BEGIN:VCALENDAR VERSION:2.0 PRODID:-//InvisionCommunity Events 5.0.18//EN METHOD:PUBLISH CALSCALE:GREGORIAN REFRESH-INTERVAL:PT15M X-PUBLISHED-TTL:PT15M X-WR-CALNAME:RMCommunityCalendar NAME:RMCommunityCalendar BEGIN:VTIMEZONE TZID:Europe/London TZURL:https://tzurl.org/zoneinfo/Europe/London X-LIC-LOCATION:Europe/London BEGIN:DAYLIGHT TZOFFSETFROM:+0000 TZOFFSETTO:+0100 TZNAME:BST DTSTART:20250330T020000Z RRULE:FREQ=YEARLY;BYMONTH=3;BYDAY=-1SU END:DAYLIGHT BEGIN:STANDARD TZOFFSETFROM:+0100 TZOFFSETTO:+0000 TZNAME:GMT DTSTART:20251026T020000Z RRULE:FREQ=YEARLY;BYMONTH=10;BYDAY=-1SU END:STANDARD END:VTIMEZONE BEGIN:VEVENT SUMMARY:Clotel\; or\, The President's Daughter: A Narrative of Slave Life in the United States by William Well Brown DTSTAMP:20250724T013419Z SEQUENCE:0 UID:413-7-c3fe8195a3dde498d013e477e2142422@aalbc.com ORGANIZER;CN="richardmurray":noreply@aalbc.com DESCRIPTION:\n Clotel\; or\, The President's Daughter: A Narrative of Sl ave Life in the United States is an 1853 novel by United States author and playwright William Wells Brown about Clotel and her sister\, fictional sl ave daughters of Thomas Jefferson.\n\n\n\n full text\n\n\n\n https://aalbc .com/tc/blogs/entry/346-clotel-from-william-wells-brown/\n\n\n\n  \n\n\n\ n The Project Gutenberg eBook of Clotel\; Or\, The President's Daughter\nT his ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatso ever. You may copy it\, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the P roject Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenbe rg.org. If you are not located in the United States\, you will have to che ck the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.\ nTitle: Clotel\; Or\, The President's Daughter\n\nAuthor: William Wells Br own\n\nRelease date: January 1\, 2000 [eBook #2046]\nMost recently updated : April 3\, 2015\n\nLanguage: English\n\n*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBER G EBOOK CLOTEL\; OR\, THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER ***\nCLOTEL\;\nOR\,\nTHE PR ESIDENT'S DAUGHTER.\nPREFACE\nMORE than two hundred years have elapsed sin ce the first cargo of slaves was landed on the banks of the James River\, in the colony of Virginia\, from the West coast of Africa. From the introd uction of slaves in 1620\, down to the period of the separation of the Col onies from the British Crown\, the number had increased to five hundred th ousand\; now there are nearly four million. In fifteen of the thirty-one S tates\, Slavery is made lawful by the Constitution\, which binds the sever al States into one confederacy.\n\nOn every foot of soil\, over which Star s and Stripes wave\, the Negro is considered common property\, on which an y white man may lay his hand with perfect impunity. The entire white popul ation of the United States\, North and South\, are bound by their oath to the constitution\, and their adhesion to the Fugitive Slaver Law\, to hunt down the runaway slave and return him to his claimant\, and to suppress a ny effort that may be made by the slaves to gain their freedom by physical force. Twenty-five millions of whites have banded themselves in solemn co nclave to keep four millions of blacks in their chains. In all grades of s ociety are to be found men who either hold\, buy\, or sell slaves\, from t he statesmen and doctors of divinity\, who can own their hundreds\, down t o the person who can purchase but one.\n\nWere it not for persons in high places owning slaves\, and thereby giving the system a reputation\, and es pecially professed Christians\, Slavery would long since have been abolish ed. The influence of the great \"honours the corruption\, and chastisement doth therefore hide his head.\" The great aim of the true friends of the slave should be to lay bare the institution\, so that the gaze of the worl d may be upon it\, and cause the wise\, the prudent\, and the pious to wit hdraw their support from it\, and leave it to its own fate. It does the ca use of emancipation but little good to cry out in tones of execration agai nst the traders\, the kidnappers\, the hireling overseers\, and brutal dri vers\, so long as nothing is said to fasten the guilt on those who move in a higher circle.\n\nThe fact that slavery was introduced into the America n colonies\, while they were under the control of the British Crown\, is a sufficient reason why Englishmen should feel a lively interest in its abo lition\; and now that the genius of mechanical invention has brought the t wo countries so near together\, and both having one language and one liter ature\, the influence of British public opinion is very great on the peopl e of the New World.\n\nIf the incidents set forth in the following pages s hould add anything new to the information already given to the Public thro ugh similar publications\, and should thereby aid in bringing British infl uence to bear upon American slavery\, the main object for which this work was written will have been accomplished.\n\nW. WELLS BROWN\n22\, Cecil Str eet\, Strand\, London.\n\nCONTENTS.\nMEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR\nTHE NEGRO SALE\ nGOING TO THE SOUTH\nTHE NEGRO CHASE\nTHE QUADROON'S HOME\nTHE SLAVE MASTE R\nTHE RELIGIOUS TEACHER\nTHE POOR WHITES\, SOUTH\nTHE SEPARATION\nTHE MAN OP HONOUR\nTHE YOUNG CHRISTIAN\nTHE PARSON POET\nA NIGHT IN THE PARSON'S KITCHEN\nA SLAVE HUNT\nA FREE WOMAN REDUCED TO SLAVERY\nTO-DAY A MISTRESS\ , TO-MORROW A SLAVE\nDEATH OF THE PARSON\nRETALIATION\nTHE LIBERATOR\nESCA PE OF CLOTEL\nA TRUE DEMOCRAT\nTHE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH\nA RIDE IN A STAGE CO ACH\nTRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION\nDEATH IS FREEDOM\nTHE ESCAPE\nTHE MYSTER Y\nTHE HAPPY MEETING\nCONCLUSION\nCHAPTER I\nTHE NEGRO SALE\n\"Why stands she near the auction stand\,\n That girl so young and fair?\nWhat brings her to this dismal place\,\n Why stands she weeping there?\"\n\nWITH th e growing population of slaves in the Southern States of America\, there i s a fearful increase of half whites\, most of whose fathers are slaveowner s and their mothers slaves. Society does not frown upon the man who sits w ith his mulatto child upon his knee\, whilst its mother stands a slave beh ind his chair. The late Henry Clay\, some years since\, predicted that the abolition of Negro slavery would be brought about by the amalgamation of the races. John Randolph\, a distinguished slaveholder of Virginia\, and a prominent statesman\, said in a speech in the legislature of his native s tate\, that \"the blood of the first American statesmen coursed through th e veins of the slave of the South.\" In all the cities and towns of the sl ave states\, the real Negro\, or clear black\, does not amount to more tha n one in every four of the slave population. This fact is\, of itself\, th e best evidence of the degraded and immoral condition of the relation of m aster and slave in the United States of America. In all the slave states\, the law says:—\"Slaves shall be deemed\, sold [held]\, taken\, reputed\ , and adjudged in law to be chattels personal in the hands of their owners and possessors\, and their executors\, administrators and assigns\, to al l intents\, constructions\, and purposes whatsoever. A slave is one who is in the power of a master to whom he belongs. The master may sell him\, di spose of his person\, his industry\, and his labour. He can do nothing\, p ossess nothing\, nor acquire anything\, but what must belong to his master . The slave is entirely subject to the will of his master\, who may correc t and chastise him\, though not with unusual rigour\, or so as to maim and mutilate him\, or expose him to the danger of loss of life\, or to cause his death. The slave\, to remain a slave\, must be sensible that there is no appeal from his master.\" Where the slave is placed by law entirely und er the control of the man who claims him\, body and soul\, as property\, w hat else could be expected than the most depraved social condition? The ma rriage relation\, the oldest and most sacred institution given to man by h is Creator\, is unknown and unrecognised in the slave laws of the United S tates. Would that we could say\, that the moral and religious teaching in the slave states were better than the laws\; but\, alas! we cannot. A few years since\, some slaveholders became a little uneasy in their minds abou t the rightfulness of permitting slaves to take to themselves husbands and wives\, while they still had others living\, and applied to their religio us teachers for advice\; and the following will show how this grave and im portant subject was treated:—\n\n\"Is a servant\, whose husband or wife has been sold by his or her master into a distant country\, to be permitte d to marry again?\"\n\nThe query was referred to a committee\, who made th e following report\; which\, after discussion\, was adopted:—\n\n\"That\ , in view of the circumstances in which servants in this country are place d\, the committee are unanimous in the opinion\, that it is better to perm it servants thus circumstanced to take another husband or wife.\"\n\nSuch was the answer from a committee of the \"Shiloh Baptist Association\;\" an d instead of receiving light\, those who asked the question were plunged i nto deeper darkness! A similar question was put to the \"Savannah River As sociation\,\" and the answer\, as the following will show\, did not materi ally differ from the one we have already given:—\n\n\"Whether\, in a cas e of involuntary separation\, of such a character as to preclude all prosp ect of future intercourse\, the parties ought to be allowed to marry again .\"\n\nAnswer:—\n\n\"That such separation among persons situated as our slaves are\, is civilly a separation by death\; and they believe that\, in the sight of God\, it would be so viewed. To forbid second marriages in s uch cases would be to expose the parties\, not only to stronger hardships and strong temptation\, but to church-censure for acting in obedience to t heir masters\, who cannot be expected to acquiesce in a regulation at vari ance with justice to the slaves\, and to the spirit of that command which regulates marriage among Christians. The slaves are not free agents\; and a dissolution by death is not more entirely without their consent\, and be yond their control than by such separation.\"\n\nAlthough marriage\, as th e above indicates\, is a matter which the slaveholders do not think is of any importance\, or of any binding force with their slaves\; yet it would be doing that degraded class an injustice\, not to acknowledge that many o f them do regard it as a sacred obligation\, and show a willingness to obe y the commands of God on this subject. Marriage is\, indeed\, the first an d most important institution of human existence—the foundation of all ci vilisation and culture—the root of church and state. It is the most inti mate covenant of heart formed among mankind\; and for many persons the onl y relation in which they feel the true sentiments of humanity. It gives sc ope for every human virtue\, since each of these is developed from the lov e and confidence which here predominate. It unites all which ennobles and beautifies life\,—sympathy\, kindness of will and deed\, gratitude\, dev otion\, and every delicate\, intimate feeling. As the only asylum for true education\, it is the first and last sanctuary of human culture. As husba nd and wife\, through each other become conscious of complete humanity\, a nd every human feeling\, and every human virtue\; so children\, at their f irst awakening in the fond covenant of love between parents\, both of whom are tenderly concerned for the same object\, find an image of complete hu manity leagued in free love. The spirit of love which prevails between the m acts with creative power upon the young mind\, and awakens every germ of goodness within it. This invisible and incalculable influence of parental life acts more upon the child than all the efforts of education\, whether by means of instruction\, precept\, or exhortation. If this be a true pic ture of the vast influence for good of the institution of marriage\, what must be the moral degradation of that people to whom marriage is denied? N ot content with depriving them of all the higher and holier enjoyments of this relation\, by degrading and darkening their souls\, the slaveholder d enies to his victim even that slight alleviation of his misery\, which wou ld result from the marriage relation being protected by law and public opi nion. Such is the influence of slavery in the United States\, that the min isters of religion\, even in the so-called free states\, are the mere echo es\, instead of the correctors\, of public sentiment. We have thought it a dvisable to show that the present system of chattel slavery in America und ermines the entire social condition of man\, so as to prepare the reader f or the following narrative of slave life\, in that otherwise happy and pro sperous country.\n\nIn all the large towns in the Southern States\, there is a class of slaves who are permitted to hire their time of their owners\ , and for which they pay a high price. These are mulatto women\, or quadro ons\, as they are familiarly known\, and are distinguished for their fasci nating beauty. The handsomest usually pays the highest price for her time. Many of these women are the favourites of persons who furnish them with t he means of paying their owners\, and not a few are dressed in the most ex travagant manner. Reader\, when you take into consideration the fact\, tha t amongst the slave population no safeguard is thrown around virtue\, and no inducement held out to slave women to be chaste\, you will not be surpr ised when we tell you that immorality and vice pervade the cities of the S outhern States in a manner unknown in the cities and towns of the Northern States. Indeed most of the slave women have no higher aspiration than tha t of becoming the finely-dressed mistress of some white man. And at Negro balls and parties\, this class of women usually cut the greatest figure.\n \nAt the close of the year\, the following advertisement appeared in a new spaper published in Richmond\, the capital of the state of Virginia:—\"N otice: Thirty-eight Negroes will be offered for sale on Monday\, November 10th\, at twelve o'clock\, being the entire stock of the late John Graves\ , Esq. The Negroes are in good condition\, some of them very prime\; among them are several mechanics\, able-bodied field hands\, ploughboys\, and w omen with children at the breast\, and some of them very prolific in their generating qualities\, affording a rare opportunity to any one who wishes to raise a strong and healthy lot of servants for their own use. Also sev eral mulatto girls of rare personal qualities: two of them very superior. Any gentleman or lady wishing to purchase\, can take any of the above slav es on trial for a week\, for which no charge will be made.\" Amongst the a bove slaves to be sold were Currer and her two daughters\, Clotel and Alth esa\; the latter were the girls spoken of in the advertisement as \"very s uperior.\" Currer was a bright mulatto\, and of prepossessing appearance\, though then nearly forty years of age. She had hired her time for more th an twenty years\, during which time she had lived in Richmond. In her youn ger days Currer had been the housekeeper of a young slaveholder\; but of l ater years had been a laundress or washerwoman\, and was considered to be a woman of great taste in getting up linen. The gentleman for whom she had kept house was Thomas Jefferson\, by whom she had two daughters. Jefferso n being called to Washington to fill a government appointment\, Currer was left behind\, and thus she took herself to the business of washing\, by w hich means she paid her master\, Mr. Graves\, and supported herself and tw o children. At the time of the decease of her master\, Currer's daughters\ , Clotel and Althesa\, were aged respectively sixteen and fourteen years\, and both\, like most of their own sex in America\, were well grown. Curre r early resolved to bring her daughters up as ladies\, as she termed it\, and therefore imposed little or no work upon them. As her daughters grew o lder\, Currer had to pay a stipulated price for them\; yet her notoriety a s a laundress of the first class enabled her to put an extra price upon he r charges\, and thus she and her daughters lived in comparative luxury. To bring up Clotel and Althesa to attract attention\, and especially at ball s and parties\, was the great aim of Currer. Although the term \"Negro bal l\" is applied to most of these gatherings\, yet a majority of the attenda nts are often whites. Nearly all the Negro parties in the cities and towns of the Southern States are made up of quadroon and mulatto girls\, and wh ite men. These are democratic gatherings\, where gentlemen\, shopkeepers\, and their clerks\, all appear upon terms of perfect equality. And there i s a degree of gentility and decorum in these companies that is not surpass ed by similar gatherings of white people in the Slave States. It was at on e of these parties that Horatio Green\, the son of a wealthy gentleman of Richmond\, was first introduced to Clotel. The young man had just returned from college\, and was in his twenty-second year. Clotel was sixteen\, an d was admitted by all to be the most beautiful girl\, coloured or white\, in the city. So attentive was the young man to the quadroon during the eve ning that it was noticed by all\, and became a matter of general conversat ion\; while Currer appeared delighted beyond measure at her daughter's con quest. From that evening\, young Green became the favourite visitor at Cur rer's house. He soon promised to purchase Clotel\, as speedily as it could be effected\, and make her mistress of her own dwelling\; and Currer look ed forward with pride to the time when she should see her daughter emancip ated and free. It was a beautiful moonlight night in August\, when all who reside in tropical climes are eagerly gasping for a breath of fresh air\, that Horatio Green was seated in the small garden behind Currer's cottage \, with the object of his affections by his side. And it was here that Hor atio drew from his pocket the newspaper\, wet from the press\, and read th e advertisement for the sale of the slaves to which we have alluded\; Curr er and her two daughters being of the number. At the close of the evening' s visit\, and as the young man was leaving\, he said to the girl\, \"You s hall soon be free and your own mistress.\"\n\nAs might have been expected\ , the day of sale brought an unusual large number together to compete for the property to be sold. Farmers who make a business of raising slaves for the market were there\; slave-traders and speculators were also numerousl y represented\; and in the midst of this throng was one who felt a deeper interest in the result of the sale than any other of the bystanders\; this was young Green. True to his promise\, he was there with a blank bank che ck in his pocket\, awaiting with impatience to enter the list as a bidder for the beautiful slave. The less valuable slaves were first placed upon t he auction block\, one after another\, and sold to the highest bidder. Hus bands and wives were separated with a degree of indifference that is unkno wn in any other relation of life\, except that of slavery. Brothers and si sters were torn from each other\; and mothers saw their children leave the m for the last time on this earth.\n\nIt was late in the day\, when the gr eatest number of persons were thought to be present\, that Currer and her daughters were brought forward to the place of sale.—Currer was first or dered to ascend the auction stand\, which she did with a trembling step. T he slave mother was sold to a trader. Althesa\, the youngest\, and who was scarcely less beautiful than her sister\, was sold to the same trader for one thousand dollars. Clotel was the last\, and\, as was expected\, comma nded a higher price than any that had been offered for sale that day. The appearance of Clotel on the auction block created a deep sensation amongst the crowd. There she stood\, with a complexion as white as most of those who were waiting with a wish to become her purchasers\; her features as fi nely defined as any of her sex of pure Anglo-Saxon\; her long black wavy h air done up in the neatest manner\; her form tall and graceful\, and her w hole appearance indicating one superior to her position. The auctioneer co mmenced by saying\, that \"Miss Clotel had been reserved for the last\, be cause she was the most valuable. How much\, gentlemen? Real Albino\, fit f or a fancy girl for any one. She enjoys good health\, and has a sweet temp er. How much do you say?\" \"Five hundred dollars.\" \"Only five hundred f or such a girl as this? Gentlemen\, she is worth a deal more than that sum \; you certainly don't know the value of the article you are bidding upon. Here\, gentlemen\, I hold in my hand a paper certifying that she has a go od moral character.\" \"Seven hundred.\" \"Ah\; gentlemen\, that is someth ing like. This paper also states that she is very intelligent.\" \"Eight h undred.\" \"She is a devoted Christian\, and perfectly trustworthy.\" \"Ni ne hundred.\" \"Nine fifty.\" \"Ten.\" \"Eleven.\" \"Twelve hundred.\" Her e the sale came to a dead stand. The auctioneer stopped\, looked around\, and began in a rough manner to relate some anecdotes relative to the sale of slaves\, which\, he said\, had come under his own observation. At this juncture the scene was indeed strange. Laughing\, joking\, swearing\, smok ing\, spitting\, and talking kept up a continual hum and noise amongst the crowd\; while the slave-girl stood with tears in her eyes\, at one time l ooking towards her mother and sister\, and at another towards the young ma n whom she hoped would become her purchaser. \"The chastity of this girl i s pure\; she has never been from under her mother's care\; she is a virtuo us creature.\" \"Thirteen.\" \"Fourteen.\" \"Fifteen.\" \"Fifteen hundred dollars\,\" cried the auctioneer\, and the maiden was struck for that sum. This was a Southern auction\, at which the bones\, muscles\, sinews\, blo od\, and nerves of a young lady of sixteen were sold for five hundred doll ars\; her moral character for two hundred\; her improved intellect for one hundred\; her Christianity for three hundred\; and her chastity and virtu e for four hundred dollars more. And this\, too\, in a city thronged with churches\, whose tall spires look like so many signals pointing to heaven\ , and whose ministers preach that slavery is a God-ordained institution! W hat words can tell the inhumanity\, the atrocity\, and the immorality of t hat doctrine which\, from exalted office\, commends such a crime to the fa vour of enlightened and Christian people? What indignation from all the wo rld is not due to the government and people who put forth all their streng th and power to keep in existence such an institution? Nature abhors it\; the age repels it\; and Christianity needs all her meekness to forgive it. Clotel was sold for fifteen hundred dollars\, but her purchaser was Horat io Green. Thus closed a Negro sale\, at which two daughters of Thomas Jeff erson\, the writer of the Declaration of American Independence\, and one o f the presidents of the great republic\, were disposed of to the highest b idder!\n\n \"O God! my every heart-string cries\,\n Dost thou thes e scenes behold\n In this our boasted Christian land\,\n And must the truth be told?\n\n \"Blush\, Christian\, blush! for e'en the dark\ ,\n Untutored heathen see\n Thy inconsistency\; and\, lo!\n Th ey scorn thy God\, and thee!\"\n\nCHAPTER II\nGOING TO THE SOUTH\n \"My country\, shall thy honoured name\,\n Be as a bye-word through the wo rld?\n Rouse! for\, as if to blast thy fame\,\n This keen reproach is at thee hurled\;\n The banner that above the waves\,\n Is float ing o'er three million slaves.\"\n\nDICK WALKER\, the slave speculator\, w ho had purchased Currer and Althesa\, put them in prison until his gang wa s made up\, and then\, with his forty slaves\, started for the New Orleans market. As many of the slaves had been brought up in Richmond\, and had r elations residing there\, the slave trader determined to leave the city ea rly in the morning\, so as not to witness any of those scenes so common wh ere slaves are separated from their relatives and friends\, when about dep arting for the Southern market. This plan was successful\; for not even Cl otel\, who had been every day at the prison to see her mother and sister\, knew of their departure. A march of eight days through the interior of th e state\, and they arrived on the banks of the Ohio river\, where they wer e all put on board a steamer\, and then speedily sailed for the place of t heir destination.\n\nWalker had already advertised in the New Orleans pape rs\, that he would be there at a stated time with \"a prime lot of able bo died slaves ready for field service\; together with a few extra ones\, bet ween the ages of fifteen and twenty-five.\" But\, like most who make a bus iness of buying and selling slaves for gain\, he often bought some who wer e far advanced in years\, and would always try to sell them for five or te n years younger than they actually were. Few persons can arrive at anythin g like the age of a Negro\, by mere observation\, unless they are well acq uainted with the race. Therefore the slave-trader very frequently carried out this deception with perfect impunity. After the steamer had left the w harf\, and was fairly on the bosom of the Father of Waters\, Walker called his servant Pompey to him\, and instructed him as to \"getting the Negroe s ready for market.\" Amongst the forty Negroes were several whose appeara nce indicated that they had seen some years\, and had gone through some se rvices. Their grey hair and whiskers at once pronounced them to be above t he ages set down in the trader's advertisement. Pompey had long been with the trader\, and knew his business\; and if he did not take delight in dis charging his duty\, he did it with a degree of alacrity\, so that he might receive the approbation of his master. \"Pomp\,\" as Walker usually calle d him\, was of real Negro blood\, and would often say\, when alluding to h imself\, \"Dis nigger is no countefit\; he is de genewine artekil.\" Pompe y was of low stature\, round face\, and\, like most of his race\, had a se t of teeth\, which for whiteness and beauty could not be surpassed\; his e yes large\, lips thick\, and hair short and woolly. Pompey had been with W alker so long\, and had seen so much of the buying and selling of slaves\, that he appeared perfectly indifferent to the heartrending scenes which d aily occurred in his presence. It was on the second day of the steamer's v oyage that Pompey selected five of the old slaves\, took them in a room by themselves\, and commenced preparing them for the market. \"Well\,\" said Pompey\, addressing himself to the company\, \"I is de gentman dat is to get you ready\, so dat you will bring marser a good price in de Orleans ma rket. How old is you?\" addressing himself to a man who\, from appearance\ , was not less than forty.\n\n\"If I live to see next corn-planting time I will either be forty-five or fifty-five\, I don't know which.\"\n\n\"Dat may be\,\" replied Pompey\; \"But now you is only thirty years old\; dat i s what marser says you is to be.\"\n\n\"I know I is more den dat\,\" respo nded the man.\n\n\"I knows nothing about dat\,\" said Pompey\; \"but when you get in de market\, an anybody axe you how old you is\, an you tell 'em forty-five\, marser will tie you up an gib you de whip like smoke. But if you tell 'em dat you is only thirty\, den he wont.\"\n\n\"Well den\, I gu ess I will only be thirty when dey axe me\,\" replied the chattel.\n\n\"Wh at your name?\" inquired Pompey.\n\n\"Geemes\,\" answered the man.\n\n\"Oh \, Uncle Jim\, is it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Den you must have off dem dare wh iskers of yours\, an when you get to Orleans you must grease dat face an m ake it look shiney.\" This was all said by Pompey in a manner which clearl y showed that he knew what he was about.\n\n\"How old is you?\" asked Pomp ey of a tall\, strong-looking man.\n\n\"I was twenty-nine last potato-digg ing time\,\" said the man.\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Tobias \, but dey call me 'Toby.'\"\n\n\"Well\, Toby\, or Mr. Tobias\, if dat wil l suit you better\, you is now twenty-three years old\, an no more. Dus yo u hear dat?\"\n\n\"Yes\,\" responded Toby.\n\nPompey gave each to understa nd how old he was to be when asked by persons who wished to purchase\, and then reported to his master that the \"old boys\" were all right. At eigh t o'clock on the evening of the third day\, the lights of another steamer were seen in the distance\, and apparently coming up very fast. This was a signal for a general commotion on the Patriot\, and everything indicated that a steamboat race was at hand. Nothing can exceed the excitement atten dant upon a steamboat race on the Mississippi river. By the time the boats had reached Memphis\, they were side by side\, and each exerting itself t o keep the ascendancy in point of speed. The night was clear\, the moon sh ining brightly\, and the boats so near to each other that the passengers w ere calling out from one boat to the other. On board the Patriot\, the fir emen were using oil\, lard\, butter\, and even bacon\, with the wood\, for the purpose of raising the steam to its highest pitch. The blaze\, mingle d with the black smoke\, showed plainly that the other boat was burning mo re than wood. The two boats soon locked\, so that the hands of the boats w ere passing from vessel to vessel\, and the wildest excitement prevailed t hroughout amongst both passengers and crew. At this moment the engineer of the Patriot was seen to fasten down the safety-valve\, so that no steam s hould escape. This was\, indeed\, a dangerous resort. A few of the boat ha nds who saw what had taken place\, left that end of the boat for more secu re quarters.\n\nThe Patriot stopped to take in passengers\, and still no s team was permitted to escape. At the starting of the boat cold water was f orced into the boilers by the machinery\, and\, as might have been expecte d\, one of the boilers immediately exploded. One dense fog of steam filled every part of the vessel\, while shrieks\, groans\, and cries were heard on every hand. The saloons and cabins soon had the appearance of a hospita l. By this time the boat had landed\, and the Columbia\, the other boat\, had come alongside to render assistance to the disabled steamer. The kille d and scalded (nineteen in number) were put on shore\, and the Patriot\, t aken in tow by the Columbia\, was soon again on its way.\n\nIt was now twe lve o'clock at night\, and instead of the passengers being asleep the majo rity were ambling in the saloons. Thousands of dollars change hands during a passage from Louisville or St. Louis to New Orleans on a Mississippi st eamer\, and many men\, and even ladies\, are completely ruined.\n\n\"Go ca ll my boy\, steward\,\" said Mr. Smith\, as he took his cards one by one f rom the table. In a few moments a fine looking\, bright-eyed mulatto boy\, apparently about fifteen years of age\, was standing by his master's side at the table. \"I will see you\, and five hundred dollars better\,\" said Smith\, as his servant Jerry approached the table.\n\n\"What price do you set on that boy?\" asked Johnson\, as he took a roll of bills from his po cket.\n\n\"He will bring a thousand dollars\, any day\, in the New Orleans market\,\" replied Smith.\n\n\"Then you bet the whole of the boy\, do you ?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I call you\, then\,\" said Johnson\, at the same time spreading his cards out upon the table.\n\n\"You have beat me\,\" said Sm ith\, as soon as he saw the cards. Jerry\, who was standing on top of the table\, with the bank notes and silver dollars round his feet\, was now or dered to descend from the table.\n\n\"You will not forget that you belong to me\,\" said Johnson\, as the young slave was stepping from the table to a chair.\n\n\"No\, sir\,\" replied the chattel.\n\n\"Now go back to your bed\, and be up in time to-morrow morning to brush my clothes and clean my boots\, do you hear?\"\n\n\"Yes\, sir\,\" responded Jerry\, as he wiped t he tears from his eyes.\n\nSmith took from his pocket the bill of sale and handed it to Johnson\; at the same time saying\, \"I claim the right of r edeeming that boy\, Mr. Johnson. My father gave him to me when I came of a ge\, and I promised not to part with him.\"\n\n\"Most certainly\, sir\, th e boy shall be yours\, whenever you hand me over a cool thousand\,\" repli ed Johnson. The next morning\, as the passengers were assembling in the br eakfast saloons and upon the guards of the vessel\, and the servants were seen running about waiting upon or looking for their masters\, poor Jerry was entering his new master's stateroom with his boots.\n\n\"Who do you be long to?\" said a gentleman to an old black man\, who came along leading a fine dog that he had been feeding.\n\n\"When I went to sleep last night\, I belonged to Governor Lucas\; but I understand dat he is bin gambling al l night\, so I don't know who owns me dis morning.\" Such is the uncertain ty of a slave's position. He goes to bed at night the property of the man with whom he has lived for years\, and gets up in the morning the slave of some one whom he has never seen before! To behold five or six tables in a steamboat's cabin\, with half-a-dozen men playing at cards\, and money\, pistols\, bowie-knives\, all in confusion on the tables\, is what may be s een at almost any time on the Mississippi river.