking wine will not lighten." 

Do you think, my child, that the sacraments they have partaken, 
since Richard and their outrage upon him, was an outrage upon 
millions of oppressed in our land ; I say, do you think those sacra- 
ments have purified the church of this offense in the sight of that 
Savior they profess to follow ? " 

"Not that act alone ; but, mother, they were mistaken then, and 
we should suppose that every heart can be softened by repentance. 
They have forgiven me for my fiery denunciation of their faith in 
the pulpit vvhere I had no right to go, and overlooked my hasty 


ansfer " 

" Fanny, the church will overlook anything, any sin, any crime, 
to obtain a new member ; however, it is too late to warn you now. 
You persist in following " conscience ;" your conscience is noth- 
ing more than an obedience to the persuasions of the new minister, 
of' Deacon Steele and Mary. But let us say no more. We must 
hasten to breakfast." 

" Yes, mother, we have to go down the river to Susan's house 


to-day, and to cook up something to carry her and the children, for 
she has not heard from Henry for a long time." 

" You have also to call upon the teacher, to smooth away the 
troubles that a wicked prejudice casts in the way of Susan's little 
ones. Have you not, my dear .-* " 

Richard heard the question as he was seating himself at table, 
and asked another, — 

" How is this ? In the common school ? What trouble ? " 

*•' You see, my son, it is simply the scorn of color : for Henry 
Hughes children are as quick to learn as any pupils in school. 
Fanny had them well advanced when they entered. They are 
always tidily dressed, but some of the white children daily torment 
them to crying ; they take away their dinners, tear their clothes, 
hide their books, and taunt them with abusive names." 

"The old story," he replied. " So, Fanny, you propose to take 
the part of protector of the down-trodden .? " 

"Yes, Richard. I cannot, by silence, 'pass by on the other side.* 
I may give offense, however." 

"That does not lessen your obligation. Whoever passes by the 
abuses of that school, without rebuking its prejudice and the fruits 
of it, is partaker of the very deeds ; and whoever neglects to inform 
himself that such deeds are enacted there, is also culpable." 

" I was resolved ; but, Richard, you give me new courage." 

" Fanny, scatter truth always. Never a seed perishes. It may 
fall upon dry or rocky soil, but time and genial rains will cause it 
to bud and blossom. The whole district and the whole town even, 
may, in time, feel the influence of your w^ords in behalf of the op- 

Fanny and her mother called at the schoolhouse about four 
o'clock, to take the children with them on their walk to Susie's. 
The path followed the river-bank; mossy, leafy, cool, and mottled 
with sunny spots. The children each held a hand of Fanny's. 
What a tide of joy and childish trust poured through her tender 
clasp into their little brown hands empty of aught else ; empty of 
worldly goods, worldly honor, but most empty of human love. 
They ran away for blackberries and came back ; they stopped on 
the shore to pick up the white pebbles for Fanny ; they drew both 
ladies into a shady nook of hemlock to show a bird's nest with the 


blue eggs ; they plunged into the dry leaves like partridges, after 
red berries. 

A flat rock projected into the river under a broad chestnut. Mrs. 
Beame proposed resting, and all seated themselves. 

" Now, said Fanny, " let us change works. I will peep into 
your satchels, and you shall peep into our pockets." 

Amid the children's feasting from their pockets, Fanny exam- 
ined progress in lessons ; turning over the books, she found many 
leaves had been roughly torn out. 

" Addie, how came this ? " she said. 

Addie looked troubled, and was silent. 

" Addie, dear, how was it ? " 

Large tears filled the child's eyes. 

" I'm afraid, Miss Fanny." 

" Oh, no ! you should not fear me. Tell Fanny all. Nothing 
shall harm you ; " and she drew the timid face to hers. 

" Miss Fanny, won't you tell?" 

" Not to harm you, darling ; tell Fanny all." 

She drew Fanny's bonnet down to hers and whispered, — 

" Do you know that big boy they call " Bully," the tavern- 
keeper's boy?" 

" Yes, Addie." 

" Well, when I spell right and get up to the head in his class, 
he tears out the leaf that's got the word on it, that I spell and get 
above him. He says if I tell, he'll come down in these woods and 
drown'd us when nobody knows it. He says ftiggers shan't go up 
to the head of white folk's' classes. Don't you tell. Miss Fanny." 

Willie saw a butterfly, jumped from the rock and vainly pursued 
it up the mossy path. Returning hat in hand, Mrs. Beame per- 
ceived a large, dark bruise on his forhead. 

"O child ! " she asked, " what is the matter with your head ?" 

" The boys pushed me off the steps, on a stone, and it bleeded." 

" What did they say then ? " she calmly asked, stroking the shiny 
waves of his soft black hair. 

"They laughed, and made fun of me, and pushed me again." 

" But, you know, Willie, some of the girls brought water to wash 
it," said Addie, kindly. 

They went on to the little cabin among the green shimmer of 


tall trees. The cove embosomed in high shores, reflected their 
picturesque rocks and trees like a mirror. The homely hut, or 
cabin, with its open door and window, saw itself in the water, and 
the green sloping turf of the other, from Susie's door, kissed the 
other in the water. A snowy washing hung and waved on Susie's 
lines ; they fluttered also on the lines of the river. Visitors stood 
at Susie's doorstep. Ladies and children stopped by the doorsteps 
in the picture, also. 

"You have another settlement near to cheer your solitude," 
said Fanny, pointing to the cove ; " are they agreeable neighbors ? " 

"Entirely so," said Susan. "There is no strife between us — 
the families in the two cabins are alike, humble and poor." 

" Come in, both of you. No, stay ; the room is too warm. I will 
bring seats under the trees. I'm so glad you are come." 

She sprang up the wooden steps and brought out a letter, hold- 
ing it up gaylv for Fanny to read the inscription. 

" Now we'll hear from papa, children. Will you read it, Fanny? 
I got it yesterday, and was to take it to you last night, but for the 

Fanny broke the seal. In unfolding the awkward half sheet of 
fool's cap, something fell upon the grass ; swift as a mouse, 
Susan's hand glided after it, and caught it up. 

" Just like him. Look Mrs. Beame. Look, Fanny. How good 
Henry is. I never had so much money before." Susan turned 
the small package this way and that, as if she read affection in the 
folding of the bank notes, and was gratifyihg her hungry heart 
with the love of her husband, first. 

" Count your treasure, dear," suggested Mrs. Beame. 

" I will ask you to count it for me. I have never done such a 
thing ; for, as I said, never so much money was in this house, 

Mrs. Beame ran it over. 

"Twenty-five dollars, Susan; it will make you quite comfortable 
if care is taken in expending it. Better put it in a safe place till 
you need it. Now, Fanny, read the letter to Susan." 

The writing was crude, and the sentences were ungrammatical. 
A rough hand had penned it from dictation, and it was mailed in 
New York. 


Fanny read, — 

''My Dear Wife and Children, — Thank God, that with all our hard lot, 
this comfort and privilege of writing is left us. It is a long time since I parted 
from you at our poor door by the river. I have been in great cities, have seen 
strange things. I have seen marble houses, grand churches, and huts as poor 
as ours. I have come to believe that the poor are in every corner of the land. 
I have sailed on the ocean, and 1 have seen waves that would toss our house 
about, like an egg-shell. 

" I have turned sailor. My last voyages have been to Havanna. That is a 
very hot country. Oranges and lemons grow there. I never forget you. You 
are by me night and day. The world is hard on me everywhere, but I have 
managed to save this money for you and the children. I never could have 
given you so much money if I had staid at Aldcrbank. Buy something to eat 
and to wear through the cold winter coming. I must try to help you buy a 
store by that time. Try to have the children go to school, and help them to' put 
up with the treatment I know they will get there. I believe schooling will help 
them to get along better than you and I do. They will know then who is cheat- 
ing them out of their wages and who is robbing them at the stores. 

" I could write all night, but I shall tire this shipmate who writes for me. In 
any trouble of yours or the children, get the advice of Mrs, I3eame and Fanny. 
God bless that family. Give them my best respects. I shall be in port two 
weeks. Get a letter written, and direct care of A. Z. Rov. schooner ' Petrel ; ' 
Box — 

"Your faitthfnl husband till death, 

"Henry Huges." 

" P. S. The captain is kind and will not see his men abused." 

*'0h ! thank you, Fann}^" said Susan ; " how glad I am to hear 
from Henry; but he is so far away." Her face saddened. "The 
ocean is so dangerous. He promised to come back in the spring. 
O, Mrs. Beame ! hfe is such a hard struggle with everybody against 

" Do not look upon the dark side," said Mrs. Beame. " The 
same God rules the sea, as rules the land. Keep up a good heart ; 
out of the money, you shall have more comfort than you dreamed 
of — some clothing new and strong— that will not need to be 
patched at every washing, when you are too tired to hold a needle ; 
and you shall have food and warmth." 

"And the children are already at school," added Fanny. 

" But for Henry's letter, I believe they would not be at school 
to-morrow. I might as well confess the truth, I was angered. 1 
cannot take insults all my life. No, I might bitterly endure them 
myself, but to know that my innocent children are buffeted at every 


Step forward, is tantalizing beyond degree. Addie comes home 
and repeats language to me, which none but savages would speak 
to her, much less Christian children. Her spelling-book, which I 
have taught the children to take such care of, has leaf after leaf 
torn out of it. Willie is covered with bruises ; besides, I am obliged 
to go with them along the river path mornings, to the foot of the 
hill, and meet them there in the afternoon. Addie says she is 
afraid. I'm sure I don't why ; whether her head is full of ghosts or 
what it is." 

"Never mind it, Susan ; all these vexations belong to the times 
— but the times will change Truth advances. By and by, all 
these harrowing deeds will be buried in the past. The education 
of your children is for a living future. With books, study and the 
nurturing care of us all, Willie and Addie may rise to positions of 
happiness and honor. They may exchange this pleasant nest 
among the trees for ceiled houses amongst gardens and vines, 
and — " 

Susan broke into a nervous, incredulous laugh, in which both 
visitors gleefully united. The adjoining woods took up the half 
joyful, half derisive laughter, till the green dephts were alive with 
its echoing vollies. 

Susie's unbelief looked out through the sunshine and rain of her 

" O Mrs. Beame ! do not, I beg you, speak to me of impossibili- 
ties. What am I, to plant one bright hope in my heart, dark as 
ignorance can make it. The only light in it — the pitch flare of our 
wretched experience. What am I, Fanny.? Compare yourself 
with me. What am I but a washing-machine, that thinks, thinks, 
how or what? thoughts no wider than this cove, nor higher than 
these trees, nor deeper than the hollow of my potato hills, there; 
and my children — " 

In a twinkling, as if she heard the cry of one drovvming, Fanny 
tossed her bundle on the sward, and kneeling by the low seat of 
Susie, playfully placed one hand on her grieving mouth, and 
caressed her wavy hair with the other. 

"Hush! Susie, hush! Don't think of it. Have a little hope. 
Henry, my mother and I, have paid you a visit in a most opportune 
time. Let us all fight together the good fight of faith." 


** Faith for what, Fanny, and in what? " 

"Faith for the future, dear," said Mrs. Beame ; "for the future 
in this world too, I mean. Persist in sending; these children to the 
vilhige school. Do your duty to them. We will help you. Some 
wrongs have been corrected to-day." Mrs. Beame sent Willie and 
Addie out to pick a cup of berries, and resumed, — 

"Fanny has had a conversation with the teacher to-day, about 
the abuses of your children, and she has promised to set about a 
reform. This will have an effect on the parents ; ' a little leaven 
leaveneth the whole lump.' A gentler, tenderer feeling towards 
colored citizens will take root. 

" Susie, you asked, ' Faith i?i what ? ' Let me tell you ; faith in 
the great Shepherd of us all. There is no Babel of wrongs so high 
that He cannot overturn it. He will set bounds to oppression ; 
either national or individual. Who knows how soon those bounds 
may be reached.^ Trust in Him, Susie." 

She reached for the bundle, saying, — 

" See there is something to lighten you burdens. She held up 
two new dresses for Addie, one blue, the other pink ; two new 
aprons tastefully made ; a summer suit of gray for Willie, and a 
pair of long-sleeved aprons, strong and new ; besides, two sets of 
strong underwear for each ; two new satchels, prettier than any 
others in school ; ruffles for the neck of Addie's dresses ; bright 
ribbons for her hair ; white collars for Willie ; several small hand- 
kerchiefs, and a neat hat for each. 

Susie's face lost its melancholy. 

"Now," said Fanny, "put the clothing on the children, right 
away. Dress them prettily for school, and take courage. I am' 
going from home for a few weeks, but I shall be content to feel 
that they are well dressed. I shall leave a new book for Addie, 
with the teacher, and as many more as they may need." 

"Next, promise me," said Mr. Beame, "that every Thursday af- 
ternoon, you will bring the children, and eat a hearty supper with 
me while Fanny is gone. Richard is going also ; I shall be 

" Promise, Susan," said Fanny. 

" It win be a great pleasure, if we are worthy to sit at Mrs. 
Beame's table." 


At the same time she was pulling sweet pinks, four-o'clock s, 
wliite lilies and mignonette for her friends. 

Fanny took them from Susie with a deep courtesy, and said 

" If the same hand that formed you, shaped and tinted these 
flowers, you sliould sit at the table of kings and be a princess 
yourself. We are going; walk with us, you and the children, 
along the river path." 

A companion party started at the same moment from the other 
cabin, mirrored in the cove. Fanny waved her handkerchief to the 
friendly "Undines," and received an answering white wave of a 
handkerchief in return. 

The morning of the morrow, the Sabbath morning of Fanny's 
consecration, the morning of the day in which she was to be set 
apart from the world, a chosen vessel of the Lord, dawned glori- 
ously. Fanny, according to the pattern which she had drawn from 
pious memoirs, retired to her closet, and on her knees, repeated a 
formula of prayer, fiamed of fragmentary sentences, gleaned from 
the pulpit and the family altars of her religious friends, and which 
she deemed appropriate for the occasion. 

A look of exalted martyrdom solemnly veiled her usual beaming 
vivacity, as she moved silently about her morning tasks. At the 
sight of this "Third Heaven" expression, her mother frequently 
turned away, and smiled; affectionately abstaining from wounding 
the mistaken ecstasy of her beloved child. 

Mrs. Beame even accompanied Fanny on the long ride to Cloud- 
spire, driving herself ; she cheerfully sustained conversation upon 
the natural attractions along the route. She entered the double 
green door of the church by her daughter's side, and sat by her 
in one of the sqaure, high-backed pews. 

During the morning services, Fanny's glances towards her 
mother's countenance convinced her that the old spirit of unbelief 
was still triumphant, — a phase of spiritual degeneracy, most chill- 
ing to Fanny's thoughts. It caused a stab of patn to her own de- 
votion ; and beneath the shelter of her cottage bonnet she closed 
her eyes, offering a petition that she might not be separated from 
that dear mother at the gate of Heaven, to whose entrance she. 


herself, expected to attain, through belief and the " perseverance of 
the saints." 

At the commencement of the exercises of the Lord's Supper, 
Fanny's grief for her mother was cruelly intensified. The elect, and 
those about taking sacred vows, were requested to sit apart in a 
body. This seemed typicar of the final separation^ of the faithful 
and unbelieviug. Taking her seat in Deacon Steele's pew by 
Mary, Fanny saw her mother enter a pew near the door. She 
could not restrain regretful tears. 

Standing in the aisle, with other candidates, and assenting to 
" Articles of Faith " clearly pronounced by the pleasant voice of 
the new clergyman, but vaguely understood by the candidates, 
Fanny felt that this act of earthly renunciation was the most ac- 
ceptable service she could render to the Savior she adored. She 
believed this form of confession well pleasing to Him, but did not 
understand that her visit to Susie's cabin, the day previous, was 
rayed with a more ineffable glory than this Sabbath errand to 
Cloudspire. Nor did she imagine that when she knelt by Susan, 
and pityingly passed her hand over her stricken head, there was 
more joy in Heaven than when she solemnly and publicly assented 
to those cold, mysterious " Articles." 

Wtith bared head, her brown hair banded plainly back, and wear- 
ing the simplest dress of unadorned white, in pure and nun-like 
humility she approachad the silver font, brooded by winged an- 
gels, and which contained the liquid seal of her union with the 
people of God. 

Inexpressible stillness pervaded the church, while the water of 
consecration fell from the hand held above her head, and the 
voice of the clergyman said with fraternal gentleness, — 

^^ Fa?iny, I baptize t/iee, m the 7iame of the Father^ the Son, and the 
Holy Ghosty 

It was over, — this long-desired and filial act of Fanny's life, 
she rode home with her mother, studying patiently how to set 
about the fulfillment of her church vows most acceptably. 

At tea, Richard joined them. Like his sister, he clung to the 
church, its creeds and ceremonies. He had no doubt of its errors, 
but time and investagation of disproved claims would restore har- 
mony between it and himself. He approved the step Fanny had 



taken. Both were alike hopeful ; both considered the church the 
true germinating soil of man's salvation. 

"Speaking of the errors of the church, my dear son," said Mrs. 
Beame, "one error destroys its infallibility, as a system to be 
trusted ; besides, one error supposes two^ and a continuation of 
h\\i\\(\Q.\s, ad infinihun. The search for that plain path laid down 
by our Savior, so plain, ' that a wayaring man, though a fool, need 
not err therein,' has been an eig/iteen-kiindred years' search, and the 
church has not found it yet, as you, Richard, learned at William 
Steele's revival. Fannv * if the blind lead the blind, they both fall 
into the ditch.' I charge you, my daughter, to make the example 
of Christ your study. Time will test for you both, the value of 
church fellowship." 


THE fiery glow of midsummer had passed. Carolina's " City 
by the Sea " shook the hot dust from her parched bowers, 
and began to put on her beautiful garments. The garden roses 
which refused their graces to the ardent heat, now sprung into new 
life. Trellis, bower, wall 2iud parterre burst into beauty and fra- 
grance. Tender folded leaves shot out from the hitherto dormant 
buds, and drank the exhileration of a Southern November air. 
Charleston was in its second annual floral glory. 

Mistress Valmonte stood at a table heaped with the odorous 
harvest, which Tony, the old black gardener, knew how to cut so 
well. Scilla, the lady's brown maid, was deftly arranging bouquets, 
under the eye of her mistress, whose delicate gloved hands only 
waved over the thorny stems, in airy oratory, directing harmony 
in color and combination. 

" Tony, bring more of the white P mperatrice de laF ranee ^' said the 
mistress ; in whose words a new-born gayety was quite observable 
to the demure and statuesque ears of Scilla. " Clip also some 
of the half-open buds, Tony, and bring more of the mignonette." 

" Bring all 'rectly missis ! " turning to obey. 

"Cut a few of those pale blue South American lilies at the 


edge of the fountain, and a handful of white and crimson fuschias. 

" Sartin, my dear missis." 

Soon the beautiful flowers were heaped upon the table, wet with 
dew-drops still. 

Scilla held the second bouquet, completed. It was a marvel 
of beauty, as she turned it this way and that for the inspection of 
her mistress. 

'•' Scilla, place this in the Roman vase, and the other in the vase 
of silver and alabaster, the one I brought from Paris for the 
parlors." Then pointing to a heap of roses white as drifted snow, 
she continued, *' Make up one less compact of these '' Pinperatrice 
dc la France,^ and mingle here and there, these crimson bells of 
fuschia ; make it light and graceful." 

The lady stood by, her eye kindling with secret satisfaction, as 
Scilla brought it nearer to perfection. 

" Now bring the Venetian vase ; place it in that, carry it up to 
the guest-chamber, and leave it on the marble table." 

It was brought. One would scarcely know which to admire 
most, the vase or the flowers. The sculpture was wrought from 
the finest marble, elaborated from the drippings of some European 
stalactite cave. It had three shades of a warm soft brown color. 
A maiden kneelino: and clad in a flowing: robe held above her 
bowed head an urn of green malachite, sleeted with pearls. The 
maiden herself was brown. Life like ringlets of a darker shade 
fell over her nude dimpled shoulders, and over the still lighter 
shaded folds of her loose classical drapery. One crimson bell of 
fuschia touched her exquisite head, another shaded the bare, 
brown, tapering arm raised to the urn above it. 

" Put this away Scilla, in some place sheltered from dust, till the 
guest-chamber is arranged. Then put together a larger bouquet 
of white callas, and those blue Mexican lilies, with English ivy 
interspersed ; place that in the alabaster vase, and let the ivy 
sprays droop over it. Also," the lady continued, waving her 
gloved hands over the fragrant clippings, "form another still, 
entirely of roses ; mingle all hues, and varieties of odor." 

" Yes, missis," meekly replied the faithful slave. 


Mistress Valmonte was leaving the room, when suddenly arrest- 
ing herself, she resumed. 

" Oh, no, Scilla, throw them in water now ; come to dress me, and 
attend to the flowers afterwards." 

The lady entered her chamber, and with an air of fatigue, threw 
herself into a velvet arm-chair. She drew off her gloves nervously, 
joined her soft hands as if in the act of petition ; while she cast a 
languid glance about the handsome apartment. The walls were 
hung with mementos of foreign travel. Solemn abbeys, pictur- 
esque chateau, snowy peaks and sunny lakes, stirred the dearest 
memories of her proud heart. 

Each view was associated with the voice and love of one whose 
presence had deepened the glow of the sunlight, and heightened 
the beauty of every scene. Electric thought flew rapidly back 
over every link of those associations, to the golden hour, when at 
the age of seventeen, she stood with that chosen one before the 
marriage altar, laid her jeweled hand in his, and took upon herself 
the vows of womanhood. 

More slowly retracing the past, she paused at two more evenful 
moments, so hallowed to every mother's memory, when, faint with 
hope and fear, a tiny new life was laid upon her hosom, and com- 
mitted to her future keeping. 

The birthplace of her eldest, Ernestin, was commemorated by a 
quiet Roman suburb on the wall at her left. The spires of the 
Holy City, and the gilded dome of " St. Peter's," pierced the mel- 
low air. Around the ground of the villa, a dreamy dilapidation 
was apparent, excluding bustle and fashion, while it secreted and 
shielded the one great joy within — the birth of a son and heir 
to the rank and chivalry of the distinguished name of Valmonte of 
South Carolina. 

The birthplace of Corinne, the younger, was portrayed by shaded 
windows, overlooking the Rialto of Venice, and its gay gondolas, 
skimming the liquid thoroughfares below. 

The tender transcripts of a sainted past shed a grieved rebuke 
upon her morning's work — the intense light of her eyes faded into 
a subdued lustre. 

Above the mantel shone the beautiful waters of Lake Constance, 
overhung by the silvery outline of the Alps Appenzell. On its 


southern fertile bank, apart from clustered abodes, rose the white 
marble shaft, which marked the grave of her young husband, Fran- 
cis Valmonte, near by the pretty Swiss cottage where their jour- 
neyings diverged forever. 

Alas ! the flowers desinged for the guest-chamber seemed to her 
for the moment appropriate garlands for that sacred spot. 

However, Tune, which covers reeking battle-fields with flowers, 
and which veils ghastly ruins with most inviting grace, was proving 
a most reliable friend to Mistress Valmonte. Three years of his 
healing art had restored her natural vivacity and her sparkling 
glow of health. Time had made green again the indefinable long- 
ing for that companionship, which should bring with it the fulfill- 
ment of all life's possibilities. 

Theresa Valmonte was not one to be deterred from the prosecu- 
tion of a well-arranged plan. Having once formed a purpose, it 
became the pole star of every motive. She was the conscious pos- 
sessor of that triple dower, wealth, beauty and accomplishments; 
to which, in woman, the world pays obsequious homage. The sec- 
ond portion of her dower, her mirror, flatteringly whispered. 

" It pictured a blonde with a superb cut of features, an abundance 
of braided hair, a shade darker than flaxen ; a full, rounded bust ; 
arms of perfect symmetry; and hdinds J>e/i/cs, on which could not 
be seen the faintest stain of industry. 

She was weary of the sombre weeds of widowhood, and was de- 
termined to brave the time-honored custom of her native State — 
that of dooming herself to a solitary and widowed life. 

Therefore, as the expected occupant of the guest-chamber was to 
arrive during the day, she would commence to lay aside those grave 
habiliments of grief which found no semblance in her heart or affec- 
tions. Orders were given accordingly. 

" Scilla, ring the bell for the chamber-maid ; and lay out my 
gray carriage-suit." 

The chamber-maid appeared, and received commands to dress 
the chamber with great care, using the embroidered, lace-frilled 
pillow-covers, and the fine frilled linen sheets ; to loop up the lace 
pavilion with the white silk cord and tassels, and to have all com- 
pleted by her return, 

*' Scilla, ring the bell for the footman and order the carriage at 


ten. Now dress me and listen to what I shall say." While the 
dexterous hands of the maid drew on her mistress' bootees, and 
while she buttoned and smoothed the fine fabric to Madame Val- 
monte's form, while she adjusted the costly collar round her clear 
throat, and drew on carefully her close-fitting gloves, her lady con- 
tinued, — 

" While I am away, lay out my white dress, find my lace flounces, 
get them ready for my toilet at dinner. Lay out my set of pearls ; 
have ready also, a few clusters of that small purple flower near the 
century plant ; Tony knows where it is. Now bring my purse and 
the note which the footman brought up yesterday. It is ten 

Scilla followed the madame down stairs; opening and closing 
doors for her, as she swept on to the carriage. Sne even followed 
to the marble block, at the carriage steps, and held away her dress 
from the dust of the wheels, although that was the prerogative of 
the footman in attendance. 

Before the door closed, the lady addressed her maid, speaking 
in a low tone. 

"Tell that detestable minx, Harriet, to dress my darlings, and 
take them out walking^ for one hour." 

The spirited grays dashed away to East Bay. They tossed their 
heads and flung their foam before the oflSce door of '' Ker- 
shaw & Lewis," the financial agents of her ancient family. 

The door swung open — the lady entered the small carpeted 
room, prepared for such patrons. After the blandest of receptions, 
seating herself, she drew out a note. Cautiously glancing it over, 
she addressed the factor. 

'• I see, Mr. Kershaw, by this communication, that my funds for 
the present are already all drawn." 

"I regret to say that you are correctly informed. Mistress Val- 
monte ; especially if it subjects you to any annoyance." 

'•I confess to some surprise, sir. Doubtless, this was owing to 
heedlessness on my part. If you please, sir, will you inform me to 
what items I am indebted for this failure } " 

"With much pleasure, madame." 

He stepped into the office, and returned with her own ledger — 
a handsome book, bound on the back and corners in red morocco. 


A square of the same color on the cover, bore in gilt letters the name, 
" llicrcsa Valmontc^ nee Paisley^ He drew a chair to her side, 
and on the marble table, turned the fateful leaves. 

" There, madame, are the items which swell our credit column 
beyond its annual amount. Your trip to the North, this year, com- 
menced earlier, and continued later than usual." 

He traced the pages of the previous year, and compared those 
expenses with the present. 

" You perceive this amount is three thousand dollars more than 
last year." 

'"Very true, sir." 

" I would also direct your attention to the purchase of furniture, 
made at that time." 

"Ah, yes, I recollect." 

" That amount was two thousand dollars ; also the excellent 
matched pair of carriage horses, purchased in New York, and the 
cost of transferring them to Charleston — twelve hundred dollars." 

*']Mr. Kershaw, I believe Dido was sold from my estate; I think 
last spring; jnst after my arrival in New York. I disremember 
precisely what her sale brought me." 

'•I will show you with great pleasure. Pray pardon me one mo- 

He left the room again, opened a large, tin trunk containing the 
•family papers and correspondence, took from it a package of let- 
ters and returned. Running rapidlv over the pile, he selected one 
labelled " Sale of Dido r 

With a wave of her hand, she said, — 

'• Read it sir, if you please. These business details are exceed- 
ing irksome to me." He read, — 

" Neiv York, 184 — 
" Messrs. Kershavv & Lewis, — Gentlemen, — I am compelled to call upon 
you again, for an addition to my funds in hand. I have recently met here the 
Rev. Mr, Luther Winfield, who is building up a church, as I believe in the in- 
terests of the gospel. He interprets the Constitution as harmonious in principle 
with our Holy Bible, in respect to slavery. Although born and raisec^ in the 
North, he is not one of those dangerous fanatics, who constantly disturb our 
Southern peace ; but is a bold standard-bearer for our time-honored Institution. 
His church is yet struggling in its infancy ; I am reminded of my duty 
towards it. 


"I have a slave, called 'Dido,' on 'Deer Park' plantation, which I beg you 
to have brought to the city for sale. Dido has a clear, brown color, and is 
about twenty-two years old, entirely sound. I wish to donate to Rev. \Vin- 
field's church one thousand dollars. Sell Dido for as much over that sum as 
possible. Remit to me the whole proceeds, I meet at this church a host of our 
Charleston friends. They are all quite well. 

"Respectfully Yours, 

"Theresa Valmonte." 

"This wench Dido, was highly marketable," explained the factor. 
*'0n the auction table she brought eleven hundred and fifty dollars; 
but of course the one hundred and fifty above your charity was of 
little use." 