\n\nOn the fourth day\, wh ile at Natchez\, taking in freight and passengers\, Walker\, who had been on shore to see some of his old customers\, returned\, accompanied by a ta ll\, thin-faced man\, dressed in black\, with a white neckcloth\, which im mediately proclaimed him to be a clergyman. \"I want a good\, trusty woman for house service\,\" said the stranger\, as they entered the cabin where Walker's slaves were kept.\n\n\"Here she is\, and no mistake\,\" replied the trader.\n\n\"Stand up\, Currer\, my gal\; here's a gentleman who wishe s to see if you will suit him.\"\n\nAlthesa clung to her mother's side\, a s the latter rose from her seat.\n\n\"She is a rare cook\, a good washer\, and will suit you to a T\, I am sure.\"\n\n\"If you buy me\, I hope you w ill buy my daughter too\,\" said the woman\, in rather an excited manner.\ n\n\"I only want one for my own use\, and would not need another\,\" said the man in black\, as he and the trader left the room. Walker and the pars on went into the saloon\, talked over the matter\, the bill of sale was ma de out\, the money paid over\, and the clergyman left\, with the understan ding that the woman should be delivered to him at his house. It seemed as if poor Althesa would have wept herself to death\, for the first two days after her mother had been torn from her side by the hand of the ruthless t rafficker in human flesh. On the arrival of the boat at Baton Rouge\, an a dditional number of passengers were taken on board\; and\, amongst them\, several persons who had been attending the races. Gambling and drinking we re now the order of the day. Just as the ladies and gentlemen were assembl ing at the supper-table\, the report of a pistol was heard in the directio n of the Social Hall\, which caused great uneasiness to the ladies\, and t ook the gentlemen to that part of the cabin. However\, nothing serious had occurred. A man at one of the tables where they were gambling had been se en attempting to conceal a card in his sleeve\, and one of the party seize d his pistol and fired\; but fortunately the barrel of the pistol was knoc ked up\, just as it was about to be discharged\, and the ball passed throu gh the upper deck\, instead of the man's head\, as intended. Order was soo n restored\; all went on well the remainder of the night\, and the next da y\, at ten o'clock\, the boat arrived at New Orleans\, and the passengers went to the hotels and the slaves to the market!\n\n \"Our eyes are yet on Afric's shores\,\n Her thousand wrongs we still deplore\;\n We see t he grim slave trader there\;\n We hear his fettered victim's prayer\;\n And hasten to the sufferer's aid\,\n Forgetful of our own 'slave trade .'\n\n \"The Ocean 'Pirate's' fiend-like form\n Shall sink beneath the v engeance-storm\;\n His heart of steel shall quake before\n The battl e-din and havoc roar:\n The knave shall die\, the Law hath said\,\n While it protects our own 'slave trade.'\n\n \"What earthly eye presumes to s can\n The wily Proteus-heart of man?—\n What potent hand will e'e r unroll\n The mantled treachery of his soul!—\n O where is he who hath surveyed\n The horrors of our own 'slave trade?'\n\n \"There is an eye that wakes in light\,\n There is a hand of peerless might\;\n Whi ch\, soon or late\, shall yet assail\n And rend dissimulation's veil: \n Which will unfold the masquerade\n Which justifies our own 'slave t rade.'\"\n\nCHAPTER III\nTHE NEGRO CHASE\nWE shall now return to Natchez\, where we left Currer in the hands of the Methodist parson. For many years \, Natchez has enjoyed a notoriety for the inhumanity and barbarity of its inhabitants\, and the cruel deeds perpetrated there\, which have not been equalled in any other city in the Southern States. The following advertis ements\, which we take from a newspaper published in the vicinity\, will s how how they catch their Negroes who believe in the doctrine that \"all me n are created free.\"\n\n\"NEGRO DOGS.—The undersigned\, having bought t he entire pack of Negro dogs (of the Hay and Allen stock)\, he now propose s to catch runaway Negroes. His charges will be three dollars a day for hu nting\, and fifteen dollars for catching a runaway. He resides three and o ne half miles north of Livingston\, near the lower Jones' Bluff Road.\n\n\ "Nov. 6\, 1845.\"\n\n\"NOTICE.—The subscriber\, Lying on Carroway Lake\, on Hoe's Bayou\, in Carroll parish\, sixteen miles on the road leading fr om Bayou Mason to Lake Providence\, is ready with a pack of dogs to hunt r unaway Negroes at any time. These dogs are well trained\, and are known th roughout the parish. Letters addressed to me at Providence will secure imm ediate attention. My terms are five dollars per day for hunting the trails \, whether the Negro is caught or not. Where a twelve hours' trail is show n\, and the Negro not taken\, no charge is made. For taking a Negro\, twen ty-five dollars\, and no charge made for hunting.\n\n\"Nov. 26\, 1847.\"\n \nThese dogs will attack a Negro at their master's bidding and cling to hi m as the bull-dog will cling to a beast. Many are the speculations\, as to whether the Negro will be secured alive or dead\, when these dogs once ge t on his track. A slave hunt took place near Natchez\, a few days after Cu rrer's arrival\, which was calculated to give her no favourable opinion of the people. Two slaves had run off owing to severe punishment. The dogs w ere put upon their trail. The slaves went into the swamps\, with the hope that the dogs when put on their scent would be unable to follow them throu gh the water. The dogs soon took to the swamp\, which lies between the hig hlands\, which was now covered with water\, waist deep: here these faithfu l animals\, swimming nearly all the time\, followed the zigzag course\, th e tortuous twistings and windings of these two fugitives\, who\, it was af terwards discovered\, were lost\; sometimes scenting the tree wherein they had found a temporary refuge from the mud and water\; at other places whe re the deep mud had pulled off a shoe\, and they had not taken time to put it on again. For two hours and a half\, for four or five miles\, did men and dogs wade through this bushy\, dismal swamp\, surrounded with grim-vis aged alligators\, who seemed to look on with jealous eye at this encroachm ent of their hereditary domain\; now losing the trail—then slowly and du biously taking it off again\, until they triumphantly threaded it out\, br inging them back to the river\, where it was found that the Negroes had cr ossed their own trail\, near the place of starting. In the meantime a heav y shower had taken place\, putting out the trail. The Negroes were now at least four miles ahead.\n\nIt is well known to hunters that it requires th e keenest scent and best blood to overcome such obstacles\, and yet these persevering and sagacious animals conquered every difficulty. The slaves n ow made a straight course for the Baton Rouge and Bayou Sara road\, about four miles distant.\n\nFeeling hungry now\, after their morning walk\, and perhaps thirsty\, too\, they went about half a mile off the road\, and at e a good\, hearty\, substantial breakfast. Negroes must eat\, as well as o ther people\, but the dogs will tell on them. Here\, for a moment\, the do gs are at fault\, but soon unravel the mystery\, and bring them back to th e road again\; and now what before was wonderful\, becomes almost a miracl e. Here\, in this common highway—the thoroughfare for the whole country around through mud and through mire\, meeting waggons and teams\, and diff erent solitary wayfarers\, and\, what above all is most astonishing\, actu ally running through a gang of Negroes\, their favourite game\, who were w orking on the road\, they pursue the track of the two Negroes\; they even ran for eight miles to the very edge of the plain—the slaves near them f or the last mile. At first they would fain believe it some hunter chasing deer. Nearer and nearer the whimpering pack presses on\; the delusion begi ns to dispel\; all at once the truth flashes upon them like a glare of lig ht\; their hair stands on end\; 'tis Tabor with his dogs. The scent become s warmer and warmer. What was an irregular cry\, now deepens into one ceas eless roar\, as the relentless pack rolls on after its human prey. It puts one in mind of Actaeon and his dogs. They grow desperate and leave the ro ad\, in the vain hope of shaking them off. Vain hope\, indeed! The momenta ry cessation only adds new zest to the chase. The cry grows louder and lou der\; the yelp grows short and quick\, sure indication that the game is at hand. It is a perfect rush upon the part of the hunters\, while the Negro es call upon their weary and jaded limbs to do their best\, but they falte r and stagger beneath them. The breath of the hounds is almost upon their very heels\, and yet they have a vain hope of escaping these sagacious ani mals. They can run no longer\; the dogs are upon them\; they hastily attem pt to climb a tree\, and as the last one is nearly out of reach\, the catc h-dog seizes him by the leg\, and brings him to the ground\; he sings out lustily and the dogs are called off. After this man was secured\, the one in the tree was ordered to come down\; this\, however\, he refused to do\, but a gun being pointed at him\, soon caused him to change his mind. On r eaching the ground\, the fugitive made one more bound\, and the chase agai n commenced. But it was of no use to run and he soon yielded. While being tied\, he committed an unpardonable offence: he resisted\, and for that he must be made an example on their arrival home. A mob was collected togeth er\, and a Lynch court was held\, to determine what was best to be done wi th the Negro who had had the impudence to raise his hand against a white m an. The Lynch court decided that the Negro should be burnt at the stake. A Natchez newspaper\, the Free Trader\, giving an account of it says\,\n\n\ "The body was taken and chained to a tree immediately on the banks of the Mississippi\, on what is called Union Point. Faggots were then collected a nd piled around him\, to which he appeared quite indifferent. When the wor k was completed\, he was asked what he had to say. He then warned all to t ake example by him\, and asked the prayers of all around\; he then called for a drink of water\, which was handed to him\; he drank it\, and said\, 'Now set fire—I am ready to go in peace!' The torches were lighted\, and placed in the pile\, which soon ignited. He watched unmoved the curling f lame that grew\, until it began to entwine itself around and feed upon his body\; then he sent forth cries of agony painful to the ear\, begging som e one to blow his brains out\; at the same time surging with almost superh uman strength\, until the staple with which the chain was fastened to the tree (not being well secured) drew out\, and he leaped from the burning pi le. At that moment the sharp ringing of several rifles was heard: the body of the Negro fell a corpse on the ground. He was picked up by some two or three\, and again thrown into the fire\, and consumed\, not a vestige rem aining to show that such a being ever existed.\"\n\nNearly 4\,000 slaves w ere collected from the plantations in the neighbourhood to witness this sc ene. Numerous speeches were made by the magistrates and ministers of relig ion to the large concourse of slaves\, warning them\, and telling them tha t the same fate awaited them\, if they should prove rebellious to their ow ners. There are hundreds of Negroes who run away and live in the woods. So me take refuge in the swamps\, because they are less frequented by human b eings. A Natchez newspaper gave the following account of the hiding-place of a slave who had been captured:—\n\n\"A runaway's den was discovered o n Sunday\, near the Washington Spring\, in a little patch of woods\, where it had been for several months so artfully concealed under ground\, that it was detected only by accident\, though in sight of two or three houses\ , and near the road and fields where there has been constant daily passing . The entrance was concealed by a pile of pine straw\, representing a hog- bed\, which being removed\, discovered a trap-door and steps that led to a room about six feet square\, comfortably ceiled with plank\, containing a small fire-place\, the flue of which was ingeniously conducted above grou nd and concealed by the straw. The inmates took the alarm\, and made their escape\; but Mr. Adams and his excellent dogs being put upon the trail\, soon run down and secured one of them\, which proved to be a Negro-fellow who had been out about a year. He stated that the other occupant was a wom an\, who had been a runaway a still longer time. In the den was found a qu antity of meal\, bacon\, corn\, potatoes\, &\;c. and various cooking ut ensils and wearing apparel.\"—Vicksburg Sentinel\, Dec. 6th\, 1838.\n\nC urrer was one of those who witnessed the execution of the slave at the sta ke\, and it gave her no very exalted opinion of the people of the cotton g rowing district.\n\nCHAPTER IV\nTHE QUADROON'S HOME\n \"How sweetly on t he hill-side sleeps\n The sunlight with its quickening rays!\n The verdan t trees that crown the steeps\,\n Grow greener in its quivering blaze.\"\ n\nABOUT three miles from Richmond is a pleasant plain\, with here and the re a beautiful cottage surrounded by trees so as scarcely to be seen. Amon g them was one far retired from the public roads\, and almost hidden among the trees. It was a perfect model of rural beauty. The piazzas that surro unded it were covered with clematis and passion flower. The pride of China mixed its oriental looking foliage with the majestic magnolia\, and the a ir was redolent with the fragrance of flowers\, peeping out of every nook and nodding upon you with a most unexpected welcome. The tasteful hand of art had not learned to imitate the lavish beauty and harmonious disorder o f nature\, but they lived together in loving amity\, and spoke in accordan t tones. The gateway rose in a gothic arch\, with graceful tracery in iron work\, surmounted by a cross\, round which fluttered and played the mount ain fringe\, that lightest and most fragile of vines. This cottage was hir ed by Horatio Green for Clotel\, and the quadroon girl soon found herself in her new home.\n\nThe tenderness of Clotel's conscience\, together with the care her mother had with her and the high value she placed upon virtue \, required an outward marriage\; though she well knew that a union with h er proscribed race was unrecognised by law\, and therefore the ceremony wo uld give her no legal hold on Horatio's constancy. But her high poetic nat ure regarded reality rather than the semblance of things\; and when he pla yfully asked how she could keep him if he wished to run away\, she replied \, \"If the mutual love we have for each other\, and the dictates of your own conscience do not cause you to remain my husband\, and your affections fall from me\, I would not\, if I could\, hold you by a single fetter.\" It was indeed a marriage sanctioned by heaven\, although unrecognised on e arth. There the young couple lived secluded from the world\, and passed th eir time as happily as circumstances would permit. It was Clotel's wish th at Horatio should purchase her mother and sister\, but the young man plead ed that he was unable\, owing to the fact that he had not come into posses sion of his share of property\, yet he promised that when he did\, he woul d seek them out and purchase them. Their first-born was named Mary\, and h er complexion was still lighter than her mother. Indeed she was not darker than other white children. As the child grew older\, it more and more res embled its mother. The iris of her large dark eye had the melting mezzotin ts\, which remains the last vestige of African ancestry\, and gives that p laintive expression\, so often observed\, and so appropriate to that docil e and injured race. Clotel was still happier after the birth of her dear c hild\; for Horatio\, as might have been expected\, was often absent day an d night with his friends in the city\, and the edicts of society had built up a wall of separation between the quadroon and them. Happy as Clotel wa s in Horatio's love\, and surrounded by an outward environment of beauty\, so well adapted to her poetic spirit\, she felt these incidents with inex pressible pain. For herself she cared but little\; for she had found a she ltered home in Horatio's heart\, which the world might ridicule\, but had no power to profane. But when she looked at her beloved Mary\, and reflect ed upon the unavoidable and dangerous position which the tyranny of societ y had awarded her\, her soul was filled with anguish. The rare loveliness of the child increased daily\, and was evidently ripening into most marvel lous beauty. The father seemed to rejoice in it with unmingled pride\; but in the deep tenderness of the mother's eye\, there was an indwelling sadn ess that spoke of anxious thoughts and fearful foreboding. Clotel now urge d Horatio to remove to France or England\, where both her [sic] and her ch ild would be free\, and where colour was not a crime. This request excited but little opposition\, and was so attractive to his imagination\, that h e might have overcome all intervening obstacles\, had not \"a change come over the spirit of his dreams.\" He still loved Clotel\; but he was now be coming engaged in political and other affairs which kept him oftener and l onger from the young mother\; and ambition to become a statesman was slowl y gaining the ascendancy over him.\n\nAmong those on whom Horatio's politi cal success most depended was a very popular and wealthy man\, who had an only daughter. His visits to the house were at first purely of a political nature\; but the young lady was pleasing\, and he fancied he discovered i n her a sort of timid preference for himself. This excited his vanity\, an d awakened thoughts of the great worldly advantages connected with a union . Reminiscences of his first love kept these vague ideas in check for seve ral months\; for with it was associated the idea of restraint. Moreover\, Gertrude\, though inferior in beauty\, was yet a pretty contrast to her ri val. Her light hair fell in silken ringlets down her shoulders\, her blue eyes were gentle though inexpressive\, and her healthy cheeks were like op ening rosebuds. He had already become accustomed to the dangerous experime nt of resisting his own inward convictions\; and this new impulse to ambit ion\, combined with the strong temptation of variety in love\, met the ard ent young man weakened in moral principle\, and unfettered by laws of the land. The change wrought upon him was soon noticed by Clotel.\n\nCHAPTER V \nTHE SLAVE MARKET\n \"What! mothers from their children riven!\n What ! God's own image bought and sold!\n Americans to market driven\,\ nAnd barter'd as the brute for gold.\"—Whittier.\n\nNOT far from Canal-s treet\, in the city of New Orleans\, stands a large two story flat buildin g surrounded by a stone wall twelve feet high\, the top of which is covere d with bits of glass\, and so constructed as to prevent even the possibili ty of any one's passing over it without sustaining great injury. Many of t he rooms resemble cells in a prison. In a small room near the \"office\" a re to be seen any number of iron collars\, hobbles\, handcuffs\, thumbscre ws\, cowhides\, whips\, chains\, gags\, and yokes. A back yard inclosed by a high wall looks something like the playground attached to one of our la rge New England schools\, and in which are rows of benches and swings. Att ached to the back premises is a good-sized kitchen\, where two old Negress es are at work\, stewing\, boiling\, and baking\, and occasionally wiping the sweat from their furrowed and swarthy brows.\n\nThe slave-trader Walke r\, on his arrival in New Orleans\, took up his quarters at this slave pen with his gang of human cattle: and the morning after\, at ten o'clock\, t hey were exhibited for sale. There\, first of all\, was the beautiful Alth esa\, whose pale countenance and dejected look told how many sad hours she had passed since parting with her mother at Natchez. There was a poor wom an who had been separated from her husband and five children. Another woma n\, whose looks and manner were expressive of deep anguish\, sat by her si de. There\, too\, was \"Uncle Geemes\,\" with his whiskers off\, his face shaved clean\, and the grey hair plucked out\, and ready to be sold for te n years younger than he was. Toby was also there\, with his face shaved an d greased\, ready for inspection. The examination commenced\, and was carr ied on in a manner calculated to shock the feelings of any one not devoid of the milk of human kindness. \"What are you wiping your eyes for?\" inqu ired a fat\, red-faced man\, with a white hat set on one side of his head\ , and a cigar in his mouth\, of a woman who sat on one of the stools. \"I s'pose I have been crying.\" \"Why do you cry?\" \"Because I have left my man behind.\" \"Oh\, if I buy you I will furnish you with a better man tha n you left. I have lots of young bucks on my farm.\" \"I don't want\, and will never have\, any other man\,\" replied the woman. \"What's your name? \" asked a man in a straw hat of a tall Negro man\, who stood with his arm s folded across his breast\, and leaning against the wall. \"My name is Aa ron\, sir.\" \"How old are you?\" \"Twenty-five.\" \"Where were you raised ?\" \"In old Virginny\, sir.\" \"How many men have owned you?\" \"Four.\" \"Do you enjoy good health?\" \"Yes\, sir.\" \"How long did you live with your first owner?\" \"Twenty years.\" \"Did you ever run away?\" \"No\, si r.\" \"Did you ever strike your master?\" \"No\, sir.\" \"Were you ever wh ipped much?\" \"No\, sir\, I s'pose I did not deserve it.\" \"How long did you live with your second master?\" \"Ten years\, sir.\" \"Have you a goo d appetite?\" \"Yes\, sir.\" \"Can you eat your allowance?\" \"Yes\, sir\, when I can get it.\" \"What were you employed at in Virginia?\" \"I worke d in de terbacar feel.\" \"In the tobacco field?\" \"Yes\, sir.\" \"How ol d did you say you were?\" \"I will be twenty-five if I live to see next sw eet potater digging time.\" \"I am a cotton planter\, and if I buy you\, y ou will have to work in the cotton field. My men pick one hundred and fift y pounds a day\, and the women one hundred and forty\, and those who fail to pick their task receive five stripes from the cat for each pound that i s wanting. Now\, do you think you could keep up with the rest of the bands ?\" \"I don't know\, sir\, I 'spec I'd have to.\" \"How long did you live with your third master?\" \"Three years\, sir.\" \"Why\, this makes you th irty-three\, I thought you told me you was only twenty five?\" Aaron now l ooked first at the planter\, then at the trader\, and seemed perfectly bew ildered. He had forgotten the lesson given him by Pompey as to his age\, a nd the planter's circuitous talk (doubtless to find out the slave's real a ge) had the Negro off his guard. \"I must see your back\, so as to know ho w much you have been whipped\, before I think of buying\,\" said the plant er. Pompey\, who had been standing by during the examination\, thought tha t his services were now required\, and stepping forward with a degree of o fficiousness\, said to Aaron\, \"Don't you hear de gentman tell you he wan t to zamon your limbs. Come\, unharness yeself\, old boy\, an don't be sta nding dar.\" Aaron was soon examined and pronounced \"sound\"\; yet the co nflicting statement about the age was not satisfactory.\n\nFortunate for A lthesa she was spared the pain of undergoing such an examination. Mr. Craw ford\, a teller in one of the banks\, had just been married\, and wanted a maid-servant for his wife\; and passing through the market in the early p art of the day\, was pleased with the young slave's appearance and purchas ed her\, and in his dwelling the quadroon found a much better home than of ten falls to the lot of a slave sold in the New Orleans market. The heartr ending and cruel traffic in slaves which has been so often described\, is not confined to any particular class of persons. No one forfeits his or he r character or standing in society\, by buying or selling slaves\; or even raising slaves for the market. The precise number of slaves carried from the slave-raising to the slave-consuming states\, we have no means of know ing. But it must be very great\, as more than forty thousand were sold and taken out of the state of Virginia in one year. Known to God only is the amount of human agony and suffering which sends its cry from the slave mar kets and Negro pens\, unheard and unheeded by man\, up to his ear\; mother s weeping for their children\, breaking the night-silence with the shrieks of their breaking hearts. From some you will hear the burst of bitter lam entation\, while from others the loud hysteric laugh\, denoting still deep er agony. Most of them leave the market for cotton or rice plantations\,\n \n \"Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings\,\n Where the noisome insec t stings\,\n Where the fever demon-strews\n Poison with the fal ling dews\,\n Where the sickly sunbeams glare\n Through the hot an d misty air.\"\n\nCHAPTER VI\nTHE RELIGIOUS TEACHER\n \"What! preac h and enslave men?\n Give thanks—and rob thy own afflicted poor?\n Ta lk of thy glorious liberty\, and then\n Bolt hard the captive's door.\" —Whittier.\n\nTHE Rev. John Peck was a native of the state of Connecticu t\, where he was educated for the ministry\, in the Methodist persuasion. His father was a strict follower of John Wesley\, and spared no pains in h is son's education\, with the hope that he would one day be as renowned as the great leader of his sect. John had scarcely finished his education at New Haven\, when he was invited by an uncle\, then on a visit to his fath er\, to spend a few months at Natchez in the state of Mississippi. Young P eck accepted his uncle's invitation\, and accompanied him to the South. Fe w young men\, and especially clergymen\, going fresh from a college to the South\, but are looked upon as geniuses in a small way\, and who are not invited to all the parties in the neighbourhood. Mr. Peck was not an excep tion to this rule. The society into which he was thrown on his arrival at Natchez was too brilliant for him not to be captivated by it\; and\, as mi ght have been expected\, he succeeded in captivating a plantation with sev enty slaves\, if not the heart of the lady to whom it belonged. Added to t his\, he became a popular preacher\, had a large congregation with a snug salary. Like other planters\, Mr. Peck confided the care of his farm to Ne d Huckelby\, an overseer of high reputation in his way. The Poplar Farm\, as it was called\, was situated in a beautiful valley nine miles from Natc hez\, and near the river Mississippi. The once unshorn face of nature had given way\, and now the farm blossomed with a splendid harvest\, the neat cottage stood in a grove where Lombardy poplars lift their tufted tops alm ost to prop the skies\; the willow\, locust\, and horse-chestnut spread th eir branches\, and flowers never cease to blossom. This was the parson's c ountry house\, where the family spent only two months during the year.\n\n The town residence was a fine villa\, seated upon the brow of a hill at th e edge of the city. It was in the kitchen of this house that Currer found her new home. Mr. Peck was\, every inch of him\, a democrat\, and early re solved that his \"people\,\" as he called his slaves\, should be well fed and not overworked\, and therefore laid down the law and gospel to the ove rseer as well as the slaves.\n\n\"It is my wish\,\" said he to Mr. Carlton \, an old school-fellow\, who was spending a few days with him\, \"it is m y wish that a new system be adopted on the plantations in this estate. I b elieve that the sons of Ham should have the gospel\, and I intend that my Negroes shall. The gospel is calculated to make mankind better\, and none should be without it.\" \"What say you\,\" replied Carlton\, \"about the r ight of man to his liberty?\" \"Now\, Carlton\, you have begun again to ha rp about man's rights\; I really wish you could see this matter as I do. I have searched in vain for any authority for man's natural rights\; if he had any\, they existed before the fall. That is\, Adam and Eve may have ha d some rights which God gave them\, and which modern philosophy\, in its p retended reverence for the name of God\, prefers to call natural rights. I can imagine they had the right to eat of the fruit of the trees of the ga rden\; they were restricted even in this by the prohibition of one. As far as I know without positive assertion\, their liberty of action was confin ed to the garden. These were not 'inalienable rights\,' however\, for they forfeited both them and life with the first act of disobedience. Had they \, after this\, any rights? We cannot imagine them\; they were condemned b eings\; they could have no rights\, but by Christ's gift as king. These ar e the only rights man can have as an independent isolated being\, if we ch oose to consider him in this impossible position\, in which so many theori sts have placed him. If he had no rights\, he could suffer no wrongs. Righ ts and wrongs are therefore necessarily the creatures of society\, such as man would establish himself in his gregarious state. They are\, in this s tate\, both artificial and voluntary. Though man has no rights\, as thus c onsidered\, undoubtedly he has the power\, by such arbitrary rules of righ t and wrong as his necessity enforces.\" \"I regret I cannot see eye to ey e with you\,\" said Carlton. \"I am a disciple of Rousseau\, and have for years made the rights of man my study\; and I must confess to you that I c an see no difference between white men and black men as it regards liberty .\" \"Now\, my dear Carlton\, would you really have the Negroes enjoy the same rights with ourselves?\" \"I would\, most certainly. Look at our grea t Declaration of Independence\; look even at the constitution of our own C onnecticut\, and see what is said in these about liberty.\" \"I regard all this talk about rights as mere humbug. The Bible is older than the Declar ation of Independence\, and there I take my stand. The Bible furnishes to us the armour of proof\, weapons of heavenly temper and mould\, whereby we can maintain our ground against all attacks. But this is true only when w e obey its directions\, as well as employ its sanctions. Our rights are th ere established\, but it is always in connection with our duties. If we ne glect the one we cannot make good the other. Our domestic institutions can be maintained against the world\, if we but allow Christianity to throw i ts broad shield over them. But if we so act as to array the Bible against our social economy\, they must fall. Nothing ever yet stood long against C hristianity. Those who say that religious instruction is inconsistent with our peculiar civil polity\, are the worst enemies of that polity. They wo uld drive religious men from its defence. Sooner or later\, if these views prevail\, they will separate the religious portion of our community from the rest\, and thus divided we shall become an easy prey. Why\, is it not better that Christian men should hold slaves than unbelievers? We know how to value the bread of life\, and will not keep it from our slaves.\"\n\n\ "Well\, every one to his own way of thinking\,\" said Carlton\, as he chan ged his position. \"I confess\,\" added he\, \"that I am no great admirer of either the Bible or slavery. My heart is my guide: my conscience is my Bible. I wish for nothing further to satisfy me of my duty to man. If I ac t rightly to mankind\, I shall fear nothing.\" Carlton had drunk too deepl y of the bitter waters of infidelity\, and had spent too many hours over t he writings of Rousseau\, Voltaire\, and Thomas Paine\, to place that appr eciation upon the Bible and its teachings that it demands. During this con versation there was another person in the room\, seated by the window\, wh o\, although at work upon a fine piece of lace\, paid every attention to w hat was said. This was Georgiana\, the only daughter of the parson. She ha d just returned from Connecticut\, where she had finished her education. S he had had the opportunity of contrasting the spirit of Christianity and l iberty in New England with that of slavery in her native state\, and had l earned to feel deeply for the injured Negro. Georgiana was in her nineteen th year\, and had been much benefited by a residence of five years at the North. Her form was tall and graceful\; her features regular and well defi ned\; and her complexion was illuminated by the freshness of youth\, beaut y\, and health. The daughter differed from both the father and his visitor upon the subject which they had been discussing\, and as soon as an oppor tunity offered\, she gave it as her opinion\, that the Bible was both the bulwark of Christianity and of liberty. With a smile she said\, \"Of cours e\, papa will overlook my differing from him\, for although I am a native of the South\, I am by education and sympathy\, a Northerner.\" Mr. Peck l aughed and appeared pleased\, rather than otherwise\, at the manner in whi ch his daughter had expressed herself.\n\nFrom this Georgiana took courage and said\, \"We must try the character of slavery\, and our duty in regar d to it\, as we should try any other question of character and duty. To ju dge justly of the character of anything\, we must know what it does. That which is good does good\, and that which is evil does evil. And as to duty \, God's designs indicate his claims. That which accomplishes the manifest design of God is right\; that which counteracts it\, wrong. Whatever\, in its proper tendency and general effect\, produces\, secures\, or extends human welfare\, is according to the will of God\, and is good\; and our du ty is to favour and promote\, according to our power\, that which God favo urs and promotes by the general law of his providence. On the other hand\, whatever in its proper tendency and general effect destroys\, abridges\, or renders insecure\, human welfare\, is opposed to God's will\, and is ev il. And as whatever accords with the will of God\, in any manifestation of it should be done and persisted in\, so whatever opposes that will should not be done\, and if done\, should be abandoned. Can that then be right\, be well doing—can that obey God's behest\, which makes a man a slave? w hich dooms him and all his posterity\, in limitless Generations\, to bonda ge\, to unrequited toil through life? 'Thou shalt love thy neighbour as th yself.' This single passage of Scripture should cause us to have respect t o the rights of the slave. True Christian love is of an enlarged\, disinte rested nature. It loves all who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity\, without regard to colour or condition.\" \"Georgiana\, my dear\, you are a n abolitionist\; your talk is fanaticism\,\" said Mr. Peck in rather a sha rp tone\; but the subdued look of the girl\, and the presence of Carlton\, caused the father to soften his language. Mr. Peck having lost his wife b y consumption\, and Georgiana being his only child\, he loved her too dear ly to say more\, even if he felt displeased. A silence followed this exhor tation from the young Christian. But her remarks had done a noble work. Th e father's heart was touched\; and the sceptic\, for the first time\, was viewing Christianity in its true light.\n\n\"I think I must go out to your farm\,\" said Carlton\, as if to break the silence. \"I shall be pleased to have you go\,\" returned Mr. Peck. \"I am sorry I can't go myself\, but Huckelby will show you every attention\; and I feel confident that when y ou return to Connecticut\, you will do me the justice to say\, that I am o ne who looks after my people\, in a moral\, social\, and religious point o f view.\" \"Well\, what do you say to my spending next Sunday there?\" \"W hy\, I think that a good move\; you will then meet with Snyder\, our missi onary.\" \"Oh\, you have missionaries in these parts\, have you?\" \"Yes\, \" replied Mr. Peck\; \"Snyder is from New York\, and is our missionary to the poor\, and preaches to our 'people' on Sunday\; you will no doubt lik e him\; he is a capital fellow.\" \"Then I shall go\,\" said Carlton\, \"b ut only wish I had company.\" This last remark was intended for Miss Peck\ , for whom he had the highest admiration.\n\nIt was on a warm Sunday morni ng\, in the month of May\, that Miles Carlton found himself seated beneath a fine old apple tree\, whose thick leaves entirely shaded the ground for some distance round. Under similar trees and near by\, were gathered toge ther all the \"people\" belonging to the plantation. Hontz Snyder was a ma n of about forty years of age\, exceedingly low in stature\, but of a larg e frame. He had been brought up in the Mohawk Valley\, in the state of New York\, and claimed relationship with the oldest Dutch families in that vi cinity. He had once been a sailor\, and had all the roughness of character that a sea-faring man might expect to possess\; together with the half-Ya nkee\, half-German peculiarities of the people of the Mohawk Valley. It wa s nearly eleven o'clock when a one-horse waggon drove up in haste\, and th e low squatty preacher got out and took his place at the foot of one of th e trees\, where a sort of rough board table was placed\, and took his book s from his pocket and commenced.\n\n\"As it is rather late\,\" said he\, \ "we will leave the singing and praying for the last\, and take our text\, and commence immediately. I shall base my remarks on the following passage of Scripture\, and hope to have that attention which is due to the cause of God:—'All things whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you\, do ye even so unto them'\; that is\, do by all mankind just as you would des ire they should do by you\, if you were in their place and they in yours.\ n\n\"Now\, to suit this rule to your particular circumstances\, suppose yo u were masters and mistresses\, and had servants under you\, would you not desire that your servants should do their business faithfully and honestl y\, as well when your back was turned as while you were looking over them? Would you not expect that they should take notice of what you said to the m? that they should behave themselves with respect towards you and yours\, and be as careful of everything belonging to you as you would be yourselv es? You are servants: do\, therefore\, as you would wish to be done by\, a nd you will be both good servants to your masters and good servants to God \, who requires this of you\, and will reward you well for it\, if you do it for the sake of conscience\, in obedience to his commands.\n\n\"You are not to be eye-servants. Now\, eye-servants are such as will work hard\, a nd seem mighty diligent\, while they think anybody is taking notice of the m\; but\, when their masters' and mistresses' backs are turned they are id le\, and neglect their business. I am afraid there are a great many such e ye-servants among you\, and that you do not consider how great a sin it is to be so\, and how severely God will punish you for it. You may easily de ceive your owners\, and make them have an opinion of you that you do not d eserve\, and get the praise of men by it\; but remember that you cannot de ceive Almighty God\, who sees your wickedness and deceit\, and will punish you accordingly. For the rule is\, that you must obey your masters in all things\, and do the work they set you about with fear and trembling\, in singleness of heart as unto Christ\; not with eye-service\, as men-pleaser s\, but as the servants of Christ\, doing the will of God from the heart\; with good-will doing service as to the Lord\, and not as to men.\n\n\"Tak e care that you do not fret or murmur\, grumble or repine at your conditio n\; for this will not only make your life uneasy\, but will greatly offend Almighty God. Consider that it is not yourselves\, it is not the people t hat you belong to\, it is not the men who have brought you to it\, but it is the will of God who hath by his providence made you servants\, because\ , no doubt\, he knew that condition would be best for you in this world\, and help you the better towards heaven\, if you would but do your duty in it. So that any discontent at your not being free\, or rich\, or great\, a s you see some others\, is quarrelling with your heavenly Master\, and fin ding fault with God himself\, who hath made you what you are\, and hath pr omised you as large a share in the kingdom of heaven as the greatest man a live\, if you will but behave yourself aright\, and do the business he hat h set you about in this world honestly and cheerfully. Riches and power ha ve proved the ruin of many an unhappy soul\, by drawing away the heart and affections from God\, and fixing them on mean and sinful enjoyments\; so that\, when God\, who knows our hearts better than we know them ourselves\ , sees that they would be hurtful to us\, and therefore keeps them from us \, it is the greatest mercy and kindness he could show us.\n\n\"You may pe rhaps fancy that\, if you had riches and freedom\, you could do your duty to God and man with greater pleasure than you can now. But pray consider t hat\, if you can but save your souls through the mercy of God\, you will h ave spent your time to the best of purposes in this world\; and he that at last can get to heaven has performed a noble journey\, let the road be ev er so rugged and difficult. Besides\, you really have a great advantage ov er most white people\, who have not only the care of their daily labour up on their hands\, but the care of looking forward and providing necessaries for to-morrow and next day\, and of clothing and bringing up their childr en\, and of getting food and raiment for as many of you as belong to their families\, which often puts them to great difficulties\, and distracts th eir minds so as to break their rest\, and take off their thoughts from the affairs of another world. Whereas you are quite eased from all these care s\, and have nothing but your daily labour to look after\, and\, when that is done\, take your needful rest. Neither is it necessary for you to thin k of laying up anything against old age\, as white people are obliged to d o\; for the laws of the country have provided that you shall not be turned off when you are past labour\, but shall be maintained\, while you live\, by those you belong to\, whether you are able to work or not.\n\n\"There is only one circumstance which may appear grievous\, that I shall now take notice of\, and that is correction.\n\n\"Now\, when correction is given y ou\, you either deserve it\, or you do not deserve it. But whether you rea lly deserve it or not\, it is your duty\, and Almighty God requires that y ou bear it patiently. You may perhaps think that this is hard doctrine\; b ut\, if you consider it right\, you must needs think otherwise of it. Supp ose\, then\, that you deserve correction\, you cannot but say that it is j ust and right you should meet with it. Suppose you do not\, or at least yo u do not deserve so much\, or so severe a correction\, for the fault you h ave committed\, you perhaps have escaped a great many more\, and are at la st paid for all. Or suppose you are quite innocent of what is laid to your charge\, and suffer wrongfully in that particular thing\, is it not possi ble you may have done some other bad thing which was never discovered\, an d that Almighty God who saw you doing it would not let you escape without punishment one time or another? And ought you not\, in such a case\, to gi ve glory to him\, and be thankful that he would rather punish you in this life for your wickedness than destroy your souls for it in the next life? But suppose even this was not the case (a case hardly to be imagined)\, an d that you have by no means\, known or unknown\, deserved the correction y ou suffered\, there is this great comfort in it\, that\, if you bear it pa tiently\, and leave your cause in the hands of God\, he will reward you fo r it in heaven\, and the punishment you suffer unjustly here shall turn to your exceeding great glory hereafter.\n\n\"Lastly\, you should serve your masters faithfully\, because of their goodness to you. See to what troubl e they have been on your account. Your fathers were poor ignorant and barb arous creatures in Africa\, and the whites fitted out ships at great troub le and expense and brought you from that benighted land to Christian Ameri ca\, where you can sit under your own vine and fig tree and no one molest or make you afraid. Oh\, my dear black brothers and sisters\, you are inde ed a fortunate and a blessed people. Your masters have many troubles that you know nothing about. If the banks break\, your masters are sure to lose something. If the crops turn out poor\, they lose by it. If one of you di e\, your master loses what he paid for you\, while you lose nothing. Now l et me exhort you once more to be faithful.\"\n\nOften during the delivery of the sermon did Snyder cast an anxious look in the direction where Carlt on was seated\; no doubt to see if he had found favour with the stranger. Huckelby\, the overseer\, was also there\, seated near Carlton. With all S nyder's gesticulations\, sonorous voice\, and occasionally bringing his fi st down upon the table with the force of a sledge hammer\, he could not su cceed in keeping the Negroes all interested: four or five were fast asleep \, leaning against the trees\; as many more were nodding\, while not a few were stealthily cracking\, and eating hazelnuts. \"Uncle Simon\, you may strike up a hymn\,\" said the preacher as he closed his Bible. A moment mo re\, and the whole company (Carlton excepted) had joined in the well known hymn\, commencing with\n\n \"When I can read my title clear\n To mansions in the sky.\"\n\nAfter the singing\, Sandy closed with prayer \, and the following questions and answers read\, and the meeting was brou ght to a close.\n\n\"Q. What command has God given to servants concerning obedience to their masters?—A. 'Servants\, obey in all things your maste rs according to the flesh\, not with eye-service as men-pleasers\, but in singleness of heart\, fearing God.'\n\n\"Q. What does God mean by masters according to the flesh?—A.\n'Masters in this world.'\n\n\"Q. What are se rvants to count their masters worthy of?— A. 'All honour.'\n\n\"Q. How a re they to do the service of their masters?—A. 'With good will\, doing s ervice as unto the Lord\, and not unto men.'\n\n\"Q. How are they to try t o please their masters?—A. 'Please him well in all things\, not answerin g again.'\n\n\"Q. Is a servant who is an eye-servant to his earthly master an eye-servant to his heavenly master?—A. 'Yes.'\n\n\"Q. Is it right in a servant\, when commanded to do any thing\, to be sullen and slow\, and answer his master again?—A. 'No.'\n\n\"Q. If the servant professes to be a Christian\, ought he not to be as a Christian servant\, an example to a ll other servants of love and obedience to his master?—A. 'Yes.'\n\n\"Q. And\, should his master be a Christian also\, ought he not on that accoun t specially to love and obey him?—A. 'Yes.'\n\n\"Q. But suppose the mast er is hard to please\, and threatens and punishes more than he ought\, wha t is the servant to do?—A. 'Do his best to please him.'\n\n\"Q. When the servant suffers wrongfully at the hands of his master\, and\, to please G od\, takes it patiently\, will God reward him for it?—A. 'Yes.'\n\n\"Q. Is it right for the servant to run away\, or is it right to harbour a runa way?—A. 'No.'\n\n\"Q. If a servant runs away\, what should be done with him?—A. 'He should be caught and brought back.'\n\n\"Q. When he is broug ht back\, what should be done with him?—\nA. 'Whip him well.'\n\n\"Q. Wh y may not the whites be slaves as well as the blacks?—\nA. 'Because the Lord intended the Negroes for slaves.'\n\n\"Q. Are they better calculated for servants than the whites?— A. 'Yes\, their hands are large\, the ski n thick and tough\, and they can stand the sun better than the whites.'\n\ n\"Q. Why should servants not complain when they are whipped?—\nA. 'Beca use the Lord has commanded that they should be whipped.'\n\n\"Q. Where has He commanded it?—A. 'He says\, He that knoweth his master's will\, and doeth it not\, shall be beaten with many stripes.'\n\n\"Q. Then is the mas ter to blame for whipping his servant?—A. 'Oh\, no! he is only doing his duty as a Christian.'\"\n\nSnyder left the ground in company with Carlton and Huckelby\, and the three dined together in the overseer's dwelling. \ "Well\,\" said Joe\, after the three white men were out of hearing\, \"Mar ser Snyder bin try hesef to-day.\" \"Yes\,\" replied Ned\; \"he want to sh ow de strange gentman how good he can preach.\" \"Dat's a new sermon he gi b us to-day\,\" said Sandy. \"Dees white fokes is de very dibble\,\" said Dick\; \"and all dey whole study is to try to fool de black people.\" \"Di dn't you like de sermon?\" asked Uncle Simon. \"No\,\" answered four or fi ve voices. \"He rared and pitched enough\,\" continued Uncle Simon.\n\nNow Uncle Simon was himself a preacher\, or at least he thought so\, and was rather pleased than otherwise\, when he heard others spoken of in a dispar aging manner. \"Uncle Simon can beat dat sermon all to pieces\,\" said Ned \, as he was filling his mouth with hazelnuts. \"I got no notion of dees w hite fokes\, no how\,\" returned Aunt Dafney. \"Dey all de time tellin' da t de Lord made us for to work for dem\, and I don't believe a word of it.\ " \"Marser Peck give dat sermon to Snyder\, I know\,\" said Uncle Simon. \ "He jest de one for dat\,\" replied Sandy. \"I think de people dat made de Bible was great fools\,\" said Ned. \"Why?\" Uncle Simon. \"'Cause dey ma de such a great big book and put nuttin' in it\, but servants obey yer mas ters.\" \"Oh\,\" replied Uncle Simon\, \"thars more in de Bible den dat\, only Snyder never reads any other part to us\; I use to hear it read in Ma ryland\, and thar was more den what Snyder lets us hear.\" In the overseer 's house there was another scene going on\, and far different from what we have here described.\n\nCHAPTER VII\nTHE POOR WHITES\, SOUTH\n\"No seemin g of logic can ever convince the American people\, that thousands of our s lave-holding brethren are not excellent\, humane\, and even Christian men\ , fearing God\, and keeping His commandments.\"—Rev. Dr. Joel Parker.\n\ n\"You like these parts better than New York\,\" said Carlton to Snyder\, as they were sitting down to dinner in the overseer's dwelling. \"I can't say that I do\,\" was the reply\; \"I came here ten years ago as missionar y\, and Mr. Peck wanted me to stay\, and I have remained. I travel among t he poor whites during the week and preach for the niggers on Sunday.\" \"A re there many poor whites in this district?\" \"Not here\, but about thirt y miles from here\, in the Sand Hill district\; they are as ignorant as ho rses. Why it was no longer than last week I was up there\, and really you would not believe it\, that people were so poor off. In New England\, and\ , I may say\, in all the free states\, they have free schools\, and everyb ody gets educated. Not so here. In Connecticut there is only one out of ev ery five hundred above twenty-one years that can neither read nor write. H ere there is one out of every eight that can neither read nor write. There is not a single newspaper taken in five of the counties in this state. La st week I was at Sand Hill for the first time\, and I called at a farmhous e. The man was out. It was a low log-hut\, and yet it was the best house i n that locality. The woman and nine children were there\, and the geese\, ducks\, chickens\, pigs\, and children were all running about the floor. T he woman seemed scared at me when I entered the house. I inquired if I cou ld get a little dinner\, and my horse fed. She said\, yes\, if I would onl y be good enough to feed him myself\, as her 'gal\,' as she called her dau ghter\, would be afraid of the horse. When I returned into the house again from the stable\, she kept her eyes upon me all the time. At last she sai d\, 'I s'pose you ain't never bin in these parts afore?' 'No\,' said I. 'I s you gwine to stay here long?' 'Not very long\,' I replied. 'On business\ , I s'pose.' 'Yes\,' said I\, 'I am hunting up the lost sheep of the house of Israel.' 'Oh\,' exclaimed she\, 'hunting for lost sheep is you? Well\, you have a hard time to find 'em here. My husband lost an old ram last we ek\, and he ain't found him yet\, and he's hunted every day.' 'I am not lo oking for four-legged sheep\,' said I\, 'I am hunting for sinners.' 'Ah'\; she said\, 'then you are a preacher.' 'Yes\,' said I. 'You are the first of that sort that's bin in these diggins for many a day.' Turning to her e ldest daughter\, she said in an excited tone\, 'Clar out the pigs and duck s\, and sweep up the floor\; this is a preacher.' And it was some time bef ore any of the children would come near me\; one remained under the bed (w hich\, by the by\, was in the same room)\, all the while I was there. 'Wel l\,' continued the woman\, 'I was a tellin' my man only yesterday that I w ould like once more to go to meetin' before I died\, and he said as he sho uld like to do the same. But as you have come\, it will save us the troubl e of going out of the district.'\" \"Then you found some of the lost sheep \,\" said Carlton. \"Yes\,\" replied Snyder\, \"I did not find anything el se up there. The state makes no provision for educating the poor: they are unable to do it themselves\, and they grow up in a state of ignorance and degradation. The men hunt and the women have to go in the fields and labo ur.\" \"What is the cause of it?\" inquired Carlton. \"Slavery\,\" answere d Snyder\, slavery\,—and nothing else. Look at the city of Boston\; it p ays more taxes for the support of the government than this entire state. T he people of Boston do more business than the whole population of Mississi ppi put together. I was told some very amusing things while at Sand Hill. A farmer there told me a story about an old woman\, who was very pious her self. She had a husband and three sons\, who were sad characters\, and she had often prayed for their conversion but to no effect. At last\, one day while working in the corn-field\, one of her sons was bitten by a rattles nake. He had scarce reached home before he felt the poison\, and in his ag ony called loudly on his Maker.\n\n\"The pious old woman\, when she heard this\, forgetful of her son's misery\, and everything else but the gloriou s hope of his repentance\, fell on her knees\, and prayed as follows—'Oh ! Lord\, I thank thee\, that thou hast at last opened Jimmy's eyes to the error of his ways\; and I pray that\, in thy Divine mercy\, thou wilt send a rattlesnake to bite the old man\, and another to bite Tom\, and another to bite Harry\, for I am certain that nothing but a rattlesnake\, or some thing of the kind\, will ever turn them from their sinful ways\, they are so hard-headed.' When returning home\, and before I got out of the Sand Hi ll district\, I saw a funeral\, and thought I would fasten my horse to a p ost and attend. The coffin was carried in a common horse cart\, and follow ed by fifteen or twenty persons very shabbily dressed\, and attended by a man whom I took to be the religious man of the place. After the coffin had been placed near the grave\, he spoke as follows\,—\n\n\"'Friends and n eighbours! you have congregated to see this lump of mortality put into a h ole in the ground. You all know the deceased—a worthless\, drunken\, goo d-for-nothing vagabond. He lived in disgrace and infamy\, and died in wret chedness. You all despised him—you all know his brother Joe\, who lives on the hill? He's not a bit better though he has scrap'd together a little property by cheating his neighbours. His end will be like that of this lo athsome creature\, whom you will please put into the hole as soon as possi ble. I won't ask you to drop a tear\, but brother Bohow will please raise a hymn while we fill up the grave.'\"\n\n\"I am rather surprised to hear t hat any portion of the whites in this state are in so low a condition.\" \ "Yet it is true\,\" returned Snyder.\n\n\"These are very onpleasant facts to be related to ye\, Mr. Carlton\,\" said Huckelby\; \"but I can bear wit ness to what Mr. Snyder has told ye.\" Huckelby was from Maryland\, where many of the poor whites are in as sad a condition as the Sand Hillers of M ississippi. He was a tall man\, of iron constitution\, and could neither r ead nor write\, but was considered one of the best overseers in the countr y. When about to break a slave in\, to do a heavy task\, he would make him work by his side all day\; and if the new hand kept up with him\, he was set down as an able bodied man. Huckelby had neither moral\, religious\, o r political principles\, and often boasted that conscience was a matter th at never \"cost\" him a thought. \"Mr. Snyder ain't told ye half about the folks in these parts\,\" continued he\; \"we who comes from more enlighte ned parts don't know how to put up with 'em down here. I find the people h ere knows mighty little indeed\; in fact\, I may say they are univarsaly o nedicated. I goes out among none on 'em\, 'cause they ain't such as I have been used to 'sociate with. When I gits a little richer\, so that I can s top work\, I tend to go back to Maryland\, and spend the rest of my days.\ " \"I wonder the Negroes don't attempt to get their freedom by physical fo rce.\" \"It ain't no use for 'em to try that\, for if they do\, we puts 'e m through by daylight\,\" replied Huckelby. \"There are some desperate fel lows among the slaves\,\" said Snyder. \"Indeed\,\" remarked Carlton. \"Oh \, yes\,\" replied the preacher. \"A case has just taken place near here\, where a neighbour of ours\, Mr. J. Higgerson\, attempted to correct a Neg ro man in his employ\, who resisted\, drew a knife\, and stabbed him (Mr. H.) in several places. Mr. J. C. Hobbs (a Tennessean) ran to his assistanc e. Mr. Hobbs stooped to pick up a stick to strike the Negro\, and\, while in that position\, the Negro rushed upon him\, and caused his immediate de ath. The Negro then fled to the woods\, but was pursued with dogs\, and so on overtaken. He had stopped in a swamp to fight the dogs\, when the party who were pursuing him came upon him\, and commanded him to give up\, whic h he refused to do. He then made several efforts to stab them. Mr. Roberso n\, one of the party\, gave him several blows on the head with a rifle gun \; but this\, instead of subduing\, only increased his desperate revenge. Mr. R. then discharged his gun at the Negro\, and missing him\, the ball s truck Mr. Boon in the face\, and felled him to the ground. The Negro\, see ing Mr. Boon prostrated\, attempted to rush up and stab him\, but was prev ented by the timely interference of some one of the party. He was then sho t three times with a revolving pistol\, and once with a rifle\, and after having his throat cut\, he still kept the knife firmly grasped in his hand \, and tried to cut their legs when they approached to put an end to his l ife. This chastisement was given because the Negro grumbled\, and found fa ult with his master for flogging his wife.\" \"Well\, this is a bad state of affairs indeed\, and especially the condition of the poor whites\,\" sa id Carlton. \"You see\,\" replied Snyder\, \"no white man is respectable i n these slave states who works for a living. No community can be prosperou s\, where honest labour is not honoured. No society can be rightly constit uted\, where the intellect is not fed. Whatever institution reflects discr edit on industry\, whatever institution forbids the general culture of the understanding\, is palpably hostile to individual rights\, and to social well-being. Slavery is the incubus that hangs over the Southern States.\" \"Yes\,\" interrupted Huckelby\; \"them's just my sentiments now\, and no mistake. I think that\, for the honour of our country\, this slavery busin ess should stop. I don't own any\, no how\, and I would not be an overseer if I wern't paid for it.\"\n\nCHAPTER VIII\nTHE SEPARATION\n \"In many ways does the full heart reveal\n The presence of the love it would conceal\;\n But in far more the estranged heart lets know\n Th e absence of the love\, which yet it fain would show.\"\n\nAT length the n ews of the approaching marriage of Horatio met the ear of Clotel. Her head grew dizzy\, and her heart fainted within her\; but\, with a strong effor t at composure\, she inquired all the particulars\, and her pure mind at o nce took its resolution. Horatio came that evening\, and though she would fain have met him as usual\, her heart was too full not to throw a deep sa dness over her looks and tones. She had never complained of his decreasing tenderness\, or of her own lonely hours\; but he felt that the mute appea l of her heart-broken looks was more terrible than words. He kissed the ha nd she offered\, and with a countenance almost as sad as her own\, led her to a window in the recess shadowed by a luxuriant passion flower. It was the same seat where they had spent the first evening in this beautiful cot tage\, consecrated to their first loves. The same calm\, clear moonlight l ooked in through the trellis. The vine then planted had now a luxuriant gr owth\; and many a time had Horatio fondly twined its sacred blossoms with the glossy ringlets of her raven hair. The rush of memory almost overpower ed poor Clotel\; and Horatio felt too much oppressed and ashamed to break the long deep silence. At length\, in words scarcely audible\, Clotel said : \"Tell me\, dear Horatio\, are you to be married next week?\" He dropped her hand as if a rifle ball had struck him\; and it was not until after l ong hesitation\, that he began to make some reply about the necessity of c ircumstances. Mildly but earnestly the poor girl begged him to spare apolo gies. It was enough that he no longer loved her\, and that they must bid f arewell. Trusting to the yielding tenderness of her character\, he venture d\, in the most soothing accents\, to suggest that as he still loved her b etter than all the world\, she would ever be his real wife\, and they migh t see each other frequently. He was not prepared for the storm of indignan t emotion his words excited. True\, she was his slave\; her bones\, and si news had been purchased by his gold\, yet she had the heart of a true woma n\, and hers was a passion too deep and absorbing to admit of partnership\ , and her spirit was too pure to form a selfish league with crime.\n\nAt l ength this painful interview came to an end. They stood together by the Go thic gate\, where they had so often met and parted in the moonlight. Old r emembrances melted their souls. \"Farewell\, dearest Horatio\,\" said Clot el. \"Give me a parting kiss.\" Her voice was choked for utterance\, and t he tears flowed freely\, as she bent her lips toward him. He folded her co nvulsively in his arms\, and imprinted a long impassioned kiss on that mou th\, which had never spoken to him but in love and blessing. With efforts like a death-pang she at length raised her head from his heaving bosom\, a nd turning from him with bitter sobs\, \"It is our last. To meet thus is h enceforth crime. God bless you. I would not have you so miserable as I am. Farewell. A last farewell.\" \"The last?\" exclaimed he\, with a wild shr iek. \"Oh God\, Clotel\, do not say that\"\; and covering his face with hi s hands\, he wept like a child. Recovering from his emotion\, he found him self alone. The moon looked down upon him mild\, but very sorrowfully\; as the Madonna seems to gaze upon her worshipping children\, bowed down with consciousness of sin. At that moment he would have given worlds to have d isengaged himself from Gertrude\, but he had gone so far\, that blame\, di sgrace\, and duels with angry relatives would now attend any effort to obt ain his freedom. Oh\, how the moonlight oppressed him with its friendly sa dness! It was like the plaintive eye of his forsaken one\, like the music of sorrow echoed from an unseen world. Long and earnestly he gazed at that cottage\, where he had so long known earth's purest foretaste of heavenly bliss. Slowly he walked away\; then turned again to look on that charmed spot\, the nestling-place of his early affections. He caught a glimpse of Clotel\, weeping beside a magnolia\, which commanded a long view of the pa th leading to the public road. He would have sprung toward her but she dar ted from him\, and entered the cottage. That graceful figure\, weeping in the moonlight\, haunted him for years. It stood before his closing eyes\, and greeted him with the morning dawn. Poor Gertrude\, had she known all\, what a dreary lot would hers have been\; but fortunately she could not mi ss the impassioned tenderness she never experienced\; and Horatio was the more careful in his kindness\, because he was deficient in love. After Clo tel had been separated from her mother and sister\, she turned her attenti on to the subject of Christianity\, and received that consolation from her Bible that is never denied to the children of God. Although it was agains t the laws of Virginia\, for a slave to be taught to read\, Currer had emp loyed an old free Negro\, who lived near her\, to teach her two daughters to read and write. She felt that the step she had taken in resolving never to meet Horatio again would no doubt expose her to his wrath\, and probab ly cause her to be sold\, yet her heart was too guileless for her to commi t a crime\, and therefore she had ten times rather have been sold as a sla ve than do wrong. Some months after the marriage of Horatio and Gertrude t heir barouche rolled along a winding road that skirted the forest near Clo tel's cottage\, when the attention of Gertrude was suddenly attracted by t wo figures among the trees by the wayside\; and touching Horatio's arm\, s he exclaimed\, \"Do look at that beautiful child.\" He turned and saw Clot el and Mary. His lips quivered\, and his face became deadly pale. His youn g wife looked at him intently\, but said nothing. In returning home\, he t ook another road\; but his wife seeing this\, expressed a wish to go back the way they had come. He objected\, and suspicion was awakened in her hea rt\, and she soon after learned that the mother of that lovely child bore the name of Clotel\, a name which she had often heard Horatio murmur in un easy slumbers. From gossiping tongues she soon learned more than she wishe d to know. She wept\, but not as poor Clotel had done\; for she never had loved\, and been beloved like her\, and her nature was more proud: hencefo rth a change came over her feelings and her manners\, and Horatio had no f urther occasion to assume a tenderness in return for hers. Changed as he w as by ambition\, he felt the wintry chill of her polite propriety\, and so metimes\, in agony of heart\, compared it with the gushing love of her who was indeed his wife. But these and all his emotions were a sealed book to Clotel\, of which she could only guess the contents. With remittances for her and her child's support\, there sometimes came earnest pleadings that she would consent to see him again\; but these she never answered\, thoug h her heart yearned to do so. She pitied his young bride\, and would not b e tempted to bring sorrow into her household by any fault of hers. Her ear nest prayer was\, that she might not know of her existence. She had not lo oked on Horatio since she watched him under the shadow of the magnolia\, u ntil his barouche passed her in her rambles some months after. She saw the deadly paleness of his countenance\, and had he dared to look back\, he w ould have seen her tottering with faintness. Mary brought water from a riv ulet\, and sprinkled her face. When she revived\, she clasped the beloved child to her heart with a vehemence that made her scream. Soothingly she k issed away her fears\, and gazed into her beautiful eyes with a deep\, dee p sadness of expression\, which poor Mary never forgot. Wild were the thou ghts that passed round her aching heart\, and almost maddened her poor bra in\; thoughts which had almost driven her to suicide the night of that las t farewell. For her child's sake she had conquered the fierce temptation t hen\; and for her sake\, she struggled with it now. But the gloomy atmosph ere of their once happy home overclouded the morning of Mary's life. Clote l perceived this\, and it gave her unutterable pain.