" Ah, yes ! The one-thousand dollars was a timely aid to the 
church ; and the surplus of one hundred and fifty dollars I de- 
posited in the private purse of Lottie, the worthy pastor's wife." 

" So that the sale of the girl was of no benefit to yourself." 

" Certainly not, pecuniarily — only in the consciousness of having 
added my mite in sustaining our Holy Church ; but the disposal 
of Dido's price was not quite clear to memory. The letter, how- 
ever, elucidates, and removes all obscurity relating to the transac- 
tion. I regret, Mr. Kershaw, to have given you so much trouble ; 
and yet, to escape from this unforseen dilemma, I have one more 
favor to ask. 

" Demand of us any favor, my dear madame. It shall be our 
highest pleasure to serve you." 

" Accept my thanks sir, for this consideration. I desire to give 
a mortgage on my footman, ' Ishmael,' for a few hundred dollars, 
and to sell him afterwards when I shall have provided myself with 

" We will make the requisite advance upon him at any time you 
choose to designate." 

" He is a prime, likely fellow," continued the lady, " sound and 
saleable. I have need of the money this morning." 

" We are at your service, madame ; how much is desired ? " 

" Whatever your judgement suggests, sir." 

"Kershaw &l Lewis " had dealt in the family histories of blue- 
blooded aristocracy for many years. They knew how these genea- 
logical trees had been budded and grafted, and how these boasted 




ancestral currents were wont to turn from their legal direction, and 
n. ingle with foreign vitality. 

Mr. Kershaw, the factor, held the key to the mysteries of Doc- 
tor Paisley's family. He knew that in Ishmael's veins coursed the 
same proud blood, as in the azure channels of Theresa Valmonte's. 
He knew that Theresa, the mistress, and Ishmael, the footman, 
were brother and sister — knew it as well as Theresa and Ishmael 
themselves. A stranger would have been struck with the simi- 
larity in their mold of features, in the finely arched nose, in the 
level penciled eyebrows, in the fine chin, in the full-orbed eyes, 
differing only in color. Both faces, the brown brother's and the 
waxen sister's, wore the subtle expression of hauteur which distin- 
guished the Paisley descent. 

The factor also knew that both these before him, were the two 
poems of Doctor Paisley's life — the one, written in illuminated 
silver ; the other, in rich, tawny gold 

The two mothers had each hidden her secret sorrows in her own 
grave, years agone — the one beneath sculptured marble and a 
lofty name — the other beneath the common turf of oblivion. Ish- 
mael had been given to Theresa iu her marriage portion, as a fit- 
ting little page for this queen-like daughter of the South, Her 
title to her brother was clear and legal. He was received among 
her goods and chattels, consequently was wholly at her disposal. 

Besides this consciousness of power over him, other motives 
urged his separation from her family. The growing fondness 
which their gray headed father manifested for this Benjamin of 
his heart, proved a thorn to Theresa's content. Ishmael must be 
ever about him, at morning, midday and night. She had seen her 
father's eye brighten with delight at his son's approach. She had 
observed the shade of anxiety which quickly responded to a casual 
cloud upon the boy's face. 

Corinne, her youngest, whose yet infantine heart pulsated the 
unadulterated blood of two branches of Carolina's chivalry, and 
whose skin was waxen as a snow-drop, also loved Ishmael. The 
mother had met her child, dancing up and down the long hall by 
his side with her tiny hand in his. Corinne often nestled into his 
strong, gentle arms, peering into the depths of his dark, quiet eyes, 
and caressed his handsome face. She would climb into a chair 


beside him, dally with his soft hair, and count its glossy waves in 
her sweet, childish prattle, till his thoughtful face beamed into a 
new happiness. 

Madame Valmonte had resolved that this condition of things 
should exist no longer. She would tear him awav from all these 
household affections, she would crush them root and branch. 
Hence Ishmael's mortgage and anticipated sale. 

" Messrs. Kershaw & Lewis in the outer office exchanged a few 
confidential sentences, passed separately to the door, before which 
the " boy " waited by the carriage steps, returned to the desk and 
filled out a printed form of mortgage. 

Mr. Kershaw presented himself to the lady, bearing the mort- 
gage in hand and proffering a polite excuse. 

" I regret to prolong the tedium of business ; but here is the in- 
strument, Madame Valmonte, requiring your signature, and in virtue 
of which, we advance you five hundred dollars on Ishmael. Will 
you read it, madame.'' " 

Again the gloved hand waved, the head slightly turned away, the 
lips said, — 

"No indeed! I have full confidence in your fidelity, sir; " and 
quickly affixed her name to the document. 

With a smile of polite satisfaction, she received the five hundred 
dollars and placed it in her purse. 

Ishmael held her dress from contact with carriage dust, and 
closed the door after her. 

" Drive to the silk merchant's in King street." 

Away they flew. When the liveried coachman drew rein before 
the merchant's gay windows, and he saw the lady herself alight, he 
secretly rubbed his hands with gratification. He offered her the 
obsequiousness that her rank and style decided proper. 

Piece after piece of costly silks from every country where the 
mulberry grows, or the Bombyx Mori spins its shroud, were handed 
from the shelves. His counters glowed and glossed in rippling 
waves of lustre and brightness. He drew out separate fabrics to 
the best advantage. Hues of spring, summer and autumn, tints 
of blossoming orchards and ripened fruits, the glow of sunrises, 
sunsets and noonday skies were spread about in sheeny disorder. 

This customer had no time to lose. Although her taste was 


fascinated by rich satins and entrancing colors, a quick eye, 
prompted by warning memories, selected a delicate, amethystine 

"Chaste and subdued it must be," thought she. 

The merchant raised it over his hand, drawing it up in folds. 

" Ah ! madame, that is superb ! Allow me to commend your 
choice. The color is soft as the haze of summer ; it has such a 
body that it stands alone. Such a silk the empress might wear." 

Ishmael, who attended his mistress, took the package from the 
merchant's hands and followed Theresa to the carriage. The 
coachman's next direction was to Madmoiselle La Rondes. 

Here the reception was conducted in the same servility of man- 
ner. The little French dressmaker acceded toher patrons caprices 
with "^/<f /argess plaish'." She fluttered about among the patterns 
and the beaux moddes des robes^ repeating, — 

" ye snis c/iarmee to see IMadame Valmonte le matin. I shall 
bring Mam'zelle Jeane chez voiis i77imediatemejit. I has plentee nou- 
veaux modoles de Paris voycz dis one." 

Her jeweled fingers flew among the boxes, removing a dozen 
covers, and putting the counters in admirable confusion. 

"Look dis corsage for wie 7'obe de soiey She held in her hand a 
doll dressed in Parisian mode. 

"How you like, madame?" Cctte robe vous ira a merveiile / a 
me?'veille ! Jeane, come to me dis moment." 

After many little peremptory gesticulations and French ejacula- 
tions, she pointed to the doll. 

" Preiiez la pour modeled 

She expressed to Theresa great delight, " d^ avoir Poccasion de vous 
etre tit He J' 

The final stroke of condescension was directed to Jeane, amidst 
sundry nods and smiles. 

" Sou venez-vous. La robe seraitji}ie bientot^ 

The departure was followed up with persistent good nature. 
Madmoiselle La Rondes proceeded to the door, saying, — 

" jfe vais Vouvrir moi-memeJ^ chattering meanwhile the most 
charming au revoirs" 

A short time after the return home, Ishmael answered the street- 
bell to the children and their young governess. Passing in, weary 


and flushed with the heat of the street, she left her charge in the 
care of Issy for a moment, then came tripping down stairs to the 
parlor door — hesitated, and entered. During her absence, Corinne 
climbed upon his knee, drew his head down, confiding to his ear 
what seemed to her, important information. 

"Issy," she whispered, "we saw Major Measures on our walk. 
After he had spoken to Eddie and me, he complimented Hattie on 
her beauty, and called her a Northern lily. Mamma will be angry 
if she knows it, for she dislikes her. He is coming soon to call 
upon grandpapa and mamma." 

'• So, so," nodded Issey ; " he did ! " 

" Yes ! " and with her arms about his neck, and her cheek 
against his, she whispered her request, — 

" You will not speak of it, Issy, because I love Hattie ? " 

"No, no! Miss Corinne. Issy will say nothing." 

The scene in the parlor might interest the reader. Hattie learned 
from Scilla that Mistress Valmonte was below, and accordingly 
hastened to the parlor. 

" Mistress Valmonte, I beg pardon for the interruption, but I 
would like to ask if I can practice an hour upon the piano now, 
before dinner, and if Scilla will remain with the children in the 
nursery, meantime?" 

A frown gathered on the lady's lips. 

"There will be no more practice this week. Take the children 
to the nursery yourself. At one o'clock, repair to my dressing-room 
and spend the remainder of the day in sewing. I claim your time. 
Colonel Ashland agreed that the daily routine of your duties 
should be at my disposal. I am harassed by this continued prac- 

*' Colonel Ashland urged my coming to Charleston, for the rea- 
son that my musical advantages would be improved by an accept- 
ance of this situation." 

" Colonel Ashland is a gentleman of veracity, yet your words are 
a contradiction of mine. Do not, Harriet, add falsehood to im- 

Blank surprise marked the accused girl's manner ; yet after a 
little hesitation, she summoned courage to say, — 

"I trust, Misstress Valmonte, you do not consider it impertinent 


to consult you respecting my hour of practice. I am ignorant of 
any other impropriety. The accusation of falsheood wounds me. 
]\ry mother brought me up in the love of truth, and in the fear of 
the Creator." 

"I am not interested in your family relations," bitterly responded 
the lady. "On that head, I prefer silence. You are impertinent 
in replying at all to my commands, but the highest degree of igno- 
rant impudence is in the assertion entirely opposed to mine, con- 
cerning Colonel Ashland." 

" My explanation was truthful ; " said the weeping girl. 

In a twinkling, the slap of a slipper stung each side of her face, 
causing it to burn scarlet. Before her terrified gaze stood Mistress 
Valmonte in towering anger, holding the Southern weapon yet in 
her hand. Swift bolts of wrath fell from the lady's incensed eyes 
upon Hattie as she cried, — 

" Silence ! audacity, silence ! I command it. Leave my pres- 
ence, thou base-born Northerner ! " 

Hattie fled to the hall without farther admonition, and took the 
children to the nurser3\ Now, indeed, she felt her utter desola- 

Accustomed to the eternal distance between her sufferings and 
the grave of her mother, she longed for the faithful arms of old 
Mauma Rose. 

" Oh ! ■' thought Hattie, " could I but lay my head upon her lap, 
and feel her soothing hand upon its throbbing pain ! " 

She pressed her temples nervously with both hands, and leaned 
over the sill of her chamber window, as if to catch sight of the 
dear old black face in the garden. 

A nonpariel's carol in a crape myrtle, the lofty blue sk}*, a small 
white cloud sailing slowly past, and the bright flowers below, had 
a balm for her miserv. She seemed to hear her mother's voice, 
sharing, as of old, in the lovely phase of nature. She seemed to 
feel her arm about her, and to hear her quiet words, — 

" Be calm, my daughter. Endure ! " 

She sank into a seat, and peered into the fathomless blue, 
questioning if her mother were somewhere there ; if in celestial 
robes she might be looking down upon her child ; if she might 
know the eventb of this bitter hour.^ The silence of eternity was 


her only answer. Dropping her head upon her arms again, she 

Corinne and Ernestin approached and leaned upon her. 

" Hattie, what makes you cry? " 

Corinne would wipe away the tears with her own little handker- 
chief. When Hattie said "Hush? children," to their innocent 
prattle, Corinne insisted. 

" I must talk, Hattie. I must comfort you, Hattie. I love you. 
Ernestin loves you." 

It was one o'clock. Scilla appeared at the nursery door, to take 
charge of the children, a signal that Mistress Valmonte inflexibly 
demanded Ilattie's assistance in her dressing-room. Sustained by 
an approving consciousness of right, she entered the chamber of 
the mistress, and met her frozen, supercilous manner, with a 
forced serenity, equaling that of the lady. She received her task 
from a heap of laces, setting quietly about it 

In a few moments, Hattie observed through the glass door of 
the dressing-room, the entrance of a brown girl, who stood before 
her mistress with eyes downcast to the floor. 

'•' So you have come back to your work," said Mistress Valmonte. 
"Remember, girl, it is only by my kindness and pardon, that you 
are here. Go to the dressing-room, and attend to your work. 
Another delinquency will carry you back to the work-house for a 
longer stay, and a severer discipline. Go ! " 

The slave-girl glided into the dressing-room, and sat silently 
down to, the table, opposite Hattie. Mistress Valmonte came in 
soon after, to give directions concerning the lace flounces and 
white dress, laid out during her absence, and passed out. Scilla 
entered to attend to her mistress' noon siesta. 

Thus left to themselves, Huttie passed her hand over the table 
and gave her companion the benediction of a friendly pressure, 
which was recognized by the lifting of silken lashes, and a sad 

When the danger of discovery was probably lost in the sleep 
of the mistress, Hattie touched her arm and whispered the one 
word, — 

" Work-house ? " 

The brown girl nodded assent. 


" How long?" 

" A week,"' was the scarcely breathed reply. 

" What offence ? " 

" Fell asleep over my sewing one day — had been awake nearly 
all the night before — and plaited mistress' skirt wrong." 

After a safe interval, Hattie asked under her breath, — 

" Any punishment ? " 

The girl left her seat, under pretence of picking up a lost spool, 
bent near Hattie, and whispered. — 

"Ten lashes." Then passing out of range of the glass door 
pointed to its treacherous panes, shook her head, and laid her 
finger upon her lips. Each plied the needle, occupied with her 
own thought. 

Hattie pondered doubtfully, — 

" What would be the next step in her destiny ? How far would 
Mistress Valmonte carry her cruel prerogative over her ? To the 
work-house .'' She had been slapped in the face like a slave. 
Might not the lash fall next.? " 

She bethought herself of flying North. Alas, her funds left by 
her mother, were in the possession of Colonel Ashland. He had 
proved himself false to her interests in her first efforts at self- 
help, he might again baffle her in the attempt to recover her 

Thus sat the two girls, equally friendless, wretched and con- 
fused, each revolving the probabilities of release. 

Towards evening, Hattie heard prancing hoofs, and a dash of 
wheels at the door. Issy brought up a card. Mistress Valmonte 
descended to the parlors, and was there met by the gallantry of 
Major Measures, who handed her to the sofa, lavishing upon her 
every compliment which the daughter of so noble a family as the 
Paisley's could desire. 

The lady received these subtle praises with appropriate grace, 
for Major Measures was Carolina's proud son, and still a bachelor. 
His manner at "St. Cloud" was renowned for epicurean enter- 
tainments, and lavish hospitality to planters who loved the chase. 
His dogs and horses were renowned in the sport, his parks and 
forest were labyrinths of game. The names and number even of 
his slaves u-ere scarcely known to him. He conferred privileges 


upon them, exceeding law and custom — but woe be to the patrol 
who dared to contravene his reckless kindness. The inevitable 
"Marse IMeasures" pass was sufficient protection at all hours and 
places. Ever gallantly courteous to Carolina's daughters, ever 
received with their most winning welcome, neither his heart or his 
hand had yet been ensnared. 

The ostensible object of his call was to convey to Dr. Paisley 
the regrets of the Rev. Warham, that his arrival must be delayed 
until a late hour of the evening. He was on his way, had hunted 
at " St. Cloud," the week previous ; was now at " Le Grand Palais," 
unexpectecHy detained; all of which was listened to with a well- 
feigned nonchalance, concealing the sweet satistaction she felt at 
the certainty of welcoming their guest at all. 

In a flattering and very genial manner he mentioned his meet- 
ing on the street with the charming little Corrinne and the small 
cadet, Ernestin, in charge of their young governess. 

" I congratulate you. Mistress Valmonte," he remarked, " upon 
your happy success in removing those lovely buds of promise 
from the contact of an ignorant black nurse, to intelligent compan- 
ionship. May I ask if their attendant is not of Southern blood, 
from one of our high toned, but reduced families, who, through 
necessity, has found content in the intercourse of this protecting 
home ? " 

The honor of Southern birth, even conferred by supposition 
upon Hattie, fanned the embers of Mistress Valmonte's rage against 
her pretty governess into a flame. Nerertheless, she was skilled 
in handling the reins of her ire, and replied composedly. 

" Far from it, I assure you, sir. Her mother was a Northern 
governess in the family of Colonel Ashland. At his solicitation, I 
admitted her to our family. I considered it a charity to do so. 
It was all a mistake. I desire her dismissal, but as I cannot rec- 
ommend her to my triends, (and I have relations with no others,) 
I find myself quite perplexed." These last words were breathed 
with a sigh, in the spirit of martyrdom. 

Major Measures, the other actor in this parlor drama, who on 
all occasions became the knightly defender of a lady in distress, 
donned his armor, and couched his lance for the redress of the 
goveress. He evolved from his sympathetic lips the important 


syllables, "hum, hum, hum," nodding his handsome head each 
time ; apparently with the weight of searching thoughts, he threw 
his earnest gaze upward into vacancy. At length he exclaimed, — 

"Unpleasant! annoying! extremely, Mrs. Valmonte, would 
you accept my services in this dilemma? " 

"With many obligations, I assure you, sir, although my ultimate 
object is removal. Her brusque assurance, the sure taint of 
Northern blood, makes a much longer stay objectionable." 

"May I ask, how is this assurance manifested? As she has 
forfeited your recommendation, the points of this forfeiture must 
be plain, in order to define her future position." 

" In various ways. When I request her to bring the children 
into the parlor for family enjoyment, she seats herself with them, 
which is all very well w'ith ourselves only. But when the bell an- 
nounces a call, she complacently remains. Our friends, all alike 
strangers to her, beholding her thus occupying a place of eqeality, 
extend to her the courtesies of society. This, I am obliged to 
correct, by the mortifying explanation that their new acquaitance 
is only my governess. 

"She diffeis from my requirements, by her own reasonings, as 
if she were my equal, and to the manor born. She does not 
understand her place, and is resolved not to learn it ; she is incor- 

With this effort, the proud lady fell back upon the sofa, as if this 
state of things was not to be borne. 

" Thank you," he replied. " I think I have a clew to your re- 
lief. I will call again with your permission, and make her ac- 
quaintance, in order to secure another position suited to her 

Doctor Paisley entered. Mistress Valmonte begged to 'be 
excused, and retired to overlook the work of her dressmaker. 

Evening brought the welcome guest, Rev. Fred Warham. Mis- 
tress Valmonte's reception of him was entrancingly brilliant. 
Odors from flower-vases perfumed the atmosphere of the saloons, 
and the waiting silver tea equipage shone invitingly beneath the 
tempered light of chandeliers. 

At the table, there was no other to contest her honors or at- 
tractions. Ah ! thought she in her chamber as she took the last 


survey of herself in the mirror, and saw her marble face, without a 
flesh tint on it, — 

" All has happened so a-propos. The pink face of that childish 
governess is banished forever. I rejoice that she staid in her room 
to-day at dinner. I shall make no concession ; therefore she will 
not presume to meet me again at dinners or teas." 

In light spirits she fluttered down stairs, and ordered Hattie's 
meals sent up that evening, and thereafter. 

During the evening, a shade of despondency damped her hopes. 
Rev. Fred's conversation being mostly held with her father ; remi- 
niscences of the recent chase at " St. Cloud " and " Le Grand 
Palais," were seemingly more fascinatmg to him than the charms 
of his fair hostess. Yet this cloud had a silver lining — for when- 
ever he addressed her, or replied, the homage she so earnestly 
coveted returned to his voice and manner. Although she knew 
this homage to be a part of the Southern code for her sex and 
rank, she still construed his politeness as an uprising devotion to 

He soon pleaded fatigue, and with many regrets, sought the 
retirement of his chamber. There, he ordered his servant to place 
writing materials upon the table, sat down by the open window to 
inhale the sweet airs from the garden, and to indulge in the lux- 
ury of undisturbed reflection. 

The influence of sweet memories stole over his countenance. By 
these were expelled every vestige of hauteur and ambitious pride. 
He seated himself at the table, where the kneeling maiden held the 
vase of flowers. He raised the statuette upon his palm, lifted the 
crimson fuschias from her brown arm and shoulder, gazing with 
wondering delight. 

''Enchanting! exquisite! a copy of my darling Minnie ! The 
same bewildering curls, the same enchanting grace. Some other 
has loved like me ! Ah 1 here is' the model of that soul's passion. 
Speak to me. Sylph ! Fairy ! Nymph ! thou epitome of all my soul 
adores ! Remove thy burden of malachite and pearls ! Rise upon 
ihy beauteous limbs ! " 

After this impassioned admiration, he soliloquized, — ■ 

"No, no! Thou art stone! No love light is in thine eye, no 


kisses for the homesick wanderer are on thy lips ! I will write to 
thy living ante-type. Be thou my inspiration ! " 
He seized the pen. 

" Charlestoity Paisley House. 

" My darling Minnie, my beautiful, — How have the long days passed, 
during my absence ? Has your silvery laugh ceased, because my step echoed 
not your own ? Have the teardrops dimmed the bright gladness of those dark, 
loving, dreamy eves, because your true love was not near to kiss them away? 
Has ' Breezy Eluff ' seemed like a lonely prison, without its master ? Have you 
feared that other endearments would lure my heart from yours? Did you im- 
agine the attractions at 'Grand Palais ' would outweigh those of 'Breezy Bluff ?' 
Nay, nay ! my lovely Sultana — none shall come between Fred Warham and 
his soul's life. Silken nets will be spread in vain. The wealth of the Indies 
cannot buy thee. Neither can the sighs or smiles of paler houris draw me from 
my heart's' idolatry. 

"Trust me, dear Minnie, a few more days, and I shall fold you in my arms 
and smooth these cruel fears with fond endearments. In the words of Byron, 
which I have often repeated to you at ' Breezy Bluff,' 

•' ' Oh ! pardon that in crowds awhile, 

I waste one thought I owe to thee. 
And, self-condemn'd, appear to smile, 

Unfaithful to thy memory ! 
Nor deem that memory less dear, 

That then I seem not to repine ; 
I would not fool's should overhear 

One sigh that should be wholly thine.'' 

" Sweet thoughts of thee have hovered about me at dawn and eve, in the gay 
saloon, and the hush of the forest When the hunter's horn has sounded, I have 
wished it could summon thee, mounted, to my side, and that we might scour the 
green depths of the dim woods together. I shall sleep to-night, while your pre- 
cious image kneels upon my table, bearing a pearl-sleeted vase of flowers above 
her lovely head. I shall see her still kneeling by the morning light, and while 
I stay in Charleston she will plead for you though her exquisite beauty, the 

counterpart of your own, 

" Adieu, till death, 

" Fred." 

He sealed the letter, superscribed his own narne upon it, and 
gave his footman orders to carry it to the early mail. 

During Fred Warham's stay at the Parsleys, the doctor gave a 
grand dinner to his guest. Among the invited, were ^Major Meas- 
ures, and Colonel Ashland from '' Nightingafe Hall." The major 
and Theresa Valmonte had not met since the interview relative to 


the governess. Each was ignorant of the other's, motive, but both 
were surprised at the unexpected success of their secret wishes. 

Sounds of festivity floated up through the halls, but Hattie sat in 
her lonely chamber. The man of all others, who should have in- 
quired for her welfare, Colonel Ashland, made no mention of her 
name. Major Measures accepted the invitation to dinner, with the 
one sole thought of Hattie Hudson. He communicated the result 
of his efforts to IMistress Valmonte. He had found a family who 
could give her governess a small salary, and the change would be 
made immediately. 

" An interview is necessary this evening/' he said, " as I am about 
to leave Charleston, and would like to see the daughter of Doctor 
Paisley freed from this vulgar arrogance." 

Mistress Valmonte preferred that he should meet Hattie in a 
private library on the second floor, and further opened the way by 
saying that she had given " the girl " a dismissal on the strength of 
his aid, and had informed her that a gentleman friend of the doc- 
tor's would provide another place. 

Scilla was dispatched with the message to Hattie. The distin- 
guished and caressed hostess returned to her sparkling fire-fly 
manner in the parlors, casting away further thoughts of the mother- 
less Hattie, or of the possible consequences of placing her destiny 
at the disposal of strangers. 

She bade adieu this night to the sombre hues of mourning, and 
for the first time since her arrival from abroad appeared in rich 
laces and pearls. She floated through the dances, airily as thistle 
down careering on the breeze. She promenaded on the arm of the 
Rev. Fred, lavishing upon him languishing smiles, while he in re- 
turn bestowed upon her refined and ceremonious tokens of regard. 
This Fred performed with the natural exactness of a somnambulist, 
who walks and talks in sleep, really careless of her designs, and 
insensible to impressions ; for, ever between them, walked or sat 
his beloved, and equally graceful brown Minnie. 

The ever-green subject of the " Southern Institution," its relations 
to their prosperity, Calhoun's dogmas, the views of the North, -ha- 
tred to abolitionists, and defiant threats against every form of oppo- 
sition to Southern will, received their usual meed of attention. 

The great event of the occasion was the inspection of a section 


of rope, about four inches in length, possessed by Doctor Paisley. 
This fragment was enclosed in a gold-bound glass case, preserved 
as a precious relic. 

" This," said Doctor Paisle}^ standing in the midst of an ad- 
miring circle, " is a part of the rope by which Garrison was dragged 
through the streets of Boston, by a party of freedom-loving citizens, 
in defence of Southern rights embodied in the Constitution. I was 
in Boston at the time. I could not refrain from participating in 
the patriotism surging through the streets. Impelled by enthu- 
siasm in our cause, I stepped from the pavement, placed my hand 
upon the rope, and assisted. In memory of that day, I secretly cut 
away this fragment. It is one of vix^ priceless t?'easu7'es /^^ 

It passed about among the throng. Such was the stimulus to 
patriotic fervor, that it amounted to murderous intent. 

" It should have been drawn about Garrison's neck," said one. 

" A few fanatical heads would be valuable relics ! " said 

" There is a head in New York," said a third, " which should 
surmount the gate at the entrance to Calhoun's estate ! " 

" We could give him no more fitting monument of our gratitude," 
ejaculated several. 

Purses of various values were pledged at the moment, for the 
securing this unique testimonial to Calhoun. 

" And I will give my pearls," added Theresa Valmonte. 

*' And I my diamonds," promised Mrs. Chancellor Mowndes 
excitedly, " if beneath this head there be inscribed, ' Arthur 
Tappan.' " 

" Hold ! ladies, I pray," begged Honorable Mr. Fairland. 
" Your self-sacrifice puts us to the blush. Allow me to offer the 
half of my plantations in your stead." 

Hattie timidly entered the library, and found time to reassure 
herself before the entrance of Major Measures. She dreaded the 
interview, for she almost doubted all human kind. However, re- 
moval was imperative, and no other helping hand was extended but 
this, her street acquaintance. 

Young hope prompted, " You must go, it matters little where, 
so you escape the arrogant contempt of caste in this mistaken 


The door opened slowly. Major Measures bowed himself 
respectfully into the library. His courtesy awakened Hattie's self- 
respect, and she gave him a lady-like welcome. Her knowledge of 
society caused her to observe directly that he extended to herself 
the same deference as he would have done to Mistress Valmonte. 
Coldness and repugnance vanished. After a few agreeable phrases 
of introduction, he began, — 

" I beg pardon, Miss Hudson, for this intrusion. I have been 
informed by your friend in this family, that you seek another loca- 

" I desire a change, sir." 

" May I ask if you have yet determined where ? " 

" No sir. I have very few acquaintances." 

"Then I may have the pleasure of aiding you to re-establish 
yourself at any time you may prefer. There is a family nearly a 
day's ride from the city, which requires your immediate services. 
Your duties will be light. There will be no lady on the plantation 
superior to yourself. The household department will require your 
supervision ; but there are a number of competent servants, that 
will only need to know that your eye is upon them." 

Pleased that she should not be forced into a state of peonage, 
gratitude covered her hopeful face with blushes. She remarked, — 

" My mother occupied a similar position for some years. What 
are the ages of the children ? " 

" There are none in the house at present. You know. Miss 
Hudson, the Southerner travels much during the summer months. 
Whenever they may be placed under your charge, I will pledge you 
their affectionate regards." 

" Is that part of the country healthy ? " 

"Entirely so. The house is situated upon the skirts of extensive 
pine forest, and the land is high." 

" Is there a piano in the house, sir .? " 

"There will be soon, Miss Hudson; the master contemplates a 
purchase. There are saddle-horses in the stable, and a footman at 
your orders." 

With renewed blushes, and modest hesitation, she thanked him 
earnestly for his kind interest in securing for her a situation so 
happily combining all she could have asked. 


" It is a slight favor, young lady. I am intimate in the family, 
and know what will be satisfactory. I am happy in doing a favor 
for them as well as for yourself." 

Alas ! the depth and meaning of that sentence. It took Hattie 
Hudson a lifetime to reward. 

Colonel Measures rose. The very gentlest of manhood's emo- 
tions colored his manner, as he proffered his hand at leaving and 
said, — 

" So, Miss Hudson, you accept." 