\n\n \"Tis ever thu s with woman's love\,\n True till life's storms have passed\;\n And\, like the vine around the tree\,\n It braves them to the last.\"\n\nC HAPTER IX\nTHE MAN OF HONOUR\n\"My tongue could never learn sweet soothing words\,\nBut now thy beauty is propos'd\, my fee\,\nMy proud heart sues\, and prompts my tongue to speak.\"\n\nShakespeare.\n\nJAMES CRAWFORD\, the purchaser of Althesa\, was from the green mountains of Vermont\, and his feelings were opposed to the holding of slaves. But his young wife persuad ed him into the idea that it was no worse to own a slave than to hire one and pay the money to another. Hence it was that he had been induced to pur chase Althesa. Henry Morton\, a young physician from the same state\, and who had just commenced the practice of his profession in New Orleans\, was boarding with Crawford when Althesa was brought home. The young physician had been in New Orleans but a few weeks\, and had seen very little of sla very. In his own mountain home he had been taught that the slaves of the S outhern states were Negroes\, if not from the coast of Africa\, the descen dants of those who had been imported. He was unprepared to behold with com posure a beautiful young white girl of fifteen in the degraded position of a chattel slave. The blood chilled in his young heart as he heard Crawfor d tell how\, by bartering with the trader\, he had bought her for two hund red dollars less than he first asked. His very looks showed that the slave girl had the deepest sympathy of his heart. Althesa had been brought up b y her mother to look after the domestic concerns of her cottage in Virgini a\, and knew well the duties imposed upon her. Mrs. Crawford was much plea sed with her new servant\, and often made mention of her in the presence o f Morton. The young man's sympathy ripened into love\, which was reciproca ted by the friendless and injured child of sorrow. There was but one cours e left\; that was\, to purchase the young girl and make her his wife\, whi ch he did six months after her arrival in Crawford's family. The young phy sician and his wife immediately took lodgings in another part of the city\ ; a private teacher was called in\, and the young wife taught some of thos e accomplishments which are necessary for one's taking a position in socie ty. Dr. Morton soon obtained a large practice in his profession\, and with it increased in wealth—but with all his wealth he never would own a sla ve. Mrs. Morton was now in a position to seek out and redeem her mother\, whom she had not heard of since they parted at Natchez. An agent was immed iately despatched to hunt out the mother and to see if she could be purcha sed. The agent had no trouble in finding out Mr. Peck: but all overtures w ere unavailable\; he would not sell Currer. His excuse was\, that she was such a good housekeeper that he could not spare her. Poor Althesa felt sad when she found that her mother could not be bought. However\, she felt a consciousness of having done her duty in the matter\, yet waited with the hope that the day might come when she should have her mother by her side.\ n\nCHAPTER X\nTHE YOUNG CHRISTIAN\n\"Here we see God dealing in slaves\; g iving them to his own favourite child [Abraham]\, a man of superlative wor th\, and as a reward for his eminent goodness.\"—Rev. Theodore Clapp\, o f New Orleans.\n\nON Carlton's return the next day from the farm\, he was overwhelmed with questions from Mr. Peck\, as to what he thought of the pl antation\, the condition of the Negroes\, Huckelby and Snyder\; and especi ally how he liked the sermon of the latter. Mr. Peck was a kind of a patri arch in his own way. To begin with\, he was a man of some talent. He not o nly had a good education\, but was a man of great eloquence\, and had a wo nderful command of language. He too either had\, or thought he had\, poeti cal genius\; and was often sending contributions to the Natchez Free Trade r\, and other periodicals. In the way of raising contributions for foreign missions\, he took the lead of all others in his neighbourhood. Everythin g he did\, he did for the \"glory of God\,\" as he said: he quoted Scriptu re for almost everything he did. Being in good circumstances\, he was able to give to almost all benevolent causes to which he took a fancy. He was a most loving father\, and his daughter exercised considerable influence o ver him\, and owing to her piety and judgment\, that influence had a benef icial effect. Carlton\, though a schoolfellow of the parson's\, was nevert heless nearly ten years his junior\; and though not an avowed infidel\, wa s\, however\, a freethinker\, and one who took no note of to-morrow. And f or this reason Georgiana took peculiar interest in the young man\, for Car lton was but little above thirty and unmarried. The young Christian felt t hat she would not be living up to that faith that she professed and believ ed in\, if she did not exert herself to the utmost to save the thoughtless man from his downward career\; and in this she succeeded to her most sang uine expectations. She not only converted him\, but in placing the Scriptu res before him in their true light\, she redeemed those sacred writings fr om the charge of supporting the system of slavery\, which her father had c ast upon them in the discussion some days before.\n\nGeorgiana's first obj ect\, however\, was to awaken in Carlton's breast a love for the Lord Jesu s Christ. The young man had often sat under the sound of the gospel with p erfect indifference. He had heard men talk who had grown grey bending over the Scriptures\, and their conversation had passed by him unheeded\; but when a young girl\, much younger than himself\, reasoned with him in that innocent and persuasive manner that woman is wont to use when she has ente red with her whole soul upon an object\, it was too much for his stout hea rt\, and he yielded. Her next aim was to vindicate the Bible from sustaini ng the monstrous institution of slavery. She said\, \"God has created of o ne blood all the nations of men\, to dwell on all the face of the earth. T o claim\, hold\, and treat a human being as property is felony against God and man. The Christian religion is opposed to slaveholding in its spirit and its principles\; it classes menstealers among murderers\; and it is th e duty of all who wish to meet God in peace\, to discharge that duty in sp reading these principles. Let us not deceive ourselves into the idea that slavery is right\, because it is profitable to us. Slaveholding is the hig hest possible violation of the eighth commandment. To take from a man his earnings\, is theft\; but to take the earner is a compound\, life-long the ft\; and we who profess to follow in the footsteps of our Redeemer\, shoul d do our utmost to extirpate slavery from the land. For my own part\, I sh all do all I can. When the Redeemer was about to ascend to the bosom of th e Father\, and resume the glory which he had with him before the world was \, he promised his disciples that the power of the Holy Ghost should come upon them\, and that they should be witnesses for him to the uttermost par ts of the earth. What was the effect upon their minds? 'They all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication with the women.' Stimulated by the confident expectation that Jesus would fulfil his gracious promise\, they poured out their hearts in fervent supplications\, probably for stren gth to do the work which he had appointed them unto\, for they felt that w ithout him they could do nothing\, and they consecrated themselves on the altar of God\, to the great and glorious enterprise of preaching the unsea rchable riches of Christ to a lost and perishing world. Have we less preci ous promises in the Scriptures of truth? May we not claim of our God the b lessing promised unto those who consider the poor: the Lord will preserve them and keep them alive\, and they shall be blessed upon the earth? Does not the language\, 'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these m y brethren\, ye did it unto me\,' belong to all who are rightly engaged in endeavouring to unloose the bondman's fetters? Shall we not then do as th e apostles did? Shall we not\, in view of the two millions of heathen in o ur very midst\, in view of the souls that are going down in an almost unbr oken phalanx to utter perdition\, continue in prayer and supplication\, th at God will grant us the supplies of his Spirit to prepare us for that wor k which he has given us to do? Shall not the wail of the mother as she sur renders her only child to the grasp of the ruthless kidnapper\, or the tra der in human blood\, animate our devotions? Shall not the manifold crimes and horrors of slavery excite more ardent outpourings at the throne of gra ce to grant repentance to our guilty country\, and permit us to aid in pre paring the way for the glorious second advent of the Messiah\, by preachin g deliverance to the captives\, and the opening of the prison doors to tho se who are bound?\"\n\nGeorgiana had succeeded in riveting the attention o f Carlton during her conversation\, and as she was finishing her last sent ence\, she observed the silent tear stealing down the cheek of the newly b orn child of God. At this juncture her father entered\, and Carlton left t he room. \"Dear papa\,\" said Georgiana\, \"will you grant me one favour\; or\, rather\, make me a promise?\" \"I can't tell\, my dear\, till I know what it is\,\" replied Mr. Peck. \"If it is a reasonable request\, I will comply with your wish\,\" continued he. \"I hope\, my dear\,\" answered s he\, \"that papa would not think me capable of making an unreasonable requ est.\" \"Well\, well\,\" returned he\; \"tell me what it is.\" \"I hope\,\ " said she\, \"that in your future conversation with Mr. Carlton\, on the subject of slavery\, you will not speak of the Bible as sustaining it.\" \ "Why\, Georgiana\, my dear\, you are mad\, ain't you?\" exclaimed he\, in an excited tone. The poor girl remained silent\; the father saw in a momen t that he had spoken too sharply\; and taking her hand in his he said\, \" Now\, my child\, why do you make that request?\" \"Because\,\" returned sh e\, \"I think he is on the stool of repentance\, if he has not already bee n received among the elect. He\, you know\, was bordering upon infidelity\ , and if the Bible sanctions slavery\, then he will naturally enough say t hat it is not from God\; for the argument from internal evidence is not on ly refuted\, but actually turned against the Bible. If the Bible sanctions slavery\, then it misrepresents the character of God. Nothing would be mo re dangerous to the soul of a young convert than to satisfy him that the S criptures favoured such a system of sin.\" \"Don't you suppose that I unde rstand the Scriptures better than you? I have been in the world longer.\" \"Yes\,\" said she\, \"you have been in the world longer\, and amongst sla veholders so long that you do not regard it in the same light that those d o who have not become so familiar with its every-day scenes as you. I once heard you say\, that you were opposed to the institution\, when you first came to the South.\" \"Yes\,\" answered he\, \"I did not know so much abo ut it then.\" \"With great deference to you\, papa\,\" replied Georgiana\, \"I don't think that the Bible sanctions slavery. The Old Testament conta ins this explicit condemnation of it\, 'He that stealeth a man\, and selle th him\, or if he be found in his band\, he shall surely be put to death'\ ; and 'Woe unto him that buildeth his house by unrighteousness\, and his c hambers by wrong\; that useth his neighbour's service without wages\, and giveth him not for his work'\; when also the New Testament exhibits such w ords of rebuke as these\, 'Behold the hire of the labourers who have reape d down your fields\, which is of you kept back by fraud\, crieth\; and the cries of them who have reaped are entered into the ears of the Lord of Sa baoth.' 'The law is not made for a righteous man\, but for the lawless and disobedient\, for the ungodly and for sinners\, for unholy and profane\, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers\, for manslayers\, for w horemongers\, for them that defile themselves with mankind\, for mensteale rs\, for liars\, for perjured persons.' A more scathing denunciation of th e sin in question is surely to be found on record in no other book. I am a fraid\,\" continued the daughter\, \"that the acts of the professed friend s of Christianity in the South do more to spread infidelity than the writi ngs of all the atheists which have ever been published. The infidel watche s the religious world. He surveys the church\, and\, lo! thousands and ten s of thousands of her accredited members actually hold slaves. Members 'in good and regular standing\,' fellowshipped throughout Christendom except by a few anti-slavery churches generally despised as ultra and radical\, r educe their fellow men to the condition of chattels\, and by force keep th em in that state of degradation. Bishops\, ministers\, elders\, and deacon s are engaged in this awful business\, and do not consider their conduct a s at all inconsistent with the precepts of either the Old or New Testament s. Moreover\, those ministers and churches who do not themselves hold slav es\, very generally defend the conduct of those who do\, and accord to the m a fair Christian character\, and in the way of business frequently take mortgages and levy executions on the bodies of their fellow men\, and in s ome cases of their fellow Christians. \"Now is it a wonder that infidels\, beholding the practice and listening to the theory of professing Christia ns\, should conclude that the Bible inculcates a morality not inconsistent with chattelising human beings? And must not this conclusion be strengthe ned\, when they hear ministers of talent and learning declare that the Bib le does sanction slaveholding\, and that it ought not to be made a discipl inable offence in churches? And must not all doubt be dissipated\, when on e of the most learned professors in our theological seminaries asserts tha t the Bible recognises that the relation may still exist\, salva fide et s alva ecclesia' (without injury to the Christian faith or church) and that only 'the abuse of it is the essential and fundamental wrong?' Are not inf idels bound to believe that these professors\, ministers\, and churches un derstand their own Bible\, and that\, consequently\, notwithstanding solit ary passages which appear to condemn slaveholding\, the Bible sanctions it ? When nothing can be further from the truth. And as for Christ\, his whol e life was a living testimony against slavery and all that it inculcates. When he designed to do us good\, he took upon himself the form of a servan t. He took his station at the bottom of society. He voluntarily identified himself with the poor and the despised. The warning voices of Jeremiah an d Ezekiel were raised in olden time\, against sin. Let us not forget what followed. 'Therefore\, thus saith the Lord—ye have not harkened unto me in proclaiming liberty every one to his brother\, and every one to his nei ghbour—behold I proclaim a liberty for you\, saith the Lord\, to the swo rd\, to the pestilence\, and to the famine.' Are we not virtually as a nat ion adopting the same impious language\, and are we not exposed to the sam e tremendous judgments? Shall we not\, in view of those things\, use every laudable means to awaken our beloved country from the slumbers of death\, and baptize all our efforts with tears and with prayers\, that God may bl ess them? Then\, should our labour fail to accomplish the end for which we pray\, we shall stand acquitted at the bar of Jehovah\, and although we m ay share in the national calamities which await unrepented sins\, yet that blessed approval will be ours—'Well done\, good and faithful servants\, enter ye into the joy of your Lord.'\"\n\n\"My dear Georgiana\,\" said Mr . Peck\, \"I must be permitted to entertain my own views on this subject\, and to exercise my own judgment.\"\n\n\"Believe me\, dear papa\,\" she re plied\, \"I would not be understood as wishing to teach you\, or to dictat e to you in the least\; but only grant my request\, not to allude to the B ible as sanctioning slavery\, when speaking with Mr. Carlton.\"\n\n\"Well\ ,\" returned he\, \"I will comply with your wish.\"\n\nThe young Christian had indeed accomplished a noble work\; and whether it was admitted by the father\, or not\, she was his superior and his teacher. Georgiana had vie wed the right to enjoy perfect liberty as one of those inherent and inalie nable rights which pertain to the whole human race\, and of which they can never be divested\, except by an act of gross injustice. And no one was m ore able than herself to impress those views upon the hearts of all with w hom she came in contact. Modest and self-possessed\, with a voice of great sweetness\, and a most winning manner\, she could\, with the greatest eas e to herself\, engage their attention.\n\nCHAPTER XI\nTHE PARSON POET\n\"U nbind\, unbind my galling chain\,\n And set\, oh! set me free:\n No lon ger say that I'll disdain\n The gift of liberty.\"\n\nTHROUGH the per suasion of Mr. Peck\, and fascinated with the charms of Georgiana\, Carlto n had prolonged his stay two months with his old school-fellow. During the latter part of the time he had been almost as one of the family. If Miss Peck was invited out\, Mr. Carlton was\, as a matter of course. She seldom rode out\, unless with him. If Mr. Peck was absent\, he took the head of the table\; and\, to the delight of the young lady\, he had on several occ asions taken part in the family worship. \"I am glad\,\" said Mr. Peck\, o ne evening while at the tea table\, \"I am glad\, Mr. Carlton\, that my ne ighbour Jones has invited you to visit him at his farm. He is a good neigh bour\, but a very ungodly man\; I want that you should see his people\, an d then\, when you return to the North\, you can tell how much better a Chr istian's slaves are situated than one who does nothing for the cause of Ch rist.\" \"I hope\, Mr. Carlton\,\" said Georgiana\, \"that you will spend the Sabbath with him\, and have a religious interview with the Negroes.\" \"Yes\,\" replied the parson\, \"that's well thought of\, Georgy.\" \"Well \, I think I will go up on Thursday next\, and stay till Monday\,\" said C arlton\; \"and I shall act upon your suggestion\, Miss Peck\,\" continued he\; \"and try to get a religious interview with the blacks. By-the-by\,\" remarked Carlton\, \"I saw an advertisement in the Free Trader to-day tha t rather puzzled me. Ah\, here it is now\; and\, drawing the paper from hi s pocket\, \"I will read it\, and then you can tell me what it means:\n\n' To PLANTERS AND OTHERS.—Wanted fifty Negroes. Any person having sick Neg roes\, considered incurable by their respective physicians\, (their owners of course\,) and wishing to dispose of them\, Dr. Stillman will pay cash for Negroes affected with scrofula or king's evil\, confirmed hypochondria cism\, apoplexy\, or diseases of the brain\, kidneys\, spleen\, stomach an d intestines\, bladder and its appendages\, diarrhoea\, dysentery\, &\; c. The highest cash price will be paid as above.'\n\nWhen I read this to-d ay I thought that the advertiser must be a man of eminent skill as a physi cian\, and that he intended to cure the sick Negroes\; but on second thoug ht I find that some of the diseases enumerated are certainly incurable. Wh at can he do with these sick Negroes?\" \"You see\,\" replied Mr. Peck\, l aughing\, \"that he is a doctor\, and has use for them in his lectures. Th e doctor is connected with a small college. Look at his prospectus\, where he invites students to attend\, and that will explain the matter to you.\ " Carlton turned to another column\, and read the following:\n\n\"Some adv antages of a peculiar character are connected with this institution\, whic h it may be proper to point out. No place in the United States offers as g reat opportunities for the acquisition of anatomical knowledge. Subjects b eing obtained from among the coloured population in sufficient numbers for every purpose\, and proper dissections carried on without offending any i ndividuals in the community!\"\n\n\"These are for dissection\, then?\" inq uired Carlton with a trembling voice. \"Yes\,\" answered the parson. \"Of course they wait till they die before they can use them.\" \"They keep the m on hand\, and when they need one they bleed him to death\,\" returned Mr . Peck. \"Yes\, but that's murder.\" \"Oh\, the doctors are licensed to co mmit murder\, you know\; and what's the difference\, whether one dies owin g to the loss of blood\, or taking too many pills? For my own part\, if I had to choose\, I would rather submit to the former.\" \"I have often hear d what I considered hard stories in abolition meetings in New York about s lavery\; but now I shall begin to think that many of them are true.\" \"Th e longer you remain here the more you will be convinced of the iniquity of the institution\,\" remarked Georgiana. \"Now\, Georgy\, my dear\, don't give us another abolition lecture\, if you please\,\" said Mr. Peck. \"Her e\, Carlton\,\" continued the parson\, \"I have written a short poem for y our sister's album\, as you requested me\; it is a domestic piece\, as you will see.\" \"She will prize it the more for that\,\" remarked Carlton\; and taking the sheet of paper\, he laughed as his eyes glanced over it. \" Read it out\, Mr. Carlton\,\" said Georgiana\, \"and let me hear what it i s\; I know papa gets off some very droll things at times.\" Carlton compli ed with the young lady's request\, and read aloud the following rare speci men of poetical genius:\n\n\"MY LITTLE NIG.\n \"I have a little nig ger\, the blackest thing alive\,\n He'll be just four years old if he l ives till forty-five\;\n His smooth cheek hath a glossy hue\, like a new p olished boot\,\n And his hair curls o'er his little head as black as any s oot.\n His lips bulge from his countenance—his little ivories shine—\n His nose is what we call a little pug\, but fashioned very fine:\n Although not quite a fairy\, he is comely to behold\,\nAnd I wouldn't sell him\, 'pon my word\, for a hundred all in gold.\n\n \"He gets up earl y in the morn\, like all the other nigs\,\n And runs off to the hog-lot\, where he squabbles with the pigs—\n And when the sun gets out of bed\, and mounts up in the sky\,\n The warmest corner of the yard is where my nig doth lie.\n And there extended lazily\, he contemplates and dr eams\,\n (I cannot qualify to this\, but plain enough it seems\;)\n Un til 'tis time to take in grub\, when you can't find him there\,\n For \, like a politician\, he has gone to hunt his share.\n\n \"I haven't said a single word concerning my plantation\,\n Though a prettier\, I gues s\, cannot be found within the nation\;\n When he gets a little bigger\, I'll take and to him show it\,\n And then I'll say\, 'My little nig\, now just prepare to go it!'\n I'll put a hoe into his hand—he'll soon kno w what it means\,\n And every day for dinner\, he shall have bacon and gre ens.\"\n\nCHAPTER XII\nA NIGHT IN THE PARSON'S KITCHEN\n \"And see th e servants met\,\n Their daily labour's o'er\;\n And with the jest an d song they set\n The kitchen in a roar.\"\n\nMR. PECK kept around h im four servants besides Currer\, of whom we have made mention: of these\, Sam was considered the first. If a dinner-party was in contemplation\, or any company to be invited to the parson's\, after all the arrangements ha d been talked over by the minister and his daughter\, Sam was sure to be c onsulted upon the subject by \"Miss Georgy\,\" as Miss Peck was called by the servants. If furniture\, crockery\, or anything else was to be purchas ed\, Sam felt that he had been slighted if his opinion had not been asked. As to the marketing\, he did it all. At the servants' table in the kitche n\, he sat at the head\, and was master of ceremonies. A single look from him was enough to silence any conversation or noise in the kitchen\, or an y other part of the premises. There is\, in the Southern States\, a great amount of prejudice against colour amongst the Negroes themselves. The nea rer the Negro or mulatto approaches to the white\, the more he seems to fe el his superiority over those of a darker hue. This is\, no doubt\, the re sult of the prejudice that exists on the part of the whites towards both m ulattoes and blacks. Sam was originally from Kentucky\, and through the in strumentality of one of his young masters whom he had to take to school\, he had learned to read so as to be well understood\; and\, owing to that f act\, was considered a prodigy among the slaves\, not only of his own mast er's\, but those of the town who knew him. Sam had a great wish to follow in the footsteps of his master\, and be a poet\; and was\, therefore\, oft en heard singing doggerels of his own composition. But there was one great drawback to Sam\, and that was his colour. He was one of the blackest of his race. This he evidently regarded as a great misfortune. However\, he m ade up for this in his dress. Mr. Peck kept his house servants well dresse d\; and as for Sam\, he was seldom seen except in a ruffled shirt. Indeed\ , the washerwoman feared him more than all others about the house.\n\nCurr er\, as we have already stated\, was chief of the kitchen department\, and had a general supervision of the household affairs. Alfred the coachman\, Peter\, and Hetty made up the remainder of the house servants. Besides th ese\, Mr. Peck owned eight slaves who were masons. These worked in the cit y. Being mechanics\, they were let out to greater advantage than to keep t hem on the farm. However\, every Sunday night\, Peck's servants\, includin g the bricklayers\, usually assembled in the kitchen\, when the events of the week were freely discussed and commented on. It was on a Sunday evenin g\, in the month of June\, that there was a party at Mr. Peck's\, and\, ac cording to custom in the Southern States\, the ladies had their maid-serva nts with them. Tea had been served in \"the house\,\" and the servants\, i ncluding the strangers\, had taken their seats at the tea table in the kit chen. Sam\, being a \"single gentleman\,\" was usually attentive to the \" ladies\" on this occasion. He seldom or ever let the day pass without spen ding at least an hour in combing and brushing up his \"hair.\" Sam had an idea that fresh butter was better for his hair than any other kind of grea se\; and therefore\, on churning days\, half a pound of butter had always to be taken out before it was salted. When he wished to appear to great ad vantage\, he would grease his face\, to make it \"shiny.\" On the evening of the party therefore\, when all the servants were at the table\, Sam cut a big figure. There he sat with his wool well combed and buttered\, face nicely greased\, and his ruffles extending five or six inches from his bre ast. The parson in his own drawing-room did not make a more imposing appea rance than did his servant on this occasion. \"I jist bin had my fortune t old last Sunday night\,\" said Sam\, as he helped one of the girls to some sweet hash. \"Indeed\,\" cried half-a-dozen voices. \"Yes\,\" continued h e\; \"Aunt Winny teld me I is to hab de prettiest yaller gal in town\, and dat I is to be free.\" All eyes were immediately turned toward Sally John son\, who was seated near Sarn. \"I speck I see somebody blush at dat rema rk\,\" said Alfred. \"Pass dem pancakes and molasses up dis way\, Mr. Alf\ , and none of your insinawaysion here\,\" rejoined Sam. \"Dat reminds me\, \" said Currer\, \"dat Doreas Simpson is gwine to git married.\" \"Who to\ , I want to know?\" inquired Peter. \"To one of Mr. Darby's field-hands\,\ " answered Currer. \"I should tink dat dat gal would not trow hersef away in dat manner\,\" said Sally. \"She good enough looking to get a house ser vant\, and not to put up wid a fiel' nigger\,\" continued she. \"Yes\,\" s aid Sam\, \"dat's a wery insensible remark of yours\, Miss Sally. I admire your judgment wery much\, I assure you. Dah's plenty of suspectible and w ell-dressed house servants dat a gal of her looks can get\, wid out taken up wid dem common darkies.\" \"Is de man black or a mulatto?\" inquired on e of the company. \"He's nearly white\,\" replied Currer. \"Well den\, dat 's some exchuse for her\,\" remarked Sam\; \"for I don't like to see dis m algemation of blacks and mulattoes.\" \"No mulatto?\" inquired one of the corn-how. Continued Sam\, \"If I had my rights I would be a mulatto too\, for my mother was almost as light-coloured as Miss Sally\,\" said he. Alth ough Sam was one of the blackest men living\, he nevertheless contended th at his mother was a mulatto\, and no one was more prejudiced against the b lacks than he. A good deal of work\, and the free use of fresh butter\, ha d no doubt done wonders for his \"hare\" in causing it to grow long\, and to this he would always appeal when he wished to convince others that he w as part of an Anglo-Saxon. \"I always thought you was not clear black\, Mr . Sam\,\" said Agnes. \"You are right dahr\, Miss Agnes. My hare tells wha t company I belong to\,\" answered Sam. Here the whole company joined in t he conversation about colour\, which lasted for some time\, giving unmista keable evidence that caste is owing to ignorance. The evening's entertainm ent concluded by Sam's relating a little of his own experience while with his first master in old Kentucky.\n\nSam's former master was a doctor\, an d had a large practice among his neighbours\, doctoring both masters and s laves. When Sam was about fifteen years of age\, his old master set him to grinding up the ointment\, then to making pills. As the young student gre w older and became more practised in his profession\, his services were of more importance to the doctor. The physician having a good business\, and a large number of his patients being slaves\, the most of whom had to cal l on the doctor when ill\, he put Sam to bleeding\, pulling teeth\, and ad ministering medicine to the slaves. Sam soon acquired the name amongst the slaves of the \"Black Doctor.\" With this appellation he was delighted\, and no regular physician could possibly have put on more airs than did the black doctor when his services were required. In bleeding\, he must have more bandages\, and rub and smack the arm more than the doctor would have thought of. We once saw Sam taking out a tooth for one of his patients\, a nd nothing appeared more amusing. He got the poor fellow down on his back\ , and he got astraddle of the man's chest\, and getting the turnkeys on th e wrong tooth\, he shut both eyes and pulled for his life. The poor man sc reamed as loud as he could\, but to no purpose. Sam had him fast. After a great effort\, out came the sound grinder\, and the young doctor saw his m istake\; but consoled himself with the idea that as the wrong tooth was ou t of the way\, there was more room to get at the right one. Bleeding and a dose of calomel was always considered indispensable by the \"Old Boss\"\; and\, as a matter of course\, Sam followed in his footsteps.\n\nOn one oc casion the old doctor was ill himself\, so as to be unable to attend to hi s patients. A slave\, with pass in hand\, called to receive medical advice \, and the master told Sam to examine him and see what he wanted. This del ighted him beyond measure\, for although he had been acting his part in th e way of giving out medicine as the master ordered it\, he had never been called upon by the latter to examine a patient\, and this seemed to convin ce him that\, after all\, he was no sham doctor. As might have been expect ed\, he cut a rare figure in his first examination\, placing himself direc tly opposite his patient\, and folding his arms across his breast\, and lo oking very knowingly\, he began\, \"What's de matter wid you?\" \"I is sic k.\" \"Where is you sick?\" \"Here\,\" replied the man\, putting his hand upon his stomach. \"Put out your tongue\,\" continued the doctor. The man ran out his tongue at full length. \"Let me feel your pulse\,\" at the sam e time taking his patient's hand in his\, placing his fingers on his pulse \, he said\, \"Ah\, your case is a bad one\; if I don't do something for y ou\, and dat pretty quick\, you'll be a gone coon\, and dat's sartin.\" At this the man appeared frightened\, and inquired what was the matter with him: in answer\, Sam said\, \"I done told you dat your case is a bad one\, and dat's enough.\" On Sam's returning to his master's bedside\, the latt er said\, \"Well\, Sam\, what do you think is the matter with him?\" \"His stomach is out of order\, sir\,\" he replied. \"What do you think had bes t be done for him?\" \"I think I better bleed him and give him a dose of c alomel\,\" returned Sam. So to the latter's gratification the master let h im have his own way. We need not further say\, that the recital of Sam's e xperience as a physician gave him a high position amongst the servants tha t evening\, and made him a decided favourite with the ladies\, one of whom feigned illness\, when the black doctor\, to the delight of all\, and cer tainly to himself\, gave medical advice. Thus ended the evening amongst th e servants in the parson's kitchen.\n\nCHAPTER XIII\nA SLAVE HUNTING PARSO N\n \"'Tis too much prov'd—that with devotion's visage\,\n And pious ac tion\, we do sugar o'er the devil himself.\"\n\n—Shakespeare.