Hattie laid her finger tips upon his hand. Looking at the floor, 
she replied, — 

" With much pleasure, sir." 

" Will you be ready at eight o'clock on the morning of the ensu- 
ing Monday .? Shall the carriage await you at that hour?" 

" I will be ready when it pleases you, sir." 

There was a moment's silence ; yet he did not relinquish the 
finger tips that still rested in his own. Hattie raised her question- 
ing face. 

His eyes were filled with sympathetic tenderness, the very ten- 
derness her trampled life had so pined for, the very look her 
mother and Mauma Rose sometimes gave her. Found again, in- 
stantaneously it warmed her whole being, and wrapped her like a 

"Your pleasure is mine," he said. "Good night." 

While Hattie listened, his descending steps on the stairway 
melted into the happy confusion below. 

That Sabbath was marked "golden." in the calender of Theresa 
Valmonte. Doctor Paisley's carriage conveyed to the church Rev. 
Fred, who was to feed his hearers with the bread of life ; and her- 
self, who was to listen and adore. Robed in the silk of amethystic 
gray, the elaborate toilet completed by bonnet, gloves and shawl 
of white, for which she had mortgaged her brother Ishmael, she 
moved solemnly up the aisle, sank into the Paisley cushioned pew, 
and bent her head devoutly, as if for the divine benediction upon 
the deed of the past week. But reall}^ it was for the purpose of 
controlling agitation ; for in thus suddenly casting aside the long- 
worn weeds, she was facing the censure of a revered custom, that 
of perpetual widowhood. 


Fred Warham, robed in sacred vestments, appeared with in- 
creased attractions to the stainless spirit of the devotional Theresa. 
His text, taken from Solomon's Songs ; " Thou art all fair, my 
love ; there is no spot in thee," stirred a whirl of sweet hopes. 
She seized upon it as a veiled declaration of his unspoken love for 
her. She clung to its flattering sentiment, as one fainting grasps 
the vinaigrette. Nevertheless, Rev. Warham lifted up holy hands, 
and magnified the church according to Solomon's best intentions. 

He constructed before his hearers, a church that was fair and 
without spot, purer than a palace of ivory and alabaster. He fes- 
tooned her gateways, and garlanded her columns with the flowers of 
a tropical rhetoric. His sermon was a work of art, to which few 
could attain ; and the congregation departed, grieving that the 
walls of Zion could not retain the Rev. Fred upon its towers ; that 
talents so brilliant should be wasted in a sportsman's career. 

The young clergyman held his preaching Sabbaths sanctified to 
the end. Therefore in harmony with his practice, he sat with The- 
resa and her father in the still parlors, speaking of churches and 
divines, thus mercilessly feeding the flame which he perceived 
burning for him in Theresa's soul. 


THE jail, or the rude building which answered for a jail, was 
surrounded by a noisy mob. It was a gala day for St. Louis. 
A day in which Southern Rights, Southern Policy and Southern 
Religion, could be emblazoned by the alto relivo of definite action, 
— of action which all the rest of the world, though a fool, might 
read and understand ; action upon repeated threats of "cold steel, 
burning at the stake, scourgings, hangings, imprisonments," and 
all other modes of torture for the conscientious Northerner, who 
dared to assert that slavery was a sin, or was not a God-given insti- 
tution, were to take body and form. 

Carriages began to arrive, containing the freeholders, the 
wealthy, the respectable citizen. The meagre, the plump, the cor- 


pulent, the rubicund, the white-haired, the impetuous youth, the 
fire-eater, the white-cravated clergyman, were there to give tone to 
the affair in hand. 

The discretion of freeholders was to take the place of law and 
justice ; a motley collection prowled around the miserable prison 
holding their prey. Coachmen turned equipages aside, and sat 
waiting on their boxes. The jailer, a pliant tool of power, neither 
able to read nor write, clad in rent, slovenly garmens, and a half- 
rimless straw hat, beneath which his coarse, frowzy hair straggled 
about his stolid face, stood ready at the chain and padlock of the 
old door. 

The arrival of the respectable freeholders called forth oaths, 
cheers and curses from the rabid crew awaiting them. They cried 
out for blood. Nothing less would satisfy their debased subser- 
viency to the distinguished oligarchy of gentlemen present. 

One of the leading class, of middle age, and high bred, bulky 
figure, closely followed by his black footman, stepped upon the 
horse-block near, waved his gloved hand to the ranting mob, and 
demanded silence. He wore the air of a monarch inflated with 
hereditary pride. 

In the crowd, obedience was instinctive. The gentleman was 
well known as the richest slave-holder in the city, the owner of the 
fastest horses and the oldest liquors, as the hardest master, as the 
most profane and leading member of the richest church. 

" Bring out the infernal thieves ! " he roared to the jailor. The 
key turned, the chain rattled, the rickety door scraped backwards 
on the filthy floor. Out into the sunlight, emerged two men ; one, 
tall and feeble, dressed in a coarse suit of butternut; the other, 
younger, dressed in fashion and taste. The garments of both bore 
marks of violent struggles, being grossly soiled, spattered with mud 
and begrimmed with dust. 

" Advance before your judge and jury, ye thieves ! ye disturbers 
of our peace ! " thundered from the horse-block. 

Some distance intervened between the jail door and the rostrum, 
around which citizens of influence were assembled. 

The prisoners were hand-cuffed so closely that their wrists were 
painfully swollen ; as they moved forward through the shrieking 
mob, it appeared doubtful whether they would reach the august fo- 


rum, alive. Kicks and cuffs assailed them on every side. Boys 
and men in rags spit upon tlieir faces. Shouts of " Hang them ! ' 
" Burn the cussed pilgrims ! " " Felony and death ! " assailed their 
progress to the dismal block. " 

This autocrat of the mob again commanded silence and was 
again obeyed. He addressed the victims consequentially, mean- 
while dallying complacently with his fob-chain and seals, remov- 
ing his smoking Havana from his lips, between the fingers of his 
ungloved hand. 

" You miscreants, who now stand before us, know as well, and 
better than we, of what crimes you are accused. In the second 
place you are partizans of those Northern intriguers and agitators, 
who interfere with our domestic safety, under the canting hypocriti- 
cal pretensions of levelling the superior white race to one infernal 
brotherhood with Niggers, Indians, Chinese or any other barbarous 
foreign progeny. In the third count, you are suspected of decoying 
away from their owners, and this State, three slaves j two prime, 
stout, black fellows, and a bright colored wench, whom, doubtless, 
you would call w^hite. You have thus stolen property to the amount 
of three thousand dollars. The proper punishment for these dia- 
bolical purposes will soon be decided. Your nefarious guilt is suf- 
ficiently proven by your escape from the ofiicers at Alton. That 
city hides no fugitives ; you have been brought back for justice." 

The younger, on whose weary face yet rested some hope, raised 
his manacled hands to his forehead, wiped the drops of agony 
away, cleared his voice, looked up to the frowning speaker, and out 
upon the crowd. 

"Gentlemen," he said, "I claim the right of an American Free- 
man ; the liberty of speech, to show you why this proceeding should 
go no farther." 

" Defiant braggart, silence ! you are in Missouri ! Submission 
and Death is the legal penalty for abolition partizans ! " 

Hope was already extinguished in the pale features of the older 
one ; and now, the hitherto untamed eyes of the younger, who had 
so nobly demanded his American birthright, fell to the ground. 
Incredulous hope changed to diwib despair. 

He of the tribune, turned to the respectable citizens about him 
and asked for a decision of their fate. Ferocious demands poured 


forth like rattling hail, both from the base-born and influential sec- 
tions of the rioters. 

" Hanging ! " " Whipping ! " " Hemp ! " " The lash ! " " The 
ropes end ! " "Let 'em swing ! " "No, two hundred lashes ! " and 
oaths in every conceivable phase of the English tongue, were so 
commingled that he of the horse-block was like a rudderless keel 
borne down by the swoop of a typhoon. It was necessary to take 
a vote by actual count. 

" Gentlemen," he cried, extending his gloved hand again, over 
their heads " Gentlemen, please divide, that there may be no mis- 
take as to sentiment Gentlemen in favor of hanging, on the right! 
Gentlemen in favor of whipping, on the left ! " 

Great was the hurry-scurry in passing from side to side. Servants 
in the mc/ee, following close upon the heels of their masters, seemed 
to have been suddenly dowered with the gift of franchise. 

The stormy curses of the advocates of either sentence, swelled 
into the habitual ribald profanity of the lower mob, as they swayed 
oif the ground of the higher. 

The teller passed through. He announced twent3Mhree, on the 
right, for hanging ; and thirty-eight, on the left, for whipping. 

The place for execution of sentence was /zc/^ miles from town, in 
a grove. The voice from the horse-block gave concluding orders 
for the moving of the procession. 

" Officers will mount and guard the prisoners to the place desig- 
nated. Gentlemen will please enter carriages and repair thither, 

There were various instruments of torture in the old jail, for 
St. Louis was fully up with her sister Southern cities. Among 
these, were the enormous long, black whip, which coiled like a ser- 
pent, and gashed the human form with greedy voracity. There 
was the cat, with knotted lashes, which fell upon the naked body, 
like a shower of fire. There was the paddle, a narrow board per- 
forated with holes w^hich bruised and blistered, scarcely breaking 
the skin. There was the cowhide, braided with fine wire which 
tore and hetchelled its gory way. There was also the heavy leather 
strap, giving the combined effect of paddle and lash. This resem- 
bled the Russian knout, and w-as the one selected for this occa- 


Several of these straps, heavy as harness traces, with a couple of 
black whips and some coils of rope, were thrown by the jailer 
under the coachman's boxes. 

The two prisoners were compelled to march between the 
mounted guards. They were followed, on foot, by the vulgar, 
blood-thirsty herd around the jail, which swelled to twice its howl- 
ing proportions along the route to the grove. 

The elegant carriages and prancing horses of the clergy, and the 
aristocratic and respectable citizens, led the van. 

The day was entrancing. The sky of transparent blue, with the 
exception of a few w^hite, downy masses, sailing slowly over the 
unhallowed sight, like celestial spirits, wondering at man's inhu- 
manity to man. 

Towards the blue vault, the older prisoner frequently raised his 
despairing face ; a few tears gathered and rolled upon his painful 
and purple hands. 

In the grove, two trees were soon selected. The men were 
about to be stripped, when the elder raised his manacles and 
said, — 

" Men of Missouri, hear me ! We are brothers from New 
England, honest tillers of the soil of our fathers — " 

" A curse upon your fathers !" ejaculated Colonel Ashland, who 
had ridden with his host to the grove and now stood near them, 
" and a curse upon the laborers of the North." Infuriated, he con- 
tinued, " South Carolina's governer says, ' they are incapable of 
understanding or enjoying freedom ; and that free laborers must 
be reduced to slavery, or the la\v3 cannot be maintained.' This is 
McDuffie's opinion ; the legislature concurs. If you ever live to 
get out of this alive^ do not go to my State, with your simhurned, 
77iulatto face and hands, or you may expect to be sold at auction 
to the highest bidder. Take the nigger's lash to-day; that will 
answer for the present." 

The two men were stripped by slaves, and bound each to a tree. 
The gray-haired physician, who had so tenderly administered to 
Madame Lambelle, drew near, in order to test their fainting pulses 
from time to time ; and to extend the imperiling ordeal to the 
utmost verge of their endurance. 

The influential church-going citizens, sixty in number, arranged 


themselves in a line, and moved slowly on. Each took the whip or 
strap in turn, and gave two blows as he passed, on the naked backs 
of their victims. 

Long, piercing screams of agony rang up among the leafy arches, 
and wandered through the sunny glades. That was music to- the 
savage horde. The sickening thud of stroke after stroke, fell upon 
the ear with military precision. At length their cries ceased ; dull, 
heavy groans succeeded. 

Fiendish eyes were glutted with the sight of Northern blood. 
Red streams dripped from the torn backs of both the helpless men, 
in a pool at their feet. The gentlemen whippers paused from 
fatigue, and almost satiety. The doctor advanced and made an 
examination of each. One hundred lashes had been given, and life 
still remained. 

Footmen brought flasks of brandy from the carriages, for the 
gentlemen, while the lower rabble drank from bottles in their 
pockets. Cigars and pipes were lighted. A warm, social glow 
of satisfaction pervaded the grove. Southern honor was receiving 

Two more bloody stones were ready to be cast upon the un- 
sightly cairns of State Rights, already overtopping arsenels, church 
edifices, and even the dome of the National Capitol. 

By the medical opinion of the doctor, the elder was unbound 
from the tree and laid senseless upon the leaves and grass hard by. 
The shock of measured lashes might drive out the fluttering soul 
from the mangled body. 

The barbarous crew howled for more blood, and fifty lashes 
more for the younger prisoner were granted to their rapacity. 

The gentlemen had been refreshed, and the line was again 
formed. Colonel Ashland was in this column as in the first, that, 
as he said, " he might give the damned Yankees a taste of South 
Carolina." Clergymen were in this round, and went back to their 
studies with blood spatters sealing their loyalty to Moses and the 

At last, all was over ; the two mangled and bloody bodies were 
again hand-cuffed, thrown into a mule cart, and dragged back 
more dead than alive, to the jail in the city. 

One charity was extended to them. They had permission to 


remain in the State one week under the surveillance of the half- 
human jailer, and to have the advice of a physician, if they should 
defray their own expenses. . . 

The next day a public meeting was held of the leadmg citizens. 
The concourse was unprecedented. The rostrum was festooned 
with the "Stars and Stripes." From a line stretched across the 
street, our National banner waved over the happy throng, giving 
eclat to the success of the previous day. Beauty and fashion lent 
brilliancy to the occasion. 

General Terreceine filled the honorable seat of chairman, with 
an inposing array of secretaries and vice-presidents. Among the 
speakers were numbered the South Carolinians. 

The ground of Southern complaint was reviewed. The growing 
evil of Fanaticism ; interference with social relations ; the state of 
Northern, Western and Southern cities ; and how far the controll- 
ing influence of Southern interests moulded their general senti- 
ment — were forcibly presented and debated. 

The course of future action was resolved upon. Resolutions in 
Congress and out of it; salutary warnings to agitators, by death 
or imprisonment — or as warm a welcome as was given to the 
two thieves in the grove, were considered. 

At this juncture, the director and judge in the "whipping ' was 
called to the stand. In a high flight of oratory he recounted the 
harrowing particulars and ultimate success. Red in the face, and 
covered with perspiration, he was overwhelmed with tumultuous 
cheers. The audience rose in his honor. Fair ladies waved lace 
handkerchiefs, dispensed sweet smiles, and nodded congratulations 
to friends in various parts of the room. 

Quiet again restored, an Alabamian, in a heated speech, fiercely 
deprecated the issue of seditious matter. Printing presses came 
under ban. Presses and offices should be demolished. 

He extolled the course of Alabama, Kentucky and the city of 
Cincinnati, towards the recreant Southerner, J. G. Birney. _ He re- 
lated the manner in which the disseminator of his doctrines had 
been silenced. Called upon all Southerners to imitate the planters 
of Danville, who held a mass meeting and afterward wrote Mr. 
Birney to beware of issuing the first number of his insurrectionary 
sheet,' villainously styled "The Philanthropist." 


"J. G. Birney," he said, "was driven out by the strong will of 
the people. He took his press to a Free State — to Cincinnati. 
He dare not set a type there. True to their Constitutional Con- 
vention, the citizens would not allow him to tamper with national 
Institutions. Thus was he driven out again to the Quakers at 
New Richmond for a short rest. Thence, returning to Cincinnati 
to make another venture, when, true in action as in thought, the 
'gentlemen of property and standing' in that city, resolv^ed to sup- 
press him and his sheet, 7'ight or wrofig, peaceably or forcibly^ there- 
fore it was done. The printing press of the infatuated reprobate 
was hurled to the bottom of the Ohio." 

Long and loud cheering was renewed. 

The chairman next had the pleasure of introducing Major Den- 
telle of Georgia. His theme was the discipline which should 
impend over the heads of direlect sons of the South, those born to 
the patrimony of slavery, who should so far forget ancestral blood 
and moral obligations, as to join the ranks of the hard-fisted 
laborers and fanatics of the North. His opinion was, that *' they 
should receive naught but ignominy and contempt." That the 
names of such men should be expunged from the roll of every 
Southern office of emolument and Southern honor ; that they 
should be expelled from official boards \ commercial and charita- 
ble, or educational. 

Cries of " Hear ! hear ! hear ! " 

" Do in every case as Alabama did, when the superior court 
struck from the roll of her attorneys practicing at her bar, the 
odious name of Birney. They should be driven from the South 
with the mark of Cain upon them to seek refuge and a name else- 
where, among the base-born of their own ilk. Never the chiv- 
alrous blood of knightly ages coursed in their veins. Let the vam- 
pires go out ; they are notof us." 

" Drive them out ! " " The vampire blood ! " " Drive them 
out ! " " Expunge ! " " Expel ! " encouraged the Georgian on 
every side. 

The ladies approved ; the festooned flags even tugged loyally at 
their fastenings, in the patriotic breeze. Evidently, other sugges- 
tions weighed upon the speaker's mind, for he still remained stand- 
ing, bowing and smiling amid the agreeable tempest. 


General Terreceine, perceiving the dilemma, rose from his offi- 
cial chair, thanked the assembly for their enthusiasm, and made a 
complimentary request that they would listen farther. The dis- 
tinguished gentlemen before them represented a State which had 
shown the valuable quality of her blood and pluck as far back as 
the outburst of American Independence, and the framing of the 

" The hand writing of Georgia and South Carolina," he said 
"still glowed in flaming characters on the face of that charter of 
Southern liberties. By their inflexible resistance to the eleven 
other States, and by their adamantine refusal to confederate, unless 
upon terms which should foster the growth of slavery, they secured 
to themselves, to us, and to our posterity, the franchise of three-fifths 
of the black chattels we merchandise. This singular franchise is 
under our control, as you well know, gentlemen. This negro sif- 
frage^ i?i the hands of the 7naster^ is the masked battery of our civil de- 

" Georgia and South Carolina, secured also twenty years of the 
African slave trade, and by the former provisions, three ffths of 
the living cargo of every slaver landed on our shores, became 
sturdy suffrage plants in our political nursery, in casting votes, 
opposed with equal quality and force, to as many suffrages of 
boasted Northern intelligence. They secured also, the rendition 
of our slave property by the Free States, whenever it may escape 
thereto. Whatever, therefore, secured the stability of slavery in 
the Constitution, was mainly graven there by the inexorable de- 
mands of Georgia and South Carolina, by forcing compromises 
and concessions from the shrinking and cowardly religious senti- 
ment of the other States." 

Instead of restoring quiet, the chairman's short address called 
up enthusiasm to its highest pitch. They came to their feet, en 
masse, as if in the very presence of the genius of Southern liberty. 
Rounds of applause within and without, where the words of Gen- 
eral Terreceine had been heard, testified to the hearty apprecia- 
tion of the two States, which had so cunningly moulded Southern 

They demanded Dentelle ; they would have borne him in triumph 


on their shoulders ; they would have drawn his carriage to the 
house of his host. 

Dentelle, repressing the marks of especial favor, remained con- 
stantly bowing acknowledgment. 

The desired calm was greatly assisted by a new arrival within the 
hall. A lady of elegant presence leaning on the arm of the Rev. 
Warham, a stranger also, and accompanied by Madame Terreceine, 
moved across the crowded floor, to one of the many proffered seats. 
A chivalrous greeting of tender and delicate admiration met her 
every step. 

Dentelle proffered his deepest reverence as madame passed. 
Her companions appeared wholly engrossed in the care of their 
precious charge, a little whiter, a trifle more ethereal, but wearing 
the same pure, noble, and enchanting air as before. 

" What a singular, but exquisite taste that lady displays," said 
one lady to another. 

" She has the choice of a princess," was the reply. 

Zafhri wore a brocade silk of the same pale wheaten color of her 
hair, sprinkled over with oak leases wrought in brilliant, shaded, 
autumnal hues, over which drifted the frost-work of an embroidered 
white lace shawl. Her bonnet, a marvel of taste, was of white Ital- 
ian straw, surrounded with a wreath of oak leaves of the same hue 
of her dress, with a small bunch of leaves and acorns dropping to 
her shoulder, like a plume. 

The curiosity and interest of the assembly in the fair stranger, 
for a time, calmed excited passion. 

The committee, which had been appointed to draft resolutions, 
returned. Colonel Ashland was among the number. In honor of 
the leadership of South Carolina, he was made chairman. This 
complimentary position he filled with eclat^ by shaping and insist- 
ing upon the third resolution. 

The first half of the second resolution is sufficient to be given 

Second. ^''Resolved, That the right of free discussion and freedom 
of speech, exists under the Constitution ; but that, being a conven- 
tional reservation made by the people in their sovereign capacity, 
does not imply a moral right on the part of the abolitionists to 


freely discuss the subject of slavery, either orally or throttgh the 
medium of the press. ''^ 

Third. " Resolved^ That we consider the course pursued by the 
abolitionists as one calculated to paralyze every social tie by which 
we are now united to our fellow man, and that, if persisted in, it 
must eventually be the cause of the disseverment of these United 
States ; and that the doctrine of amalgamation is peculiarly ba?ieful 
to the interests and happiness of society. The union of black and 
white, in a moral point of view, we consider as the most preposterous 
and impudent doctri?te advanced by the infatuated abolitionist, as 
repugnant to judgment and science as it is degrading to the feel- 
ings of all sensitive minds ; as destructive to the intellect of after 
generations, as the advancement of science and literature has con- 
tributed to the improvement of our own. In short, its practice 
would reduce the high intellectual standard of the American mind 
to a level with the Hottentot ; and the United States, now second to 
no nation on earth, would, in a few years, be what Europe was in 
the darkest ages." 

Fourth. '■'• Resolved^ That the Sacred "Writings furnish abundant 
evidence of the existence of slavery from the earliest periods. The 
patriarchs and prophets possessed slaves ; our Savior recognized 
the relation between master and slave, and deprecated it not ; 
hence, we know that he did not condemn that relation. On the 
contrary, his disciples, in all countries, designated their respective 
duties to each other." 

" Therefore, resolved. That we consider slavery as it now exists 
in the United States as sanctioned by the Sacred Scriptures." 

These resolutions were submitted to the audience, and passed by 
acclamation. It will be seen that they were but the reiteration of 
general private sentiment, the embodiment of social conversation 
in the evening saloon, in the formal call, at the conventional dinner, 
on the promenade, in the hotel, the family, the shop, and wherever 
men do congregate. But private sentiment in the form of public res- 
olutions, becomes official. The presses which should publish them to 
the world, were not to be cast into the waters of the Mississippi or 
Ohio. So they went forth on the wings of the morrow, throughout 
the land. 


Many a congratulation did Colonel Ashland receive for the wis- 
dom and truth of the tJiird resolve. The ladies, especially, regarded 
him as the knight of much domestic affliction. Undoubtedly, blue 
blood animated his perceptions ; undoubtedly, a hereditary moral 
sense moved the South Carolinian to warn his countrymen against 
reducing " the high intellectual standard of Atnerican 7tiind to a level 
with the Hottentot I " 

Madame Lambelle expressed pleasure in being able to witness 
the proceedings, and declared, — 

*'The resolutions evinced a clear understanding of the situation ; 
their adaptation to the times was most remarkable ! " 

In passing out, she rallied General Terreceine's partiality to 
Georgia and South Carolina, and yet she affirmed that " every 
word of his eulogium was charmingly chosen ; they would remain 
forever, diamond points of truth." 

She added archly at parting, — 

" Ah 1 why am /not a Carolinian, also ? " 


RICHARD and Fanny were on their way to West Elms, in x. 
freshness of a summer morning. A dreamy quiet rested on 
the woods and fields. The ranges of hills and mountains that 
stretched around the horizon, were veiled in a faint violet haze ; 
their lovely serenity was reflected from the faces of both travelers. 
Profound content and curiosity hovered about the short ears of the 
dappled gray, as he took his own gait, walking up the hill, trotting 
off briskly, or halting in the cool patches of shade. 
- A few miles ride from Alderbank showed them the roofs and 
spires of East Elms. The town, crowning the highlands, and 
bathed in sunshine, overlooked a misty valley. Beyond the fur- 
ther shore of a shining river, the lowlands rolled out into velvety 
meadows, well-fenced farms, dotted with white, cosy houses, and 
tufted with orchards. 

It was a scene to rivet attention and challenge admiration. Two 
mountain peaks raised their majestic shoulders in the gray distance 


of the north, and the broad, shining river, spun to a golden thread 
among rolling hills and vales, lost itself in a soft perspective on the 
south. Both brother and sister felt the sweet spell which Nature 
throws so deftly over spirits in harmony with her moods. 

Although the scenes were familiar, they received a glad recogni- 
tion. The chaise drew up under the shade of a tree, whose 
branches offered no obstruction to the view. 

"Let us sit awhile, Fanny," said Richard, "and take a fresh 
baptism of the grandeur, serenity and beauty about us. Such 
scenes inspire ^ a power of thought, and a loftiness of sentiment' 
that are scarcely to be derived from any other source, in this work- 
day world of ours." 

" No truer words were ever spoken, Richard : and in halting 
here, you have anticipated my unexpressed desire. Nature holds 
a mystic sway over the emotions. Whenever I contemplate this, 
or similar scenes, a deep joy invades my whole being. A calm 
tide of peace flows gently, over every selfish and malignant feeling. 
I am speechless with rapture ; my aspirations seem raised above 
groveling things, and poise themselves on heroic wings." 

" What harm can come of that, Fanny ? " 

" I am not sure, Richard. To be a dreamer, or weak enthusiast, 
may not be termed consistent with a Christian character." 

'' Your doubts will bear criticism, not your enthusiam, dear sis- 
ter. A strong love of Nature — a susceptibility of being moved in 
its majestic presence, is a fine foundation for a Christian character. 
Bryant says of Him who created Nature, — 

' Thou hast not left 
Thyself without a witness, in these shades 
• Of thy perfections. Grandeur, strength and grace. 
Are here to speak of Thee,' 

" Furthermore, he says, — 

The groves Were God's first temples. Ere man learned 

To hew the shaft, and lay the architrave, 

And Spread the roof above them, — ere he framed 

The lofty vault, to gather and roll back 

The sound of anthems. — in the darkling wood, 

Amid the cool and silence, he knelt down 

And offered to the Mightiest, solemn thanks 

And supplication.' 


" Now Fanny, mark the reason why. 

' For his simple heart 
Might not resist the sacred influences, 
That, from the stilly twilight of the place. 
And from the gray, old trunks, that high in heaven," 
Mingled their mossy boughs, and from the sound 
Of the invisible breath, that swayed at once 
All their green tops, stole over him, and bow'd 
His spirit with the thought of boundless power 
And inaccessible majest\'. Ah ! why 
Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect 
God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore 
Only among the crowd, and under roofs 
That our frail hands have raised ? ' " 

" How beautiful ! " exclaimed Fanny. " What an antidote to 
worldliness is the simple hearing of these words. Yet how much 
more elevating would be the holy tranquility of the reality. The 
scenes of Nature seem to me conducive to the purest devotion the 
heart can offer." 

"Doubtless it is the purest devotion one can offer to the great 
Creator, in the midst of His works, as sweet to Him as the breath 
of an infant to its mother. To a lively imagination and poetical 
fancy, this worship is almost spontaneous. But I imagine it is not 
the grandest or most acceptable devotion that can be offered to 
the great Searcher of hearts." 

*' Explain this grandest and most acceptable devotion, Richard." 

" It is that which requires an effort of the will. It is the rising 
above the allurements of social position, above the blandishments 
of selfish affections, the trampling under foot the false ideas and 
the false customs of communities, to advocate truth, eternal truth, 
even to the martyrdom of all one holds dear on earth. To you 
and me Fanny, this truth is being gradually revealed. It is this 
devotion which you are earnestly seeking after ; and for which your 
soul thirsts." 

" Shall I ever attain to the honor of a martyr ? " 

Her eyes glowed with incipient heroism. 

" Probably not at the burning stake, my sister ; but in due time, 
when you shall be held responsible for your sentiments and utter- 
ances, you will find at the hands of debased, antiquated and hardened 


public opinion, sufficient martyrdom:' He continued. " Foster, then, 
this ardent love for Nature, and the pure devotion it inspires. When- 
ever you shall turn away with disgust from the weak inconsistency 
or thoughtless obstinacy of human nature, its insiduous power will 
distill strength to hope, and faith to endure. It will be manna to 
your soul. Even the voluptuous 'Lord Byron' was recalled to 
thoughtful regret for his past by the calm waters of a lake. Hear, 

' Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake 

With the wide world I've dwelt in, is a thing, 
Which warns me with its stillness, to forsake 
Earth's troubled waters, for a purer spring. 

thy soft murmuring 
Sounds sweet, as if a sister's voice reproved 
That I with stern delights, should e'er have been so moved.' " 

" You know Richard, I love more than groves and placid lakes. 
I am more deeply and solemnly impressed with giant mountains, 
rugged cliffs, frowning precipices, ample, unplowed solitudes, and 
deep sequestered valleys." 