\n\n\"You w ill\, no doubt\, be well pleased with neighbour Jones\,\" said Mr. Peck\, as Carlton stepped into the chaise to pay his promised visit to the \"ungo dly man.\" \"Don't forget to have a religious interview with the Negroes\, remarked Georgiana\, as she gave the last nod to her young convert. \"I w ill do my best\,\" returned Carlton\, as the vehicle left the door. As mig ht have been expected\, Carlton met with a cordial reception at the hands of the proprietor of the Grove Farm. The servants in the \"Great House\" w ere well dressed\, and appeared as if they did not want for food. Jones kn ew that Carlton was from the North\, and a non-slaveholder\, and therefore did everything in his power to make a favourable impression on his mind. \"My Negroes are well clothed\, well fed\, and not over worked\,\" said th e slaveholder to his visitor\, after the latter had been with him nearly a week. \"As far as I can see your slaves appear to good advantage\,\" repl ied Carlton. \"But\,\" continued he\, \"if it is a fair question\, do you have preaching among your slaves on Sunday\, Mr. Jones?\" \"No\, no\,\" re turned he\, \"I think that's all nonsense\; my Negroes do their own preach ing.\" \"So you do permit them to have meetings.\" \"Yes\, when they wish. There's some very intelligent and clever chaps among them.\" \"As to-morr ow is the Sabbath\,\" said Carlton\, \"if you have no objection\, I will a ttend meeting with them.\" \"Most certainly you shall\, if you will do the preaching\,\" returned the planter. Here the young man was about to decli ne\, but he remembered the parting words of Georgiana\, and he took courag e and said\, \"Oh\, I have no objection to give the Negroes a short talk.\ " It was then understood that Carlton was to have a religious interview wi th the blacks the next day\, and the young man waited with a degree of imp atience for the time.\n\nIn no part of the South are slaves in a more igno rant and degraded state than in the cotton\, sugar\, and rice districts.\n \nIf they are permitted to cease labour on the Sabbath\, the time is spent in hunting\, fishing\, or lying beneath the shade of a tree\, resting for the morrow. Religious instruction is unknown in the far South\, except am ong such men as the Rev. C. C. Jones\, John Peck\, and some others who reg ard religious instruction\, such as they impart to their slaves\, as calcu lated to make them more trustworthy and valuable as property. Jones\, awar e that his slaves would make rather a bad show of intelligence if question ed by Carlton\, resolved to have them ready for him\, and therefore gave h is driver orders with regard to their preparation. Consequently\, after th e day's labour was over\, Dogget\, the driver\, assembled the Negroes toge ther and said\, \"Now\, boys and gals\, your master is coming down to the quarters to-morrow with his visitor\, who is going to give you a preach\, and I want you should understand what he says to you. Now many of you who came of Old Virginia and Kentuck\, know what preaching is\, and others who have been raised in these parts do not. Preaching is to tell you that you are mighty wicked and bad at heart. This\, I suppose\, you all know. But if the gentleman should ask you who made you\, tell him the Lord\; if he a sk if you wish to go to heaven\, tell him yes. Remember that you are all C hristians\, all love the Lord\, all want to go to heaven\, all love your m asters\, and all love me. Now\, boys and gals\, I want you to show yoursel ves smart to-morrow: be on your p's and q's\, and\, Monday morning\, I wil l give you all a glass of whiskey bright and early.\" Agreeable to arrange ment the slaves were assembled together on Sunday morning under the large trees near the great house\, and after going through another drilling from the driver\, Jones and Carlton made their appearance. \"You see\,\" said Jones to the Negroes\, as he approached them\, you see here's a gentleman that's come to talk to you about your souls\, and I hope you 'ill all pay that attention that you ought.\" Jones then seated himself in one of the t wo chairs placed there for him and the stranger.\n\nCarlton had already se lected a chapter in the Bible to read to them\, which he did\, after first prefacing it with some remarks of his own. Not being accustomed to speak in public\, he determined\, after reading the Bible\, to make it more of a conversational meeting than otherwise. He therefore began asking them que stions. \"Do you feel that you are a Christian?\" asked he of a full-blood ed Negro that sat near him. \"Yes\, sir\,\" was the response. \"You feel\, then\, that you shall go to heaven.\" \"Yes\, sir.\" \"Of course you know who made you?\" The man put his hand to his head and began to scratch his wool\; and\, after a little hesitation\, answered\, \"De overseer told us last night who made us\, but indeed I forgot the gentmun's name.\" This r eply was almost too much for Carlton\, and his gravity was not a little mo ved. However\, he bit his tongue\, and turned to another man\, who appeare d\, from his looks\, to be more intelligent. \"Do you serve the Lord?\" as ked he. \"No\, sir\, I don't serve anybody but Mr. Jones. I neber belong t o anybody else.\" To hide his feelings at this juncture\, Carlton turned a nd walked to another part of the grounds\, to where the women were seated\ , and said to a mulatto woman who had rather an anxious countenance\, \"Di d you ever hear of John the Baptist?\" \"Oh yes\, marser\, John de Baptist \; I know dat nigger bery well indeed\; he libs in Old Kentuck\, where I c ome from.\" Carlton's gravity here gave way\, and he looked at the planter and laughed right out. The old woman knew a slave near her old master's f arm in Kentucky\, and was ignorant enough to suppose that he was the John the Baptist inquired about. Carlton occupied the remainder of the time in reading Scripture and talking to them. \"My niggers ain't shown off very w ell to-day\,\" said Jones\, as he and his visitor left the grounds. \"No\, \" replied Carlton. \"You did not get hold of the bright ones\,\" continue d the planter. \"So it seems\,\" remarked Carlton. The planter evidently f elt that his neighbour\, Parson Peck\, would have a nut to crack over the account that Carlton would give of the ignorance of the slaves\, and said and did all in his power to remove the bad impression already made\; but t o no purpose. The report made by Carlton\, on his return\, amused the pars on very much. It appeared to him the best reason why professed Christians like himself should be slave-holders. Not so with Georgiana. She did not e ven smile when Carlton was telling his story\, but seemed sore at heart th at such ignorance should prevail in their midst. The question turned upon the heathen of other lands\, and the parson began to expatiate upon his ow n efforts in foreign missions\, when his daughter\, with a child-like simp licity\, said\,\n\n \"Send Bibles to the heathen\;\n On every distan t shore\,\nFrom light that's beaming o'er us\,\n Let streams increasing pour\n But keep it from the millions\n Down-trodden at our door.\n\n \"Send Bibles to the heathen\,\n Their famished spirits feed\;\nOh! has te\, and join your efforts\,\n The priceless gift to speed\;\n Then flo g the trembling Negro\n If he should learn to read.\"\n\n\"I saw a curio sity while at Mr. Jones's that I shall not forget soon\,\" said Carlton. \ "What was it?\" inquired the parson. \"A kennel of bloodhounds\; and such dogs I never saw before. They were of a species between the bloodhound and the foxhound\, and were ferocious\, gaunt\, and savage-looking animals. T hey were part of a stock imported from Cuba\, he informed me. They were ke pt in an iron cage\, and fed on Indian corn bread. This kind of food\, he said\, made them eager for their business. Sometimes they would give the d ogs meat\, but it was always after they had been chasing a Negro.\" \"Were those the dogs you had\, papa\, to hunt Harry?\" asked Georgiana. \"No\, my dear\,\" was the short reply: and the parson seemed anxious to change t he conversation to something else. When Mr. Peck had left the room\, Carlt on spoke more freely of what he had seen\, and spoke more pointedly agains t slavery\; for he well knew that Miss Peck sympathised with him in all he felt and said.\n\n\"You mentioned about your father hunting a slave\,\" s aid Carlton\, in an undertone. \"Yes\,\" replied she: \"papa went with som e slave-catchers and a parcel of those nasty Negro-dogs\, to hunt poor Har ry. He belonged to papa and lived on the farm. His wife lives in town\, an d Harry had been to see her\, and did not return quite as early as he shou ld\; and Huckelby was flogging him\, and he got away and came here. I want ed papa to keep him in town\, so that he could see his wife more frequentl y\; but he said they could not spare him from the farm\, and flogged him a gain\, and sent him back. The poor fellow knew that the overseer would pun ish him over again\, and instead of going back he went into the woods.\" \ "Did they catch him?\" asked Carlton. \"Yes\,\" replied she. \"In chasing him through the woods\, he attempted to escape by swimming across a river\ , and the dogs were sent in after him\, and soon caught him. But Harry had great courage and fought the dogs with a big club\; and papa seeing the N egro would escape from the dogs\, shot at him\, as he says\, only to wound him\, that he might be caught\; but the poor fellow was killed.\" Overcom e by relating this incident\, Georgiana burst into tears.\n\nAlthough Mr. Peck fed and clothed his house servants well\, and treated them with a deg ree of kindness\, he was\, nevertheless\, a most cruel master. He encourag ed his driver to work the field-hands from early dawn till late at night\; and the good appearance of the house-servants\, and the preaching of Snyd er to the field Negroes\, was to cause himself to be regarded as a Christi an master. Being on a visit one day at the farm\, and having with him seve ral persons from the Free States\, and wishing to make them believe that h is slaves were happy\, satisfied\, and contented\, the parson got out the whiskey and gave each one a dram\, who in return had to drink the master's health\, or give a toast of some kind. The company were not a little amus ed at some of the sentiments given\, and Peck was delighted at every indic ation of contentment on the part of the blacks. At last it came to Jack's turn to drink\, and the master expected something good from him\, because he was considered the cleverest and most witty slave on the farm.\n\n\"Now \,\" said the master\, as he handed Jack the cup of whiskey\; \"now\, Jack \, give us something rich. You know\,\" continued he\, \"we have raised th e finest crop of cotton that's been seen in these parts for many a day. No w give us a toast on cotton\; come\, Jack\, give us something to laugh at. \" The Negro felt not a little elated at being made the hero of the occasi on\, and taking the whiskey in his right hand\, put his left to his head a nd began to scratch his wool\, and said\,\n\n \"The big bee flies hi gh\,\n The little bee make the honey\;\n The black folks makes the cot ton\,\n And the white folks gets the money.\"\n\nCHAPTER XIV\nA FREE WOMAN REDUCED TO SLAVERY\nALTHESA found in Henry Morton a kind and affectionate husband\; and his efforts to purchase her mother\, although unsuccessful\ , had doubly endeared him to her. Having from the commencement resolved no t to hold slaves\, or rather not to own any\, they were compelled to hire servants for their own use. Five years had passed away\, and their happine ss was increased by two lovely daughters. Mrs. Morton was seated\, one bri ght afternoon\, busily engaged with her needle\, and near her sat Salome\, a servant that she had just taken into her employ. The woman was perfectl y white\; so much so\, that Mrs. Morton had expressed her apprehensions to her husband\, when the woman first came\, that she was not born a slave. The mistress watched the servant\, as the latter sat sewing upon some coar se work\, and saw the large silent tear in her eye. This caused an uneasin ess to the mistress\, and she said\, \"Salome\, don't you like your situat ion here?\" \"Oh yes\, madam\,\" answered the woman in a quick tone\, and then tried to force a smile. \"Why is it that you often look sad\, and wit h tears in your eyes?\" The mistress saw that she had touched a tender cho rd\, and continued\, \"I am your friend\; tell me your sorrow\, and\, if I can\, I will help you.\" As the last sentence was escaping the lips of th e mistress\, the slave woman put her check apron to her face and wept. Mrs . Morton saw plainly that there was cause for this expression of grief\, a nd pressed the woman more closely. \"Hear me\, then\,\" said the woman cal ming herself: \"I will tell you why I sometimes weep. I was born in German y\, on the banks of the Rhine. Ten years ago my father came to this countr y\, bringing with him my mother and myself. He was poor\, and I\, wishing to assist all I could\, obtained a situation as nurse to a lady in this ci ty. My father got employment as a labourer on the wharf\, among the steamb oats\; but he was soon taken ill with the yellow fever\, and died. My moth er then got a situation for herself\, while I remained with my first emplo yer. When the hot season came on\, my master\, with his wife\, left New Or leans until the hot season was over\, and took me with them. They stopped at a town on the banks of the Mississippi river\, and said they should rem ain there some weeks. One day they went out for a ride\, and they had not been one more than half an hour\, when two men came into the room and told me that they had bought me\, and that I was their slave. I was bound and taken to prison\, and that night put on a steamboat and taken up the Yazoo river\, and set to work on a farm. I was forced to take up with a Negro\, and by him had three children. A year since my master's daughter was marr ied\, and I was given to her. She came with her husband to this city\, and I have ever since been hired out.\"\n\n\"Unhappy woman\,\" whispered Alth esa\, \"why did you not tell me this before?\" \"I was afraid\,\" replied Salome\, \"for I was once severely flogged for telling a stranger that I w as not born a slave.\" On Mr. Morton's return home\, his wife communicated to him the story which the slave woman had told her an hour before\, and begged that something might be done to rescue her from the situation she w as then in. In Louisiana as well as many others of the slave states\, grea t obstacles are thrown in the way of persons who have been wrongfully redu ced to slavery regaining their freedom. A person claiming to be free must prove his right to his liberty. This\, it will be seen\, throws the burden of proof upon the slave\, who\, in all probability\, finds it out of his power to procure such evidence. And if any free person shall attempt to ai d a freeman in re-gaining his freedom\, he is compelled to enter into secu rity in the sum of one thousand dollars\, and if the person claiming to be free shall fail to establish such fact\, the thousand dollars are forfeit ed to the state. This cruel and oppressive law has kept many a freeman fro m espousing the cause of persons unjustly held as slaves. Mr. Morton inqui red and found that the woman's story was true\, as regarded the time she h ad lived with her present owner\; but the latter not only denied that she was free\, but immediately removed her from Morton's. Three months after S alome had been removed from Morton's and let out to another family\, she w as one morning cleaning the door steps\, when a lady passing by\, looked a t the slave and thought she recognised some one that she had seen before. The lady stopped and asked the woman if she was a slave. \"I am\,\" said s he. \"Were you born a slave?\" \"No\, I was born in Germany.\" \"What's th e name of the ship in which you came to this country?\" inquired the lady. \"I don't know\,\" was the answer. \"Was it the am*zon?\" At the sound of this name\, the slave woman was silent for a moment\, and then the tears began to flow freely down her careworn cheeks. \"Would you know Mrs. Marsh all\, who was a passenger in the am*zon\, if you should see her?\" inquire d the lady. At this the woman gazed at the lady with a degree of intensity that can be imagined better than described\, and then fell at the lady's feet. The lady was Mrs. Marshall. She had crossed the Atlantic in the same ship with this poor woman. Salome\, like many of her countrymen\, was a b eautiful singer\, and had often entertained Mrs. Marshall and the other la dy passengers on board the am*zon. The poor woman was raised from the grou nd by Mrs. Marshall\, and placed upon the door step that she had a moment before been cleaning. \"I will do my utmost to rescue you from the horrid life of a slave\,\" exclaimed the lady\, as she took from her pocket her p encil\, and wrote down the number of the house\, and the street in which t he German woman was working as a slave.\n\nAfter a long and tedious trial of many days\, it was decided that Salome Miller was by birth a free woman \, and she was set at liberty. The good and generous Althesa had contribut ed some of the money toward bringing about the trial\, and had done much t o cheer on Mrs. Marshall in her benevolent object. Salome Miller is free\, but where are her three children? They are still slaves\, and in all huma n probability will die as such.\n\nThis\, reader\, is no fiction\; if you think so\, look over the files of the New Orleans newspapers of the years 1845-6\, and you will there see reports of the trial.\n\nCHAPTER XV\nTO-DA Y A MISTRESS\, TO-MORROW A SLAVE\n \"I promised thee a sister tale\n Of man's perfidious cruelty\;\nCome\, then\, and hear what cruel wrong\n Befell the dark ladie.\"—Coleridge.\n\nLET us return for a moment to t he home of Clotel. While she was passing lonely and dreary hours with none but her darling child\, Horatio Green was trying to find relief in that i nsidious enemy of man\, the intoxicating cup. Defeated in politics\, forsa ken in love by his wife\, he seemed to have lost all principle of honour\, and was ready to nerve himself up to any deed\, no matter how unprinciple d. Clotel's existence was now well known to Horatio's wife\, and both her [sic] and her father demanded that the beautiful quadroon and her child sh ould be sold and sent out of the state. To this proposition he at first tu rned a deaf ear\; but when he saw that his wife was about to return to her father's roof\, he consented to leave the matter in the hands of his fath er-in-law. The result was\, that Clotel was immediately sold to the slave- trader\, Walker\, who\, a few years previous\, had taken her mother and si ster to the far South. But\, as if to make her husband drink of the cup of humiliation to its very dregs\, Mrs. Green resolved to take his child und er her own roof for a servant. Mary was\, therefore\, put to the meanest w ork that could be found\, and although only ten years of age\, she was oft en compelled to perform labour\, which\, under ordinary circumstances\, wo uld have been thought too hard for one much older. One condition of the sa le of Clotel to Walker was\, that she should be taken out of the state\, w hich was accordingly done. Most quadroon women who are taken to the lower countries to be sold are either purchased by gentlemen for their own use\, or sold for waiting-maids\; and Clotel\, like her sister\, was fortunate enough to be bought for the latter purpose. The town of Vicksburgh stands on the left bank of the Mississippi\, and is noted for the severity with w hich slaves are treated. It was here that Clotel was sold to Mr. James Fre nch\, a merchant.\n\nMrs. French was severe in the extreme to her servants . Well dressed\, but scantily fed\, and overworked were all who found a ho me with her. The quadroon had been in her new home but a short time ere sh e found that her situation was far different from what it was in Virginia. What social virtues are possible in a society of which injustice is the p rimary characteristic? in a society which is divided into two classes\, ma sters and slaves? Every married woman in the far South looks upon her husb and as unfaithful\, and regards every quadroon servant as a rival. Clotel had been with her new mistress but a few days\, when she was ordered to cu t off her long hair. The Negro\, constitutionally\, is fond of dress and o utward appearance. He that has short\, woolly hair\, combs it and oils it to death. He that has long hair\, would sooner have his teeth drawn than l ose it. However painful it was to the quadroon\, she was soon seen with he r hair cut as short as any of the full-blooded Negroes in the dwelling.\n\ nEven with her short hair\, Clotel was handsome. Her life had been a seclu ded one\, and though now nearly thirty years of age\, she was still beauti ful. At her short hair\, the other servants laughed\, \"Miss Clo needn't s trut round so big\, she got short nappy har well as I\,\" said Nell\, with a broad grin that showed her teeth. \"She tinks she white\, when she come here wid dat long har of hers\,\" replied Mill. \"Yes\,\" continued Nell\ ; \"missus make her take down her wool so she no put it up to-day.\"\n\nTh e fairness of Clotel's complexion was regarded with envy as well by the ot her servants as by the mistress herself. This is one of the hard features of slavery. To-day the woman is mistress of her own cottage\; to-morrow sh e is sold to one who aims to make her life as intolerable as possible. And be it remembered\, that the house servant has the best situation which a slave can occupy. Some American writers have tried to make the world belie ve that the condition of the labouring classes of England is as bad as the slaves of the United States.\n\nThe English labourer may be oppressed\, h e may be cheated\, defrauded\, swindled\, and even starved\; but it is not slavery under which he groans. He cannot be sold\; in point of law he is equal to the prime minister. \"It is easy to captivate the unthinking and the prejudiced\, by eloquent declamation about the oppression of English o peratives being worse than that of American slaves\, and by exaggerating t he wrongs on one side and hiding them on the other. But all informed and r eflecting minds\, knowing that bad as are the social evils of England\, th ose of Slavery are immeasurably worse.\" But the degradation and harsh tre atment that Clotel experienced in her new home was nothing compared with t he grief she underwent at being separated from her dear child. Taken from her without scarcely a moment's warning\, she knew not what had become of her. The deep and heartfelt grief of Clotel was soon perceived by her owne rs\, and fearing that her refusal to take food would cause her death\, the y resolved to sell her. Mr. French found no difficulty in getting a purcha ser for the quadroon woman\, for such are usually the most marketable kind of property. Clotel was sold at private sale to a young man for a houseke eper\; but even he had missed his aim.\n\nCHAPTER XVI\nDEATH OF THE PARSON \nCARLTON was above thirty years of age\, standing on the last legs of a y oung man\, and entering on the first of a bachelor. He had never dabbled i n matters of love\, and looked upon all women alike. Although he respected woman for her virtues\, and often spoke of the goodness of heart of the s ex\, he had never dreamed of marriage. At first he looked upon Miss Peck a s a pretty young woman\, but after she became his religious teacher\, he r egarded her in that light\, that every one will those whom they know to be their superiors. It was soon seen\, however\, that the young man not only respected and reverenced Georgiana for the incalculable service she had d one him\, in awakening him to a sense of duty to his soul\, but he had lea rned to bow to the shrine of Cupid. He found\, weeks after he had been in her company\, that when he met her at table\, or alone in the drawing room \, or on the piazza\, he felt a shortness of breath\, a palpitating of the heart\, a kind of dizziness of the head\; but he knew not its cause.\n\nT his was love in its first stage. Mr. Peck saw\, or thought he saw\, what w ould be the result of Carlton's visit\, and held out every inducement in h is power to prolong his stay. The hot season was just commencing\, and the young Northerner was talking of his return home\, when the parson was ver y suddenly taken ill. The disease was the cholera\, and the physicians pro nounced the case incurable. In less than five hours John Peck was a corpse . His love for Georgiana\, and respect for her father\, had induced Carlto n to remain by the bedside of the dying man\, although against the express orders of the physician. This act of kindness caused the young orphan hen ceforth to regard Carlton as her best friend. He now felt it his duty to r emain with the young woman until some of her relations should be summoned from Connecticut. After the funeral\, the family physician advised that Mi ss Peck should go to the farm\, and spend the time at the country seat\; a nd also advised Carlton to remain with her\, which he did.\n\nAt the parso n's death his Negroes showed little or no signs of grief. This was noticed by both Carlton and Miss Peck\, and caused no little pain to the latter. \"They are ungrateful\,\" said Carlton\, as he and Georgiana were seated o n the piazza. \"What\,\" asked she\, \"have they to be grateful for?\" \"Y our father was kind\, was he not?\" \"Yes\, as kind as most men who own sl aves\; but the kindness meted out to blacks would be unkindness if given t o whites. We would think so\, should we not?\" \"Yes\,\" replied he. \"If we would not consider the best treatment which a slave receives good enoug h for us\, we should not think he ought to be grateful for it. Everybody k nows that slavery in its best and mildest form is wrong. Whoever denies th is\, his lips libel his heart. Try him! Clank the chains in his ears\, and tell him they are for him\; give him an hour to prepare his wife and chil dren for a life of slavery\; bid him make haste\, and get ready their neck s for the yoke\, and their wrists for the coffle chains\; then look at his pale lips and trembling knees\, and you have nature's testimony against s lavery.\"\n\n\"Let's take a walk\,\" said Carlton\, as if to turn the conv ersation. The moon was just appearing through the tops of the trees\, and the animals and insects in an adjoining wood kept up a continued din of mu sic. The croaking of bull-frogs\, buzzing of insects\, cooing of turtle-do ves\, and the sound from a thousand musical instruments\, pitched on as ma ny different keys\, made the welkin ring. But even all this noise did not drown the singing of a party of the slaves\, who were seated near a spring that was sending up its cooling waters. \"How prettily the Negroes sing\, \" remarked Carlton\, as they were wending their way towards the place fro m whence the sound of the voices came. \"Yes\,\" replied Georgiana\; \"mas ter Sam is there\, I'll warrant you: he's always on hand when there's any singing or dancing. We must not let them see us\, or they will stop singin g.\" \"Who makes their songs for them?\" inquired the young man. \"Oh\, th ey make them up as they sing them\; they are all impromptu songs.\" By thi s time they were near enough to hear distinctly every word\; and\, true en ough\, Sam's voice was heard above all others. At the conclusion of each s ong they all joined in a hearty laugh\, with an expression of \"Dats de so ng for me\;\" \"Dems dems.\"\n\n\"Stop\,\" said Carlton\, as Georgiana was rising from the log upon which she was seated\; \"stop\, and let's hear t his one.\" The piece was sung by Sam\, the others joining in the chorus\, and was as follows:\n\nSam.\n\n \"Come\, all my brethren\, let us take a rest\,\n While the moon shines so brightly and clear\;\n Old master is dead\, and left us at last\,\n And has gone at the Bar to appea r.\n Old master has died\, and lying in his grave\,\n And our blood will awhile cease to flow\;\nHe will no more trample on the neck of the sl ave\;\n For he's gone where the slaveholders go.\n\nChorus.\n\n \"Hang up the shovel and the hoe\n Take down the fiddle and the b ow—\n Old master has gone to the slaveholder's rest\;\n He has gone where they all ought to go.\n\nSam.\n\n \"I heard the old doctor say th e other night\,\n As he passed by the dining-room door\n 'Perhaps th e old man may live through the night\,\n But I think he will die abo ut four.'\n Young mistress sent me\, at the peril of my life\,\n For the parson to come down and pray\,\nFor says she\, 'Your old master is now about to die\,'\n And says I\, 'God speed him on his way.'\n\n\"Hang up the shovel\, &\;c.\n\n \"At four o'clock at morn the family was cal led\n Around the old man's dying bed\;\n And oh! but I laughed t o myself when I heard\n That the old man's spirit had fled.\n Mr . Carlton cried\, and so did I pretend\;\n Young mistress very nearl y went mad\;\nAnd the old parson's groans did the heavens fairly rend\;\n But I tell you I felt mighty glad.\n\n\"Hang up the shovel\, &\; c.\n\n \"We'll no more be roused by the blowing of his horn\,\n Our backs no longer he will score\;\nHe no more will feed us on cotton-seeds and corn\;\n For his reign of oppression now is o'er.\n He no more wi ll hang our children on the tree\,\n To be ate by the carrion crow\;\n He no more will send our wives to Tennessee\;\n For he's gone where th e slaveholders go.\n\n\"Hang up the shovel and the hoe\,\n\n Take d own the fiddle and the bow\,\n We'll dance and sing\,\n And make the forest ring\,\n With the fiddle and the old banjo .\"\n\nThe song was not half finished before Carlton regretted that he had caused the young lady to remain and hear what to her must be anything but pleasant reflections upon her deceased parent. \"I think we will walk\,\" said he\, at the same time extending his arm to Georgiana. \"No\,\" said she\; \"let's hear them out. It is from these unguarded expressions of the feelings of the Negroes\, that we should learn a lesson.\" At its conclus ion they walked towards the house in silence: as they were ascending the s teps\, the young man said\, \"They are happy\, after all. The Negro\, situ ated as yours are\, is not aware that he is deprived of any just rights.\" \"Yes\, yes\,\" answered Georgiana: \"you may place the slave where you p lease\; you may dry up to your utmost the fountains of his feelings\, the springs of his thought\; you may yoke him to your labour\, as an ox which liveth only to work\, and worketh only to live\; you may put him under any process which\, without destroying his value as a slave\, will debase and crush him as a rational being\; you may do this\, and the idea that he wa s born to be free will survive it all. It is allied to his hope of immorta lity\; it is the ethereal part of his nature\, which oppression cannot rea ch\; it is a torch lit up in his soul by the hand of Deity\, and never mea nt to be extinguished by the hand of man.\"\n\nOn reaching the drawing-roo m\, they found Sam snuffing the candles\, and looking as solemn and as dig nified as if he had never sung a song or laughed in his life. \"Will Miss Georgy have de supper got up now?\" asked the Negro. \"Yes\,\" she replied . \"Well\,\" remarked Carlton\, \"that beats anything I ever met with. Do you think that was Sam we heard singing?\" \"I am sure of it\,\" was the a nswer. \"I could not have believed that that fellow was capable of so much deception\,\" continued he. \"Our system of slavery is one of deception\; and Sam\, you see\, has only been a good scholar. However\, he is as hone st a fellow as you will find among the slave population here. If we would have them more honest\, we should give them their liberty\, and then the i nducement to be dishonest would be gone. I have resolved that these creatu res shall all be free.\" \"Indeed!\" exclaimed Carlton. \"Yes\, I shall le t them all go free\, and set an example to those about me.\" \"I honour yo ur judgment\,\" said he. \"But will the state permit them to remain?\" \"I f not\, they can go where they can live in freedom. I will not be unjust b ecause the state is.\"\n\nCHAPTER XVII\nRETALIATION\n \"I had a dream\, a happy dream\;\n I thought that I was free:\n That in my own bright l and again\n A home there was for me.\"\n\nWITH the deepest humiliation Horatio Green saw the daughter of Clotel\, his own child\, brought into hi s dwelling as a servant. His wife felt that she had been deceived\, and de termined to punish her deceiver. At first Mary was put to work in the kitc hen\, where she met with little or no sympathy from the other slaves\, owi ng to the fairness of her complexion. The child was white\, what should be done to make her look like other Negroes\, was the question Mrs. Green as ked herself. At last she hit upon a plan: there was a garden at the back o f the house over which Mrs. Green could look from her parlour window. Here the white slave-girl was put to work\, without either bonnet or handkerch ief upon her head. A hot sun poured its broiling rays on the naked face an d neck of the girl\, until she sank down in the corner of the garden\, and was actually broiled to sleep. \"Dat little nigger ain't working a bit\, missus\,\" said Dinah to Mrs. Green\, as she entered the kitchen.\n\n\"She 's lying in the sun\, seasoning\; she will work better by and by\,\" repli ed the mistress. \"Dees white niggers always tink dey sef good as white fo lks\,\" continued the cook. \"Yes\, but we will teach them better\; won't we\, Dinah?\" \"Yes\, missus\, I don't like dees mularter niggers\, no how : dey always want to set dey sef up for something big.