" You revere the mountains and their accompaniments, because 
they proclaim liberty. They whisper to your mind universal free- 
dom. The dwellers among mountains ever exhibit a kingly intre- 
pidity against oppression. Repeat Fanny, the words of ' Byrant,' 
on your favorite,' William Tell.' " 

Her gaze turned to lofty northern peaks, alternately frowning in 
cloud shadows, and brightening in the sun. Exalted by the con- 
templation, her voice thrilled with the sentiment of the poem. 

" Chains may subdue the feeble spirit, but thee, 
'Tell,' of the iron heart ! they could not tame ! 
For thou wert of the mountains ; they proclaim 

The everlasting creed of liberty. 

That creed is written on the untrampled snow. 
Thundered by torrents which no power can hold, 
Save that of God, when he sends forth his cold. 

And breathed by winds that through the free heaven blow. 

Thou, while thy prison walls were dark around, 
Didst meditate the lesson Nature taught, 
And to thy brief captivity was brought 

A vision of thy Switzerland, unbound.". 


Her hands were joined, and extended towards the mountains ; 
and like a devotee before the altar, her face grew divine. She 

" The bitter cup they mingled, strengthened thee 
For the great work to set thy country free." 

She turned the sublime fervor of her misty eyes upon Richard. 
His proud smile answered them. He said, — 

" Those tears are more valuable than pearls, my sister. They 
express an indignant sorrow for America in chains, as well as for 
Switzerland, under the heel of Gessler. Can you longer doubt the 
Christian consistency of yielding ourselves to the grand and enno- 
bling influence of the mystic !ove of Nature ? " 

" Alas ! Richard, what are a few tears, and womaji's tears, at 
that ? " 

"Do you remember the widow's two mites?" 

"Of course, Richard ! " with a tinge of impatience. 

" Well, you also remember that Christ said she had given more 
than they all — more than the rich who cast in their abundance, 
because she offered all she had. Hush, Fanny, and hear me out. 
Your tears are all you have to offer at present. Man gives sturdy 
blows on the heated iron of controversy and debate, and thus 
slowly molds the destiny of nations. Dr. Channing says, — 

^^ ^ Th^ro^ IS constantly going on in our world a conflict between 
good and evil. The cause of human nature has always to wrestle 
with foes. All improvement is a victory won by struggles.' 

" Your woman's hands will yet be summoned to the conflict ; 
they will yet, with valorous strength, assist in the struggles. Be 
patient, then, be patient." 

" Iron Grey's head is turning round to us restlessly, and his ears 
are pointing to the watering trough yonder. I will be content with 
your prophecy," said Fanny, pleasantly. "Let us go on." 

While Iron Grey's nose was plunging in and out of the cool 
water under the elms, Richard remarked upon the cheerfulness 
and thrift of the town about them, the pleasant homes of the in- 
dustrious citizens, the busy stores, the neatly clad children of all 
classes wending their way to the public schools ; and the numerous 
church spires piercing the masses of green foliage. 


"This is a cheerful sight, Fanny," he said; "and il; is repeated 
in every Northern town, village or hamlet — wherever the free 
hand of labor plies its skill. A general comfort, plenty and intel- 
ligence pervades the whole North. Honor to the hardened hand 
of industry ! Honor to the brow wet with honest sweat ! It is 
the coronet of true nobility." 

"Richard, you are "eloquent on the industrious." 
"One needs be eloquent, when, as Mr. Goodell declared before 
the joint committee at Boston, when he charged upon the South ' a 
deep and foul conspiracy against the liberties of the laboring peo- 
ple of the North.'" 

" What ' joint committee .? ' " 

"Why, you know very well. Fanny — the committee of the 
legislature, to which was referred the speech of Governor Everett 
on the impertinent demand of the Southern States, that the non- 
slave-holding States should suppress liberty of speech ; and that 
they should make it highly penal to print or publish anti-slavery 
sentiments. Mr. Goodell referred to* the assertion of Governor 
McDuffiie and other distinguished gentlemen,, that * the laboring 
population of no people on earth are entitled to liberty, or capable 
of enjoying it.' " 

" Preposterous and arrogant idea, that the laborers of the North 
are incapable of enjoying freedom ! and not being entitled to lib- 
erty, should be reduced to slavery ! Ah ! what depths of malig- 
nant barbarism does that assertion unveil ! Those South Carolinians 
not only enslave a race they term inferior, but they would enslave 
the North as well." 

" Yes, Fanny, that diabolical assertion includes you and me ; for 
whoever shapes a garment, builds a fence, plows a furrow, knits a 
stocking, or cooks a meal, or nurses an infant, according to Gov- 
ernor McDuffie, should put on the gyves of slavery ! " 

They were near the smooth, green grounds of the arsenal. 
" Suppose we alight, and visit the interior. Have you ever ex- 
amined the treasures of that spacious building ? " pointing to one 
in the inclosure. 

" Never. It would give me great pleasure." 
" Or pain, Fanny .? " 
"Or pain, Richard?" 


" Certainly, pain that a Christian nation should spend so much 
time and money, fashioning murderous weapons for the enforce- 
ment of moral obligations — obligations which our Savior subli- 
mated in the simple words of the 'Golden Rule.'" 

They strolled up the broad flagging, past the long shops, where 
at open windows stood working-men in aprons, with shirt sleeves 
rolled to the elbows, manipulating the ingenious steel intricacies 
of gun making. Fanny made her own observations. She was 
struck with the general manly bearing and intellectual faces of the 
busy multitude. Turning to Richard, she said in a low voice, — 

" And so those Southerners would reduce these men to bondage ? 
to a level with the brutal condition of their slaves ? Let McDuffie 
stand on this pavement where we stand, and dare to assert that 
they 'are not e?ititled to liberty, 7ior are capable of enjoying it!^^^ 
With a gesture of indignation, she added, — 

" He might well tremble for his fate ! " 

" I am glad to see, my dear sister, that you are making so good 
use of that speech. You are right. Lay this fact, and similar 
ones, away in memory ; ready at your hand, that 3'ou may sling 
them like the youthful David's smooth stones from the brook, at 
the giant Wrong of our land. I perceive that your woman's arm 
will make dextrous throws." 

Her clear laugh caused many a pair of eyes to lift from the 
benches, over which they were bending ; but the remark was for 
her brother's ear. 

"Thank you for the simile, Richard, although the compliment is 
somewhat equivocal. I am glad to think I may be adroit in 
something useful to progress. So then I shall set myself about 
collectino: from the current of events small missiles to sink into 
the forehead of arrogant wrong. Is that it, Richard ? " 

"In the name of the Lord of Hosts, Fanny, not in your own 

Fanny was happy in the companionship of her brother. This 
was one of her golden days. She listened with delight and trust 
to his ripened thoughts. Both realized that the necessarily diver- 
gent paths of life would render their pleasant communings rarer, 
year by year. They sauntered over the well-kept walks, till the 


national flag caughi their view above the trees, floating on its lofty 
btafl against the morning sky. 

A sudden transition of feeling seized Fanny ; a tremulous rapture 
thrilled her voice. Her luminous face lifted to the flag's ample 
folds, while she repeated, — 

" When Freedom from her mountain height 

Unfurled her standard to the air. 
She tore the azure robe of night. 

And set the stars of glory there ! 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 

The milky baldric of the skies ! 
And striped its pure celestial white 

With streakings of the morning light." 

" Ah ! tears again } forever tears ! " 

"Richard, shall I ever be strons?" 

" Yes, as I said before, in due time. When by proper observa- 
tion and careful thought, the moral and religious convictions are 
sufficiently disciplined, they will assume control of the heart, and 
offer other channels for your emotions." 

'' That day seems to me too far away." 

"Then let us make some advances towards it now. You know 
you and I have adopted Truth and Freedom as our life-long rally- 
ing words. To distinguish these celestial principles from their 
constitutional, political, and religious alloys, will require a scrutiny 
earnest and severe. Let us consider that glorious symbol, unfold- 
ing its beauty, and complaining to the blue depths above. If divine 
Freedom still stood upon her mountain height, and after having 
unfurled her standard to the air; I say, if she still held the staff in 
her own sovereign hand, as the magnificent reward to the justice of 
this Nation, then tears of solemn admiration might fill my cool 
eyes, also." 

" Then, Richard, it would not be oyrs ! It could not be the 
American flag." 

" Too true ! It is ours only by fraud. It is an American false- 
hood. Its typical purity is stained by pirate hands, soiled by the 
foul huzzas of lying lips. It is polluted with robbery, sanguinary 
cruelty, the rust of chains, the shame of bondage, and fraternal 


Fanny met the indignant look of her brother with a startled gaze, 
and replied, — 

*• Richard ! Richard ! you freeze my enthusiasm, and trample upon 
my patriotism." 

" It is always a severe task to distinguish truth from error; but 
truth is eternal, and freedom is the birthright of man, twin-born 
■with him. The grasp of tyranny holds that flag over slaves. 
Those stars are set in Mosaic darkness. Those 'streakings of the 
morning light' are borrowed from the lurid dawn of Paganism — 
'its vaulted pure celestial white" is but stripings of the blinding fog 
which veils our national moral vision." 

'' Henceforward, then, you would have me cease to bestow either 
my love or reverence upon the proud banner. Henceforth you 
would have me raise to its hovering glory only looks of sorrowful 

"I would have you first deliberate for yourself, and then, if there 
be truth in what I have said, adopt it. As for me, I already regard 
it with shame for my countr}-, and I shall continue to proclaim the 
wicked duplicity of its perverted interpretation, till, in the language 
of your poet Bryant, (and you will pardon me for changing his 
burning words to prose) till ' terribly Freedom springeth forth, as 
springs the flame above the burning piles ; and shoutest to the 
Nation, who returns her shouting, while the pale oppressor flies ! ' " 

Fanny laid her hand on her brother's arm, and with heroic hope 
exclaimed, — 

'* All hail to the triumphs of that day ! Dare we, Richard, look 
for its early dawning ?" 

"I am not a seer," he said. "Times and seasons are in God's 
hands ; but this I know of Freedom, in the past, — 

•Power at thee has launched 
His bolts, and with his lightnings smitten thee • 
They could not quench the life thou hast from Heaven.' " 

They were now ascending the steps of the plain, quadrangular 
building used as a depository for finished guns. They ascended 
from story to story, walked up and down the long aisles of polished 
floors, between the shining stacks of arms. They wound around 


the double-tiered, elliptical racks, filling each story, as one threads 
the paths of a flower-garden. 

"Fanny, there are iihicty thousand jjtitrders hidden in these pol- 
ished barrels, within these four walls — ninty thousand death 
groans, within their throats ! and when these guns go to the front, 
our religion prays for their success. The glorious flag out there on 
the green, leads the ghastly host. I have not time to say more. 
Exercise your free thought upon that fact ; if you deem it worthy a 
place among your sling stones, drop it into memory with the others. 
Come, take my arm, Fanny. Let us leave this Golgotha, this 
place of skulls. Are you faint? your face is pallid. Come, let us 
descend to the green areas and sunny walks. We will repair to 
the chapel, and seek Truth there." 

The chapel doors were carelessly open. They ascended a flight 
of unswept stairs, to the audience-room. A look of neglect and 
indifference pervaded the dingy slips and swinging doors. 

" Sit down, Fanny," said Richard. " You are better, now. 
Mefi pray he? e. ' ' 

" How ? " 

" Constitutionally, I suppose." 

" How constitutionally ? " 

" Id accordance with its intent, in harmony with war, standing 
armies, and slavery. I find the steps of mercy, truth and brother- 
hood constantly blockaded by this ' stone of stumbling.' " 

" Doubtless Richard, you judge the sermons and prayers offered 
here must necessarily have a martial ring — mostly omitting the 
humility and forbearance of the gospel, — and that, in addressing 
the Deity, it would, in harmony with these surroundings, be done 
by Svord of command.' " 

'' Assuredly I do. You wield the weapon of satire well. I 
ought; for I am fast learning — yes, too fast, the enigmatical char- 
acter of churches as well as flags. On each side of this chapel are 
devised and fashioned munitions of war. War deluges nations 
with every pain, wound, privation, torture, groan and grief in the 
catalogue of human agony ; with every species of disfiguring and 
maiming of the human body, which was the last and most perfect 
work of God's creation. It fills hospitals and homes with the muti- 
lated forms of robust and stalwart life." 


"The work of Christ, our Savior, was benignly opposed to the 
deeds of war. He healed the sick, restored sight, bade the lame 
walk, and even raised the dead," replied Fanny. 

"And this chapel was erected in Christ's name!" exclaimed 
Richard ; " and the empty mockery of His worship keeps step 
with the click of those hammers from year to year.*' 

" A strange hallucination seizes the world and professors of 
Christ, as well ; at the words of incantation, war, troops, infantry, 
battalions, cavalry, banners and drums, the meek followers of 
Christ, so called, set up for themselves the Pagan standards of 
Greece and Rome ; and girded with deadly weapons, march on to 
slaughter. Why is this, Richard ? Is the church destitute of the 
power of reflection ? " 

" And then," answered Richard, " on the battle-field, after the 
most shameless exhibition of the worst passions of men, amid the 
horrifying sight of the prostrate, wounded, dying and dead, they 
flaunt their green laurels in the frowning face of the all-searchirg 
God — the God of peace, love and mercy. No, Fanny; the power 
of reflection is not lost to the world, or the church, yet there seems 
to be none exercised. I must give in answer to the awful inquiries 
we are making, an extract from Doctor Chalmers, an eminent 
Scottish divine. It seems that his mind has been shocked by the 
atrocious inconsistencies upon which we are speaking. These are 
his expressions. 

" ' I avow it. On every side of me I see causes at work which 
spread a most delusive coloring over war, and to remove its shock- 
ing barbarities to the background of our contemplation altogether. 
I see it in the history, which tells me of the superb appearance of 
the troops and the brilliancy of their successive charges. I see it 
in the poetry which lends the magic of its numbers to the narration 
of blood, and transports its many admirers, as by its images and 
its figures, and its nodding plumes of chivalry, it throws its treach- 
erous embellishments over a scene of legalized slaughter. I see it 
in the mnsic which represents the progress of a battle ; and where, 
after being inspired by the trumpet notes of preparation, the whole 
beauty and tenderness of a drawing-room are seen to bend over 
the sentimental entertainment; nor do I hear the utterance of a 
single sigh, to interrupt the death-tones of the thickening contest, 


and the moans of the wounded as they fade away upon the ear, and 
sink into lifeless silence. 

"'All, all goes to show what strange, half-sighted creatures we 
are. Were it not so, war could never have been seen in any other 
aspect than that of unmingled hatefulness ; and I can look to noth- 
ing but the progress of Christian sentiment tipofi earthy to arrest 
the strong current of its popular and prevailing partiality for 
war.' " 

Richard stepped forward to the altar before the pulpit, facing 
Fanny and the swinging door at the entrance. With an oratorical 
gesture and a sarcastic smile, he began, — 

"And then, my hearers — " 

His arm dropped — the smile sobered into a sudden look of per- 

" Continue brother," whispered Fanny, uttering a light laugh. 
" Let thi^ atmosphere be fully perfumed with the holy breath of 

Her head instinctively turned to the door, where, to their mutual 
surprise, a Quaker hat, and coat on well proportioned shoulders, 
were ascending. He met their inquiring gaze with a courtly bow, 
walked half the length of the. aisle, and with an agreeable smile 
and wave of the hand intended to dispel distrust, he addressed 

"Continue, my friend. I will become one of thy audience. I 
am a man of peace, as thou seest;" and seated himself in a slip. 

Richard bowed pleasantly ; and repeating the warning gesture, 
continued the quotation from Chalmers. 

" ' Then only will an imperious sense of duty lay the check of 
severe principle on all the subordinate tastes and faculties of our 
nature. Then will glory be reduced to its right estimate, and the 
wakeful benevolence of the gospel, chasing away every spell, will 
be turned by the teaching of no delusion whatever, from the sub- 
lime enterprise for the good of the species. Then the reign of 
truth and quietness will be ushered into the world, and war, cruel, 
atrocious, unrelenting war will be stripped of its many and bewil- 
dering fascinations.' " 

Richard left the altar to approach the stranger, who met him 
with extended hand. In pressing Richard's, he remarked, — 


"There will be no necessity of asking a blessing from Heaven on 
this exercise, for I feel already its benign influence. Excuse me," 
he bowed, " I listened to the whole quotation on the stairs. I am 
a visitor to this National Armory, myself." 

" Undoubtedly you find some objects of painful interest fostered 
here by our government," suggested Richard, forming his judg- 
ment from the plain garb of the new comer. 

''I find rt-Z/so; and I may safely suppose this 'two or three' 
gathered here in this chapel are alike traitors to the policy here 

" Really we are ; but my sister here has scruples in favor of 
church and government. She has not yet the effrontery to declare 
against the faults of either." 

A flush crept into Fanny's cheeks. Her eyes met the respectful 
look of the stranger. She bowed with a marked reticence of man- 
ner, in which her cotrage bonnet was of good service. 

"To thy companion," replied the Friend, "the mystery of godli- 
ness may be still enfolded in its budding, and its expanded blos- 
som may exceed in fragrance and beauty the present promise." 

Their glances met again. A deeper blush succeeded the first, 
as she returned a quiet "Thank you," 

To Richard he observed, — 

** I know quite well, friend, the conventional restraint placed 
upon familiarity between strangers ; but it seems there should be 
a limit to distrust under the favorable circumstances of our meet- 

■ M 


"Your impressions concur with mine entirely, sir," replied 

The stranger continued. 

"There are other flagrant national wrongs kindred to fostering 
the atrocities of war, which are equally abhorrent. When Truth 
has once set her throne in the soul, it marshals all wrongs, all 
tyrannies, all superstitions to judgment. Perhaps, then, our sen- 
timents may be in unison upon our American Institution, and its 
Constitutional supports." 

"I regard slavery as the *sum of all villanies' ; and I claim the 
prime effort of my life to be its extirpation." 

" Frankly spoken, my friend," replied the stranger, " and omi- 


nous of thy future ; thou canst not afford to cast away proffered 
friendship." He pressed Richard's hand, saying, " I pledge thee 
my regard. I find myself actuated by the same determination. 
Remember," he continued, giving the hand of Richard a closer 
pressure, " Remember, the Southron and his relentless Northern 
allies are on thy track ! " 

The trio descended to the walks, into the delicious air without. 
Fanny found a seat on the edge of the lovely green. Richard 
sauntered away with the Friend. The birds fluttered down from 
the branches to the grass at Fanny's feet, they rustled their wings, 
cast bright eyes at her askance, and dropped sweet, broken notes, 
like pearls unstrung. Not a movement startled their tiny sports. 

Plunged in rapid meditations, Fanny sat motionless as a statue. 
The few hopeful words so respectfully addressed to her in the 
chapel, were obscure — so ambiguous in meaning, that she was lost 
in the mazes of a solution, 

" Mystery of godliness ! " she said to herself. " Mystery ! why 
a mystery ? " 

Her thoughts ran over the old struggles and doubts about her 
own conversion, her baptism, the silver font, with its three hovering 
angels, by which she was sealed to the service of God, — sealed to 
godliness. The solemn reverence of that hour returned and per- 
vaded her heart. The holy satisfaction of that hour re-illumined 
her dreamy countenance. 

" And yet I have not arrived at the mystery of godliness, still 
enfolded in its budding. This mysterious blossom is _>'<?/ to expand 
in fragrance and beauty. Alas ! again I stumble on slippery 
places. My feet are on the sand. More struggles, more doubts, 
more fears. I am weary. How and where, but in the bosom of 
the church, can I make my calling and election sure? " 

In this trouble of spirit, her hands clasped on her white muslin 
dress, around the bunch of wild flowers which Richard had gathered 
for her during the ride ; her lids dropped above the fluttering blue 
ribbons tied under her chin. Far away up the pale, azure depths, 
above arsenals, above the floating flag, above the empty, silent 
chapel, above battle-field and earthly carnage, a vision of the 
"great White Throne" opened to her view. She was before the 
footstool of her Omnipotent Helper. 



In full faith of there obtaining the only proper guidance, she 
offered her voiceless petition. 

" Look Thou upon me, for I am blind. Lead me with Thine 
own right hand, whithersoever Thou wouldst have me go. Open 
Thou mine eyes, that I may behold the beauty of Thy eternal 

Her brother and his Quaker friend stopped before her. The 
heavenly messenger of Peace seemed to have left a witness upon 
her brow and eyes. This calm attracted the attention of both. 

" Glorified, my sister.? " playfully asked Richard. 

" M3'stified,'*' thought Fanny; but she arose quickly, and pro- 
ceeded with her friends towards the chaise. A quick neigh, and a 
pair of short, pointed ears turned upon them ; bade them hasten. 
Fanny stooped to the ground, pulled a handful of red clover blos- 
soms, and flew along to obey the second summons. Iron Gray was 
appeased with caresses and clover. 

Richard begged the stranger, who was evidently well trained in 
the elegant forms of society, to excuse the naivete of his sister, re- 
marking jocosely, — 

"One would imagine she came from the pastures, herself. Her 
manners are as unrestrained as the summer winds." 

" ' Every natural action is graceful,' says Emerson," replied the 
Friend. " And, my friend, how 

* Does comeliness of words, or air, 
With comeliness of deeds, compare?* 

" If that scene were placed on canvass, the most fastidious could 
but admire." 

Hat in hand, the stranger made his adieus. The chaise rolled 
briskly away, leaving his white, broad brow and slightly curling 
chestnut hair bronzed in the sun's glowing rays. 

Iron Gray, bent upon making up lost time, proceeded at a smart 
pace down the long inclination towards the river. Fanny laid her 
hand on her brother's arm, saying, — 

" Drive slower, Richard. There's a lady on horseback. Look ! 
Do, Richard ! She rides splendidly ! Her habit almost sweeps the 
ground ! And her horse, black as night, with four white feet, and 


a white star under his flying forelock ! Turn a little from her path. 
How beautiful ! " 

The charming equestrienne advanced, and when quite near, sud- 
denly the proud animal went down. His fair rider, whose face at 
that ^moment was glowing with exhilaration, and had smilingly met 
the admiring gaze of Fanny, rolled over his head, like a ball, in the 

Quick as thought, Richard threw the lines to his sister, and stood 
by the bewildered girl, offering his hand to assist her in rising. 
Without prudery she took it, while disentangling, her dress, and 
rose to her feet. 

" Of dust we are ; and to dust we must return," she remarked 
gleefully. " Ah ! my pony." 

He had risen also," with the handsome bridle-rein over his head, 
trailing on the road. Richard stepped towards him, but he turned 

" Do not approach him, sir. He will fly from you. Wait, if you 

She gathered up her long skirt in one hand, and went forward. 

" Marmion j " she called in a voice of affectionate command, 
" Marmion, come, come ! " extending her arm to him. 

He turned slowly about ; with shamefaced step approached his 
mistress, and laid his nose on her shoulder. Throwing the rein over 
her arm, she parted the heavy, black locks over his eyes saying, — 

" Never mind Marmion, mi qiierido ! Todo el mundo coinete 
yerro / " 

With an embroidered handkerchief she brushed the sand from 
his face and his knees j she patted his shining shoulders, led him 
back to Richard, and gave him the bridle. She stepped back 
upon the grass, remarking that her own plight was no better than 
her pony's. She removed her broad-brimmed straw hat of costly 
fineness, shook the sand from its green ribbons and bright, green 

She began beating her riding-dress back to its rich, invisible 
green, when Fanny begged her to accept a brush from her own 
satchel in the chaise. She attended to the skirt herself ; and then 
placing the brush in Richard's hand, ingenuously asked his assist- 
ance. His heart and hand were a little tremulous, as he passed 


the brush over her statuesque shoulders ; but his cool, Northern 
blood stood him in good service. He acquitted himself creditably, 
assuring her that the accident was doubtless caused by a rolling 
stone ; adding, that the surest-footed horses were liable to fall upon 
our pebbly roads. 

Fanny ventured to inquire, from the chaise, if the lady had 
escaped without injury ? 

'• Yes dear,'* replied a sparkling voice, " I am unharmed, except 
a dull pain in one wrist ; that will soon subside. I am very for- 

She then looked about her, for some object from which she 
could mount. Finding nothing, she turned to Richard, saying, — 

''' I am under the necessity of soliciting your aid, sir. Will you 
lend me your hand, sir, in mounting ' Marmion?'" 

"I fear I should be more awkward than agreeable," he replied. 

" No indeed, sir. Place your hand so," showing the distance 
from the ground. " I will place my foot upon it ; then with a 
slight lift on your part, I will spring into the saddle again. 

She placed one hand upon his shoulder, the other upon the 
pommel, and laughingly gave the word, '*' I am ready," As a bird 
rises from the ground, she vaulted to Marmion's back. The fire of 
pride returned to his eyes, as he felt his accustomed burden. He 
waited " with impatient stamping," for the way. 

She reined him to the side of the chaise, Richard following. 

" I owe many thanks to you, my friends," looking from one to 
the other ; "and I doubt not, to make other acknowledgment in the 
form of reward would be considered an insult. I have not far to 
ride ; but through your courteous aid, I shall arrive with decency." 

'' You are under no obligations," said Richard. " We are happy 
in restoring you to your queenly position." 

" We are indebted to this event for a great pleasure," said 

The lady had been busy unfastening a small, diamond brooch at 
her throat. This she tossed into the chaise to Fanny. 

" Take this dear, as a keepsake. Do not refuse. It lies on the 
carpet at your feet." 

A blush crimsoned Fanny's cheeks as she raised the expensive 
jewel, and said, — 


" Pray, dear lady, pardon me ; but I do not wear diamonds ; they 
do not suit with plain attire. Allow me to return it with a thou- 
sand thanks. I shall not forget this harmless catastrophe." 

The lady took it reluctantly. Bidding a smiling aic revoir^ she 
waved her hand to both, and galloped away. 

The chaise rolled on in the opposite direction, down the hill, and 
on to West Elms. 

" This is a day of events," said Fanny. " We have made two unex- 
pected acquaintances." 

" And those two are as widely different as the North is from the 
South — both in habit and principle." 

"You know nothing of this lady, Richard," manifesting much 

" Nothing personally ; but much by deductions from analogy and 

" How ? " 

"Ah! Fanny, you are an unbelieving 'Thomas,' you must place 
your fingers in the 'nail prints;' in other words, you will have 
logic. Well then, the premises learned by observation. Her pony 
with equipment, would safely be valued at three hundred dollars \ 
her riding suit, including the fine laces, not less than one hundred ; 
aud the diamond brooch, set in emeralds, with other jewelry about 
her, has a value of not less than two hundred ; her watch and chain 
set down at another two hundred — and I think that is under 
value, — total for one style of locomotion, eight hundred dollars." 

" Minus the watch, Richard ; that is worn everywhere." 

" No doubt she had about her articles worth as much as the 
watch, which do not enter into this calculation. 

Premise Second. The lady's high bred manners, which, I confess, 
were the perfection of grace and propriety. Most conspicuous 
were the cool self-possession with which she met her disgrace, the 
ingenuous acceptance of my assistance, the absence of all prudery 
or coquetishiiess : also, I might add, the proud cast of features and 
finish of language. She petted Marmion in Spanish. 

Premise Third. Her rare generosity in throwing you the brooch 
as if it were a trifling gift. Did you not observe this Fanny ? " 

" I did ; but I had only time to admire, not to analyze." 

" The result of that admiration was, my sister, falling into an 


imaginary insignificance yourself ; feeling scarcely worthy to lift 
the trail of her rich habit from the earth. Learn to analyze^ Fanny 
— it furnishes a basis for a grander nobility than the blue blood 
of inherited birth. This grander nobility has its escutcheon in- 
scribed with Truth, beneficent Truth, in contrast with the feudality 
of the Dark Ages, which is emblazoned with the most ferocious in- 
stincts of animal tribes." 

" No heraldry is admitted in our Republic," suggested Fanny. 

"Not literally ; but the subtle spirit of rampant lions, leopards, 
bears, wolves and foxes, animates a portion of our Republic. The 
South places this unpalatable fruit of effete aristocracies to our 
Northern lips. The South would fain have us be its serfs." 

" But Richard, how can it imagine such an outrage upon fellow 
freemen, and how accomplish it?" 

"It imagines it by unconstitutional abridgment of the freedom 
of speech, and of the press ; it perpetrates the black deed through 
its minions in Congress, familiarly known as ' dough faces.' " 

"Nonsense !" ejaculated Fanny, indignantly, "there is no com- 
pulsion to a Northerner. He can remain a freeman, or sink into 
an abject serfdom, as his own will dictates." 

" Nobly spoken ; but there are Northern serfs. Charles G. 
Atherton, senator from New Hampshire, and Henry J. Pinkney of 
South Carolina, slave-holder, are of the same brotherhood. After 
Pinkney had succeeded in nullifying our power of presenting to 
government petitions, resolutions, propositions or papers relating 
to slavery, by ordering them laid upon the table wi-diout being 
printed or referred, Atherton took out his jack-knife, and whittled 
a gag for the mouths of Northern freemen, of more accurate dimen- 
sions. He added the words ^without being debated^ to Pinkney's 
'without being printed or referred.' And thus one of Xev\ Hamp- 
shire's sons, born amid the mountains, would stilie the voice of con- 
science, choke all the utterances of Freedom to silence, and drive 
before him a herd of maudlin slaves ; he would take the contract 
himself in Congress." 