\" The cook was blac k\, and was not without that prejudice which is to be found among the Negr oes\, as well as among the whites of the Southern States. The sun had the desired effect\, for in less than a fortnight Mary's fair complexion had d isappeared\, and she was but little whiter than any other mulatto children running about the yard. But the close resemblance between the father and child annoyed the mistress more than the mere whiteness of the child's com plexion. Horatio made proposition after proposition to have the girl sent away\, for every time he beheld her countenance it reminded him of the hap py days he had spent with Clotel. But his wife had commenced\, and determi ned to carry out her unfeeling and fiendish designs. This child was not on ly white\, but she was the granddaughter of Thomas Jefferson\, the man who \, when speaking against slavery in the legislature of Virginia\, said\,\n \n\"The whole commerce between master and slave is a perpetual exercise of the most boisterous passions\; the most unremitting despotism on the one part\, and degrading submission on the other. With what execration should the statesman be loaded who\, permitting one half the citizens thus to tra mple on the rights of the other\, transforms those into despots and these into enemies\, destroys the morals of the one part\, and the amor patriae of the other! For if the slave can have a country in this world\, it must be any other in preference to that in which he is born to live and labour for another\; in which he must lock up the faculties of his nature\, contr ibute as far as depends on his individual endeavours to the evanishment of the human race\, or entail his own miserable condition on the endless gen erations proceeding from him. And can the liberties of a nation be thought secure when we have removed their only firm basis\, a conviction in the m inds of the people that these liberties are the gift of God? that they are not to be violated but with his wrath? Indeed\, I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just\; that his justice cannot sleep for ever\; that\, considering numbers\, nature\, and natural means only\, a revoluti on of the wheel of fortune\, an exchange of situation\, is among possible events\; that it may become probable by supernatural interference! The Alm ighty has no attribute which can take side with us in such a contest.\n\n\ "What an incomprehensible machine is man! Who can endure toil\, famine\, s tripes\, imprisonment\, and death itself\, in vindication of his own liber ty\, and the next moment be deaf to all those motives\, whose power suppor ted him through his trial\, and inflict on his fellow-men a bondage\, one hour of which is fraught with more misery than ages of that which he rose in rebellion to oppose! But we must wait with patience the workings of an overruling Providence\, and hope that that is preparing the deliverance of these our suffering brethren. When the measure of their tears shall be fu ll—when their tears shall have involved heaven itself in darkness—doub tless a God of justice will awaken to their distress\, and by diffusing li ght and liberality among their oppressors\, or at length by his exterminat ing thunder\, manifest his attention to things of this world\, and that th ey are not left to the guidance of blind fatality.\"\n\nThe same man\, spe aking of the probability that the slaves might some day attempt to gain th eir liberties by a revolution\, said\,\n\n\"I tremble for my country\, whe n I recollect that God is just\, and that His justice cannot sleep for eve r. The Almighty has no attribute that can take sides with us in such a str uggle.\"\n\nBut\, sad to say\, Jefferson is not the only American statesma n who has spoken high-sounding words in favour of freedom\, and then left his own children to die slaves.\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\nTHE LIBERATOR\n\"We hold these truths to be self-evident\, that all men are created free and equal \; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights\ ; among these are life\, liberty\, and the pursuit of happiness.\"—Decla ration of American Independence.\n\nTHE death of the parson was the commen cement of a new era in the history of his slaves. Only a little more than eighteen years of age\, Georgiana could not expect to carry out her own wi shes in regard to the slaves\, although she was sole heir to her father's estate. There were distant relations whose opinions she had at least to re spect. And both law and public opinion in the state were against any measu re of emancipation that she might think of adopting\; unless\, perhaps\, s he might be permitted to send them to Liberia. Her uncle in Connecticut ha d already been written to\, to come down and aid in settling up the estate . He was a Northern man\, but she knew him to be a tight-fisted yankee\, w hose whole counsel would go against liberating the Negroes. Yet there was one way in which the thing could be done. She loved Carlton\, and she well knew that he loved her\; she read it in his countenance every time they m et\, yet the young man did not mention his wishes to her. There were many reasons why he should not. In the first place\, her father was just deceas ed\, and it seemed only right that he should wait a reasonable time. Again \, Carlton was poor\, and Georgiana was possessed of a large fortune\; and his high spirit would not\, for a moment\, allow him to place himself in a position to be regarded as a fortune-hunter. The young girl hinted\, as best she could\, at the probable future\; but all to no purpose. He took n othing to himself. True\, she had read much of \"woman's rights\;\" and ha d even attended a meeting\, while at the North\, which had been called to discuss the wrongs of woman\; but she could not nerve herself up to the po int of putting the question to Carlton\, although she felt sure that she s hould not be rejected. She waited\, but in vain. At last\, one evening\, s he came out of her room rather late\, and was walking on the piazza for fr esh air. She passed near Carlton's room\, and heard the voice of Sam. The negro had just come in to get the young man's boots\, and had stopped\, as he usually did\, to have some talk. \"I wish\,\" said Sam\, \"dat Marser Carlton an Miss Georgy would get married\; den\, speck\, we'd have good ti mes.\" \"I don't think your mistress would have me\,\" replied the young m an. \"What make tink dat\, Marser Carlton?\" \"Your mistress would marry n o one\, Sam\, unless she loved them.\" \"Den I wish she would lub you\, ca use I tink we have good times den. All our folks is de same 'pinion like m e\,\" returned the Negro\, and then left the room with the boots in his ha nds. During the conversation between the Anglo-Saxon and the African\, one word had been dropped by the former that haunted the young lady the remai nder of the night—\"Your mistress would marry no one unless she loved th em.\" That word awoke her in the morning\, and caused her to decide upon t his import subject. Love and duty triumphed over the woman's timid nature\ , and that day Georgiana informed Carlton that she was ready to become his wife. The young man\, with grateful tears\, accepted and kissed the hand that was offered to him. The marriage of Carlton and Miss Peck was hailed with delight by both the servants in the house and the Negroes on the farm . New rules were immediately announced for the working and general treatme nt of the slaves on the plantation. With this\, Huckelby\, the overseer\, saw his reign coming to an end\; and Snyder\, the Dutch preacher\, felt th at his services would soon be dispensed with\, for nothing was more repugn ant to the feelings of Mrs. Carlton than the sermons preached by Snyder to the slaves. She regarded them as something intended to make them better s atisfied with their condition\, and more valuable as pieces of property\, without preparing them for the world to come. Mrs. Carlton found in her hu sband a congenial spirit\, who entered into all her wishes and plans for b ettering the condition of their slaves. Mrs. Carlton's views and sympathie s were all in favour of immediate emancipation\; but then she saw\, or tho ught she saw\, a difficulty in that. If the slaves were liberated\, they m ust be sent out of the state. This\, of course\, would incur additional ex pense\; and if they left the state\, where had they better go? \"Let's sen d them to Liberia\,\" said Carlton. \"Why should they go to Africa\, any m ore than to the Free States or to Canada?\" asked the wife. \"They would b e in their native land\,\" he answered. \"Is not this their native land? W hat right have we\, more than the Negro\, to the soil here\, or to style o urselves native Americans? Indeed it is as much their home as ours\, and I have sometimes thought it was more theirs. The Negro has cleared up the l ands\, built towns\, and enriched the soil with his blood and tears\; and in return\, he is to be sent to a country of which he knows nothing. Who f ought more bravely for American independence than the blacks? A negro\, by the name of Attucks\, was the first that fell in Boston at the commenceme nt of the revolutionary war\; and throughout the whole of the struggles fo r liberty in this country\, the Negroes have contributed their share. In t he last war with Great Britain\, the country was mainly indebted to the bl acks in New Orleans for the achievement of the victory at that place\; and even General Jackson\, the commander in chief\, called the Negroes togeth er at the close of the war\, and addressed them in the following terms:— \n\n'Soldiers!—When on the banks of the Mobile I called you to take up a rms\, inviting you to partake the perils and glory of your white fellow ci tizens\, I expected much from you\; for I was not ignorant that you posses s qualities most formidable to an invading enemy. I knew with what fortitu de you could endure hunger and thirst\, and all the fatigues of a campaign . I knew well how you loved your native country\, and that you\, as well a s ourselves\, had to defend what man holds most dear—his parents\, wife\ , children\, and property. You have done more than I expected. In addition to the previous qualities I before knew you to possess\, I found among yo u a noble enthusiasm\, which leads to the performance of great things.\n\n 'Soldiers! The President of the United States shall hear how praiseworthy was your conduct in the hour of danger\, and the representatives of the Am erican people will give you the praise your exploits entitle you to. Your general anticipates them in appauding your noble ardour.'\n\n\"And what di d these noble men receive in return for their courage\, their heroism? Cha ins and slavery. Their good deeds have been consecrated only in their own memories. Who rallied with more alacrity in response to the summons of dan ger? If in that hazardous hour\, when our homes were menaced with the horr ors of war\, we did not disdain to call upon the Negro to assist in repell ing invasion\, why should we\, now that the danger is past\, deny him a ho me in his native land?\" \"I see\,\" said Carlton\, \"you are right\, but I fear you will have difficulty in persuading others to adopt your views.\ " \"We will set the example\,\" replied she\, \"and then hope for the best \; for I feel that the people of the Southern States will one day see thei r error. Liberty has always been our watchword\, as far as profession is c oncerned. Nothing has been held so cheap as our common humanity\, on a nat ional average. If every man had his aliquot proportion of the injustice do ne in this land\, by law and violence\, the present freemen of the norther n section would many of them commit suicide in self-defence\, and would co urt the liberties awarded by Ali Pasha of Egypt to his subjects. Long ere this we should have tested\, in behalf of our bleeding and crushed America n brothers of every hue and complexion\, every new constitution\, custom\, or practice\, by which inhumanity was supposed to be upheld\, the injusti ce and cruelty they contained\, emblazoned before the great tribunal of ma nkind for condemnation\; and the good and available power they possessed\, for the relief\, deliverance and elevation of oppressed men\, permitted t o shine forth from under the cloud\, for the refreshment of the human race .\"\n\nAlthough Mr. and Mrs. Carlton felt that immediate emancipation was the right of the slave and the duty of the master\, they resolved on a sys tem of gradual emancipation\, so as to give them time to accomplish their wish\, and to prepare the Negro for freedom. Huckelby was one morning told that his services would no longer be required. The Negroes\, ninety-eight in number\, were called together and told that the whip would no longer b e used\, and that they would be allowed a certain sum for every bale of co tton produced. Sam\, whose long experience in the cotton-field before he h ad been taken into the house\, and whose general intelligence justly gave him the first place amongst the Negroes on the Poplar Farm\, was placed at their head. They were also given to understand that the money earned by t hem would be placed to their credit\; and when it amounted to a certain su m\, they should all be free.\n\nThe joy with which this news was received by the slaves\, showed their grateful appreciation of the boon their benef actors were bestowing upon them. The house servants were called and told t hat wages would be allowed them\, and what they earned set to their credit \, and they too should be free. The next were the bricklayers. There were eight of these\, who had paid their master two dollars per day\, and board ed and clothed themselves. An arrangement was entered into with them\, by which the money they earned should be placed to their credit\; and they to o should be free\, when a certain amount should be accumulated\; and great was the change amongst all these people. The bricklayers had been to work but a short time\, before their increased industry was noticed by many. T hey were no longer apparently the same people. A sedateness\, a care\, an economy\, an industry\, took possession of them\, to which there seemed to be no bounds but in their physical strength. They were never tired of lab ouring\, and seemed as though they could never effect enough. They became temperate\, moral\, religious\, setting an example of innocent\, unoffendi ng lives to the world around them\, which was seen and admired by all. Mr. Parker\, a man who worked nearly forty slaves at the same business\, was attracted by the manner in which these Negroes laboured. He called on Mr. Carlton\, some weeks after they had been acting on the new system\, and of fered 2\,000 dollars for the head workman\, Jim. The offer was\, of course \, refused. A few days after the same gentleman called again\, and made an offer of double the sum that he had on the former occasion. Mr. Parker\, finding that no money would purchase either of the Negroes\, said\, \"Now\ , Mr. Carlton\, pray tell me what it is that makes your Negroes work so? W hat kind of people are they?\" \"I suppose\,\" observed Carlton\, \"that t hey are like other people\, flesh and blood.\" \"Why\, sir\,\" continued P arker\, \"I have never seen such people\; building as they are next door t o my residence\, I see and have my eye on them from morning till night. Yo u are never there\, for I have never met you\, or seen you once at the bui lding. Why\, sir\, I am an early riser\, getting up before day\; and do yo u think that I am not awoke every morning in my life by the noise of their trowels at work\, and their singing and noise before day\; and do you sup pose\, sir\, that they stop or leave off work at sundown? No\, sir\, but t hey work as long as they can see to lay a brick\, and then they carry tip brick and mortar for an hour or two afterward\, to be ahead of their work the next morning. And again\, sir\, do you think that they walk at their w ork? No\, sir\, they run all day. You see\, sir\, those immensely long\, l adders\, five stories in height\; do you suppose they walk up them? No\, s ir\, they run up and down them like so many monkeys all day long. I never saw such people as these in my life. I don't know what to make of them. We re a white man with them and over them with a whip\, then I should see and understand the cause of the running and incessant labour\; but I cannot c omprehend it\; there is something in it\, sir. Great man\, sir\, that Jim\ ; great man\; I should like to own him.\" Carlton here informed Parker tha t their liberties depended upon their work\; when the latter replied\, \"I f niggers can work so for the promise of freedom\, they ought to be made t o work without it.\" This last remark was in the true spirit of the slaveh older\, and reminds us of the fact that\, some years since\, the overseer of General Wade Hampton offered the niggers under him a suit of clothes to the one that picked the most cotton in one day\; and after that time that day's work was given as a task to the slaves on that plantation\; and\, a fter a while\, was adopted by other planters.\n\nThe Negroes on the farm\, under \"Marser Sam\,\" were also working in a manner that attracted the a ttention of the planters round about. They no longer feared Huckelby's whi p\, and no longer slept under the preaching of Snyder. On the Sabbath\, Mr . and Mrs. Carlton read and explained the Scriptures to them\; and the ver y great attention paid by the slaves showed plainly that they appreciated the gospel when given to them in its purity. The death of Currer\, from ye llow fever\, was a great trial to Mrs. Carlton\; for she had not only beco me much attached to her\, but had heard with painful interest the story of her wrongs\, and would\, in all probability\, have restored her to her da ughter in New Orleans.\n\nCHAPTER XIX\nESCAPE OF CLOTEL\n \"The fetters g alled my weary soul—\n A soul that seemed but thrown away\;\n I spurned the tyrant's base control\,\n Resolved at least the man to play.\"\n\nNo c ountry has produced so much heroism in so short a time\, connected with es capes from peril and oppression\, as has occurred in the United States amo ng fugitive slaves\, many of whom show great shrewdness in their endeavour s to escape from this land of bondage. A slave was one day seen passing on the high road from a border town in the interior of the state of Virginia to the Ohio river. The man had neither hat upon his head or coat upon his back. He was driving before him a very nice fat pig\, and appeared to all who saw him to be a labourer employed on an adjoining farm. \"No Negro is permitted to go at large in the Slave States without a written pass from his or her master\, except on business in the neighbourhood.\" \"Where do you live\, my boy?\" asked a white man of the slave\, as he passed a white house with green blinds. \"Jist up de road\, sir\,\" was the answer. \"Th at's a fine pig.\" \"Yes\, sir\, marser like dis choat berry much.\" And t he Negro drove on as if he was in great haste. In this way he and the pig travelled more than fifty miles before they reached the Ohio river. Once a t the river they crossed over\; the pig was sold\; and nine days after the runaway slave passed over the Niagara river\, and\, for the first time in his life\, breathed the air of freedom. A few weeks later\, and\, on the same road\, two slaves were seen passing\; one was on horseback\, the othe r was walking before him with his arms tightly bound\, and a long rope lea ding from the man on foot to the one on horseback. \"Oh\, ho\, that's a ru naway rascal\, I suppose\,\" said a farmer\, who met them on the road. \"Y es\, sir\, he bin runaway\, and I got him fast. Marser will tan his jacket for him nicely when he gets him.\" \"You are a trustworthy fellow\, I ima gine\,\" continued the farmer. \"Oh yes\, sir\; marser puts a heap of conf idence in dis nigger.\" And the slaves travelled on. When the one on foot was fatigued they would change positions\, the other being tied and driven on foot. This they called \"ride and tie.\" After a journey of more than two hundred miles they reached the Ohio river\, turned the horse loose\, t old him to go home\, and proceeded on their way to Canada. However they we re not to have it all their own way. There are men in the Free States\, an d especially in the states adjacent to the Slave States\, who make their l iving by catching the runaway slave\, and returning him for the reward tha t may be offered. As the two slaves above mentioned were travelling on tow ards the land of freedom\, led by the North Star\, they were set upon by f our of these slave-catchers\, and one of them unfortunately captured. The other escaped. The captured fugitive was put under the torture\, and compe lled to reveal the name of his owner and his place of residence. Filled wi th delight\, the kidnappers started back with their victim. Overjoyed with the prospect of receiving a large reward\, they gave themselves up on the third night to pleasure. They put up at an inn. The Negro was chained to the bed-post\, in the same room with his captors. At dead of night\, when all was still\, the slave arose from the floor upon which he had been lyin g\, looked around\, and saw that the white men were fast asleep. The brand y punch had done its work. With palpitating heart and trembling limbs he v iewed his position. The door was fast\, but the warm weather had compelled them to leave the window open. If he could but get his chains off\, he mi ght escape through the window to the piazza\, and reach the ground by one of the posts that supported the piazza. The sleeper's clothes hung upon ch airs by the bedside\; the slave thought of the padlock key\, examined the pockets and found it. The chains were soon off\, and the Negro stealthily making his way to the window: he stopped and said to himself\, \"These men are villains\, they are enemies to all who like me are trying to be free. Then why not I teach them a lesson?\" He then undressed himself\, took th e clothes of one of the men\, dressed himself in them\, and escaped throug h the window\, and\, a moment more\, he was on the high road to Canada. Fi fteen days later\, and the writer of this gave him a passage across Lake E rie\, and saw him safe in her Britannic Majesty's dominions.\n\nWe have se en Clotel sold to Mr. French in Vicksburgh\, her hair cut short\, and ever ything done to make her realise her position as a servant. Then we have se en her re-sold\, because her owners feared she would die through grief. As yet her new purchaser treated her with respectful gentleness\, and sought to win her favour by flattery and presents\, knowing that whatever he gav e her he could take back again. But she dreaded every moment lest the scen e should change\, and trembled at the sound of every footfall. At every in terview with her new master Clotel stoutly maintained that she had left a husband in Virginia\, and would never think of taking another. The gold wa tch and chain\, and other glittering presents which he purchased for her\, were all laid aside by the quadroon\, as if they were of no value to her. In the same house with her was another servant\, a man\, who had from tim e to time hired himself from his master. William was his name. He could fe el for Clotel\, for he\, like her\, had been separated from near and dear relatives\, and often tried to console the poor woman. One day the quadroo n observed to him that her hair was growing out again. \"Yes\,\" replied W illiam\, \"you look a good deal like a man with your short hair.\" \"Oh\,\ " rejoined she\, \"I have often been told that I would make a better looki ng man than a woman. If I had the money\,\" continued she\, \"I would bid farewell to this place.\" In a moment more she feared that she had said to o much\, and smilingly remarked\, \"I am always talking nonsense.\" Willia m was a tall\, full-bodied Negro\, whose very countenance beamed with inte lligence. Being a mechanic\, he had\, by his own industry\, made more than what he paid his owner\; this he laid aside\, with the hope that some day he might get enough to purchase his freedom. He had in his chest one hund red and fifty dollars. His was a heart that felt for others\, and he had a gain and again wiped the tears from his eyes as he heard the story of Clot el as related by herself. \"If she can get free with a little money\, why not give her what I have?\" thought he\, and then he resolved to do it. An hour after\, he came into the quadroon's room\, and laid the money in her lap\, and said\, \"There\, Miss Clotel\, you said if you had the means yo u would leave this place\; there is money enough to take you to England\, where you will be free. You are much fairer than many of the white women o f the South\, and can easily pass for a free white lady.\" At first Clotel feared that it was a plan by which the Negro wished to try her fidelity t o her owner\; but she was soon convinced by his earnest manner\, and the d eep feeling with which he spoke\, that he was honest. \"I will take the mo ney only on one condition\,\" said she\; \"and that is\, that I effect you r escape as well as my own.\" \"How can that be done?\" he inquired. \"I w ill assume the disguise of a gentleman and you that of a servant\, and we will take passage on a steamboat and go to Cincinnati\, and thence to Cana da.\" Here William put in several objections to the plan. He feared detect ion\, and he well knew that\, when a slave is once caught when attempting to escape\, if returned is sure to be worse treated than before. However\, Clotel satisfied him that the plan could be carried out if he would only play his part.\n\nThe resolution was taken\, the clothes for her disguise procured\, and before night everything was in readiness for their departur e. That night Mr. Cooper\, their master\, was to attend a party\, and this was their opportunity. William went to the wharf to look out for a boat\, and had scarcely reached the landing ere he heard the puffing of a steame r. He returned and reported the fact. Clotel had already packed her trunk\ , and had only to dress and all was ready. In less than an hour they were on board the boat. Under the assumed name of \"Mr. Johnson\,\" Clotel went to the clerk's office and took a private state room for herself\, and pai d her own and servant's fare. Besides being attired in a neat suit of blac k\, she had a white silk handkerchief tied round her chin\, as if she was an invalid. A pair of green glasses covered her eyes\; and fearing that sh e would be talked to too much and thus render her liable to be detected\, she assumed to be very ill. On the other hand\, William was playing his pa rt well in the servants' hall\; he was talking loudly of his master's weal th. Nothing appeared as good on the boat as in his master's fine mansion. \"I don't like dees steam-boats no how\,\" said William\; \"I hope when ma rser goes on a journey agin he will take de carriage and de hosses.\" Mr. Johnson (for such was the name by which Clotel now went) remained in his r oom\, to avoid\, as far as possible\, conversation with others. After a pa ssage of seven days they arrived at Louisville\, and put up at Gough's Hot el. Here they had to await the departure of another boat for the North. Th ey were now in their most critical position. They were still in a slave st ate\, and John C. Calhoun\, a distinguished slave-owner\, was a guest at t his hotel. They feared\, also\, that trouble would attend their attempt to leave this place for the North\, as all persons taking Negroes with them have to give bail that such Negroes are not runaway slaves. The law upon t his point is very stringent: all steamboats and other public conveyances a re liable to a fine for every slave that escapes by them\, besides paying the full value for the slave. After a delay of four hours\, Mr. Johnson an d servant took passage on the steamer Rodolph\, for Pittsburgh. It is usua l\, before the departure of the boats\, for an officer to examine every pa rt of the vessel to see that no slave secretes himself on board. \"Where a re you going?\" asked the officer of William\, as he was doing his duty on this occasion. \"I am going with marser\,\" was the quick reply. \"Who is your master?\" \"Mr. Johnson\, sir\, a gentleman in the cabin.\" \"You mu st take him to the office and satisfy the captain that all is right\, or y ou can't go on this boat.\" William informed his master what the officer h ad said. The boat was on the eve of going\, and no time could be lost\, ye t they knew not what to do. At last they went to the office\, and Mr. John son\, addressing the captain\, said\, \"I am informed that my boy can't go with me unless I give security that he belongs to me. \"Yes\,\" replied t he captain\, \"that is the law.\" \"A very strange law indeed\,\" rejoined Mr. Johnson\, \"that one can't take his property with him.\" After a conv ersation of some minutes\, and a plea on the part of Johnson that he did n ot wish to be delayed owing to his illness\, they were permitted to take t heir passage without farther trouble\, and the boat was soon on its way up the river. The fugitives had now passed the Rubicon\, and the next place at which they would land would be in a Free State. Clotel called William t o her room\, and said to him\, \"We are now free\, you can go on your way to Canada\, and I shall go to Virginia in search of my daughter.\" The ann ouncement that she was going to risk her liberty in a Slave State was unwe lcome news to William. With all the eloquence he could command\, he tried to persuade Clotel that she could not escape detection\, and was only thro wing her freedom away. But she had counted the cost\, and made up her mind for the worst. In return for the money he had furnished\, she had secured for him his liberty\, and their engagement was at an end.\n\nAfter a quic k passage the fugitives arrived at Cincinnati\, and there separated. Willi am proceeded on his way to Canada\, and Clotel again resumed her own appar el\, and prepared to start in search of her child. As might have been expe cted\, the escape of those two valuable slaves created no little sensation in Vicksburgh. Advertisements and messages were sent in every direction i n which the fugitives were thought to have gone. It was soon\, however\, k nown that they had left the town as master and servant\; and many were the communications which appeared in the newspapers\, in which the writers th ought\, or pretended\, that they had seen the slaves in their disguise. On e was to the effect that they had gone off in a chaise\; one as master\, a nd the other as servant. But the most probable was an account given by a c orrespondent of one of the Southern newspapers\, who happened to be a pass enger in the same steamer in which the slaves escaped\, and which we here give:—\n\n\"One bright starlight night\, in the month of December last\, I found myself in the cabin of the steamer Rodolph\, then lying in the po rt of Vicksburgh\, and bound to Louisville. I had gone early on board\, in order to select a good berth\, and having got tired of reading the papers \, amused myself with watching the appearance of the passengers as they dr opped in\, one after another\, and I being a believer in physiognomy\, for med my own opinion of their characters.\n\n\"The second bell rang\, and as I yawningly returned my watch to my pocket\, my attention was attracted b y the appearance of a young man who entered the cabin supported by his ser vant\, a strapping Negro.\n\n\"The man was bundled up in a capacious overc oat\; his face was bandaged with a white handkerchief\, and its expression entirely hid by a pair of enormous spectacles.\n\n\"There was something s o mysterious and unusual about the young man as he sat restless in the cor ner\, that curiosity led me to observe him more closely.\n\n\"He appeared anxious to avoid notice\, and before the steamer had fairly left the wharf \, requested\, in a low\, womanly voice\, to be shown his berth\, as he wa s an invalid\, and must retire early: his name he gave as Mr. Johnson. His servant was called\, and he was put quietly to bed. I paced the deck unti l Tyhee light grew dim in the distance\, and then went to my berth.\n\n\"I awoke in the morning with the sun shining in my face\; we were then just passing St. Helena. It was a mild beautiful morning\, and most of the pass engers were on deck\, enjoying the freshness of the air\, and stimulating their appetites for breakfast. Mr. Johnson soon made his appearance\, arra yed as on the night before\, and took his seat quietly upon the guard of t he boat.\n\n\"From the better opportunity afforded by daylight\, I found t hat he was a slight build\, apparently handsome young man\, with black hai r and eyes\, and of a darkness of complexion that betokened Spanish extrac tion. Any notice from others seemed painful to him\; so to satisfy my curi osity\, I questioned his servant\, who was standing near\, and gained the following information.\n\n\"His master was an invalid—he had suffered fo r a long time under a complication of diseases\, that had baffled the skil l of the best physicians in Mississippi\; he was now suffering principally with the 'rheumatism\,' and he was scarcely able to walk or help himself in any way. He came from Vicksburgh\, and was now on his way to Philadelph ia\, at which place resided his uncle\, a celebrated physician\, and throu gh whose means he hoped to be restored to perfect health.\n\n\"This inform ation\, communicated in a bold\, off-hand manner\, enlisted my sympathies for the sufferer\, although it occurred to me that he walked rather too gi ngerly for a person afflicted with so many ailments.\"\n\nAfter thanking C lotel for the great service she had done him in bringing him out of slaver y\, William bade her farewell. The prejudice that exists in the Free State s against coloured persons\, on account of their colour\, is attributable solely to the influence of slavery\, and is but another form of slavery it self. And even the slave who escapes from the Southern plantations\, is su rprised when he reaches the North\, at the amount and withering influence of this prejudice. William applied at the railway station for a ticket for the train going to Sandusky\, and was told that if he went by that train he would have to ride in the luggage-van. \"Why?\" asked the astonished Ne gro. \"We don't send a Jim Crow carriage but once a day\, and that went th is morning.\" The \"Jim Crow\" carriage is the one in which the blacks hav e to ride. Slavery is a school in which its victims learn much shrewdness\ , and William had been an apt scholar. Without asking any more questions\, the Negro took his seat in one of the first-class carriages. He was soon seen and ordered out. Afraid to remain in the town longer\, he resolved to go by that train\; and consequently seated himself on a goods' box in the luggage van. The train started at its proper time\, and all went on well. Just before arriving at the end of the journey\, the conductor called on William for his ticket. \"I have none\,\" was the reply. \"Well\, then\, y ou can pay your fare to me\,\" said the officer. \"How much is it?\" asked the black man. \"Two dollars.\" \"What do you charge those in the passeng er-carriage?\" \"Two dollars.\" \"And do you charge me the same as you do those who ride in the best carriages?\" asked the Negro. \"Yes\,\" was the answer. \"I shan't pay it\,\" returned the man. \"You black scamp\, do yo u think you can ride on this road without paying your fare?\" \"No\, I don 't want to ride for nothing\; I only want to pay what's right.\" \"Well\, launch out two dollars\, and that's right.\" \"No\, I shan't\; I will pay what I ought\, and won't pay any more.\" \"Come\, come\, nigger\, your far e and be done with it\,\" said the conductor\, in a manner that is never u sed except by Americans to blacks. \"I won't pay you two dollars\, and tha t enough\,\" said William. \"Well\, as you have come all the way in the lu ggage-van\, pay me a dollar and a half and you may go.\" \"I shan't do any such thing.\" \"Don't you mean to pay for riding?\" \"Yes\, but I won't p ay a dollar and a half for riding up here in the freight-van. If you had l et me come in the carriage where others ride\, I would have paid you two d ollars.\" \"Where were you raised? You seem to think yourself as good as w hite folks.\" \"I want nothing more than my rights.\" \"Well\, give me a d ollar\, and I will let you off.\" \"No\, sir\, I shan't do it.\" \"What do you mean to do then\, don't you wish to pay anything?\" \"Yes\, sir\, I w ant to pay you the full price.\" \"What do you mean by full price?\" \"Wha t do you charge per hundred-weight for goods?\" inquired the Negro with a degree of gravity that would have astonished Diogenes himself. \"A quarter of a dollar per hundred\,\" answered the conductor. \"I weigh just one hu ndred and fifty pounds\,\" returned William\, \"and will pay you three eig hths of a dollar.\" \"Do you expect that you will pay only thirty-seven ce nts for your ride?\" \"This\, sir\, is your own price. I came in a luggage -van\, and I'll pay for luggage.\" After a vain effort to get the Negro to pay more\, the conductor took the thirty-seven cents\, and noted in his c ash-book\, \"Received for one hundred and fifty pounds of luggage\, thirty seven cents.\" This\, reader\, is no fiction\; it actually occurred in th e railway above described.\n\nThomas Corwin\, a member of the American Con gress\, is one of the blackest white men in the United States. He was once on his way to Congress\, and took passage in one of the Ohio river steame rs. As he came just at the dinner hour\, he immediately went into the dini ng saloon\, and took his seat at the table. A gentleman with his whole par ty of five ladies at once left the table. \"Where is the captain?\" cried the man in an angry tone. The captain soon appeared\, and it was sometime before he could satisfy the old gent\, that Governor Corwin was not a nigg er. The newspapers often have notices of mistakes made by innkeepers and o thers who undertake to accommodate the public\, one of which we give below .\n\nOn the 6th inst.\, the Hon. Daniel Webster and family entered Edgarto wn\, on a visit for health and recreation. Arriving at the hotel\, without alighting from the coach\, the landlord was sent for to see if suitable a ccommodation could be had. That dignitary appearing\, and surveying Mr. We bster\, while the hon. senator addressed him\, seemed woefully to mistake the dark features of the traveller as he sat back in the corner of the car riage\, and to suppose him a coloured man\, particularly as there were two coloured servants of Mr. W. outside. So he promptly declared that there w as no room for him and his family\, and he could not be accommodated there at the same time suggesting that he might perhaps find accommodation at s ome of the huts up back\, to which he pointed. So deeply did the prejudice of looks possess him\, that he appeared not to notice that the stranger i ntroduced himself to him as Daniel Webster\, or to be so ignorant as not t o have heard of such a personage\; and turning away\, he expressed to the driver his astonishment that he should bring black people there for him to take in. It was not till he had been repeatedly assured and made to under stand that the said Daniel Webster was a real live senator of the United S tates\, that he perceived his awkward mistake and the distinguished honour which he and his house were so near missing.\n\nIn most of the Free State s\, the coloured people are disfranchised on account of their colour. The following scene\, which we take from a newspaper in the state of Ohio\, wi ll give some idea of the extent to which this prejudice is carried.\n\n\"T he whole of Thursday last was occupied by the Court of Common Pleas for th is county in trying to find out whether one Thomas West was of the VOTING COLOUR\, as some had very constitutional doubts as to whether his colour w as orthodox\, and whether his hair was of the official crisp! Was it not a dignified business? Four profound judges\, four acute lawyers\, twelve gr ave jurors\, and I don't know how many venerable witnesses\, making in all about thirty men\, perhaps\, all engaged in the profound\, laborious\, an d illustrious business\, of finding out whether a man who pays tax\, works on the road\, and is an industrious farmer\, has been born according to t he republican\, Christian constitution of Ohio—so that he can vote! And they wisely\, gravely\, and 'JUDGMATICALLY' decided that he should not vot e! What wisdom—what research it must have required to evolve this truth! It was left for the Court of Common Pleas for Columbian county\, Ohio\, i n the United States of North America\, to find out what Solomon never drea med of—the courts of all civilised\, heathen\, or Jewish countries\, nev er contemplated. Lest the wisdom of our courts should be circumvented by s ome such men as might be named\, who are so near being born constitutional ly that they might be taken for white by sight\, I would suggest that our court be invested with SMELLING powers\, and that if a man don't exhale th e constitutional smell\, he shall not vote! This would be an additional se curity to our liberties.\"\n\nWilliam found\, after all\, that liberty in the so-called Free States was more a name than a reality\; that prejudice followed the coloured man into every place that he might enter. The temple s erected for the worship of the living God are no exception. The finest B aptist church in the city of Boston has the following paragraph in the dee d that conveys its seats to pewholders:\n\n\"And it is a further condition of these presents\, that if the owner or owners of said pew shall determi ne hereafter to sell the same\, it shall first be offered\, in writing\, t o the standing committee of said society for the time being\, at such pric e as might otherwise be obtained for it\; and the said committee shall hav e the right\, for ten days after such offer\, to purchase said pew for sai d society\, at that price\, first deducting therefrom all taxes and assess ments on said pew then remaining unpaid. And if the said committee shall n ot so complete such purchase within said ten days\, then the pew may be so ld by the owner or owners thereof (after payment of all such arrears) to a ny one respectable white person\, but upon the same conditions as are cont ained in this instrument\; and immediate notice of such sale shall be give n in writing\, by the vendor\, to the treasurer of said society.\"\n\nSuch are the conditions upon which the Rowe Street Baptist Church\, Boston\, d isposes of its seats. The writer of this is able to put that whole congreg ation\, minister and all\, to flight\, by merely putting his coloured face in that church. We once visited a church in New York that had a place set apart for the sons of Ham. It was a dark\, dismal looking place in one co rner of the gallery\, grated in front like a hen-coop\, with a black borde r around it. It had two doors\; over one was B. M.—black men\; over the other B. W.—black women.\n\nCHAPTER XX\nA TRUE DEMOCRAT\n \"Who can \, with patience\, for a moment see\n The medley mass of pride and misery\,\n Of whips and charters\, manacles and rights\,\n Of s laving blacks and democratic whites\,\n And all the piebald policy that reigns\n In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains?\n To thin k that man\, thou just and gentle God!\n Should stand before thee with a tyrant's rod\,\n O'er creatures like himself\, with souls from thee\,\n Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty!\"—Thomas Moore.\n\nEDUCATED in a free state\, and marrying a wife who had been a victim to the institution of slavery\, Henry Morton became strongly opposed to the system. His two d aughters\, at the age of twelve years\, were sent to the North to finish t heir education\, and to receive that refinement that young ladies cannot o btain in the Slave States. Although he did not publicly advocate the aboli tion of slavery\, he often made himself obnoxious to private circles\, owi ng to the denunciatory manner in which he condemned the \"peculiar institu tion.\" Being one evening at a party\, and hearing one of the company talk ing loudly of the glory and freedom of American institutions\, he gave it as his opinion that\, unless slavery was speedily abolished\, it would be the ruin of the Union. \"It is not our boast of freedom\,\" said he\, \"th at will cause us to be respected abroad. It is not our loud talk in favour of liberty that will cause us to be regarded as friends of human freedom\ ; but our acts will be scrutinised by the people of other countries. We sa y much against European despotism\; let us look to ourselves. That governm ent is despotic where the rulers govern subjects by their own mere will— by decrees and laws emanating from their uncontrolled will\, in the enactm ent and execution of which the ruled have no voice\, and under which they have no right except at the will of the rulers. Despotism does not depend upon the number of the rulers\, or the number of the subjects. It may have one ruler or many. Rome was a despotism under Nero\; so she was under the triumvirate. Athens was a despotism under Thirty Tyrants\; under her Four Hundred Tyrants\; under her Three Thousand Tyrants. It has been generally observed that despotism increases in severity with the number of despots\ ; the responsibility is more divided\, and the claims more numerous. The t riumvirs each demanded his victims. The smaller the number of subjects in proportion to the tyrants\, the more cruel the oppression\, because the le ss danger from rebellion. In this government\, the free white citizens are the rulers—the sovereigns\, as we delight to be called. All others are subjects. There are\, perhaps\, some sixteen or seventeen millions of sove reigns\, and four millions of subjects.\n\n\"The rulers and the ruled are of all colours\, from the clear white of the Caucasian tribes to the swart hy Ethiopian. The former\, by courtesy\, are all called white\, the latter black. In this government the subject has no rights\, social\, political\ , or personal. He has no voice in the laws which govern him. He can hold n o property. His very wife and children are not his. His labour is another' s. He\, and all that appertain to him\, are the absolute property of his r ulers. He is governed\, bought\, sold\, punished\, executed\, by laws to w hich he never gave his assent\, and by rulers whom he never chose. He is n ot a serf merely\, with half the rights of men like the subjects of despot ic Russia\; but a native slave\, stripped of every right which God and nat ure gave him\, and which the high spirit of our revolution declared inalie nable which he himself could not surrender\, and which man could not take from him. Is he not then the subject of despotic sway?\n\n\"The slaves of Athens and Rome were free in comparison. They had some rights—could acqu ire some property\; could choose their own masters\, and purchase their ow n freedom\; and\, when free\, could rise in social and political life. The slaves of America\, then\, lie under the most absolute and grinding despo tism that the world ever saw. But who are the despots? The rulers of the c ountry—the sovereign people! Not merely the slaveholder who cracks the l ash. He is but the instrument in the hands of despotism. That despotism is the government of the Slave States\, and the United States\, consisting o f all its rulers all the free citizens. Do not look upon this as a paradox \, because you and I and the sixteen millions of rulers are free. The rule rs of every despotism are free. Nicholas of Russia is free. The grand Sult an of Turkey is free. The butcher of Austria is free. Augustus\, Anthony\, and Lepidus were free\, while they drenched Rome in blood. The Thirty Tyr ants—the Four Hundred—the Three Thousand\, were free while they bound their countrymen in chains. You\, and I\, and the sixteen millions are fre e\, while we fasten iron chains\, and rivet manacles on four millions of o ur fellowmen—take their wives and children from them—separate them—s ell them\, and doom them to perpetual\, eternal bondage. Are we not then d espots—despots such as history will brand and God abhor?\n\n\"We\, as in dividuals\, are fast losing our reputation for honest dealing. Our nation is losing its character. The loss of a firm national character\, or the de gradation of a nation's honour\, is the inevitable prelude to her destruct ion. Behold the once proud fabric of a Roman empire—an empire carrying i ts arts and arms into every part of the Eastern continent\; the monarchs o f mighty kingdoms dragged at the wheels of her triumphal chariots\; her ea gle waving over the ruins of desolated countries\; where is her splendour\ , her wealth\, her power\, her glory? Extinguished for ever. Her moulderin g temples\, the mournful vestiges of her former grandeur\, afford a shelte r to her muttering monks. Where are her statesmen\, her sages\, her philos ophers\, her orators\, generals? Go to their solitary tombs and inquire. S he lost her national character\, and her destruction followed. The rampart s of her national pride were broken down\, and Vandalism desolated her cla ssic fields. Then let the people of our country take warning ere it is too late. But most of us say to ourselves\,\n\n \"'Who questions the right of mankind to be free?\n Yet\, what are the rights of the Negro to me ?\n I'm well fed and clothed\, I have plenty of pelf—\n I'll care for the blacks when I turn black myself.'\n\n\"New Orleans is doubtless the mo st immoral place in the United States. The theatres are open on the Sabbat h. Bull-fights\, horse-racing\, and other cruel amusements are carried on in this city to an extent unknown in any other part of the Union. The most stringent laws have been passed in that city against Negroes\, yet a few years since the State Legislature passed a special act to enable a white m an to marry a coloured woman\, on account of her being possessed of a larg e fortune. And\, very recently\, the following paragraph appeared in the c ity papers:—\n\n\"'There has been quite a stir recently in this city\, i n consequence of a marriage of a white man\, named Buddington\, a teller i n the Canal Bank\, to the Negro daughter of one of the wealthiest merchant s. Buddington\, before he could be married was obliged to swear that he ha d Negro blood in his veins\, and to do this he made an incision in his arm \, and put some of her blood in the cut. The ceremony was performed by a C atholic clergyman\, and the bridegroom has received with his wife a fortun e of fifty or sixty thousand dollars.'\n\n\"It seems that the fifty or six ty thousand dollars entirely covered the Negro woman's black skin\, and th e law prohibiting marriage between blacks and whites was laid aside for th e occasion.\"\n\nAlthesa felt proud\, as well she might\, at her husband's taking such high ground in a slaveholding city like New Orleans.\n\nCHAPT ER XXI\nTHE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH\n \"O weep\, ye friends of freedom weep!\n Your harps to mournful measures sweep.\"\n\nON the last day of November\, 1620\, on the confines of the Grand Bank of Newfoundland\, lo! we behold one little solitary tempest-tost and weather-beaten ship\; it is all that can be seen on the length and breadth of the vast intervening solitudes\, from the melancholy wilds of Labrador and New England's ironbound shores\, to the western coasts of Ireland and the rock defended Hebrides\, but one lonely ship greets the eye of angels or of men\, on this great throughfar e of nations in our age. Next in moral grandeur\, was this ship\, to the g reat discoverer's: Columbus found a continent\; the May-flower brought the seedwheat of states and empire. That is the May-flower\, with its servant s of the living God\, their wives and little ones\, hastening to lay the f oundations of nations in the accidental lands of the setting-sun. Hear the voice of prayer to God for his protection\, and the glorious music of pra ise\, as it breaks into the wild tempest of the mighty deep\, upon the ear of God. Here in this ship are great and good men. Justice\, mercy\, human ity\, respect for the rights of all\; each man honoured\, as he was useful to himself and others\; labour respected\, law-abiding men\, constitution -making and respecting men\; men\, whom no tyrant could conquer\, or hards hip overcome\, with the high commission sealed by a Spirit divine\, to est ablish religious and political liberty for all. This ship had the embryo e lements of all that is useful\, great\, and grand in Northern institutions \; it was the great type of goodness and wisdom\, illustrated in two and a quarter centuries gone by\; it was the good genius of America.\n\nBut loo k far in the South-east\, and you behold on the same day\, in 1620\, a low rakish ship hastening from the tropics\, solitary and alone\, to the New World. What is she? She is freighted with the elements of unmixed evil. Ha rk! hear those rattling chains\, hear that cry of despair and wail of angu ish\, as they die away in the unpitying distance. Listen to those shocking oaths\, the crack of that flesh-cutting whip. Ah! it is the first cargo o f slaves on their way to Jamestown\, Virginia. Behold the May-flower ancho red at Plymouth Rock\, the slave-ship in James River. Each a parent\, one of the prosperous\, labour-honouring\, law-sustaining institutions of the North\; the other the mother of slavery\, idleness\, lynch-law\, ignorance \, unpaid labour\, poverty\, and duelling\, despotism\, the ceaseless swin g of the whip\, and the peculiar institutions of the South. These ships ar e the representation of good and evil in the New World\, even to our day. When shall one of those parallel lines come to an end?\n\nThe origin of Am erican slavery is not lost in the obscurity of by-gone ages. It is a plain historical fact\, that it owes its birth to the African slave trade\, now pronounced by every civilised community the greatest crime ever perpetrat ed against humanity. Of all causes intended to benefit mankind\, the aboli tion of chattel slavery must necessarily be placed amongst the first\, and the Negro hails with joy every new advocate that appears in his cause. Co mmiseration for human suffering and human sacrifices awakened the capaciou s mind\, and brought into action the enlarged benevolence\, of Georgiana C arlton. With respect to her philosophy—it was of a noble cast. It was\, that all men are by nature equal\; that they are wisely and justly endowed by the Creator with certain rights\, which are irrefragable\; and that\, however human pride and human avarice may depress and debase\, still God i s the author of good to man—and of evil\, man is the artificer to himsel f and to his species. Unlike Plato and Socrates\, her mind was free from t he gloom that surrounded theirs\; her philosophy was founded in the school of Christianity\; though a devoted member of her father's church\, she wa s not a sectarian.\n\nWe learn from Scripture\, and it is a little remarka ble that it is the only exact definition of religion found in the sacred v olume\, that \"pure religion and undefiled before God\, even the Father\, is this\, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction\, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world.\" \"Look not every man on his own t hings\, but every man also on the things of others.\" \"Remember them that are in bonds as bound with them.\" \"Whatsoever ye would that others shou ld do to you\, do ye even so to them.\"\n\nThis was her view of Christiani ty\, and to this end she laboured with all her energies to convince her sl aveholding neighbours that the Negro could not only take care of himself\, but that he also appreciated liberty\, and was willing to work and redeem himself. Her most sanguine wishes were being realized when she suddenly f ell into a decline. Her mother had died of consumption\, and her physician pronounced this to be her disease. She was prepared for this sad intellig ence\, and received it with the utmost composure. Although she had confide nce in her husband that he would carry out her wishes in freeing the Negro es after her death\, Mrs. Carlton resolved upon their immediate liberation . Consequently the slaves were all summoned before the noble woman\, and i nformed that they were no longer bondsmen. \"From this hour\,\" said she\, \"you are free\, and all eyes will be fixed upon you. I dare not predict how far your example may affect the welfare of your brethren yet in bondag e. If you are temperate\, industrious\, peaceable\, and pious\, you will s how to the world that slaves can be emancipated without danger. Remember w hat a singular relation you sustain to society. The necessities of the cas e require not only that you should behave as well as the whites\, but bett er than the whites\; and for this reason: if you behave no better than the y\, your example will lose a great portion of its influence. Make the Lord Jesus Christ your refuge and exemplar. His is the only standard around wh ich you can successfully rally. If ever there was a people who needed the consolations of religion to sustain them in their grievous afflictions\, y ou are that people. You had better trust in the Lord than to put confidenc e in man. Happy is that people whose God is the Lord. Get as much educatio n as possible for yourselves and your children. An ignorant people can nev er occupy any other than a degraded station in society\; they can never be truly free until they are intelligent. In a few days you will start for t he state of Ohio\, where land will be purchased for some of you who have f amilies\, and where I hope you will all prosper. We have been urged to sen d you to Liberia\, but we think it wrong to send you from your native land . We did not wish to encourage the Colonization Society\, for it originate d in hatred of the free coloured people. Its pretences are false\, its doc trines odious\, its means contemptible. Now\, whatever may be your situati on in life\, 'Remember those in bonds as bound with them.' You must get re ady as soon as you can for your journey to the North.\"\n\nSeldom was ther e ever witnessed a more touching scene than this. There sat the liberator\ , pale\, feeble\, emaciated\, with death stamped upon her countenance\, su rrounded by the sons and daughters of Africa\; some of whom had in former years been separated from all that they had held near and dear\, and the m ost of whose backs had been torn and gashed by the Negro whip. Some were u pon their knees at the feet of their benefactress\; others were standing r ound her weeping. Many begged that they might be permitted to remain on th e farm and work for wages\, for some had wives and some husbands on other plantations in the neighbourhood\, and would rather remain with them.\n\nB ut the laws of the state forbade any emancipated Negroes remaining\, under penalty of again being sold into slavery. Hence the necessity of sending them out of the state. Mrs. Carlton was urged by her friends to send the e mancipated Negroes to Africa. Extracts from the speeches of Henry Clay\, a nd other distinguished Colonization Society men\, were read to her to indu ce her to adopt this course. Some thought they should he sent away because the blacks are vicious\; others because they would be missionaries to the ir brethren in Africa. \"But\,\" said she\, \"if we send away the Negroes because they are profligate and vicious\, what sort of missionaries will t hey make? Why not send away the vicious among the whites for the same reas on\, and the same purpose?\"\n\nDeath is a leveller\, and neither age\, se x\, wealth\, nor usefulness can avert when he is permitted to strike. The most beautiful flowers soon fade\, and droop\, and die\; this is also the case with man\; his days are uncertain as the passing breeze. This hour he glows in the blush of health and vigour\, but the next he may be counted with the number no more known on earth.\n\nAlthough in a low state of heal th\, Mrs. Carlton had the pleasure of seeing all her slaves\, except Sam a nd three others\, start for a land of freedom. The morning they were to go on board the steamer\, bound for Louisville\, they all assembled on the l arge grass plot\, in front of the drawing-room window\, and wept while the y bid their mistress farewell. When they were on the boat\, about leaving the wharf\, they were heard giving the charge to those on shore—\"Sam\, take care of Misus\, take care of Marser\, as you love us\, and hope to me et us in de Hio (Ohio)\, and in heben\; be sure and take good care of Misu s and Marser.\"\n\nIn less than a week after her emancipated people had st arted for Ohio\, Mrs. Carlton was cold in death. Mr. Carlton felt deeply\, as all husbands must who love their wives\, the loss of her who had been a lamp to his feet\, and a light to his path. She had converted him from i nfidelity to Christianity\; from the mere theory of liberty to practical f reedom. He had looked upon the Negro as an ill-treated distant link of the human family\; he now regarded them as a part of God's children. Oh\, wha t a silence pervaded the house when the Christian had been removed. His in deed was a lonesome position.\n\n \"'Twas midnight\, and he sat alone\n The husband of the dead\,\nThat day the dark dust had been thrown\n Upon the buried head.\"\n\nIn the midst of the buoyancy of youth\, t his cherished one had drooped and died. Deep were the sounds of grief and mourning heard in that stately dwelling\, when the stricken friends\, whos e office it had been to nurse and soothe the weary sufferer\, beheld her p ale and motionless in the sleep of death.\n\nOh what a chill creeps throug h the breaking heart when we look upon the insensible form\, and feel that it no longer contains the spirit we so dearly loved! How difficult to rea lise that the eye which always glowed with affection and intelligence\; th at the ear which had so often listened to the sounds of sorrow and gladnes s\; that the voice whose accents had been to us like sweet music\, and the heart\, the habitation of benevolence and truth\, are now powerless and i nsensate as the bier upon which the form rests. Though faith be strong eno ugh to penetrate the cloud of gloom which hovers near\, and to behold the freed spirit safe\, for ever\, safe in its home in heaven\, yet the though ts will linger sadly and cheerlessly upon the grave.\n\nPeace to her ashes ! she fought the fight\, obtained the Christian's victory\, and wears the crown. But if it were that departed spirits are permitted to note the occu rrences of this world\, with what a frown of disapprobation would hers vie w the effort being made in the United States to retard the work of emancip ation for which she laboured and so wished to see brought about.\n\nIn wha t light would she consider that hypocritical priesthood who gave their aid and sanction to the infamous \"Fugitive Slave Law.\" If true greatness co nsists in doing good to mankind\, then was Georgiana Carlton an ornament t o human nature. Who can think of the broken hearts made whole\, of sad and dejected countenances now beaming with contentment and joy\, of the mothe r offering her free-born babe to heaven\, and of the father whose cup of j oy seems overflowing in the presence of his family\, where none can molest or make him afraid. Oh\, that God may give more such persons to take the whip-scarred Negro by the hand\, and raise him to a level with our common humanity! May the professed lovers of freedom in the new world see that tr ue liberty is freedom for all! and may every American continually hear it sounding in his ear:—\n\n \"Shall every flap of England's flag\n Procla im that all around are free\,\nFrom 'farthest Ind' to each blue crag\n Th at beetles o'er the Western Sea?\nAnd shall we scoff at Europe's kings\,\n When Freedom's fire is dim with us\,\n And round our country's altar clin gs\nThe damning shade of Slavery's curse?\"\n\nCHAPTER XXII\nA RIDE IN A S TAGE-COACH\nWE shall now return to Cincinnati\, where we left Clotel prepa ring to go to Richmond in search of her daughter. Tired of the disguise in which she had escaped\, she threw it off on her arrival at Cincinnati. Bu t being assured that not a shadow of safety would attend her visit to a ci ty in which she was well known\, unless in some disguise\, she again resum ed men's apparel on leaving Cincinnati. This time she had more the appeara nce of an Italian or Spanish gentleman. In addition to the fine suit of bl ack cloth\, a splendid pair of dark false whiskers covered the sides of he r face\, while the curling moustache found its place upon the upper lip. F rom practice she had become accustomed to high-heeled boots\, and could wa lk without creating any suspicion as regarded her sex. It was a cold eveni ng that Clotel arrived at Wheeling\, and took a seat in the coach going to Richmond. She was already in the state of Virginia\, yet a long distance from the place of her destination.\n\nA ride in a stage-coach\, over an Am erican road\, is unpleasant under the most favourable circumstances. But n ow that it was winter\, and the roads unusually bad\, the journey was stil l more dreary. However\, there were eight passengers in the coach\, and I need scarcely say that such a number of genuine Americans could not be tog ether without whiling away the time somewhat pleasantly. Besides Clotel\, there was an elderly gentleman with his two daughters—one apparently und er twenty years\, the other a shade above. The pale\, spectacled face of a nother slim\, tall man\, with a white neckerchief\, pointed him out as a m inister. The rough featured\, dark countenance of a stout looking man\, wi th a white hat on one side of his head\, told that he was from the sunny S outh. There was nothing remarkable about the other two\, who might pass fo r ordinary American gentlemen. It was on the eve of a presidential electio n\, when every man is thought to be a politician. Clay\, Van Buren\, and H arrison were the men who expected the indorsement of the Baltimore Convent ion. \"Who does this town go for?\" asked the old gent with the ladies\, a s the coach drove up to an inn\, where groups of persons were waiting for the latest papers. \"We are divided\,\" cried the rough voice of one of th e outsiders. \"Well\, who do you think will get the majority here?\" conti nued the old gent. \"Can't tell very well\; I go for 'Old Tip\,'\" was the answer from without. This brought up the subject fairly before the passen gers\, and when the coach again started a general discussion commenced\, i n which all took a part except Clotel and the young ladies. Some were for Clay\, some for Van Buren\, and others for \"Old Tip.\" The coach stopped to take in a real farmer-looking man\, who no sooner entered than he was s aluted with \"Do you go for Clay?\" \"No\,\" was the answer. \"Do you go f or Van Buren?\" \"No.\" \"Well\, then\, of course you will go for Harrison .\" \"No.\" \"Why\, don't you mean to work for any of them at the election ?\" \"No.\" \"Well\, who will you work for?\" asked one of the company. \" I work for Betsy and the children\, and I have a hard job of it at that\,\ " replied the farmer\, without a smile. This answer\, as a matter of cours e\, set the new corner down as one upon whom the rest of the passengers co uld crack their jokes with the utmost impunity. \"Are you an Odd Fellow?\" asked one. \"No\, sir\, I've been married more than a month.\" \"I mean\, do you belong to the order of Odd Fellows?\" \"No\, no\; I belong to the order of married men.\" \"Are you a mason?\" \"No\, I am a carpenter by tr ade.\" \"Are you a Son of Temperance?\" \"Bother you\, no\; I am a son of Mr. John Gosling.\" After a hearty laugh in which all joined\, the subject of Temperance became the theme for discussion. In this the spectacled gen t was at home. He soon showed that he was a New Englander\, and went the w hole length of the \"Maine Law.\" The minister was about having it all his own way\, when the Southerner\, in the white hat\, took the opposite side of the question. \"I don't bet a red cent on these teetotlars\,\" said he \, and at the same time looking round to see if he had the approbation of the rest of the company. \"Why?