"Richard!" She turned her glowing eyes upon him. "Rich- 
ard ! they will never gag you to silence, Pinkney nor Atherton ! 
they shall never drive me, a silent thrall, woman as I am, and 
nothing though \ am ! So here let us cast away all thought of 


these traitors to God and liberty ; thoughts which goad me to un- 
righteous wrath. Do not allow their viperous names to darken 
this golden day. Return to your deductions from the premises 
already considered. Our time is limited ; we are drawing near 
West Elms. Conclusion from premise first, Richard. That was 
the eight-hundred dollar outfit." 

"Well then, from the outfit may be inferred that the lady is not 
a resident of these parts. Eight hundred dollars is enough to pur- 
chase a small farm, or to make a good beginning on a large one. 
Our farmers and merchants gather money too slowly to lavish it in 
that manner. None but those who live upon robbery, or the stolen 
toils of others, have such amounts at their disposal. I deduce that 
she is a Southerner." 

" Now for premise second. That relates to her high-bred man- 
ners, grace and propriety, Spanish tongue, etc.," and Fanny 
laughed gaily. •' Ah I I fear she galloped away with your heart, 
my bachelor brother." 

"I confess her learning was noble; and softened by the con- 
descension which enslaves man's adoration." 

Her accomplishments denote the wealth, time and opportunity 
of what is termed high-birth, which includes reading, study, refined 
social intercourse, and travel. The proud cast of features must re- 
sult from absence of sordid cares and the possession of power over 
inferiors. I observed the Southern fire flaming in her impetuous 

"Deduction second. Marmion's rider is of blue-blood lineage." 

" Let me hear about her rare generosity, in casting diamonds at 
my feet." 

"What is your inference, Fanny ? You are a sharp logician." 

"Why, that she has thousands at her command, and could easily 
replace that cluster by another more brilliant, or that she has others 

" Analyze deeper ; and say that the unpaid labor of bondage buys 
diamonds. Say that the price of a little, prattling, five-year-old 
boy, or the price of a laughmg, little curly-headed, two-year-old 
girl, sold from a broken hearted mother, perhaps, bought that dia- 
mond and emerald brooch. Then deduce that she who has rare 
generosity is a slave-holder." 


Fanny replied with a shudder, — 

" Oh ! my heart aches to tiie core at the hideous picture. There 
are cruelty, tears, and blood in that brooch. Its touch is crimi- 
nal ! " 

"The same stains are upon the pony, caparison, habit, laces and 
green plume, my sister ; but here we are upon the long, broad 
street of West Elms. These stately trees arch grandly overhead ; 
the sight of these abodes of peace, amidst ample surroundings of 
comfort, are medicine to perturbed thoughts." 

They soon alighted at the granite steps of the deep lawn in front 
of Mrs. Glenly's, and were met at the door by the outstretched 
hands of Mrs. Glenly and her two daughters, Caro and Ida. Over 
their shoulders shone the beneficent faces of the father and son, 
who had just returned from their farm labors. They were wel- 
comed with that warmth of cordialty which those only know who 
are engaged in a saving controversy with sin-sodden, but time- 
honored svstems ; who, hand in hand, are en^rajjed in the strujiirle 
for the sublime victory of godlike Love and Peace, over debased 
Passion ; who calmly abjure worldly homage and distinction ; who 
quietly exchange terrerestrial dignities for public contempt ; and 
who are at once the glory and scandal of neighborhoods and com- 

Such was the friendship of the Glenlys and their guests ; its 
eager hand-shaking had nothing deceptive or superficial. 

During the afternoon of the second day, there was another arri- 
val at the Glenlys. Two men came up the walk, with heads bent, 
and conversing in low tones ; one in Quaker attire, the other, 
marked by the easy carriage of good birth, combined with the de-' 
spised American color. 

" Why, girls ! the white gentleman is Friend Sterlingworth," ex- 
claimed Mrs. Glenly. 

" But the other is a stranger, mother." 

"True; you remember the sentiment of 'angels unawares.'" 

She met them at the steps, w'ith the warm welcome w-hich was the 
spirit of the house. Fanny had discovered that the Friend and 
dress were the same she had seen in the chapel at the arsenal, the 
day previous. 


After a formal introduction to Fanny, Mr. Sterlingworth intro- 
duced his companion to each lady, under the name of Ishmael 
Valmonte. The young man met his welcome with a retiring bow, 
downcast eye, and blushes that were plainly seen under his light 
brown hue, offering a shy acceptance of the sympathetic hands ex- 
tended towards him. 

"Friend Sterlingworth, we rarely see you since our removal to 
Massachusetts," said Mrs. Glenly. '' Doubtless you are here now 
on some errand of mercy." 

*' I am here at the command of both duty and pleasure. Under 
this roof-tree, I ever find rest and renewed hope in the cause of 
freedom, to which we are mutually devoted. I am now in pursuit 
of a home for Ishmael.'" 

" Is he a fugitive ? " asked Caro. 
^ *' No, Caro! he is a freeman by all the laws and codes touching 
his former condition. ' His master brought him to New York, 
sought the abolitionists privately, made out his free papers, and left 
him in their hands tor future guardianship. I was in the city at the 
time. The friends of freedom entrusted him to my care. He is 
to be educated in New England." 

" Fanny had never before known an American slave, and she 
made his words and manner a constant study. Strange enough, 
her previous ideas concerning one who had just come out of bon- 
dage were all at fault. There was no irrepressible outburst of the 
ecstatic gladness one should naturally evince in the early posses- 
sion of Hberty. Ishmael maintained an almost painful reticence on 
the points she so longed to ascertain, giving brief, but respectful 
replies to questions tending to elicit a history of his life. What 
might be his soulful emotions, she could not read, for the dark, 
downcast eyes were ever veiled. Conversation with him ran 
thus, — 

"Ishmael, are you not glad to be free?" 

"Yes, miss." 

•' Had you a cruel master ? " 

" No, miss." 

" Were you ever punished ? " 

"I was never whipped, ma'am.'* 

•" Were your tasks hard ? " 


"1 had no tasks, ma'am." 

" What work was assigned you ? " 

" I did not work, miss ; I was footman." 

This system of questioning was repulsive to Fanny ; and, much 
as she desired to learn of the working of a system which she ab- 
horred, from one initiated, the door was closed. 

Caro, Ida and Fanny found many pleasant strolls through the 
meadows to the river and to the berry fields. They were accompanied 
by the friend, who failed not to draw Ishmael along with them ; striv- 
ing, as Caro said, to charm away his embarrassment in a strange 
land. Ishmael always made preparations for the excursions with a 
quick step ; but once upon the paths, he invariably fell to the rear, 
followin.2: at a short distance. If Mr. Sterlingworth, for any reason, 
became "separated from the group, Ishmael walked after him, pre- 
serving a measured distance between them. 

On one occasion, it chanced that the Friend and Fanny walked 
apart from the sisters. Fanny kindly called Ishmael to her side. 

" Walk with us, Ishmael ; do not remain ever alone." 

Giving her a pleasant smile, he replied, — 

" I will, miss." 

A few moments passed, and he had fallen back to his former 

" Mr. Sterlingworth," said Fanny, "why will not Ishmael talk 
with us } Do you not think he likes liberty ? " 

"I will tell t'hee, Fanny. Didst thou ever have a caged bird? a 
canary, or any other, to which thou hast opened the door of his 
prison, and said, ' Fly away to thy native skies.? ' " 

'• I had a tame, young robin, which I took from some pitiless 
boys, and kept through the winter. In the spring, when the air 
was thrilled with the songs of birds, he listened sadly, day after 
day, but sang not a note. I opened the door of his cage in the 
sunny woods, and bade him go." 

'' \Vhere did thy robin fly ? " 

" He flew to a spray of a bush, and sat there bewildered." 

"What next.?" 

" He essayed a high branch of an oak, but fell into a pool of 
water beneath ; then I wished he were in the cage again, but he 


fluttered out of the pool, falling and soaring, till he was lost to me 
in the woods." 

"As J expected, Fanny. Thou seest robin's wings were not used 
to flying. Although he longed to perch upon the sunniest, topmost 
twig, he could not spread his wings, so long folded. A few days 
and weeks of trial were necessary to develope his natural buoy- 
ancy. Perhaps now he is careering through space, and pouring 
forth the sweetest sonsfs of all his mates." 

" I hope so ; for granting his freedom seemed to me a cruel 

" Now, Fanny, compare Issy with thy robin. The poor fellow 
feels yet the pressure of his life-long gyves. The feeling has not 
worn off, nor will it for years. Fetters of all kinds, though encased 
in velvet, contract and indent. Every mental capacity he inherits (as 
I know thou believest) alike with the whole human race; but these 
capacities have developed no farther than the measure of his chains. 
I see ! Thou hast thought to draw from him the burden of the 
past, and to share it with him. The time will be when his tongue 
will be loosed, and sympathy like thine will be as grateful as the 
dews that descend upon Hermon." 

'' I have been quite troubled." 

" I have seen thy perplexity, and beg thee to be troubled no 
more. The better way, I think for Issy, is to solve the problem of 
liberty by observation, and his own method of thought, at least for 
the present." 

" Why will he not walk with us ? " 

'•'Because he is accustomed to follow his master. He followed 
him all about the streets of New York^ and while he was making 
out the free papers, Issy stood at the back of his chair. More 
than that, Fanny, Issy never sat in the presence of a white person 
before he left New York." 

Nature bestowed golden days upon the week of Mr. Sterling- 
worth's stay at the Glenlys. To Fann}^ every one with 
happiness ; and from the conversations, her soul grew in the grace 
of the reformer. Ishmael anticipated every wish, and divined her 
every need. He raised her fallen handkerchief, he placed her 
chair, brought her bonnet and shawl, opened doors before her, and 
closed them after. He poured water from the ice pitcher, reaching 


it before she could lay her hand upon it. Indeed he performed 
these duties with alacrity for all in the household ; but towards 
Mrs. Glenly and Fanny there was noticeable partiality. 

"Why, girls," said Mrs. Glenly, one day, "what will become of 
us when Ishmael is gone? We shall have to wait upon ourselves. 
W^e have suddenly put on the airs of Southerners." 

" O mother ! I like it ! " declared Ida, ringing out a m.erry laugh ; 
*'this being waited upon at every turn is delightful. I wish Ish- 
mael, or some other Arab could be my constant attendant." 

"Ida Glenly I " remonstrated Caro, "you should be ashamed of 
such meaningless words. I am sure you have wounded Fanny by 
this reckless outbreak." 

Fanny's cheeks flushed ; and she replied seriously, — 

" Ida, I believe every person is accountable for his own senti- 
ments ; girls, as well as women and men. Your sentiments are not 
mine 1 " 

"Do those blushes tell a tale?" derisively questioned Ida. 
" Perhaps you cherish a tenderness for Ishmael's handsome figure. 
I confess his jet black curls are lovely beyond anything I ever saw, 
and he hides fascination under those forever drooped lids. More- 
over, he has an aristocratic cut of features, if I,, an abolitionist's 
daughter, can imagine what an aristocrat may be," 

'•Ida!" quickly responded the reproving voice of her mother, 
" you are incorrigible. I bid you retire to your chamber ; remain 
there till to-morrow morning." 

It w^as now her turn to flush ; but obedience was the law of her 
parents. Ida, mortified and crest-fallen, withdrew. 

Mrs. Glenly and Caro repaired to the kitchen ; it was ironing 
day. A cloud still brooded over Fanny, when Mr. Sterlingworth 
and Issy entered. Unaccustomed to dissembling, her face was an 
open page to the Friend's observant eye. He seated himself near, 
and asked kindlv if auo;ht troubled her. 

*' Can I not assist to unravel perplexities ? " 

All undivined by Fanny, Mr. Sterlingworth often studied the 
lights and shadows that swept over her face; its pain, grief, sym- 
pathy, its childlike questionings, doubts, and illuminations. He had 
found these changes were produced by struggles with conscience, 
by a supreme adoration of nature, by a self abnegation, or by other 


causes equally worthy. He was sure now she would speak with the 
frank candor that ever charmed him. After some hesitation, to 
relieve embarrassment, she attempted to pour a glass of water her- 
self. Ishmael was there before her ; he poured and presented it, 
with a graceful bow. 

She turned to Mr. Sterlingworth. 

" That is the trouble — Ishmael will serve me as if I were his 
mistress. I have accepted his services as if I desired this servility, 
but I have reproached myself that I have not given him his first 
lesson on freedom by a refusal to be waited upon in this ^man- 

ner " 


What hast thou to say, Issy 1 " asked the gentleman. 

"Miss Fanny," he said, "I have waited upon you with great 
pleasure, I assure you ! " with another bow, retiring to his seat. 

" Issy has rendered thee a love service ! " explained the Friend, 
" not that of a menial. He has done this habitually for those who 
classed him with brutes. He cannot refuse these trifling attentions 
to those who acknowledge his manhood. He will be wounded if 
thou refusest. These habits will soon wear away. I fully appre- 
ciate thy fine sensibilities, Fanny, but banish these thoughts to the 
wind. Come into the orchard; I have discovered several early 
trees. Issy, bring the basket." 

" He seems so much like Richard," thought Fann\% as they 
walked over the green turf. Shall I ever see things in their right 
light, without a guide ? " 

The short week soon came to an end. The departure of the 
Friend and his charge was followed down the long avenue of elms 
by the regretful regards of the family. Ishmael was to occupy the 
solitary passages of her visit. The strange effects of bondage, and 
the bewildering process of becoming free, were to become fruitful 
sources of reflection. 

The Glenly homestead was situated at the head of the street, 
within the shade of the avenue below. The house was large, 
square and plain. Its lower apartments were spacious and airy. 
The tiers of chambers were equally commodious ; their many open 
windows admitted the songs of birds and neighbor's voices. They 
presented also, views of the sweeping river, rich hay-flelds, reach- 


ing to its banks, sunny pastures well stocked with herds which 
would have delighted the eye even of Rosa Bonheur. On the south 
side, a hard graveled road wound round from the street to ample 
barns. Over this road, at morning and at night, were driven lowing 
troops of brindled and spotted cows, frolicsome calves, sleek horses, 
and gentle-eyed oxen. 

These were the delight of Fanny ; the tramp of their feet was a 
sure sammons to the open doors or windows, till the dumb crea- 
tures seemed to grow conscious of her presence and love. Rural 
rambles, twilight walks, reading and social calls made time pass 

One golden evening, a card was brought to IMrs. Glenly, inscribed 
with a name which caused a shadow of serious surprise. She en- 
tered the parlor, however, with her usual smiling composure. Soon 
the girls heard across the wide hall a sprightly conversation, varied 
with bursts of polite gayety. The tones were of mutual satisfac- 
tion and pleasure. It seemed the atfable desire of the visitor to 
please, and the agreeable willingness of Mrs. Glenly to be com- 

'* O Caro ! " said Ida, " what can be the meaning of this, the first 
call of Mrs. Donald.?" 

"You know Mrs. Donald has Southern relatives ; her sympathies 
and ours are widely at variance. She has Southern company this 
summer; that is sufficient cause for coolness on her part." 

'• Her young lady visitor always bows to us when she is out rid- 
ing ; and I love dearly to see her sweeping by," replied Ida, in an 
animated manner. "I should like to make her acquaintance." 

" But sister, you well know there is more cause for coolness 
towards our family on the part of that young lady, than is expected 
of Mrs. Donald. We believe in the very first breath that Freedom 
ever drew on American soil, her first cry of life, that all men are 
created free and equal ; and are endowed by their Creator with cer- 
tain inalienable rights which, to a Southerner, are no rights at 

"And more," spoke Fanny. "We supplement that with the 
Scriptures; that God made of one blood, all nations of the 

" And therefore all nations are men, entitled to life, liberty, and 


the pursuit of happiness," finished Caro. ''The Southerners find 
men only in the white races; and a paucity at that." 

" Southerner ! " cried Ida. " Southerner ! that walking phantom ! 
♦hat spectre, of which some people have a frightful dread ! I should 
like their acquaintance. I should like to visit their pleasant land 
of fruits and flowers, to gather jasmines in March, and roses in 

" You must be infatuated," quickly replied Caro. Many of us 
who live in cold, icy climates, would delight to breathe their balmy 
air, and to saunter'amid tropical fragrance. But in the language 
of Garrison, ' To us there is no Union ; a price is set upon our heads P 
March jasmines and December roses do not flourish in the prisons 
that await us ! and you, my sweet sister, would as soon become a 
victim to these Algerine laws, as any other, because our father is 
laboring to 'establish justice, insure domestic tranquility, and pro- 
mote the general welfare.' " 

"I prefer Northern ice and snow, to Southern incarceration!" 
said Fanny, with supreme disdain. 

Just then the call ended; the lady departed, gathering up laces 
and silks from dews scarcely yet falling. 

Mrs. Glenly entered the circle of outstretched hands, and 
allowed herself to be drawn down upon the sofa, in a nest of bright, 
inquisitive faces. 

"We are ready, mamma; speak quickly," urged Ida. 

" And what do you thiuk ? " 

Each of her hands w^as suddenly imprisoned in a warm clasp, and 
three pairs of eyes twinkled about her. 

"Well, listen. Mrs. Donald came to entreat the favor of an in- 
vitation for Miss Leonore to an afternoon tete-a-tete with the family ; 
that is, with myself and daughters, Fanny included." 

Ida's hands clapped with joy. 

" Mrs. Donald assures me the young lady desires the interview, 
in order to converse with abolitionists ; to learn from their own lips, 
views which she has heard so much deprecated. She desires also to 
form friendships with the young ladies." 

" In other words," said Mrs. Donald' " she wishes to become 

In joyful amazement they listened to her words ; declaring they 


loved her already. They set about planning the day, the hour, 
and a dainty tea. 

The next day, in one of the square front chambers, amid chatter- 
ings, suggestions and laughter, the three girlish heads of Caro, 
Ida andFanny, bent over a delicate sheet of note paper, framing 
the invitation for the succeeding afternoon. Ida held the pen. 

" Do not begin so high," advised Caro. " Dear me ! such a giddy- 
headed thing. I'll warrant you will send regrets that you are not a 
Southerner yourself, before you finish." 

Ida threw up her hands with nervous exultation. 

"Well then, I will confess — I covet — I covet that white- 
footed pony. I covet the life of ease and travel a Southerner 
enjoys. I want to go to the Springs every summer, and to Europe 
— and I would not object seriously to a few diamonds." 

" Fie ! Ida. Papa has a bad tare growing in his wheat, I fear. 
Let me write it. Fanny, seems to me this looks a little like sub- 

" Not in the least," was the quick reply. " It is at her own 

The note was sent by the hired man when he came in to dinner. 
The next morning filled the spacious apartments with another pleas- 
ant excitement. Fanny's chamber was to be used as the dressing- 
room of the guest, to which she would be first conducted. Joyful 
voices echoed across the wide hall. A panorama passed before 
the open windows, of beaming eyes, rosy faces, and hands filled 
with flowers. 

" Three waiting-maids for one princess," said Mrs. Glenly, unex- 
pectedly appearing among them. " All is ready below stairs." 

"Three wailing maids for Frederick Douglass, also, if he would 
honor us with his presence," replied Caro. 

"True," joined Fanny. " Richard met him at the convention at 
Nantucket. Your father was there at that time, Ida. Frederick 
Douglass astonished his hearers by the intellectual power of his 

" You know Mr. Garrison said in his speech following, that he 
was a living witness of the justice of the severest condemnation he 
had ever uttered of slavery. And yet, Douglass had been held at 


the South, as a piece of property, a chattel, and had been treated 
as if he were a domesticated brute." 

" Papa was delighted with him ; and when he comes, his wait- 
ing-maids will festoon the gentlemen's guest-chamber with flowers," 
said Caro. 

Early in the afternoon, the young lady was seen walking up the 
green carpeted avenue, followed by a short, black servant, evi- 
dently on excellent terms with her mistress ; for both were smiling 
and talking busily. The ladies met her at the door ; Ida showed 
her up stairs. Her short, high-shouldered servant followed. She 
wore a starched, white turban, dotted with blue, covering all her 
hair ; a plain black dress, and a white apron. She untied the pale 
green ribbons of her mistress' white chip hat, and lifted it from 
her head. The hat was surrounded by a yellow jasmine wreath, 
which trailed down her shoulders, and was a fac-simile of her own 
Southern vines. Her servant shook out the auburn curls of her 
mistress' luxuriant hair ; took from her basket a brush, ran her 
quick eye over the elegant muslin dress, carefully removing every 
atom of road dust from the rich embroidered flounces, and from 
her pale green slippers. She untangled the points of Parisian lace 
about Leonore's throat, from the pearl pendants at her ears. 

"Toad," said the mistress, "give me my fan." 

" No, mistress, mus fan you darlin face myself." 

She took her place a little back of her, moving the air gently, 
and looking steadily at her mistress. 

" No Toad, no. I am a Northerner to-day. Give me the fan ; 
you followed me for your own gratification, you know." 

They descended to the parlor. 

" Toad, you can go to the kitchen ; perhaps you can be useful 
there ; unless (turning to Mrs. Glenly,) the ladies wish you to re- 
main ; either course will be equally satisfactory to me." 

" Let her remain," eagerly spoke Caro, " if agreeable to your- 

"Most certainly, my dear. Toad, we are both Northerners to- 
day. Now mind, my lady, you are not to be hands and feet for 
me. Please yourself j you will not give offence to these ladies, I 
am sure." 

They entered the parlor. Fanny rose from her chair. 


" An unexpected surprise, but most welcome," said Leonore, 
advancing and taking both her hands. " My sweet Fanny ! my 
modest Puritan of the chaise." 

'• I am not sure that I can claim that ancestral honor." 

'* Pardon ! but we call all nativ^es of Massachusetts Puritans — 
the posterity of the ' May Flower.' It is doubtless more beseeming 
to use your true patronymic ; but — " 

" A thousand pardons," said Caro. " It is Beame, Fanny 

" I cannot be wrong in supposing then, that knightly blood flows 
in the veins of the young cavalier who sprang so gallantly to my 
side after that ignominious fall into the sand. His delicate atten- 
tions were the soul of chivalry." 

" Richard Beame is my brother, Miss Wallace. He has a 
knightly heart towards all who suffer ; but he questions not his 
blood, for he says all men are created of one blood." 

" My second lesson from those fearless lips. * I do not wear dia- 
monds ; ' and ' all men are created of one blood.' I should be a 
learner at so pure a fountain of truth;" and she sealed her admira- 
tion by a kiss, archly stolen. 

After a gentle pressure, she dropped Fanny's hand, and sat by 
the open window in the playing light and shade of the waving elms. 
Toad, with the feeling ever present to a slave, withdrew to the 
lawn, the garden, and finally to the kitchen. 

Fanny was busily revolving in her mind how the young lady 
would interpret " all men," with her usual freedom of comment. 
Caro took up her fine hemming ; Ida sat furtively studying Leo- 
nore's costly and elegant attire. The guest addressed Mrs. Glenly, 
requesting that her presence should be no restraint upon a full in- 
terchange of opinion — expressing regret that the North and South 
were in such bitter antagonism ; which was doubtless the source of 
misrepresentations, tending to aggravate controversy and ill will. 

An ingenuous and benignant smile sweetened the reply. 

" There is no antagonism on our part, my dear. We believe the 
enslavement of human beings a transgression of the divine design 
of God towards man. We believe in the utter wickedness of bond- 
age j and we pledge ' our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor ' 


to the cause of universal freedom ; but our means of convincing 
those in error are entirely pacific." 

" I am greatly surprised, dear Mrs. Glenly ; there must be gross 
misconstruction upon the Southern side. May I ask what are 
those means ? " 

" Certainly ! they are the moral and harmless weapons of argu- 
ment, discussion and persuasion. We exercise the former two 
in our families, and in conventions, as the church in its associa- 
tions devises the best means of propagating truth. The latter we 
use as opportunity may occur — but always, my dear Miss Wallace, 
with the most peaceable intentions." 

" We are well aware," said Caro, dropping her hemming, *' that 
the South, as a whole, brand us as incendiaries, dangerous agita- 
tors and fanatics." 

"Also," said Mrs. Glenly, "that we have destructive designs 
against the Union ; that we sow discord in the national councils ; 
and that we violate the Constitution," 

" That is very true," replied Leonore with great gentleness ; " our 
Southern men profess to believe that the Northern abolitionists 
would incite insurrection amoi>g the slaves ; that they would carry 
death to every door. Their acerbity is the result of fear, and a 
laudable effort for self-protection." 

Fanny met this with a pithy Bible proverb, — 

"'The wicked flee when no man pursueth.' I think the slave- 
holder's conscience must pursue him, as his ferocious bloodhounds 
pursue the flying fugitive." 

Mrs. Glenly and Caro were startled. Serious alarm for their 
guest plead in their eyes. 

" I fear we are wanting in consideration for our friend ; that we 
may give offence," said the former. 

" My dear ladies, do not indulge a thought of it. It is true, I 
have been raised mostly in the South, that I have been taught to 
believe slavery a divine institution, sanctioned by scripture, and 
the usages of nations; but, like yourselves, I reserve to myself the 
right of unbiased judgment. I sought this introduction." Then 
turning to Fanny with an approving smile, she said, " You are 
right and wrong at the same moment, Miss Fanny. The proverb 
is truth — but in the main, the consciences of slaveholders are, in 


sacred language, seared. The absolute conditions of holding one's 
own species in bondage necessitates the blunting of every moral 
obligation. Ah ! " and with a sigh she added, "these conditions 
callous every tender sensibility. They feel no compunctions. 
Instead, they feel an untamed ra^^e towards those who advocate a 
policy of final freedom." 

'• Not final, simply, or convenient delay; but immediate eman- 
cipation," said Caro, "is our watchword. Immediate abandon- 
ment of sin is God's alternative." 

"Immediate emancipation! I shudder! Do I hear aright? 
Immediate emancipation! Do you realize, my dear Caro, what it 
is to cast forth, without shelter, clothing or ability millions of these 
helpless creatures to the cruel mercies of rapacious masters? 
Why," and she lifted her white hands in horror, " they cannot 
speak our language clearly ; they cannot read ; they cannot think 
for themselves ; but few of them can count even to twenty ; they 
are reduced by our laws to the lowest of abject beings." 

" Doubtless their emancipation would be attended with much 
suffering at first; but Freedom would soon work out her own beau- 
tiful salvation. Inspired by the blessed results of their own efforts, 
they would work out a glorious manhood and womanhood ; equal 
to that we ourselves enjoy." 

" How^ Miss Caro ? " 

"In the same way that every human capacity works out its own 
problem. The evidence is before the world. In our cities, in 
spite of the obstacles of Caste, which is the fruit of slavery, there 
are colored men and women of wealth and refinement, nobly main- 
taining an honorable standing." 

"The Southerner knows that," interposed Fanny; "knows that 
the human soul which he lashes into subjection, which he holds 
beneath him manacled by state and national laws, would rise into 
a proud equality with himself if those bonds were broken. Hence 
the untamed rage, of which you made mention, towards us, the ad- 
vocates of Freedom. For the leaders in the anti-slavery crusade, 
there are offers of five, ten, and twenty thousand dollars for their 
abduction or death. To such daring deeds of premeditated mur- 
der does the spirit of human slavery induct its devotees." 

Mrs. Glenly related the persecutions of the mob in New York, 


called together by "Many Southerners" to prevent a meeting of 
the friends of " Immediate Abolition." She drew the repulsive 
picture of the riot at the closed gates ; of their repeated offers of 
Ten Thousand Dollars for Arthur Tappan ; of their blood-thirsty 
entrance, and finally of the pursuit of that gentleman through the 
unlighted main hall of the chapel, by one of the mob, with a light 
and a drawn dagger; of the janitor, who saw the villain, blew out 
the light, and then took refuge in one of the slips, foiling the 'as- 
sassin with darkness, and saving the life of one of the most Chris- 
tian men of the century. 

"The blood chills at the recital of these facts," said Leonore; 
"but, my friends, they cannot be denied. They are a subject of 
conversation in Charleston, my own city, and in the South gen- 
erally. I know the name and standing of the very pursuer of ^Ir. 
Tappan. I have seen the dagger, and heard the curses upon its 
failure to reach the heart of its intended victim. I blush with 
shame for the guilt of my fellow- citizens! 

" It is gratifying to hear your deprecation of the high-handed 
assumption of the South ; and yet, sanguinary impulses are but the 
inseparable concomitants of the practice of enslavement. How is 
it, may I inquire," gently asked ^Irs. Glenly, " that your moral per- 
ceptions are so much clearer than those of most other Southern 
ladies ? for (allow me to say this without offence) it is considered 
that the women of the South are more tenacious of Southern rights 
than the men ; that they are more violent towards Northern advo- 
cates of Freedom." 

" My moral perceptions are quite obtuse, my dear madame. I 
only see ' men as trees walking,' yet ; " and a burst of pleasant laugh- 
ter warmed each heart present. " My acquaintance South call this, 
my inherent love of freedom, a 'taint in the blood.' I am a Wal- 
lace, my dear ladies, of Scotch genealogy. On that ground they 
generally pardon my eccentricities, as they are graciously pleased 
to term the frank expression of my convictions. Besides, my father 
holds many slaves, and his sturdy Scotch blood has become the 
American blue, by frequent admixture with the highest aristocra- 
cies of his adopted land." 

Fanny dropped her work, and rested her busy hands. She was 
finishing some pretty aprons for little dark Addie Hughes, that her 


dress might win to kindness the fair-skinned children of the village 
school. She looked smilingly, but with a searching gaze into the 
frank, blue eyes of Leonore. 

" If we cherish the dawning light of truth in our thoughts, its 
brightness will advance to the perfect day. We are judged by the 
acceptance or refusal of this light, rather than by blood." 

Leonore returned her gaze with a mingling of curiosity and ad- 
miration. She was well versed in the suavities of social intercourse, 
which pass smoothly over disagreeable asperities, ever preserving 
a well-studied and deceptive calm ; but this plain^ unvarnished 
manner of bringing subjects under discussion to the test of con- 
science, was to her analytical turn of mind something new and in- 

"Faithfully expressed. Miss Fanny," said Leonore. "In the 
South, blood stands for a catalogue of virtues — blood stands for 
justice^ and, I imagine, for conscience. For myself, I do not value 
this spurious coin ; but having been raised there and nurtured on 
error, I cannot clearly discern the truth, myself." 

" Fanny dear," remarked Mrs. Glenly, " let us credit Miss Wal- 
lace with a desij-e for truth. That is the first approach to the ' per- 
fect day.' She could have had no other object, for we never deny 
its principles." 

Fanny, fearlessly true to her own impulses, replied, — 

"You know, Mrs. Glenly, one of our principles is to abjure what- 
ever is false. Now, if Miss Wallace learn and cherish truth in her 
own soul, of what use will it be when she returns where truth is ex- 
pelled, and falsehood embraced .'* " 

" We are to understand, then, that you would have Miss Wallace 
not only yield to convictions of the right, but come out and sepa- 
rate herself from the South and its practices." 

" I wish to be so understood," answered Fanny, firmly. 

*' Miss Wallace could not entertain for a moment the idea o£ 
being a refugee from the most agreeable and seductive poriicn of 
our land, I am sure. The bare suggestion would be a terror to 
me !''' said Ida. 

" I beg to correct your mistake. Miss Ida," said Leonore. " I 
have entertained many thoughts of leaving the South. Miss 


Fanny's logic is irresistible. Truth and justice find no place 

Ida persisted in the senseless flattery, by reminding Fanny of 
the late evidence of Southern justice in that very house, and under 
their own eyes." 

Leonore would ask for information, if the request would not be 

"A Southern master — yes, a Charleston master, restored a 
young and valuable slave to liberty, and gave him a deed of him- 
self. His guardian brought him here for a week." 

" Pray what was his name ? " 

" Ishmael Paisley." 

" Is it possible that Issy has passed a week in this town, and 
gone again ? Why, my dear ladies, his master's family are inti- 
mate acquaintances. I think I should explain to you the quality of 
this example of justice, for the facts are well known to others as 
well as myself." 

INIrs. Glenly assured Leonore that all would be happy to hear. 

"Issy's master is his own father. You are shocked. Miss Fanny, 
but it is true. Doctor Paisley's daughter, J^Iistress Theresa Val- 
monte, knew the relation he bore to her and her father. A 
stranger beholding them, w^ould have guessed the truth by their 
marked resemblance to their father and to each other. At her 
marriage, as the custom is, Issy was given to Theresa. As he grew 
older, the family resemblance heightened ; Doctor Paisley's son and 
pet became an annoyance. Theresa Valmonte mortgaged her 
brother Issy for future sale, she being in pressing need of funds. 
Doctor Paisley received a hint of this from his factor, and purchased 
his pet son himself. Hence his free papers and guardianship. I 
denominate that motive affection^ not justice, ladies. By justice, 
he would free every slave impartially." 

" You are right," decided Fanny and Caro in one breath. 

" There is no obliquity in your natural vision ! " Miss Leonore 

Mrs. Glenly, with affectionate admiration for the brave girl who 
offered no compromise for the fatal errors of her beloved South, 
withdrew wdth her daughters to prepare the tea-table. 

'* My dear Fanny," said Leonore, drawing near to her, " there 


must be a similarity between us, despite the apparent difference. 
I like the flash of your glittering spear. I dearly love the incisive 
utterances that fall from your lips. Your lofty conceptions of hu- 
man obligations drop into my confused early teaching like the boom 
of a minute gun, in a fog at sea. I envy the circumstances of your 
birth and life, which foster purity of conscience and freedom of 

"One more minute gun, my dear friend. You have power to 
leave the South with all its sins, and to develope your beautifully 
strong nature in a more moral atmosphere. That would be a 
heroism which would reduce us abolitionists to pigmies." 

" My dear Fanny," pleaded Leonore, " do you love your home, 
the place of your birth .? I love mine. Do you love your brother, 
and your parents.? Just so do I love mine. Do you love the 
rush of your Northern breezes and your Northern snows ? So, I 
love the Southern balmy airs and our flowers perpetual bloom." 

" But Leonore, our Savior bade us leave all and follow Him. 
* Whosoever loveth Christ cannot remain a slave-holder or partake 
in the crimes of slavery.' 'If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out ; 
if thy hand offend thee, cut it off.' " 

"Ah! thou youthful seer, something divine inspires thee! I 
love thee, though thou slayest me ! " 

She hid her face in her delicate hands. Her slender, jeweled 
fingers were wet with tear-drops. Then dashing them apart, she 
rose nervously, and drew Fanny to the open piano. She sang an 
Italian song, caroling the runs and trills like a lark. 

The whole house was spell-bound. Mr. Glenly, in his shirt 
sleeves, paused on the kitchen steps. ]Mrs. Glenly, butter-dish in 
hand, stopped half way on the cellar stairs. Caro and Ida dropped 
forks and napkins and held their breath, lest a note should be lost. 
Again her fingers rippled over the keys, with the swiftness of hum- 
mingbirds* wings ; again her delicious voice poured forth its sweet- 
ness in a shower of graces. Those in the kitchen remained 
statuesque. Fanny's expression was of rapt adoration. The last 
high, sustained, flute-like note floated away up the stairways and 
among the elms. 

The scene was ended. Leonore whirled around on the piano* 
seat, face to face with Fanny, 


" There ! that is all I am good for ! If I leave my home, I shall 
be disowned and disinherited, cast out friendless and penniless. 
I cannot labor — have never learned to hold a needle. Poverty 
would be my portion, after the life of ease and luxury which was 
inherited with my breath. Oh ! I shudder, dear Fann}^ I could 
not endure poverty ! " 

Summoned by the tea bell. Toad stepped in quietly, to follow 
her mistress to the table. 

" Ah ! Toad ; I had forgotten that I own a slave. Remain here. 
This young lady is my guardian angel at present." 

She walked on, her arm thrown about Fanny's waist. 

After tea, which Leonore discussed with social ease and gener- 
ous praise, Caro propounded a question which opened a mine of 
general interest. 

" Who was Ishmael's mother ? " 

" She was the pastry cook of Doctor Paisley — a slave of very 
dark color," was the prompt reply, while scanning the faces of her 
auditors She read their astonishment and incredulity ; then 
added, "Doctor Paisley is a gentleman of commanding precedents, 
of high-toned pride, of lineage running back to Prince Albert's 
time. All this is supported by a copy of the ancient coat of arms, 
carefully preserved." 

A half smothered, derisive laugh rippled about the room, to 
which Leonore gave an assuring emphasis with a jeweled finger. 

Caro proposed another question. 

" How is Doctor Paisley's truant course regarded by other high- 
toned Southern gentlemen .? I should judge he would incur their 
displeasure and sever some valuable intimacies." 

" Not in the least, Miss Caro ; a tacit assent to these departures 
is prevalent." 

" Yet v.-e of the North," said Mrs. Glenly, " are flagrantly 
accused of desiring amalgamation by marriage, which they denomi- 
nated a crime, detestable in their sight ; while they practice the 
same in a surreptitious form of concubinage." 

*' Another smooth stone for my sling," thought Fanny. 

Conversation flagged. Mrs. Glenly proposed to drop the dis- 
agreeable subject. There was more of Leonore's wonderful music. 
There were the simple ballads and duets of the Glenlys. Last of 


all, there was the " Brides Farewell," by Fanny, charmed away to 
the piano by Leonore, after the vain remonstrance, — 

"How can I sing to a song-throated bird of the South?" and 
receiving the answer, — 

" Sing as you talk to me. Sing like yourself." 

At Fanny's first line, 

" Farewell, mother, now I leave thee," 

the proud face of the beautiful girl blanched. Through the remain- 
ing lines, it seemed that Fanny was playing upon her heartstrings. 
Her agitation was observed by the other ladies, but they knew not 
the secret of Leonore's agitation ; knew not that her thoughts were 
far away in her native city ; that she stood not by the piano, but by 
a student's chair in her uncle's office, looking down into the pure, 
adoring eyes of its young occupant. They suspected not that she 
was bracing herself for the future struggle with the unbending 
pride and unforgiving caste of her native State, in the determination 
to marry the young Northern student-at-law in her uncle's office, 
to whom she had already given her heart. . 

Each attributed the change in Leonore to fatigue ; therefore, in 
the midst of the last verse, the performer was interrupted by Mrs. 
Glenly, standing by, — 

" Fanny dear, excuse me. Miss Wallace is weary ;" and with her 
arm about the pale girl, she drew her to the sofa, saying, " Our ad- 
amantine creed has been too exciting for you, darling. Come 
away, let us talk about blackberries." 

Her color returned. She replied, — 

" Oh ! certainly, let us talk about blackberries ; for I so desire to 
go myself after them." 

''Miss Wallace can ride *Marmion' to the field, and we will 
walk beside her. Her servant, Toad, can pick her berries while 
she rests in the shade," said Ida. 

" Oh ! no, Miss Ida, by no means. You mistake me. I shall 
walk with the party, and share the pleasure of picking the berries, 
myself. I am endeavoring to become partially Northernized this 


So in great glee the field was selected where the berries were 
thickest, and the time appointed. 


When taking leave of the family, Leonore thanked Mrs. Glenly 
for the day's enjoyment. She had never before entered an anti- 
slavery family. She had found her views most happily modified. 
Soliciting an interchange of visits and calls during her stay, 
taking Fanny's hand for the good-night, she said affectionately, — 

" Remember you have a Southerner under your eye ; make the 
most of the opportunity." 

A great wave of gossip tided over the village of West Elms. 
Women left their churns and their early breakfast dishes, to loiter 
over the garden fences separating the white houses, and talk, with 
bursts of gayety and ominous gestures over the late event. Girls 
gathered in knots on the door steps, or along the green-bordered 
street, and fairly lost their breath with merriment over the rapid 
details. Men in the fields, in their shirt sleeves, leaned on their 
hoes or rakes amid the harvest, repeating the hearsay, holding 
their stalwart sides with laughter. 

*' Have you heard the news .? " saj^s one. 

" No, what is it ? " 

" Mrs. Donald's house is full of Southerners and slaves. That 
young lady's mother has come ; that Miss Wallace, you know, that 
rides the black pony. Well, there's her mother and her brother, 
a tall handsome man, a black waiting-man for him, and a mulatto 
maid for Mrs. Wallace. They came in an elegant carriage with 
a pair of horses. There's the black coachman, dressed in livery, 
and a young, brown footman. So with Miss Leonore Wallace's 
servant, there's three Southerners and five slaves." 

" Oh ! you don't say. The house must be full ; too full for me." 

" But that is not the best of it all. Now hear. You see they came 
unexpected, and Miss Wallace had a party of girls there — amongst 
them, the abolitionist Glenlys and their visitor. They had all been 
blackberrying and were picking over the berries. Leonore ran to 
the carriage with her hands stained with the juice. Her mother 
uttered interjectional screams, and cried, — 

" < What is the matter with my daughter's hands ? ' 

"'Oh ! I've just been blackberrying, mamma.' 

" ' My daughter Leonore will condescend to degrade herself in 
this manner ! I am mortified beyond expression with your vul- 
garity ! ' 


" ' What silly ideas ! Vulgarity indeed, then we are vulgar ar 
West Elms,' and the speaker s lips pursed up with wounded self- 

" Hear the rest. It is too ridiculous. Mrs. Wallace actually 
entered the house weeping over the blackberry stains. After 
ordering her hands washed and bathed in the 'milk of roses,' she 
examined them again — then horror of horrors ! " 

At this point of the pretty scandal, they were inevitably seized 
with convulsive laughter, breaking up the relation into in coher- 

" Do tell what happened next ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " 

" Oh ! let me breathe. There. I've laughed myself to tears. 
Now hush. As I was saying, she examined the fingers, and found 
marks on the joints, and the cuticle broken in various places. 

" ' Alas ! my daughter, what is this ? ' turning very pale. 

" ' A trifle, mamma. I have been washing a few embroideries 
and laces. Among the Romans, do as the Romans do.' 

" 'Leonore ! I command you to cease these offensive comparisons. 
Do you compare the incomparable Romans with the labor-soiled, 
grovelling Northerners ; and must you grovel with them .? The 
idea is repugnant to every feeling in my breast. Look at these 
once delicate hands, bruised and torn, ragged and defaced. What 
an infamy. Alas ! Leonore ; have you abandoned every claim to 
your ancestral dignity ? ' " 

"Sublimely ridiculous ! " ejaculated the listeners. " So we have 
blue blood in our town. Lackada}^ what a pity." 

" Leave your laughter now, and hear me through. Put on your 
solemn faces. Let your hearts ache. The woman fell over the 
arm of the sofa and actually began to faint, a fitting climax to such 
acting. After being brought to, by the use of salts, she sent post 
haste for the doctor, declared to him that the alarming state of 
Leonore would deprive her of sleep, if he did not remedy her con- 
dition immediately." 

"What did the man do? He should have prescribed another 
healthy dose of washing, as the best restorative." 

" Oh, he put on his official solemnity, and swathed Leonore's 
fingers in medicated fine linen. She is under the doctor's daily 
care at last reports. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 


■" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " all round. 

Farmer Bing down in the meadow, went on whetting his scythe 
while he listened ; and, as his bare, brawny arm plied to and fro 
on the ringing blade, his white, firm teeth gleamed slowly out from 
his pleased lips, and his keen eyes beamed under his sun-browned 
hat. When all was told, before his mouth had returned to its 
gravity, he said, — 

" Well, I guess we ought to give that Southern girl that rides 
that little black horse, some credit. I b'lieve it'll take a good deal 
of that nonsensical palaver to make her \vhat her mother wants 
her to be. She's got a noble, good look in her face. She dropped 
her whip in the road once, this summer. I was coming along with 
a load of hay, and picked it up for her. She thanked me as pretty 
as if she had been my own girl. Then she said I had a fine load 
of hay, and asked me if she might ride down in the meadow with 
me when I came back. I told her to go out to the bars, and wait 
till I came, and then she rode clear down to the river, her horse 
side by side with the oxen, asking me questions all the way." 

" She's got spunk enough for 'em, too. After she got in the 
field, she says, — 

" ' May I ride anywhere ? ' 

"Says I, 'Yes, anywhere I've mowed.' 

" So she tossed her hat on to a hay-cock, and went galloping 
round bare-headed, like a circus rider. That pony and she ca- 
pered about like children. I guess I shall have to stand by her." 

This gossip was nevertheless truth. Leonore's fingers were 
bound with balms and mollifying ointments. Her outgoings and 
incomings were made under the sharp espoinage of her high caste 

The Glenlys and Fanny fled from Mrs. Donald's rooms, with the 
rest of the blackberry party. Mrs. Gienly comforted the refugees 
by showing them that these various expressions of Southern life 
were the very best lessons they could have, as they were drawn 
from Nature. 

The termination of Fanny's visit drew near. Just the day be- 
fore the one appointed for leaving, the family welcomed again with 
pleasant surprise the Friend, ]Mr. Sterlingworth. 

" I was at East Elms," he said, " and was attracted hither for a 


day by the agreeable memory of my week here with Ishmael." 

" Where is Ishmael ? " sprang from all lips. 

''With a family near Boston ; thy brother Richard's suggestion, 
Fanny ; " and his glance turned full upon her ; neither was it 
quickly withdrawn, but lingered like the glory of a summer sunset, 
till Fanny's eyes dropped upon her folded hands, leaving her face 
suffused with the hues of a pinken shell. Nevertheless the inter- 
viewing proceeded in a lively manner by the rest of the family, 
while Fanny pondered upon a new mystery of life just opened to 
her view. 

During the day she found herself frequently conning this mys- 
tery. She had not the baneful experience of the world, which maps 
out the ways of heart and soul before the inexperienced traveler. 
Despite her outspoken sense of justice, she undervalued herself, in 
the extreme humility to which she had attained. So the new mys- 
terious lesson became a different one. 

" Strange ! " she found herself soliloquizing, " I have dreaded 
this last day of my stay at West Elms ; the parting with Caro and 
dear Mrs. Glenly; and yet this is the happiest day of my visit. 
Ah ! " she said to herself religiously, " it is my deceitful heart ! 
ever leading I know not whither ! I am never what I seem ! My 
feet will stray in by and forbidden paths." 

In one of these customary attacks of abstraction, while her ab- 
sent eye wandered among the tops of the street elms, a familiar 
voice recalled her. 

" Come, Fanny ! thy thoughts seem to soar away with the birds ! 
come back to earth ! Let us take a farewell stroll to the orchard, 
and then to the river." 

Ere she was aware, her fingers were laid timidly on the arm of 
Mr. Sterlingworth, and both were threading the mazes of red and 
golden fruit. Nature appeared more beautiful to her than ever 
before. The sky, the hills, the orchard and the river distilled a 
new and strange delight. Mr. Sterlingworth also seemed to her to 
have found a fresh interest in all she held dear ; his gentle words 
flowed out in harmony wdth her every thought. 

" So thou takest the early stage for home to-morrow, Fanny. Hast 
thou traveled much alone ? " 


" Never before, sir. But the distance is short. There is but 
one change in the stages — at East Elms." 

" Wilt thou allow me the honor and pleasure of being thy com- 
panion and protector ? " 

" I could not consent to give you that trouble, sir." 

"I have business in Cloudspire, Fanny." 

He paused on the lawn before the house — for they had re- 
turned — and then in tones which added music to his words he 
said, — 

" It would be more than a pleasure, I assure thee." 

The next morning the burly stage-driver hauled up his four-in- 
hand before the Glenly gate. It is needless to dwell upon the 
happy security Fanny felt in being handed into the lumbering 
vehicle by the strong and ready arms of her friend ; and amidst 
the strange and crowded faces to know that Mr. Sterlingworth was 
at her side. His delightful conversation, too, relieved the tedium 
of the rocking, jolting miles. She even found the journey too 
short; when the crack of the driver's whip brought the panting 
horses galloping up the hill, and round the curve in front of the 
old tavern and its loungers at Alderbank. 

It must also be acknowledged that Fanny felt a certain proud 
satisfaction in being handed out by a gentleman whose figure and 
presence demanded the respect of the bystanders. Truly she felt 
gratified for his protection, when he drew her arm within his and 
led her to the sitting-room, up the dingy steps, through the track- 
begrimmed entry, past the noisy opened door of the bar-room ; and 
in the knowledge that her baggage would be withdrawn from the 
confused pile on the stage without her interference. 

Surprise took the place of other emotions, when after the bustle 
of departure, he entered the apartment, and with the same tender- 
ness she had observed on the morning of his arrival at West Elms, 
said, — 

" With thy permission Fanny, I will attend thee home." 

He drew her hand upon his arm. In a sweet confusion of bash- 
ful timidity, she walked by his side up the long street. To the 
prying eyes in door-ways and curtained windows along their route, 
and to gossiping tongues, we leave the significance of his errand. 



MRS. BUDDINGTON and Alfy stood at the east window 
looking eagerly up the road for Thad. It was nearing 
Christmas. Winter had made several aggressive skirmishes on the 
dallying autumn days, till the ruddy-haired nymphs fled out of sight, 
leaving their late glorious domain to his pale rigor. Snow was 
falling. The vision of the watchers extended but a short distance 
through the atmosphere, thick with the feathery shower. 

" Mother, don't you think the snow is beautiful .'* See, every- 
thing is so white ; the barn, the shed are roofed anew. Every 
fence-rail, ev^ery branch and twig are heaped with it. Mother, 
don't you like it? " 

" Yes, my son, I do admire it. Snow is like a pure veil, covering 
every object offensive to the eye. After a winter snowstorm, it 
seems we have a new earth. Observe those hemlocks, Alfy ; they 
seem to have put on white mantles." 

He leaned his head on his mother's shoulder, and threw an arm 
about her neck. 

*• Shall we have any snow in Texas, mother ? " 

" No, my son ; no snow, no ice. The climate will appear to us 
like perpetual summer. The sun will ride higher than here, in the 
bluest of heavens. We shall have a greater variety of flowers, 
larger and more splendid. I expect these blue eyes will be busy 
enough with the blossoms, the gay butterflies and bright birds.** 
She turned to look into those eyes, ever calm and sunny. 

" Father will be better there too, mother." 

"We hope so, my son ; his health is the prime object of our 
removal. We hope the balmy airs of the South will be strengthen- 
mcr to his fragile constitution." 

" He must be there now, mother ; and it will seem to him like 
spring amongst the flowers, butterflies and birds. I guess he 
misses us among the fiery Southerners and Mexicans. I guess he'd 
like to be at home with us to-night. Don't you wish he was here, 
mother ? " 


"Home is no home without father, my boy." A tear dropped 
upon the hair of Alfy. " No man ever loved his wife and children 
more than he. Ho'wever, we must submit to a short separation 
now, that death may not rob us of him too soon. He may live a 
long life in Texas. I should be satisfied with a letter at present ; 
we have not had any news from father and uncle George for five 

" Mother, why did he and uncle George go to Texas ? why not 
go to some other place South ? I find Texas on my map, and it's 
farther off than Georgia and Alabama." 

" Well, because it is a new country ; land is cheap, and new 
settlers are welcomed. There are, also, excellent prairie-grazing 
grounds for cattle. Raising stock requires no hard labor, like 
tilling this rocky New England soil. Flocks of cattle require only 
a herdsman to ride about after them. They take care of them^ 
selves ; need no hay, no barns. Then the sun there does the work 
of a farmer here ; vegetation asks no nursing from the worn-out 

laborer." t, j r 

" But, mother, father has not money enough to buy a herd ot 


" Uncle George has ; he will help father to make a fair start. 
Uncle George can buffet with the rough world better than^ father, 
too. Dear father will find strength and support in^ George.'' 
" Where were they when we got the last letter ? " ^ 
*' They were on the Ohio river, between Cincinnati and the Mis- 
sissippi." , . , 1- .1 TJ- 

" That will suit Thad, to ride over the plains herding cattle. He 
likes cattle —and he likes to ride fiery horses. He says he's going 
to be a stage-driver, mother," an idea at which Alfy laughed loudly, 

forcing his mother to join. , . , t 

''The life of a herdsman will satisfy Thad's roving humor, I 
think ; and perhaps Alfy would like a pony to ride also. _ I^^expect 
these two violet eyes, and this fair hair will need that tonic. ihe 
fond mother dropped two kisses on the tender lids. 

" The snow is falling faster, mother." ^ , , n-u ^ 

" And it is growing darker. I cannot imagine what delays ihad. 
The roads are tilled with snow ; old Ned must find it hard traveling, 
dragging wheels through the clogging ruts." 


The mother turned away ; but the anxious eyes of Alfy took 
another survey of the road. 

" ^Mother, I see something coming ; the horse is walking." 

Mrs. Buddington went to the window again. 

" That's Ned ; but there's two in the wagon. Perhaps he's 
bringing home a neighbor."' 

She Hghted candles, looked after the supper, waiting by the fire 
on the hearth. Ned soon came round the house, tired and wet 
with sweat. Alfy met him on the steps. 

" What makes you so late, Thad .'* " 

" Had to go further," was the short reply. 


"I'll tell you all about it when I come in. Hurry and light the 
lantern. Father said we must be kind to * Ned,' and he's tired 
and hungry." 

There was something ominous in Thad's voice, which Alfy felt, 
but could not define. The passenger sprang out of the wagon, and 
laid a heavy gloved hand familiarly on Alfy's shoulder. 

" Don't know Uncle George } How do you do ? and how is 
mother ? " 

Alfy noticed something strange in his uncle's voice ; also the tone 
was more affectionate than formerlv. 

" Tell mother I've gone to the barn, to help Thad put up 'Ned ;* 
you must bring out the lantern." 

He was glad to have a small extension of time, before the sad 
meeting which awaited his entrance to the home of his brother. 

With a beating heart and bewildered step, Mrs. Buddington drew 
out the fall-leaf table, spread the white damask cover, and set out 
the best china. A trembling hand set the extra plate. Her con- 
fused sight could scarcely distinguish one jar of preserves from 
another. She sta^srered down the cellar stairs where she had last 
seen her husband at w^ork, storing the products of the farm. It 
seemed like a tomb; but she carried up the Christmas loaf, of which 
her husband was fond, and which she had made for the boys, in 
his memory. She was bending over the hearth to take up the late 
supper, when the stamping of feet in the entry announced their 


" What news will he bring ? " she said to herself. " Where is 
James ? How can I ask .? " 

Her head swam and she sank into a chair. The whole family- 
strove to maintain a superficial composure during the meal, and 
succeeded. General inquiries of health and weather were answered 
in a general manner. Oracular premonitions of a deep sorrow fell 
about the mother, like the falling snow. The moaning winter wind 
struck desolation to her heart, yet she only said, as they rose from 
the table, — 

" Thad, where did you find your uncle ? " 

His uncle answered for him. 

" I knew he would go to the post-office, often. I wrote to the 
post-master from New York, to send Thad on to the ' old tavern,' 
to meet and bring me here. He has had a long ride in the snow. 
I came back, Mary, on unexpected business." 

"Where did you leave James ? " 

" At the last place where we stopped. Let us have the table 
aside ; when we gather round the fire, I will explain my visit." 

Alfy followed his mother about, assisting. In the pantry he 
whispered, — 

" Why didn't father come ? Will Uncle George go back soon ? " 

" I cannot tell, my son ; it is all as strange to me, as to you." 

The work was done ; they gathered, anxiously, about the bright 

" Mary, James has been sick — unable to travel." 

" I fear that is not all the message you bear ! " answered Mary 
in a tremulous voice. " Is he well again } or who attends to him 
among strangers ? " 

'• James needs no care at present. He had the best of womanly 
care from the hands of the lady who stopped on her journey for 
this purpose." 

" George Buddington, my husband is dead. Tell me the truth !" 
she ejaculated, while tears flowed down her pale face. Her pitiful 
moans filled the room. The distress of the beloved mother roused 
her sons, and their childish sobbing joined hers. 

The brother made no haste to reply; he could not trust his own 
voice ; he waited for this first outbreak of feeling to spend itself. 


Exhausted grief would listen more calmly. The task he had to 
perform required a serene subjection of his own grief, and the bit- 
ter recollections of its cause. While eno:ao:ed in the hard strife 
with himself, the tempest of weeping lessened. She addressed him 


"Tell me. Brother George, the whole truth ; delay is no relief. 
Where is James ? " 

" He sleeps peacefully — he is at rest, where no apprehension of 
evil nor the turmoil of earth can ever disturb him more. Control 
yourselves as much as possible. All times and seasons are in the 
hands of Him who both giveth and taketh life. He onlv knows 
how I have dreaded to be the messenger of these tidings to you, 
Mary, and the dear boys." 

Alfy threw himself moaning, upon the floor. The pent-up sor- 
row of Thad burst forth uncontrolled. Uncle George, whose grief 
had a deeper source than they yet knew, joined his tears with 
theirs. Stunned by the overwhelming blow, the mother and her 
sons sat speechless around the winter hearth ; each mind picturing 
to itself the cruel grave among strangers, in a lonely, far-off 

George Buddington studiously withheld the unsuspicioned and 
shocking cause of his death. He spoke little, leaving the heart- 
rending dmouejjiejit iox a future day. It was enough for the stricken 
wife to know that the beloved husband of her youth was dead. 
That one word had enough of poignancy for the present. Another 
hand more skillful than his should reopen the wound, and lay 
upon its throbbing pain the leaves of healing. Other lips, gentle 
and loving, should narrate the horrid truths. " Not I ! " He 
thought to himself. 

" I could not comfort, or soothe with patient words. I should 
curse — hotly curse his murderers. I should anathematize the bru- 
tal fiends, who beat out, with the bloody lash, my brother's frail, 
unoffending life. I should curse the Constitution, in which the 
Southerner crystalized his own diabolical wishes. I should curse 
a religion that allows its priesthood to minister to the infernal, 
blood-thirsty oligarchy of the South. I should curse the heavens 
above, that would receive the fainting spirit of James, threshed 
from his bleeding body, by the diabolical flails of Southern torture. 


without Striking down the guilty actors with the fiery bolts of Divine 

Scarce thinking of himself, he raised both arms to join his hands 
against the back of his head, as a support, when sharp twinges of 
pain quickly recalled his own flagellation, and the still sore, un- 
healed welts upon his own person. His arms dropped suddenly. 
With a bitter groan, he rose and slowly paced the kitchen floor. 

Hearing this, and observing the unnatural flush that burned like 
a flaming fire on his pale face, Mrs. Buddington asked with con- 
cern, if he were not suffering from fever ; perhaps from the same 
fever that might have overtaken James ; and was there not a West- 
ern fever fatal to Eastern residents ? " 

He had heard so ; was not well informed ; thought his brother 
feverish before his death ; was not feverish himself, only fatigued 
with travel. Thus he calmed her fears and walked on, apparently 
listening to the cold, soughing wind and the pattering snow on the 
panes. Thad had thrown himself on the floor by the side of his 
brother, before the bright fire, and childhood's sweet sleep of for- 
getfulness had sealed their grieving eyes. 

" Sister Mary," said George, " a lady will come here to inform 
and comfort you respecting James' sickness and death ; the one who 
attended him in his last sickness. She lives in New York, and in- 
sisted upon coming to embrace you and offer solacing words. She 
will prove an angel of peace to you, as she did to James. But you 
should not be alone till even then. I propose to send Thad to- 
morrow morning with a note to Filette Snow, to come immediately 
here to take the household burden from your distracted thoughts ; 
also, that she may be a cheerful companion to you all. 

There was no sleep for James' stricken wife the live-long night. 
Mr. Buddington bore her company through the long, dreary hours ; 
kept the fire burning brightly, and by his unruffled serenity, calmed 
^the wild outbursts of her trembling soul. He covered the sleeping 
brothers, on the floor, with blankets, passed out into the drifting 
snow and in again, to break the dread stillness. He made in- 
quiries concerning the neighbors and the clergyman — thus lead- 
ing her meditations, at intervals, away from the dead. 

When the first crimson rays of morning barred the shroud-like 
snow, a light knocking called him to the door. It was Mrs. Bud- 


dington's neighbor Brown, from the snug home dowr. the hill. 
Surprise lifted his gray brows, as he pressed George's proffered 

" I beg pardon for this early intrusion, Mr. Buddington. Wife 
has kept a watchful eye on this house since James went to Texas ; 
she has seen a light in the wmdows several times in the night, and 
hurried me up here to see if Mary or the boys are sick. There is 
no need now. Is your brother James well.? Is he within } " 

He was invited in, and he gave all a kindly greeting. He 
learned that the shadow of death darkened the hitherto joyful 
hearth. With a misty voice he spoke of the better land, and 
another happy dweller there ; and that, by and by, imitating his 
exemplary life, those who wait below may meet the lost above. 
There was balm in his words and manner. He offered himself and 
sleigh to go for Filette Snow, remarking it would be too cold and 
hard a ride for Thad, and too much for old Ned. His horse was 
young and strong, and was as fond of breaking paths as an engine 
on the railroad track. 

He took a sealed note from Mr. George, explaining all. 

Filette came to the door, ringing out her usual merry laugh. 

" Why, you look like a miller, IMr. Brown ; you are powdered 
white. Did the colt throw 3'ou out .'' or did he sift the snow over 
you himself ? Come in to the lire. Now that ' gude wife ' of yours, 
will have to eat those delightful pies and cakes without the 
tailoress, for I'm just going to fiy away in another direction. Did 
you come for me ? Why, what's the matter, Mr. Brown ? Has any- 
thing happened? " 

" I have a letter for you." 

She looked at it archly, saying, — 

" I do not know the hand-writing." 

" Read it, Filette," he said, in a voice strangely grave. The 
entreaty sounded to the gay girl like a rebuke. With a sobered 
eye she scanned his staid face rapidly, and retired from the circle 
about the blazing hearth to a chair by the window. Once more 
she curiously turned the letter in her fingers, with an air as puzzled 
as if she were about to remedy a mistake in one of the garments 
her hands turned off so readily. 

The half sheet of foolscap was neatly folded in letter form, and 


sealed with a wafer. The bold, handsomely turned letters of her 
name rarely met her gaze in that attractive form. The secret was 
inside. Breaking the seal, she sought first the name of her cor- 
respondent. There, in letters as handsomely turned as those of 
her own name, she read with a suddenly throbbing heart, " Yours 
respectfully, George Buddington." 

The perennial roses of her round, healthy face deepened into 
velvety crimson. The pale, rosy wine of young life's sweetest 
hopes mounted to temple and brow ; for a moment the tidied 
kitchen and its busily talking inmates swam like a receding vision. 
At first, the name was all she pondered ; to this holy oriflamme of 
her soul's secret adoration, her charmed eyes were fastened. She 
questioned, — 

" Where was he ? Had he remembered her on his far-off jour- 
ney ? Ah ! was it possible ? She would know," and sought the 
place of address. "No, he is here in Connecticut, at James' 

Her pulses perversely quickened, as if they were well informed 
of what she herself had not acknowledged. With some effort she 
steadied the paper in her hands, reading, — 

•' Miss Snow, — You will doubtless be surprised to learn that I have so soon 
returned from the Texan journey. I am here from a mournful necessity. My 
brother was not equal to the task imposed. After an unlooked-for and fatal 
sickness, I left him in his grave in Indiana, and returned to break the nev^s to 
Mary, and to stay up the stricken family. I write in behalf of Mary this morn- 
ing, asking that as an expression of the sympathy you feel for her, you will come 
immediately to her side, and with your strong, cheering presence, and with physi- 
cal aid in her domestic cares, you may assist her to bear the heavy burden 
which has fallen to her lot. Come immediately. Your remuneration shall be 
sufficient to cover all losses of time from professional engagements. 

" Respectfully yours, George Buddington." 

The roses faded ; the flushed brow whitened — they had been 
touched by sympathetic sorrow, and like the leaves of the Mimosa, 
shrank beneath it. Selfish emotions, however sweet, gave way to 
the sisterly affections cherished for James' wife. She went to the 
pantry, where her mother was busy with morning's milk and cream, 
laid a hand upon her shoulder, saying, — 

*' James Buddington is dead. Mary is left a widow ; her boys 
are fatherless." 


Mrs. Snow dropped the skimmer laden with cream into the pan, 
and asked again what Filette said. 

*.' James Buddington is dead, mother, and Mary is desolate." 
She leaned against the shelves, answering with the calmness which 
only is gained by long experience in life. 

" This is terrible news, Filette ; but Heaven is a better place 
than Texas, with all its blue skies, birds and flowers," 

"But, mother, how Mary and the boys loved James." 

"Oh yes, death is ever cruel. But if James had gone there, he 
might have lost his soul if he had recovered health." Her voice 
fell to a whisper. " Nobody can take up their abode among slave- 
holders ; (and those in Texas are nothing better than heartless 
brigands — robbers of the natural rights of Mexico) I say, no man 
can live among slave-holders, assimilating his interests with theirs, 
as residents of a section must do, without becoming assimilated 
also in soul and principle. James' beautiful boys would have 
changed to bloody, irritable slave-masters. Filette, it may shock 
you, but if this is the only way to prevent his abode in that un- 
manageable den of thieves, I say reverently, ' God's will be done ! " * 

" Mary has sent for me, mother." 

She read her letter. 

" Go, my child. Carry Mary in your arms through this fiery 
trial." She left her cream, and went about bringing her daughter's 
cloak, hood and wrappings. " Filette," she said, " sit by the stove 
and warm you. It's a long, cold ride. I will gather up what you 
will need during your stay." 

The return was made almost in silence. 

Neither Mr. Brown or Filette knew more than the simple facts 
stated in the letter. Filette was revolving thoughts which had no 
reference to the gray-headed man by her side, and which were 
scarcely intelligible to herself. As she turned the subject con- 
fusedly this way and that, prismatic hues shot forth, enveloping it 
in the colors of the iris. Rainbows gave place to the shadow of 
sorrow and the gloom of James' freshly made grave. The whitened 
landscape, the dazzling sunlight, the colt plunging through drifts, 
and the skurrying snow were familiar to both, claiming no atten- 
tion ; and in the midst of her reveries the sleigh bells ceased ring- 
ing. They were at Mary's door. 


Before the arrival was realized, a deep subdued voice bade 
Filette "Good-morning;" two strong arms lifted her from the nest 
among the buffalos, to the clean-swept step-stone. She raised her 
face to say "Thank 3^ou." The same fascinating hazel eyes which 
had haunted her memory since they vanished up the green-bor- 
dered road, weeks before, met hers again, their tender sheen melt- 
ing into her fluttering heart. 

*• Miss Snow, I am under many obligations for this quick reply 
to my note. Sister Mary needs you much." 

She entered the kitchen, where Deacon Brown's wife had finished 
clearing up the breakfast table. Mary hastened to meet her friend, 
and while tears rained afresh, exclaimed, — 

"James is dead ! " 

Filette held Mary in a long embrace, saying, — 

"I know all — you can but grieve — tears are the best relief. 
My heart bleeds for you and the poor boys." 

Then while Mary went on sobbing, she bent low to her ear. 

"Mother sent you a message — this is it. 'We all are but dust, 
and heaven is better than earth. ^ And Mary, you know you and I 
believe that God is good. That comprehends more than we can 
make clear to ourselves." 

" But James is so far away in that lonely grave, among stran- 
gers," soliloquized Mary. 

"That is true," replied Mrs. Brown; but the All-seeing Eye that 
knoweth when a sparrow falls will much more watch his dust for 
you. Your agony will not be forgotten. After the sharp pangs 
are past, which all must feel at the sudden loss of a friend, He 
will bind up your bruised spirit; He will give you peace for mourn- 

" Think Mary," added Filette, '• how many of earth's beloved lie 
in unknown graves of the sea. How many close their eyes for- 
ever, and bid adieu to earth on the merciless battle-field, and are 
hurried into trenches, unknown and unwept. James had a brother 
at his side, who cared tenderly for his last hours. Let that com- 
fort you." 

George entered with Thad and Alfy, who followed him about as 
if he were their only protector. Hearing Filette's efforts at sooth- 
ing his sister-in-law, he added, — 


" Heaven sent an angel to his sick bed, in the person of a lady 
traveler who was returning to New York with her husband and 
servant, from a Western tour. They put up at the same inn ; and 
learning that we were Eastern men, she insisted upon halting until 
the crisis should be over. Night and day, she sat by his bedside f 
made wdth her own hands various kinds of nourishment which 
could not have been obtained at a country inn. The proprietor 
and his wife, pleased with the distinguished patronage of herself 
and husband, granted all her wishes. Mary could not have nursed 
him more considerately, herself. When all w^as over, she, with her 
noble husband, dressed the body for the grave. More, they went 
to a neighboring village, and purchased flowers, here and there, 
from plants in the windows, and with evergreen, wove a floral cross 
for the coffin. She even borrowed a crape bonnet and veil, tied a 
badge of mourning on her husband's arm, and followed James with 
me, as mourners, to his grave." 

" Heaven will bless her for that," said Mrs. Brown. 

" She is even coming here to make acquaintance with Mary ; to 
speak of James, and bear a message from his dying lips." 

"When will she come ? " asked Filette. 

" One week from the time I arrived. We will offer her a warm 
welcome, Mary. You will be tranquilized by her visit. She will 
remain one week," said George. 

By the close of the interval week before the reception of the 
guest, every preparation possible in a plain, country farm-house, 
was perfected. By George's suggestion, the bird's eye maple bed- 
stead was brought down from the cold chamber, and placed in the 
parlor, where was a bright carpet of warm scarlet and green, and a 
polished stove, which would furnish summer temperature. The 
white toilet table was brought down also, and placed under the mir- 
ror, which, together with the high bed draped in white, gave the 
room as snug and comfortable an air as one could desire. So said 
George Buddington. 

Cream, mince and apple pies, glorying in the flakiest crust ; and 
cakes with icing as white as the snowy fields — the handi-work 
of Filette, awaited the almost dreaded arrival — for Mary said, 
what with her grief and country manners, she could not expect to 
entertain a lady so delicate and refined. The extreme poignancy of 


bereavement had become deadened, to a degree, by Filette's wise 
cheerfulness and the occupied days. A quiet resignation was per- 
ceptibly gaining ascendency in the broken family circle. 

Near the close of the day appointed for the lady's arrival, which 
was bright and cold, there were many eyes looking up the road. 
Thad and Alfy had held several private conferences through the 
day, on the lady from New York — added to much speculation on 
her wealth and appearance and the object of her visit. Each was 
desirous of having his own judgment prove the most correct ; there- 
fore, the window commanding the snowy road was not left for a 
moment without a sentinel. 

" It's near sunset ; they ought to be near," said Alfy. 

" Oh, it's a long way to the old Red Tavern where the stage 
stops, and the lady would want to go in and warm, before she got 
in the cutter with Uncle George," answered Thad. 

" Wasn't that a nice string of bells Thad, that Uncle George 
borrowed for the colt ; they reached clear round him, and made 
such fine music." 

'• Yes, they're just the kind of bells as I'm going to have when I 
own horses. I'll have two jet black ones, like Lone Star, and a 
string of bells just like them on each one." 

'• There ! they're coming now, Alf. I'm going to drive the colt 
down the hill to Mr. Brown's. You want to go, Alf ? " 

" No, I want to stay and see the lady." 

The meeting was cordial on both sides ; but on the stranger's 
part, it was like the recognition of long-absent friends. She 
embraced Mary with unaffected and sisterly sympathy, imprinting 
a warm kiss upon her pale brow. She had a kiss also for Thad 
and Alfy. She took both of Filette's hands in hers, held them 
long, and said admiringly, — 

"So! so! Pink roses among New England snows. I have 
found a beautiful Hebe." 

With some trepidation, Mary ushered her into the parlor bed- 
room to arrange her toilet for supper — apologizing for their rude 

"We have no saloons, no folding doors, and no servants, my 
dear lady, here. I fear you will regret leaving your spacious and 
luxuriant home in the city." 


•' By no means. Do not indul^^^e that unpleasant thought. This 
room is a paradise ; so delightfully warm ; and that bed will tempt 
me to sleep day and night. I have so desired to nestle down in a 
New England farm-house ; here my wish is gratified. My dear ]\[rs. 
Buddington, you will find, on farther acquaintance, that my likings 
are very simple." 

The supper was soon upon the table before the blazing hearth, 
which illuminated every angle of the tidy kitchen. George assisted 
Filette. He was the infallible reference in perplexity. 

" She is a superb woman," said Mary in an undertone. " Her 
hair is singularly splendid, with the color and luxuriance of ripened 
wheat fields. You will admire her, Filette." 

'*I hope the supper will prove satisfactory," whispered Filette. 

" It cannot be otherwise," spoke George encouragingly. "This 
cooking cannot be had from hotels or servants, for love nor money. 
She will be delighted with this bountiful repast j prepared too, by 
our magic hands." 

" Now Alf," whispered Thad, " don't forget and stand your 
knife and fork on end each side of your plate, while you are look- 
ing at the lady. I wouldn't look at her too much to-night ; we shall 
have plenty of time to see her afterwards." 

Alfy m.ade no reply, but his sensitive boyish pride was touched ; 
and the moistened eyes dimmed the happy firelight. 

After sufficient lime for a change of traveling-dress, Mrs. Bud- 
dington stepped into the parlor, to say that tea was waiting. 
George awaited her entrance to the kitchen, walked by her side to 
the table, withdrew the chair and seated her. She acknowledged 
this act of courtesy by saying, — 

" Thank you, Mr. Buddington ; but hereafter, allow me to 
approach the table unattended. Consent that I may be one of 
the pleasant family, and that no one shall take the trouble to pay 
me special attentions." 

Her manner was such as to dispel all anxiety from the minds of 
Mary and Filette ; for she declared, that to come to table in that 
delightful kitchen, before that picturesque fire-place was worth the 
whole journey. She begged the privilege of calling Mrs. Budding- 
ton Mary; as her brother-in-law had spoken of her in that manner 
on their journey ; adding that the ideal of her anticipated visit 


had been Mary ; in her estimate, the most exalted name among 

Observing the downcast eyes of Alfy, and the bashful awkward- 
ness with which he clung to his knife and fork lying prone upon 
the table as well as the self-possessed silence of Thad, she drew 
them adroitly into familiar conversation. 

" I must make the early acquaintance of these two fair lads. I 
have no little boys. Let me see ; the name of the youngest has 
escaped my memor\'." 

" Alfy, ma'am ; " and the blue eyes lighted up with the sweetest 

"The older is Thad," suggested Uncle George. "As you 
remarked, madam, they are fine boys — Uncle George is quite 
proud of them." 

" Excellent ; with that recommendation I shall place the names 
of Thad and Alfy on my list of friends. Now what have you in 
that large barn .'' horses .? and what are their names .? " 

" We have one — he is old though — his name is Ned," answered 

" Then you shall take me out sleigh-riding one of these even- 

" Ned is not fast enongh to carry a lady to ride," said Thad. 

Alfy was ruffled somewhat in Ned's defense. 

" Father loved Ned," he quietly responded " and bade us be kind 
to him." 

Smiling sadly, she healed the wound by saying, — 

" Then Thad, we will all love Ned and drive him gently." 

After many, and just encomiums upon the delightful supper, she 
remarked to Mr. Buddington, — 

"Our Hebe should not only be cup-bearer to the gods,but also 
the bearer of ambrosial food, which her hands so readily form." 

" Our opinions are harmonious, Madame Lambelle." 

After supper she led Mary and her sons away to her "pretty 
boudoir," saying archly, while Filette's cheeks glowed crimson, and 
George responded with an approving smile, — 

"I trust they will not be lonely without us." 

That was a never-to be forgotten evening for Mary's boys. 
Thad's barometer and Alfy's thermometer, the gifts of the " New 


York lady," as they sometimes termed her, became the keys to fu- 
ture unlocked stores of science. An ardent longing for its myste- 
ries was awakened by a recollection of the pleasant voice which 
explained their uses. The pretty dressing case bestowed upon 
each, was the secret indication of fast-approaching manhood. A 
standard of womanly beauty and refinement was then and there 
set up in their admiring minds, which was never to be dethroned. 
Woe be to those maidens hereafter, who, measured by the lovely 
stature, were found wanting. The keen edge of Mary's ever recur- 
ring loss was deftlv blunted by her visitor's gentle and considerate 
ways, in keeping her attention removed from the one object of her 
thoughts, to new and interesting subjects. 

The kitchen was rife with the praises of the elegant Madame 
Lambelle. She infused her beauty and goodness into every word 
and action. 

Said Filette,— 

" How delightfully the dreaded supper hour passed. 

*• * Round her she made an atmosphere of life, 
The very air seemed lighter from her eyes. 
They were so soft, so beautiful and rife 
With all we can imagine of the skies ! 

Her overpowering presence made you feel, 
It would not be idolatry to kneel ! ' " 

" Doing up the dishes, and chanting Byron ! " quoth her com- 

" Certainly ! Hands that labor, should be crowned with flowers 
of thought. When they are not indigenous, they must be culled 

"Valiant as ever in your own defense, I see. Now since you 
have thrown down the poetical gauntlet, I cannot refuse the chal- 
lenge. I most heartily accede to your admiration of our lady guest, 
and beg to add, that, besides being a phantom of delight,' she is 

' A creature not too bright or good 
For human nature's daily food ; 
For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
Praise, biame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.' 

That is the style of woman who commands my reverence. I have 


no faith in fancy-wrought angels, whose fairy, golden-slippered feet 
are never soiled with the dust of earth. Life is real — life is ear- 
nest for woman, as well as man. In spite of the sickly teachings 
of false literature, I have my own opinion." 

There was silence for a few moments. Nothing disturbed it but 
the official crackling of the winter fire, and the rattle of Filette's 
dishes. She w'ould not compromise herself by any expression of 
opinion ; although before Madame Lambelle's arrival, she had 
held well-defined ideas upon the true requisites of womanhood. 
Since the contemplations of her perfections, she had fallen in her 
own estimation. A secret fear whispered that she might have lost 
by comparison, in the estimation of one whose favorable opinion 
she most desired. She could be valiant in her own defense, no 
longer. However, she broke the expressive silence, by say- 

"It seems that we have had transplanted into our farm-house a 
tropical plant of exquisite richness and fragrance, whose bloom is 
a never-ceasing delight, I could easily become the hand-maid of 
our visitor, for the simple reward of being near her." 

"Miss Snow, there would be nothing in that love service which 
could in the least diminish your dignity. There is high authority 
for esteeming others better than ourselves. She certainly deserves 
high regard for the simple obedience yielded to the exalted and 
natural impulses of a noble heart ; but the ease, elegance and self- 
possession of her manners are due to leisure, travel and cosmopoli- 
tan intercourse. That is not the common lot of all, you know, Aliss 
Snow. Inherent worth should be held at its true value, even if 
unadorned by artificial aids. Blue field-violets and wood anemones 
are among the well -beloved of the most sensible minds." 

Filette had not given George Buddington the credit of cherishing 
such radical ideas upon what half the world seemed bewildered j 
yet they afforded agreeable meditations. 

The folio win 2: Sabbath was fixed for the conventional sermon 
upon James' death. The news had been spread through town, and 
visits of condolence had been numerous. Mary and Filette were 
with Madame Lambelle, inspecting the mourning suit that had 
been taken from the trunk. , 

" This bonnet and veil, and these black bordered handkerchiefs, 


are my gift, dear Mary. My husband thought these black furs 
would not be inappropriate ; he begs you to accept them from him ; 
or, perhaps you have furs already. 

" No, I have none. I denied myself many luxuries, that James 
might have means to remove his family to the South. We farmers' 
wives find other necessary ways to invest our hard-earned income. 
But really, I have some delicacy about receiving this beautiful pres- 
ent. I am in no wise worthy." 

"They are beautiful," exclaimed Filette. "Try these on, Mary. 
There, the point of the cape reaches to your belt, and the fur is so 
long and glossy. Place your hands in the muff. There is not so 
handsome a set in town ; and none deserves them more than your- 

" This black broadcloth cloak," continued the lady, " is the of- 
fering of your brother George ; he ordered me to purchase it for 
you. See, Mary, it is perfectly plain, but is rich and in good taste." 

Mary inspected it with grateful but tearful eyes. 

"Try them all on, oi.ce, and then let me put them from your 
sight till Sunday," advised Filette, considerately. 

While Filette went out on her errand, madame took Mary's 
hand, and said feelingly,- — 

" I have come to relate to you the circumstances of your hus- 
band's death, and to deliver his dying message ; but let us defer 
the painful duty until ^Monday. The exercises of the Sabbath will 
be sufficiently trying. As my stay is extended to Friday, there is 
ample time. This postponement will be made as the suggestion 
of your brother, who desires only your comfort and welfare." 

"Very well. I can await the proper time ; there may be some 
reason which I do not understand. George has been a kind 
brother to James, and I cannot doubt his friendship for me." 

At the Sunday sermon there was an unu ual attencsnce. The 
Reverend Mr. John's kept to the old beaten track of theologians, 
in accounting for the sudden demise of the well-known and exem- 
plary citizen, to whose memory all had gathered to drop the tear 
of sympathy. The death of James Buddington was among the 
myscerious and inscrutable ways of God. It was among His divinf^ 
and glorious designs that he should pass away from earth in a lana 
of strangers, far from the affectionate voices of his own family. 



" The Lord hath done this!'' he reiterated. " He hath called his 
beloved disciple away from earth, up to the abodes of bhss. With 
serene submission the mourners should lay their hands upon their 
moutiis, and their mouths in the dust, not daring to question 
Heaven's all-wise plans." 

This was the custom of that day ; to lay death, and the anguish 
of it, whatever it might be, upon the threshold of heaven. To at- 
tribute to the loving Creator the whimsical fiendishness of murder, 
or manslaughter m its various degrees. It was a comforting doc- 
trine for those who could stolialy embrace it ; for those who re- 
ceived their spiritual food as the stalled ox feeds upon weeds and 
thistles. How those mourners took this gracious unction to their 
souls must be seen hereafter. 

The congregation scattered through the town, had seen some- 
thing of much deeper interest than the sermon ; a living mystery, 
witlAvhich God seemed to have very little, or nothing to do. The 
stran£-er in the Buddington pew was to be unraveled. 

" Such an elegant lady 1 " said one. 

" She was dressed in costUest velvet from head to foot ! " said 


"Those were real ostrich plumes, and the rose in her Donnet 
locked as if it had just been cut from the stem ! " said a third. 

" Her eyes were blue as the sky, and her hair like pale gold ! " 
affirmed a' young collegian, at home for a vacation. 

The mystery of her advent into "that plain house which is no 
better than ours," was more difficult of explanation than the aus- 
tere will and stony decr.ees of Jehovah. 

" I'll Lell you 'what I believe ! " intimated Miss Myrtle Berry, at 
the Sunday dinner, "she's to be the wife of George Buddington. 
She must be a Southern lady. He made her acquaintance on his 
journey, and has brought her home to see his friends. I've always 
heard those Southern ladies are so hospitable ! " 

"So I've always heard," said her mother, a little withered 
woman, to whom all human nature was angelic. " James may have 
been taken sick at her father's house, ana she probably fell in love 
with his fine looidng brother, George. The further you go South, 
the kinder they say the people air." 

" Preposterous ! pre — pos — ter — ous ! " cried Anna, an older 


sister. "Myrtle, don't delude poor mother and yourself. Haven't 
I been governess South, amongst the blue-bloods, long enough to 
know better ? Hospitable ! They are so to those of their own 
standing, and to no others. Don't imagine that so grand a looking 
Southern lady as that would ever marry a Northern adventurer, as 
they term a gentleman who may travel through their section. No 
indeed ! she would be traveling towards Europe, instead of towards 
New England! " 

'"Why! wouldn't they marry as good looking a gentleman as 
George Buddington ? he's rich too, they tell me. He's got a deal 
of property in Massachusetts. 

" He's not a rice planter, nor does he hold five hundred slaves ! 
those are blue-blood conditions. Girls there would lose caste im- 
mediately, to marry a Northerner. They would marry into their 
own families, over and over again — first cousins every time, rather 
than do it." 

" Well, I'm astonished ! " innocently averred the mother. 

'• You would have greater cause for astonishment yet, if you 
lived among them ! " was the bitter reply. " However, I am not 
disparaging the elegant young lady who accompanied the Budding- 
ton's to church, to-day. She was beautiful, and evidently possesses 
wealth and culture. I observed a soitaire diamond on her finscer, 
and a cluster nestled into the blue velvet on her singular hair." 

"Well, you don't say, Anna ! I never see a diamond in my life," 
replied the mother, with happy content. 

Another enigma worried the church people. When and how 
did Mary get that costly suit of mourning.'*- the furs, the cloak, the 
city-looking bonnet } These were tougher questions than fore- 
ordination or natural depravity, and busied gossiping tongues quite 
up to the hour for family prayers. Even the minister and his wife 
were agitated by the unusual extravagance of the widow, in her 
purchase of mourning. 

Filette and Thad rose early Monday morning. At half-past 
four, she was busy at the washing, that the short winter day should 
have its full quota of undisturbed quiet given to the last sacred 
hours of the deceased hnsband. At eigiu o'clock, the lines were 
Haunting burdens of snowy garments in the dawning face of the 
lardy sun. A quarter later, the boys had breakfasted, and were 


starting for the distant school-house, laden with dinner basket and 
books. The savory breakfast smoked upon the table, for the elder 
members of the family. Conversation laijired ; abstraction and 
silence prevailed with all except Filette. Her eflFoits at cheerful 
sociability scattered the gathering gloom, kept back the tears from 
Mary's eves, and called the color back to Geors^e's ashen face. 
Madame Lambelle seconded Filette, and her glance often met the 
noble girl's in a glad recognition of her kindly design. 

By ten, the three women were gathered about the stove in the 
visitor's room. 

" Mary, your lovely calla lily and the tea roses are drinking this 
bright sunlight to their heart's content. How pure and lovely they 
are ! ever so, but especially amid icy winter." 

"The calla was James' favorite, and his own hands raised it. 
Everything blossomed under his care — everything except this last 
fateful journey to Texas." With a deep sigh she added, " He loved 
flowers with almost feminine enthusiasm." 

" Mary, he rested in his last sleep among flowers ; they were on 
his breast and upon his coffin, and, according to the faith of our 
fathers, he now walks where 'flowers immortal bloom ! ' " 

" Madame Lambelle, I am to hear to-day the particulars of his 
sickness, and his message to me. Do not hesitate, but speak 
without a longer delay. Explain precisely the nature of his disease. 
Explain why you took so deep an interest in his death and 
burial." • 

The lady seated herself by Mary, and took her hand in hers, 

'• First promise me that you will brace your nerves against exces- 
sive grief, that you will bring all your powers of resistance to your 
aid, for mine is a harrowing task. Remember that the past cannot 
be recalled — the future only remains. I will answer your last 
question first. 

"1 was staying in St.Louis myself last autumn, while my husband 
made a journey to Texas — not for the purpose of settling there, 
but for other reasons. We carried letters of recommendation to a 
few of the most aristocratic families there, and, being heartily wel- 
comed by these, as New Yorkers after their own heart, v/e were 
introduced to the elite of the city. Towards the close of my stay, 


I was invited to attend a public meeting, a sort of jubilee over an 
event which had just filled the town with an uncontrollable excice- 
ment of rejoicing. The hall was thronged with ladies and gentle- 
men of the highest rank; statesmen, editors, and a large body of 
the clergy. The street was so densely packed, that being late, our 
carriage moved through with difficulty. The American Flag was 
flung to the breeze, and graced the hall, within. 

"1 found that the occasion of this tumult of cheering and huzza- 
ing, was rhe whipping of two strangers the da}' previous, whom 
they denominated thieves, on the pretence of their tampering with 
slaves and decoying them away. I arrived late, only in time to 
hear a few speeches against Northerners and Abolitionists. (By the 
way, these men who were whipped, were called abolitionists of the 
bloodiest and most repulsive character,) and to listen to resolutions 
that were clearly and designedly repellant to every instinct of hu- 
manity, to the spirit of our National Constitution, and to the lib- 
eral teachings and intent of our fathers. I was shocked at the 
anathemas poured out against all, whomsoever and wheresoever 
they might be, who would not violently sustain their system of 

" I was well informed of the danger to one who should dare dis- 
sent from their evil and bloodthirsty asservations, so maintained a 
seeming approval of the meeting and its purposes. I afterwards 
learned that the punishment of the two strangers was two hundred 
lashes each ; that the respectable citizens formed themselves into a 
line, each, in turn, giving two lashes and passing on. I was in 
high feather with the families of those very respectable citizens ; 
was the recipient of their extreme chivalric attentions. My hus- 
band arrived soon after, and remained just long enough to 
acknowledge with courtesy the hospitable welcome bestowed upon 
his wife. 

" We then started for New York at easy stages across the coun- 
try. One night we stopped at a country hotel in Indiana. During 
the evening, a gentleman dropped into the little parlor where Mr. 
Lambeile and myself were resting. We exchanged the usual salu- 
tations of travelers, and learned that he awaited the crisis of a 
brother's sickness, and would not go on till that was past. I was 
educated among Catholics, with the Sisters of Mercy, and had 


acquired a great admiration for their ministrations of love among 
the suffering ; since their acquaintance, I have ever felt an acute 
interest for the distressed. 1 made more particular inquiries. 

"Now Mary, the truth cannot be withheld any longer. I found 
that the brother was James — your husband; and that the two 
men publicly whipped in the city of St. Louis, were George and 
James Buddington." 

A low, Vv-ailing cry welled up from the suffocating throat of 
Mary.^ Her hands vaguely grasped for an intangible support. 
Mid sighs and sobs she cried piteously, — 

" Oh ! no ! no! no ! It cannot be ! Not my James ! my tender, 
upright, patriotic Jaiiies I my husband I The father of my boys ! " 
She sobbed brokenly, "Oh ! no ! no ! tell me no ! " 

Unable to support herself, her hands caught the back of a chair 
near her ; her head sank upon them, and she groaned deeply. 

Filette offered comfort in a choking voice. 

" No ! no ! Do not utter a word of consolation to me ! Think 
of my poor, feeble, sufferhig James at the whipping-post! his frail, 
panting life beaten out of him ! murdered ! Oh ! worse ! murdered 
by inches ! Don't speak to me I Madame Larabelle, don't speak 
of the Lord ! there is none ! " 

With an almost insane revulsion of emotion she sat up erect, 
still clutchtng the chair with a convulsive grasp. 

" Tell me, Madame Lambelle, where was James' spirit crushed 
out of him ? Tell me how ! tell me all ! everything you know, 
that I may seem to have been near him — that I may seem to have 
waited near his murderers to receive his mangled and bleeding 
body to my pitying arms ! Tell me why, I conjure you, tell me 
why ! " 

Madame Lambelle bent over the suffering wife, kissed the shak- 
ing hands — her soft, white palms passed over Mary's throbbing 
temples, and her tearful eyes looked calmly into the wild agony of 
those of her friend. 

" I w^as not an eye witness of that barbarous scene." Her. voice 
was low and gentle. " I can tell you of his lov^ely and triumphant 
death, Mary. I can give the dear message to you, with which he 
entrusted me. I can describe to you the quiet spot where he 
sleeps peacefully, that you may seem to weep by his grave, your- 


self. I can do that. Shall I proceed ? " the soft palms still mov- 
ing over the stricken woman's temples. 

" Yes, go on ! omit nothing. 1 must endure to hear what my 
dear James has suffered." 

*' Well, Mary, I went with my husband to James' room — it was 
comfortable. Mr. George had done all in his power for his 
brother ; but a woman's care was needed. After some consul- 
tation, I acquainted the sufferer with my design to become his 
nurse; informing him, at the same time, of the circumstance that 
brought us together. To encourage hope, I remarked, ' We will 
all delay till you can travel with us.' Gladness lighted his face 
when he learned we were to remain. Mary, the light of his smile 
did not become dim, when he said, ' My kind friends, you will not 
be delayed long; but I shall not travel with you.' ' 

Filette, moved by the pale and rigid face, spoke for Mary. 

" George says James died of fever." 

" Yes, that is true ; his life ebbed out in fever, but that fever 
was induced by the merciless whip. His wounds did not heal, and 
were a source of severe pain and irritation. You know in those 
terrible scourgings, a physician stands by with his fingers often 
applied to the pulse of the victim. He indicates the number of 
lashes that c;in be borne without a complete separation of the 
fluttering soul from the fainting body." 

A sharp shriek rang through the room. Madame Lambelle felt 
her hands seized suddenly, almost fiercely. Mary asked, — 

" How can you speak those words so coolly ? Why do they not 
burn your lips to anathemas .'' " Moaning and weeping, she bent 
her head over Madame Lambelle's hands, -which she still clenched 
like one drowning, and wet them with her tears. 

" I am cool, my dear friend, because I comprehend Southern 
slavery ; because I know slavery is unchangeablv cruel ; because I 
have suffered, and my friends have suiTered, till tears are exhausted ! 
tears are succeeded by the calmness of despair. Mary, if George 
and James Buddington were the only ones whom slavery has 
thrust into the jaws of Death, then, indeed, might the dove of Peace 
brood over our nation. But thousands, both of slaves and free- 
men, have watered with their life's blood this land mockiniilv con 
secrated to Liberty. There is no hope in man, his religion or hi:j 


laws. All bow the knee to this National Moloch. In God must 
be our trust. * Jud2;ment is mine,' he ha«? said." 

Astonishment in both listeners held grief in abeyance. They had 
supposed that the Southern institution would be held in respect by 
a lady so distinguished. Madame Lambelle returned to her 

"Mary, your husband could not rally. The shock to his vitality 
was thorough ; but as his physical strenght failed, his moral vision 
became clearer. The character of our national sin dawned upon 
him in its true light. ' Thank God ! ' he said, ' this event will save 
my two boys.' We were all sitting about him conversing ; he asked 
for pen and paper, and begged me to write his message to his be- 
loved wife. He would have it writkn, that his own words, and not 
another's, should guide and comfort you. I followed his dictation 
with pleasure. He read it afterwards, expressed himself satisfied, 
and bade me seal it in his presence." 

She lifted the cover of her trunk, and taking the packet, placed 
it in the wife's possession. Eagerly, but reverentially, she took the 
sacred remembrance and pressed it with her lips. 

"Read it, my dear Mary," besought Filette, "when the force of 
this grief has passed. Read it when you are alone, when no intru- 
sion can disturb the holy communion between his spirit and 

" There is another request he bade me repeat to you, of which 
your brother may have already spoken," continued the guest, sitting 
by Mary's side. 

" He has said nothing." 

" It was a painful experience to him," said Madame Lambelle 
in a reassuring voice, " and every word relative to it doubtless cost 
him many a pang. I will open the way. He formed a plan for the 
future residence of his • dear wife and children.' He desired 
George to sell this homestead and to take you all under his hospi- 
table roof, 7ioii' in your desolation, leaving future changing events 
to the ' watchful care of an ever-kind Providence.' Those were 
his words. He clung to the hand of his brother George, while he 
promised a v/elcome for you, and guardianship for your two sons. 
This was about sunset ; the room was lighted cheerfully by his 
setting glory. 


" James desired us to sing around his bed, the hymn, — 

*' ' Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are ; 
While on his breast I lean my head, 
And breathe my life out sweetly there.' 

" Angelic peace settled upon his face. At its close, folding his 
hands upon his breast, he said to his brother in a whisper of weak- 
ness. — 

" I am ready to depart.' " 

" Filette ! " cried Mary, with heart-broken groans, " where is 
mv Redeemer? This death-bed hides Him from mv si^rht. Where 
is the loving kindness of the Almighty ? This murder comes 
between it and me. To whom shall I go ? There is no arm of 
support in the awful darkness of this hour." 

After a deferential and silent waiting, Madame Lambelle 
addressed Mary with great gentleness. 

"Will you hear how sweetly your husband slept in the embrace 
of that Redeemer you cannot find ? It is this distracting grief 
which blinds your sight — a grief in which we all drop our tears 
beside yours. Will you hear, dear Mary ? " 

" Oh ! yes. I am compelled to come face to face with that 
dying bed, and with that grave which covers my best and only love 
on earth. Proceed." 

" Mr. Lambelle insisted I should take a short rest in the even- 
ing, with the promise to call me at any change. About twelve I 
was summoned ; the realities of earth were receding. At one 
o'clock, the gentle, loving life was sweetly yielded to Him whose 
love for you, dear i\Iary, is stronger than any earthly affection. 
There seemed to be no regrets — no pains — simply a falling 

In a frenzy of grief, Mary repeated over and over, — 

" Oh ! my poor, innocent, murdered James ! " 

" Geoge informed us that you took great pains to obtain flowers 
for his burial," ventured Filette. " I am sure it is a comfort to 

"True, he was buried with flowers; since my arrival here, I 
have thought it most singular, but we found a white calla ; in a 


setting of green, we placed it on Iiis name outside during thie exer- 
cises, and laid it on his bosom after." 

Filette left the room to prepare the dinner. Madame Lambelle 
soon followed, to enjoy, (as she said) as much as possible of that 
pleasant fire on the hearth, thus giving Mary the quiet opportunity 
she desired, to loose the seals upon her husband's last, loving 

This she reverently did ; her swimming eyes followed these 

lines, — 

" jMy dear Mary, — I am about to pronounce the hardest words I have ever 
spoken — an abiding farewell to you and my dear boys. An end is approach- 
ing to the few happy years since our marriage, which have had but one shadow ; 
that was my inability to surround my family with a portion of the luxuries which 
appear to be bestowed upon some, and are denied to others. I am to leave 
earth, and try the realities of that world concerning which you and I have often 
and hopefully spoken. I have been falsely accused, imprisoned, and beaten to 
my death. I bear no malice to my destroyers ; neither can I blindly say, 'Thy 
wfll be done ;' for I do not belieVe that 'this murder (and I can call it by no 
other name,) iniiicted upon my poor body, was the will of Heaven, or was 
wrought bv the hands of Divine Love I 

" My dear Mary ! my suffering wife ! the scales have fallen from my sight ! 
At last I see slavery and its adherents, in a new light. It is a heathen Moloch, 
demanding with bloodthirsty hands the continual human sacrifice of American 
citizens. It will not be app'eased, but by men's bodies cr souls. My body has 
been laid upon its altar. But let us be thankful, my dear wife, that my soul is 
untarnished with this idol's guilty worship. My object in writing is not only to 
say our long ' Farewell I ' but to leave you my will respecting our two boys. 
Mary, as you revere the right — as you love me and cherish my memory, take 
heed that'thev do not yield to this infatuation of laying their young hope and 
faith on the aftar of slaverv. Teach their youthful hearts to love and respect 
all races of men. Teach them the humanity of Christ, which knew no distinc- 
tion of persons ; for, my dear wife, remember while your heart is bleeding for 
me, that thousands in our land, of another color, are daily fainting or dying 
under the same lash that murdered their father ! Do not shock their tender 
minds at present with the secret of my death. When Thad shall have attained 
the age of sixteen, call them to you, Mary, and read them this bloody chapter of 
my life and Uncle George's. On that birth-day, cause them to take the oath of 
allegiance to Freedom, and ot enmity to Bondage. 

" My mistake, dear Mary, was in yielding blindly to the blandishments of 
wrong and injustice, because considered constitutional, also in listening to the 
'syren tongue of reconciliation' with the Southern shatne. Let my boys never 
fall into that error. I was never styled an abolitionist. It was neither that 
name or spirit that cost my life. Teach my sons hereafter, the abolitionist prin- 
ciples and faith. Let them become two of their straitest sect, squaring their 
lives by conscience and not by compromise, with v.hat a distinguished Divine, 


who had evidently been breathed upon by the spirit God, called the * sum of all 

" My beloved wife, this is my last will and testament concerning our dear 
boys. The little of property I leave for you and them, will be taken care of 
by mv dear brother George. Trust him, Mary, and follow his advice ; he knows 
inv wishes. Mv strength is failing. It is hard to think that when I gave you 
and the children the parting kiss and shake of the hand, on our home threshold, 
on that not-far-away, lovely autumn day, it was forever. Adieu, dear ones, 
adieu ! " 

Before the wife had read this tender missive from her dying hus- 
band, she stumbled to the sofa, nearly fainting, yet clinging uncon- 
sciously to the paper in her hand. Darkness surrounded her. She 
had not strength even to cry, " My God ! ^Nly God ! Why hast 
thou forsaken me?"' She could turn no where for help. At inter- 
vals, she raised the trembling manuscript before her dizzy sight 
and whitened face ; at intervals, the hand refused its of!ice, and 
dropped heavily to the floor. At lenghth, she reached the last 
"Adieu." Dazed and stunned, her throbbing heart refused speech, 
incoherently pouring forth low, sobbing moans. No one lifted the 
latch of the door; none intruded into the sanctity of the apartment 
given up to her. Alone she was, with this last voice of the dead. 
At last, in an agony of torture, speech came to her relief. 

"'Adieu, dear ones, adieu ! ' " she moaned. " Yet he can never 
hear our affectionate response ! Nevermore shall I hear his pleas- 
ant voice! Nevermore will life seem beautiful in the li^ht of his 
loving face ! Oh ! it was all, all to me ! Like his Master, * num- 
bered with the transgressors i ' beaten — killed — cruelly murdered ! 
Poor! struggling with the burdens of life! while extending the 
hand of brotherly love to the proud Southerner, struck down by his 
haughty pride ! Dead ! white in his grave ! " 

The preparation for dinner was carried forward in the kitchen, 
with careful step and hushed voices. It seemed to all, as if James 
Buddington had been brought home in his coffin, that day, and 
that the last look upon the dead had but just been taken. Madame 
Lambelle glided about, laying the table and assisting in other 
ways, against the remonstrances of Filette, that it would be too 
much for her. 

All was ready. The madame entered her room, and returned 


"Mary desires nothing. She bids us leave her alone. Her 
sacrament of suffering must be received with fasting." 

" Solitude is better at present than -^ociet}^" replied George. 
" The words of comfort we might offer would prove onl}' vinegar 
and gall to her extremity." 

_ "I think so," answered the lady. "The healing of nature and 
time will cicatrize those wounds I have been the instrument of in- 
flicting to-day. Their still ministry produces great cures." 

"Alydear madame, jw/ have inflicted no wounds upon Sister 
Mary. They fell upon her from the guilty hands of the gentlemen 
and clergy of St. Louis. Yours has been a mission of mercy to 
the bereaved." 

" And yet, Mr. Buddington, but for one reason, I could not have 
made this journey from New York to rehearse a tragedy, the sim- 
ple thought of which makes my blood chill. I could not have 
stood by Mary, and witnessed the harrowing effects of that re- 
hearsal, but for one stimulating cause, that is, the utter horror and 
detestation in which I hold Southern principles and practices. 
Therefore my work here is only begun. Before my departure, I 
desire to lead the wife of James Buddington into' channels of 
thought similar to my own. 1 must endeavor to lead her mind into 
sympathy with those noble co-workers, whose highest aim is the 
abolition of this heathenish system which holds in abject thrall our 
nation's most gigantic intellects — which renders our priests, 
clergy and educators its most servile myrmidons." 

"I am a volunteer in your service, Madame Lambelle ; but suc- 
cess appears almost an impossibility." 

"Oh, no ! not an impossibility, eventually. You know that truth 
is eternal. The most prominent truth of this age stands high and 
clear, like an icy peak against empyrean blue. It is this, — ' Man's 
birthright is Liberty ! ' My faith is strong — strong in the immu- 
tability of this one dominant truth. It is anchored in the fears 
and denunciations of the Souihron. You should have been pres- 
ent at the meeting in St. Louis, held in honor of the punishment 
of yourself and brother. You would then see that you were only 
the first fruits of a sanguinary harvest, for which their blades are 
already whetted. The ferocity of the Southerners in defence of 
their domestic institution betrays its danger. Truth will prevail 1 " 


"You speak of man's birthright, madame. The Southerner de- 
clares iTiaii has his birthright ah-eady. In proof they cite York- 
town and our National Flag. They reckon all color, of whatever 
nature, with their cattle.'** 

"That is because, for a long period, they have smothered the 
voice of conscience till it makes no appeal. Color diminishes not, 
in the least, a claim to manhood, or the fulfillment of manhood's 
destiny. It would be strange, indeed, if the whole earth were peo- 
pled with pale faces. Man would not be in harmony with the rest 
of creation — wrth animals, flowers, fruits, or precious stones. In 
each of these is found a wide variety, enhancing their beauty and 
value. No, Mr. George, the slaveholder's definition and valuation 
of the color of men will not stand the fiery ordeal of the future. 

" I confess to some surprise at finding in yourself an advocate of 
the equality of the races. Do you believe in their original mental 
equality as a part of the plan of Divine economy?" 

" Most certainly 1 We have only to turn the pages of history, to 
study the rise and fall of nations, to learn out of what hordes of 
barbarism sprang civilization, and the arts, — the polish and refine- 
ment of the present. The African in this country was first robbed 
of his birthright, and, consequently, of all that birthright stipulates. 
The prime object of the enslaver is to crush out the intelUect of 
his victim. He has left no stone unturned in its accomplishment. 
Nevertheless, the demand of the Creator for the well-being of His 
stolen children in our land is as strenuous as if they were not in 
bondage. Chains are not excuses in His eyes. Examine the sub- 
ject for yourself, with an eye to justice, and I am sure you will 
become one of the inflexible advocates of the down-trodden race. 
I have but one word more to say, — I have sounded this American 
oppression — I have dropped a plummet to its profoundest depths. 
I find it has no prejudice of color. It would as soon lead the fet- 
tered Saxon to its marts as the African, were it possible." 

They left the table. George had commenced preparations for 
the departure of his brother's family. Deacon Brown had secured 
the refusal of the farm for his married son. Some settlement of 
preliminaries was the order for the afternoon. The ladies were 
left by themselves. Filette was delighted to have the society of 


the dear honored guest. Ov^er her work-basket on her lap twined 
roses, dimples and smiles. 

Towards evening, the soft step of Madame Lambelle entered 
her own room. Mary, exhausted, slept. James' letter, containing 
the last " adieu," had slipped from her grasp and lay upon the 
carpet. Like a thoughtful nurse, the kind lady carefully withdrew 
it, folding it away from sight, and left the sleeper to her much 
needed rest. 

At their late tea by candle-light, before the glowing back-log on 
the hearth, Mary came in between the caressing arms of her two 
steadfast friends. 

'' Is mother sick ? " inquired Thad and Alfy, in their seats at 

''Not quite well," answered Uncle George quickly, "Don't be 
troubled ; she will be better to-morrow. Our blessed ' Lady of 
Mercy,'' whom you both admire, works wonderful cures." Confid- 
ing and affectionate smiles lighted up their grieved faces as they 
shyly turned them towards madame, their guest. 

"Thank you, Mr. George," bowed the lady. "I could not 
choose a more honorable title — I would that I were worthy." 
Turning to the boys, she said comfortingly, " Dear mother shall be 
carefully nursed ; and I have been thinking that the two remaining 
evenings after this, of my stay in this pleasant home, must be more 
especially devoted to Thad and Alfy. Suppose you both, with our 
beautiful Hebe as mistress of ceremonies, should give us all a 
reception in this flame-lighted, dancing-shadowed room. I love 
this kitchen, and every sturdy beam in it.' I desire to carry back 
to the city a social picture of this family within it. The 'reception 
might take place to morrow evening ; then, the evening after, I will 
give a reception in my pretty boudoir. How does that please my 
young friends ? "' 

Two pairs of beaming eyes lifted to hers in a bashful silence. 
Uncle George came to the rescue. 

" Shall I be spokesman, Thad ? I have no doubt they would be 
very happy to hold this reception. If my assistance will be accept- 
able boys, I am at your service." 

" Thank you, uncle ; you always come to our aid. We are very 


grateful. We should make an awkward evening's entertainment, 
without you." 

The house was enlivened the next day by the early patting of 
boyish feet, low voiced conferences, and sudden exclamations. 
Even the mother's sad eyes lifted brighter, as each of her boys 
threw an arm about her neck, and whispered in her ear for advice. 
At the breakfast-table, notes of invitation were found upon four 
plates. The reception hour was six. 

" None too early for a cold winter night," said Uncle George. 

At the going down of the sun, the new maple back-log began to 
burn red ; its white, wedge-shaped ends were beaded with saccha- 
rine dew, which dripped slowly upon hissing coals below. The 
heavy old andirons wore a stately and official air in supporting the 
high-piled, blazing faggots in front. Flame-lighted indeed, was 
the dear old kitchen ; and with the guests would arrive the 
dancing shadows on the walls. The white, sanded floor, which 
would not soil the train of a queen, (according to Filette) was set 
about with the farmer's rude, high-backed chairs. One rocker was 
placed for the pale, suffering ]\Iar3\ 

At a quarter past six, Thad and Alfy received their guests. 
Thad proudly handed Zaffiri (for so Madame Lambelle requested 
to be called) to a high-backed chair, while Alfy seated his mother. 
Uncle George and Filette entered <?« cereuionie from the south room. 
Shadows and vanishing silhouettes began a witching revelry. 

Zaffiri dressed for the evening, though plainly. During the day 
she conferred with M^ry ; paying a respectful deference to her 

" I only wish," said Zaffiri, " to pay my respects to the occasion, 
and win their young minds to the impressions I shall strive to make 
upon them to morrow evening. I often think that the more con- 
siderately we deal with the manly pride of youth, the more easily 
we guide them into wholesome truths." 

*' I confide entirely in your thoughtful regard for me and them,*' 
gratefully answered Mary. " Dress and do whatever your sweet 
judgment suggests." 

Therefore, Zaffiri stepped into the reception-room, arrayed in 
blue silk moire with silver ornaments. The long braids of her 
pale wheaten hair were looped at the back of her head, over which a 


few curls were fastened by a silver arrow ; and a small coronet of 
silver set above her forehead. A filigree brooch of silver fastened 
the fine lace collar at her throat. A snow-white shawl, crocheted 
of fleecy wool, fell from her shoulders, dropping its heavy fringes 
nearly to the floor. 

The wonder and adoration of the two youthful hosts were a 
study for one observant of the lights and shades of childhood. 
Thad and Alfy sat one on each side of her. Filette admired the 
pretty picture thus presented, and said in a low tone to Uncle 
George, — 

The beautiful princess and her two pages." 

She was answered by an approving smile. 

*' Uncle George, Madame Lambelle is to tell us of Italy to- 

"Yes, Alfy. I expect your other guests will be equally inter- 
ested with yourselves. We shall forget our snows and cold winds ; 
we shall sit under olives and vines and glide about in gay gon- 

" Uncle George, what are gondolas ? " 

"Your distinguished guest will soon inform you, Alfy ; she knows 
better than I. 

" Most of my time in Italy was passed in Florence ; but I have 
seen Venice and glided over her canals, which are used in the 
place of streets, for Venice seems to rise from the bosom of the 
sea, and to float, swan-like upon it, with her numberless domes, 
towers, spires and pinnacles. These canals are traversed by gon- 
dolas, or boats, instead of carriages. The grand canal is bordered 
on each side by magnificent old palaces, with light arabesque bal- 
conies and marble porticoes. These palaces present a superb 
scene; and their gay occupants trip down the marble steps into the 
gondolas, bright with carpets and curtains, for a church or festivi- 
ties — just as in Broadway one would enter a barouche for a drive. 
The church of St. Marks rivals in splendor any edifice in Europe. 
Venice is built on seventy islands ; and, next to Rome, is the finest 
of the Italian cities." 

" Oh ! mother, exclaimed Alfy ; '' I should like to ride in a gon- 
dola ! " 

" Perhaps you may some time, my son." 


"It is not impossible ! " said Madame Lambelle, laying her hand 
on his fair hair. " Ah ! there's music on the air ! " 

A sound of sleigh bells dashed around the house. 

" I will attend to the arrival," said Uncle George ; and presently 
he introduced the pleasant surprise of Mr. and Mrs. Snow, to the 
reception-room. Thad and Alfy came forward to welcome their 
unexpected guest. Filette expressed the wish of her father and 
mother, that their presence should cause no interruption, and the 
subject of Italy was resumed in a manner to heighten the general, 
social interest. Rome, St. Peter's, the Pope and his palace, paint- 
ing and sculpture were discussed with a common pleasure, and with 
the happy effect of excluding neighborhood gossip and scandal. 

Some frigidity marked the introduction of Filette's parents to the 
elegantly dressed lady, but before the evening wore away they took 
her to their hearts with marked evidences of love and respect. 
Uncle George and Filette threw open the door of the " south room " 
at eight, where a luxurious dinner, by the light of a bright fire on 
the hearth and winking candles, tempted the appetites of the happy 
party. Thad and Alfy came near a resort to the " code of honor," 
concerning the escort of Zafhri to the supper room. The lady 
declared peace, by asserting her need of a double attendance, and 
the inexpressible pleasure it would confer to walk between the 
two hosts of the evening. 

The turkey was browned to an epicure's taste, the charlotte russe 
was '' hotel," said Uncle George. Mr. Snow gave his opinion that 
there must have fallen a " hard frost " in Filette's oven, when she 
baked the cakes and cream pies, while the confectionery and nuts 
received especial favor. 

The most melancholy feature was the vacant chair at the head 
of the table, before an unturned plate, upon which rested a white, 
waxen calla lily. The most bcmitifid feature, said Zafhri, was the 
fresh blooming roses in the garden of Filette's radiant face. The 
others whispered among themselves, that the i-oyal feature of the 
feast was the fairy princess, Zaffiri. 

After refreshments, 3Irs. Snow drew Mary to the boudoir parlor. 
There she imparted such strength to the mind weakened by suf- 
fering, as none but the strong, clear-visioned, can offer. 

" My heart bleeds for you, Mary, and as we are commanded 


to weep with those that weep, I have wept with you many times 
since Filette left home. Now take some support and strength 
for your future peace. Although James is gone, bis gentle mem- 
ory remains to you, an unblemished inheritance. If he had gone 
to Texas and taken up his abode, death would have found him 
there ; Mary, bear with me, death would have found him stained 
with heinous crime toward his fellow-men ! ''' 

" No, no, dear friend ! do not speak thus." 

" Yes, i\Iary, these are words of truth and soberness ; they wound 
but to heal. Whoever consents to hold a man in bondage, vir- 
tually subscribes to every article of the slave code. These articles 
are; first, the darkest ignorance, which is nothing more nor less 
than stamping out the intellect. The next article is universal con- 
cubinage ; for no slave can marry. The third is subjection, which 
entails upon the owner the acts of whipping, chaining, and often 
of killing a slave outright. Another article, is robbery in almost 
every degree. First, the owner robs of liberty, then of manhood, 
then of wages for a whole lifetime of toil, and finally, the robbery 
and sale of what a mother's heartstrings bind closer than life itself, 
her children ! " 

Mary placed her hand deprecatingly upon Mrs. Snow's arm, 
and thrust the questioning and almost angered glance upon the 
speaker, — 

"How can you suppose my James could have accepted such 

" Because, Marv, it could not be otherwise. James Buddington, 
the affectionate husband and father — James Buddington, the noble 
friend, the upright townsman, could go into no Southern State, and 
live there, a respected Southern citizen, without assuming every 
whit of this burden of guilt ! Much less could he and his innocent 
boys dwell in Texas, free from crime, for the very basis of the set- 
tlement of that State is the extension of slavery, the embodiment 
of all that our Northern statute books denominate as crime ; those 
slaveholders who are most defiant of justice and humanity, have 
carried slaves there and taken up their abode ; have placed them- 
selves at the head of its government. My dear friend, your hus- 
band and brother and sons cannot take coals of fire in their bosoms 
and not be burned,