\" asked the minister. \"Because they are a set who are afraid to spend a cent. They are a bad lot\, the whole on 'em .\" It was evident that the white hat gent was an uneducated man. The mini ster commenced in full earnest\, and gave an interesting account of the pr ogress of temperance in Connecticut\, the state from which he came\, provi ng\, that a great portion of the prosperity of the state was attributable to the disuse of intoxicating drinks. Every one thought the white hat had got the worst of the argument\, and that he was settled for the remainder of the night. But not he\; he took fresh courage and began again. \"Now\,\ " said he\, \"I have just been on a visit to my uncle's in Vermont\, and I guess I knows a little about these here teetotlars. You see\, I went up t here to make a little stay of a fortnight. I got there at night\, and they seemed glad to see me\, but they didn't give me a bit of anything to drin k. Well\, thinks I to myself\, the jig's up: I sha'n't get any more liquor till I get out of the state.\" We all sat up till twelve o'clock that nig ht\, and I heard nothing but talk about the 'Juvinal Temperence Army\,' th e 'Band of Hope\,' the 'Rising Generation\,' the 'Female Dorcas Temperance Society\,' 'The None Such\,' and I don't know how many other names they d idn't have. As I had taken several pretty large 'Cock Tails' before I ente red the state\, I thought upon the whole that I would not spite for the wa nt of liquor. The next morning\, I commenced writing back to my friends\, and telling them what's what. Aunt Polly said\, 'Well\, Johnny\, I s'pose you are given 'em a pretty account of us all here.' 'Yes\,' said I\; I am tellin' 'em if they want anything to drink when they come up here\, they h ad better bring it with 'em.' 'Oh\,' said aunty\, 'they would search their boxes\; can't bring any spirits in the state.' Well\, as I was saying\, j ist as I got my letters finished\, and was going to the post office (for u ncle's house was two miles from the town)\, aunty says\, 'Johnny\, I s'pos e you'll try to get a little somethin' to drink in town won't you?' Says I \, 'I s'pose it's no use. 'No\,' said she\, 'you can't\; it ain't to be ha d no how\, for love nor money.' So jist as I was puttin' on my hat\, 'John ny\,' cries out aunty\, 'What\,' says I. 'Now I'll tell you\, I don't want you to say nothin' about it\, but I keeps a little rum to rub my head wit h\, for I am troubled with the headache\; now I don't want you to mention it for the world\, but I'll give you a little taste\, the old man is such a teetotaller\, that I should never hear the last of it\, and I would not like for the boys to know it\, they are members of the \"Cold Water Army.\ "'\n\n\"Aunty now brought out a black bottle and gave me a cup\, and told me to help myself\, which I assure you I did. I now felt ready to face the cold. As I was passing the barn I heard uncle thrashing oats\, so I went to the door and spoke to him. 'Come in\, John\,' says he. 'No\,' said I\; 'I am goin' to post some letters\,' for I was afraid that he would smell m y breath if I went too near to him. 'Yes\, yes\, come in.' So I went in\, and says he\, 'It's now eleven o'clock\; that's about the time you take yo ur grog\, I s'pose\, when you are at home.' 'Yes\,' said I. 'I am sorry fo r you\, my lad\; you can't get anything up here\; you can't even get it at the chemist's\, except as medicine\, and then you must let them mix it an d you take it in their presence.' 'This is indeed hard\,' replied I\; 'Wel l\, it can't be helped\,' continued he: 'and it ought not to be if it coul d. It's best for society\; people's better off without drink. I recollect when your father and I\, thirty years ago\, used to go out on a spree and spend more than half a dollar in a night. Then here's the rising generatio n\; there's nothing like settin' a good example. Look how healthy your cou sins are there's Benjamin\, he never tasted spirits in his life. Oh\, John \, I would you were a teetotaller.' 'I suppose\,' said I\, 'I'll have to b e one till I leave the state.' 'Now\,' said he\, 'John\, I don't want you to mention it\, for your aunt would go into hysterics if she thought there was a drop of intoxicating liquor about the place\, and I would not have the boys to know it for anything\, but I keep a little brandy to rub my jo ints for the rheumatics\, and being it's you\, I'll give you a little dust .' So the old man went to one corner of the barn\, took out a brown jug an d handed it to me\, and I must say it was a little the best cognac that I had tasted for many a day. Says I\, 'Uncle\, you are a good judge of brand y.' 'Yes\,' said he\, 'I learned when I was young.' So off I started for t he post office. In returnin' I thought I'd jist go through the woods where the boys were chopping wood\, and wait and go to the house with them when they went to dinner. I found them hard at work\, but as merry as crickets . 'Well\, cousin John\, are you done writing?' 'Yes\,' answered I. 'Have y ou posted them?' 'Yes.' 'Hope you didn't go to any place inquiring for gro g.' 'No\, I knowed it was no good to do that.' 'I suppose a cock-tail woul d taste good now.' 'Well\, I guess it would\,' says I. The three boys then joined in a hearty laugh. 'I suppose you have told 'em that we are a dry set up here?' 'Well\, I ain't told em anything else.' 'Now\, cousin John\, ' said Edward\, 'if you wont say anything\, we will give you a small taste . For mercy's sake don't let father or mother know it\; they are such rabi d teetotallers\, that they would not sleep a wink to-night if they thought there was any spirits about the place.' 'I am mum\,' says I. And the boys took a jug out of a hollow stump\, and gave me some first-rate peach bran dy. And during the fortnight that I was in Vermont\, with my teetotal rela tions\, I was kept about as well corned as if I had been among my hot wate r friends in Tennessee.\"\n\nThis narrative\, given by the white hat man\, was received with unbounded applause by all except the pale gent in spect acles\, who showed\, by the way in which he was running his fingers betwee n his cravat and throat\, that he did not intend to \"give it up so.\" The white hat gent was now the lion of the company.\n\n\"Oh\, you did not get hold of the right kind of teetotallers\,\" said the minister. \"I can giv e you a tale worth a dozen of yours\, continued he. \"Look at society in t he states where temperance views prevail\, and you will there see real hap piness. The people are taxed less\, the poor houses are shut up for want o f occupants\, and extreme destitution is unknown. Every one who drinks at all is liable to become an habitual drunkard. Yes\, I say boldly\, that no man living who uses intoxicating drinks\, is free from the danger of at l east occasional\, and if of occasional\, ultimately of habitual excess. Th ere seems to be no character\, position\, or circumstances that free men f rom the danger. I have known many young men of the finest promise\, led by the drinking habit into vice\, ruin\, and early death. I have known many tradesmen whom it has made bankrupt. I have known Sunday scholars whom it has led to prison-teachers\, and even superintendents\, whom it has dragge d down to profligacy. I have known ministers of high academic honours\, of splendid eloquence\, nay\, of vast usefulness\, whom it has fascinated\, and hurried over the precipice of public infamy with their eyes open\, and gazing with horror on their fate. I have known men of the strongest and c learest intellect and of vigorous resolution\, whom it has made weaker tha n children and fools—gentlemen of refinement and taste whom it has debas ed into brutes—poets of high genius whom it has bound in a bondage worse than the galleys\, and ultimately cut short their days. I have known stat esmen\, lawyers\, and judges whom it has killed—kind husbands and father s whom it has turned into monsters. I have known honest men whom it has ma de villains\; elegant and Christian ladies whom it has converted into bloa ted sots.\"\n\n\"But you talk too fast\,\" replied the white hat man. \"Yo u don't give a feller a chance to say nothin'.\"\n\n\"I heard you\,\" cont inued the minister\, \"and now you hear me out. It is indeed wonderful how people become lovers of strong drink. Some years since\, before I became a teetotaller I kept spirits about the house\, and I had a servant who was much addicted to strong drink. He used to say that he could not make my b oots shine\, without mixing the blacking with whiskey. So to satisfy mysel f that the whiskey was put in the blacking\, one morning I made him bring the dish in which he kept the blacking\, and poured in the whiskey myself. And now\, sir\, what do you think?\" \"Why\, I s'pose your boots shined b etter than before\,\" replied the white hat. \"No\,\" continued the minist er. \"He took the blacking out\, and I watched him\, and he drank down the whiskey\, blacking\, and all.\"\n\nThis turned the joke upon the advocate of strong drink\, and he began to put his wits to work for arguments. \"Y ou are from Connecticut\, are you?\" asked the Southerner. \"Yes\, and we are an orderly\, pious\, peaceable people. Our holy religion is respected\ , and we do more for the cause of Christ than the whole Southern States pu t together.\" \"I don't doubt it\,\" said the white hat gent. \"You sell w ooden nutmegs and other spurious articles enough to do some good. You talk of your 'holy religion'\; but your robes' righteousness are woven at Lowe ll and Manchester\; your paradise is high per centum on factory stocks\; y our palms of victory and crowns of rejoicing are triumphs over a rival par ty in politics\, on the questions of banks and tariffs. If you could\, you would turn heaven into Birmingham\, make every angel a weaver\, and with the eternal din of looms and spindles drown all the anthems of the morning stars. Ah! I know you Connecticut people like a book. No\, no\, all hoss\ ; you can't come it on me.\" This last speech of the rough featured man ag ain put him in the ascendant\, and the spectacled gent once more ran his f ingers between his cravat and throat. \"You live in Tennessee\, I think\,\ " said the minister. \"Yes\,\" replied the Southerner\, \"I used to live i n Orleans\, but now I claim to be a Tennessean.\" \"Your people of New Orl eans are the most ungodly set in the United States\,\" said the minister. Taking a New Orleans newspaper from his pocket he continued\, \"Just look here\, there are not less than three advertisements of bull fights to take place on the Sabbath. You people of the Slave States have no regard for t he Sabbath\, religion\, morality or anything else intended to\, make manki nd better.\" Here Clotel could have borne ample testimony\, had she dared to have taken sides with the Connecticut man. Her residence in Vicksburgh had given her an opportunity of knowing something of the character of the inhabitants of the far South. \"Here is an account of a grand bull fight t hat took place in New Orleans a week ago last Sunday. I will read it to yo u.\" And the minister read aloud the following:\n\n\"Yesterday\, pursuant to public notice\, came off at Gretna\, opposite the Fourth District\, the long heralded fight between the famous grizzly bear\, General Jackson (vi ctor in fifty battles)\, and the Attakapas bull\, Santa Anna.\n\n\"The fam e of the coming conflict had gone forth to the four winds\, and women and children\, old men and boys\, from all parts of the city\, and from the br eezy banks of Lake Pontchartrain and Borgne\, brushed up their Sunday suit \, and prepared to ace the fun. Long before the published hour\, the quiet streets of the rural Gretna were filled with crowds of anxious denizens\, flocking to the arena\, and before the fight commenced\, such a crowd had collected as Gretna had not seen\, nor will be likely to see again.\n\n\" The arena for the sports was a cage\, twenty feet square\, built upon the ground\, and constructed of heavy timbers and iron bars. Around it were se ats\, circularly placed\, and intended to accommodate many thousands. Abou t four or five-thousand persons assembled\, covering the seats as with a C loud\, and crowding down around the cage\, were within reach of the bars.\ n\n\"The bull selected to sustain the honour and verify the pluck of Attak apas on this trying occasion was a black animal from the Opelousas\, lithe and sinewy as a four year old courser\, and with eyes like burning coals. His horns bore the appearance of having been filed at the tips\, and want ed that keen and slashing appearance so common with others of his kith and kin\; otherwise it would have been 'all day' with Bruin—at the first pa ss\, and no mistake.\n\n\"The bear was an animal of note\, and called Gene ral Jackson\, from the fact of his licking up everything that came in his way\, and taking 'the responsibility' on all occasions. He was a wicked lo oking beast\, very lean and unamiable in aspect\, with hair all standing t he wrong way. He had fought some fifty bulls (so they said)\, always comin g out victorious\, but that neither one of the fifty had been an Attakapas bull\, the bills of the performances did not say. Had he tackled Attakapa s first it is likely his fifty battles would have remained unfought.\n\n\" About half past four o'clock the performances commenced.\n\n\"The bull was first seen\, standing in the cage alone\, with head erect\, and looking a very monarch in his capacity. At an appointed signal\, a cage containing the bear was placed alongside the arena\, and an opening being made\, brui n stalked into the battle ground—not\, however\, without sundry stirring s up with a ten foot pole\, he being experienced in such matters\, and bac kwards in raising a row.\n\n\"Once on the battle-field\, both animals stoo d\, like wary champions\, eyeing each other\, the bear cowering low\, with head upturned and fangs exposed\, while Attakapas stood wondering\, with his eye dilated\, lashing his sides with his long and bushy tail\, and paw ing up the earth in very wrath.\n\n\"The bear seemed little inclined to be gin the attack\, and the bull\, standing a moment\, made steps first backw ard and then forward\, as if measuring his antagonist\, and meditating whe re to plant a blow. Bruin wouldn't come to the scratch no way\, till one o f the keepers\, with an iron rod\, tickled his ribs and made him move. See ing this\, Attakapas took it as a hostile demonstration\, and\, gathering his strength\, dashed savagely at the enemy\, catching him on the points o f his horns\, and doubling him up like a sack of bran against the bars. Br uin 'sung out' at this\, 'and made a dash for his opponent's nose.'\n\n\"M issing this\, the bull turned to the 'about face\,' and the bear caught hi m by the ham\, inflicting a ghastly wound. But Attakapas with a kick shook him off\, and renewing the attack\, went at him again\, head on and with a rush. This time he was not so fortunate\, for the bear caught him above the eye\, burying his fangs in the tough hide\, and holding him as in a vi ce. It was now the bull's turn to 'sing out\,' and he did it\, bellowing f orth with a voice more hideous than that of all the bulls of Bashan. Some minutes stood matters thus\, and the cries of the bull\, mingled with the hoarse growls of the bear\, made hideous music\, fit only for a dance of d evils. Then came a pause (the bear having relinquished his hold)\, and for a few minutes it was doubtful whether the fun was not up. But the magic w and of the keeper (the ten foot pole) again stirred up bruin\, and at it t hey went\, and with a rush.\n\n\"Bruin now tried to fasten on the bull's b ack\, and drove his tusks in him in several places\, making the red blood flow like wine from the vats of Luna. But Attakapas was pluck to the back bone\, and\, catching bruin on the tips of his horns\, shuffled him up rig ht merrily\, making the fur fly like feathers in a gale of wind. Bruin cri ed 'Nuff' (in bear language)\, but the bull followed up his advantage\, an d\, making one furious plunge full at the figure head of the enemy\, struc k a horn into his eye\, burying it there\, and dashing the tender organ in to darkness and atoms. Blood followed the blow\, and poor bruin\, blinded\ , bleeding\, and in mortal agony\, turned with a howl to leave\, but Attak apas caught him in the retreat\, and rolled him over like a ball. Over and over again this rolling over was enacted\, and finally\, after more than an hour\, bruin curled himself up on his back\, bruised\, bloody\, and dea d beat. The thing was up with California\, and Attakapas was declared the victor amidst the applause of the multitude that made the heavens ring.\"\ n\n\"There\,\" said he\, \"can you find anything against Connecticut equal to that?\" The Southerner had to admit that he was beat by the Yankee. Du ring all this time\, it must not be supposed that the old gent with the tw o daughters\, and even the young ladies themselves\, had been silent. Clot el and they had not only given their opinions as regarded the merits of th e discussion\, but that sly glance of the eye\, which is ever given where the young of both sexes meet\, had been freely at work. The American ladie s are rather partial to foreigners\, and Clotel had the appearance of a fi ne Italian. The old gentleman was now near his home\, and a whisper from t he eldest daughter\, who was unmarried but marriageable\, induced him to e xtend to \"Mr. Johnson\" an invitation to stop and spend a week with the y oung ladies at their family residence. Clotel excused herself upon various grounds\, and at last\, to cut short the matter\, promised that she would pay them a visit on her return. The arrival of the coach at Lynchburgh se parated the young ladies from the Italian gent\, and the coach again resum ed its journey.\n\nCHAPTER XXIII\nTRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION\n \"Is the poor privilege to turn the key\n Upon the captive\, freedom? He's as far\n From the enjoyment of the earth and air\n Who watches o'er t he chains\, as they who wear.\"\n\nDURING certain seasons of the year\, al l tropical climates are subject to epidemics of a most destructive nature. The inhabitants of New Orleans look with as much certainty for the appear ance of the yellow-fever\, small-pox\, or cholera\, in the hot season\, as the Londoner does for fog in the month of November. In the summer of 1831 \, the people of New Orleans were visited with one of these epidemics. It appeared in a form unusually repulsive and deadly. It seized persons who w ere in health\, without any premonition. Sometimes death was the immediate consequence. The disorder began in the brain\, by an oppressive pain acco mpanied or followed by fever. The patient was devoured with burning thirst . The stomach\, distracted by pains\, in vain sought relief in efforts to disburden itself. Fiery veins streaked the eye\; the face was inflamed\, a nd dyed of a dark dull red colour\; the ears from time to time rang painfu lly. Now mucous secretions surcharged the tongue\, and took away the power of speech\; now the sick one spoke\, but in speaking had a foresight of d eath. When the violence of the disease approached the heart\, the gums wer e blackened. The sleep\, broken\, troubled by convulsions\, or by frightfu l visions\, was worse than the waking hours\; and when the reason sank und er a delirium which had its seat in the brain\, repose utterly forsook the patient's couch. The progress of the heat within was marked by yellowish spots\, which spread over the surface of the body. If\, then\, a happy cri sis came not\, all hope was gone. Soon the breath infected the air with a fetid odour\, the lips were glazed\, despair painted itself in the eyes\, and sobs\, with long intervals of silence\, formed the only language. From each side of the mouth spread foam\, tinged with black and burnt blood. B lue streaks mingled with the yellow all over the frame. All remedies were useless. This was the Yellow Fever. The disorder spread alarm and confusio n throughout the city. On an average\, more than 400 died daily. In the mi dst of disorder and confusion\, death heaped victims on victims. Friend fo llowed friend in quick succession. The sick were avoided from the fear of contagion\, and for the same reason the dead were left unburied. Nearly 20 00 dead bodies lay uncovered in the burial-ground\, with only here and the re a little lime thrown over them\, to prevent the air becoming infected.\ n\nThe Negro\, whose home is in a hot climate\, was not proof against the disease. Many plantations had to suspend their work for want of slaves to take the places of those carried off by the fever. Henry Morton and wife w ere among the thirteen thousand swept away by the raging disorder that yea r. Like too many\, Morton had been dealing extensively in lands and stocks \; and though apparently in good circumstances was\, in reality\, deeply i nvolved in debt. Althesa\, although as white as most white women in a sout hern clime\, was\, as we already know\, born a slave. By the laws of all t he Southern States the children follow the condition of the mother. If the mother is free the children are free\; if a slave\, they are slaves. Mort on was unacquainted with the laws of the land\; and although he had marrie d Althesa\, it was a marriage which the law did not recognise\; and theref ore she whom he thought to be his wife was\, in fact\, nothing more than h is slave. What would have been his feelings had he known this\, and also k nown that his two daughters\, Ellen and Jane\, were his slaves? Yet such w as the fact. After the disappearance of the disease with which Henry Morto n had so suddenly been removed\, his brother went to New Orleans to give w hat aid he could in settling up the affairs. James Morton\, on his arrival in New Orleans\, felt proud of his nieces\, and promised them a home with his own family in Vermont\; little dreaming that his brother had married a slave woman\, and that his nieces were slaves. The girls themselves had never heard that their mother had been a slave\, and therefore knew nothin g of the danger hanging over their heads. An inventory of the property was made out by James Morton\, and placed in the hands of the creditors\; and the young ladies\, with their uncle\, were about leaving the city to resi de for a few days on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain\, where they could en joy a fresh air that the city could not afford. But just as they were abou t taking the train\, an officer arrested the whole party\; the young ladie s as slaves\, and the uncle upon the charge of attempting to conceal the p roperty of his deceased brother. Morton was overwhelmed with horror at the idea of his nieces being claimed as slaves\, and asked for time\, that he might save them from such a fate. He even offered to mortgage his little farm in Vermont for the amount which young slave women of their ages would fetch. But the creditors pleaded that they were \"an extra article\,\" an d would sell for more than common slaves\; and must\, therefore\, be sold at auction. They were given up\, but neither ate nor slept\, nor separated from each other\, till they were taken into the New Orleans slave market\ , where they were offered to the highest bidder. There they stood\, trembl ing\, blushing\, and weeping\; compelled to listen to the grossest languag e\, and shrinking from the rude hands that examined the graceful proportio ns of their beautiful frames.\n\nAfter a fierce contest between the bidder s\, the young ladies were sold\, one for 2\,300 dollars\, and the other fo r 3\,000 dollars. We need not add that had those young girls been sold for mere house servants or field hands\, they would not have brought one half the sums they did. The fact that they were the grand-daughters of Thomas Jefferson\, no doubt\, increased their value in the market. Here were two of the softer sex\, accustomed to the fondest indulgence\, surrounded by a ll the refinements of life\, and with all the timidity that such a life co uld produce\, bartered away like cattle in Smithfield market. Ellen\, the eldest\, was sold to an old gentleman\, who purchased her\, as he said\, f or a housekeeper. The girl was taken to his residence\, nine miles from th e city. She soon\, however\, knew for what purpose she had been bought\; a nd an educated and cultivated mind and taste\, which made her see and unde rstand how great was her degradation\, now armed her hand with the ready m eans of death. The morning after her arrival\, she was found in her chambe r\, a corpse. She had taken poison. Jane was purchased by a dashing young man\, who had just come into the possession of a large fortune. The very a ppearance of the young Southerner pointed him out as an unprincipled profl igate\; and the young girl needed no one to tell her of her impending doom . The young maid of fifteen was immediately removed to his country seat\, near the junction of the Mississippi river with the sea. This was a most s ingular spot\, remote\, in a dense forest spreading over the summit of a c liff that rose abruptly to a great height above the sea\; but so grand in its situation\, in the desolate sublimity which reigned around\, in the re verential murmur of the waves that washed its base\, that\, though picture sque\, it was a forest prison. Here the young lady saw no one\, except an old Negress who acted as her servant. The smiles with which the young man met her were indignantly spurned. But she was the property of another\, an d could hope for justice and mercy only through him.\n\nJane\, though only in her fifteenth year\, had become strongly attached to Volney Lapuc\, a young Frenchman\, a student in her father's office. The poverty of the you ng man\, and the youthful age of the girl\, had caused their feelings to b e kept from the young lady's parents. At the death of his master\, Volney had returned to his widowed mother at Mobile\, and knew nothing of the mis fortune that had befallen his mistress\, until he received a letter from h er. But how could he ever obtain a sight of her\, even if he wished\, lock ed up as she was in her master's mansion? After several days of what her m aster termed \"obstinacy\" on her part\, the young girl was placed in an u pper chamber\, and told that that would be her home\, until she should yie ld to her master's wishes. There she remained more than a fortnight\, and with the exception of a daily visit from her master\, she saw no one but t he old Negress who waited upon her. One bright moonlight evening as she wa s seated at the window\, she perceived the figure of a man beneath her win dow. At first\, she thought it was her master\; but the tall figure of the stranger soon convinced her that it was another. Yes\, it was Volney! He had no sooner received her letter\, than he set out for New Orleans\; and finding on his arrival there\, that his mistress had been taken away\, res olved to follow her. There he was\; but how could she communicate with him ? She dared not trust the old Negress with her secret\, for fear that it m ight reach her master. Jane wrote a hasty note and threw it out of the win dow\, which was eagerly picked up by the young man\, and he soon disappear ed in the woods. Night passed away in dreariness to her\, and the next mor ning she viewed the spot beneath her window with the hope of seeing the fo otsteps of him who had stood there the previous night. Evening returned\, and with it the hope of again seeing the man she loved. In this she was no t disappointed\; for daylight had scarcely disappeared\, and the moon once more rising through the tops of the tall trees\, when the young man was s een in the same place as on the previous night. He had in his hand a rope ladder. As soon as Jane saw this\, she took the sheets from her bed\, tore them into strings\, tied them together\, and let one end down the side of the house. A moment more\, and one end of the rope ladder was in her hand \, and she fastened it inside the room. Soon the young maiden was seen des cending\, and the enthusiastic lover\, with his arms extended\, waiting to receive his mistress. The planter had been out on an hunting excursion\, and returning home\, saw his victim as her lover was receiving her in his arms. At this moment the sharp sound of a rifle was heard\, and the young man fell weltering in his blood\, at the feet of his mistress. Jane fell s enseless by his side. For many days she had a confused consciousness of so me great agony\, but knew not where she was\, or by whom surrounded. The s low recovery of her reason settled into the most intense melancholy\, whic h gained at length the compassion even of her cruel master. The beautiful bright eyes\, always pleading in expression\, were now so heart-piercing i n their sadness\, that he could not endure their gaze. In a few days the p oor girl died of a broken heart\, and was buried at night at the back of t he garden by the Negroes\; and no one wept at the grave of her who had bee n so carefully cherished\, and so tenderly beloved.\n\nThis\, reader\, is an unvarnished narrative of one doomed by the laws of the Southern States to be a slave. It tells not only its own story of grief\, but speaks of a thousand wrongs and woes beside\, which never see the light\; all the more bitter and dreadful\, because no help can relieve\, no sympathy can mitig ate\, and no hope can cheer.\n\nCHAPTER XXIV\nTHE ARREST\n\"The fearful st orm—it threatens lowering\,\n Which God in mercy long delays\;\nSlav es yet may see their masters cowering\,\nWhile whole plantations smoke and blaze!\"\n\n—Carter.\n\nIT was late in the evening when the coach arriv ed at Richmond\, and Clotel once more alighted in her native city. She had intended to seek lodging somewhere in the outskirts of the town\, but the lateness of the hour compelled her to stop at one of the principal hotels for the night. She had scarcely entered the inn\, when she recognised amo ng the numerous black servants one to whom she was well known\; and her on ly hope was\, that her disguise would keep her from being discovered. The imperturbable calm and entire forgetfulness of self which induced Clotel t o visit a place from which she could scarcely hope to escape\, to attempt the rescue of a beloved child\, demonstrate that overwillingness of woman to carry out the promptings of the finer feelings of her heart. True to wo man's nature\, she had risked her own liberty for another.\n\nShe remained in the hotel during the night\, and the next morning\, under the plea of illness\, she took her breakfast alone. That day the fugitive slave paid a visit to the suburbs of the town\, and once more beheld the cottage in wh ich she had spent so many happy hours. It was winter\, and the clematis an d passion flower were not there\; but there were the same walks she had so often pressed with her feet\, and the same trees which had so often shade d her as she passed through the garden at the back of the house. Old remem brances rushed upon her memory\, and caused her to shed tears freely. Clot el was now in her native town\, and near her daughter\; but how could she communicate with her? How could she see her? To have made herself known\, would have been a suicidal act\; betrayal would have followed\, and she ar rested. Three days had passed away\, and Clotel still remained in the hote l at which she had first put up\; and yet she had got no tidings of her ch ild. Unfortunately for Clotel\, a disturbance had just broken out amongst the slave population in the state of Virginia\, and all strangers were eye d with suspicion.\n\nThe evils consequent on slavery are not lessened by t he incoming of one or two rays of light. If the slave only becomes aware o f his condition\, and conscious of the injustice under which he suffers\, if he obtains but a faint idea of these things\, he will seize the first o pportunity to possess himself of what he conceives to belong to him. The i nfusion of Anglo-Saxon with African blood has created an insurrectionary f eeling among the slaves of America hitherto unknown. Aware of their blood connection with their owners\, these mulattoes labour under the sense of t heir personal and social injuries\; and tolerate\, if they do not encourag e in themselves\, low and vindictive passions. On the other hand\, the sla ve owners are aware of their critical position\, and are ever watchful\, a lways fearing an outbreak among the slaves.\n\nTrue\, the Free States are equally bound with the Slave States to suppress any insurrectionary moveme nt that may take place among the slaves. The Northern freemen are bound by their constitutional obligations to aid the slaveholder in keeping his sl aves in their chains. Yet there are\, at the time we write\, four millions of bond slaves in the United States. The insurrection to which we now ref er was headed by a full-blooded Negro\, who had been born and brought up a slave. He had heard the twang of the driver's whip\, and saw the warm blo od streaming from the Negro's body\; he had witnessed the separation of pa rents and children\, and was made aware\, by too many proofs\, that the sl ave could expect no justice at the hand of the slave owner. He went by the name of \"Nat Turner.\" He was a preacher amongst the Negroes\, and disti nguished for his eloquence\, respected by the whites\, and loved and vener ated by the Negroes. On the discovery of the plan for the outbreak\, Turne r fled to the swamps\, followed by those who had joined in the insurrectio n. Here the revolted Negroes numbered some hundreds\, and for a time bade defiance to their oppressors. The Dismal Swamps cover many thousands of ac res of wild land\, and a dense forest\, with wild animals and insects\, su ch as are unknown in any other part of Virginia. Here runaway Negroes usua lly seek a hiding place\, and some have been known to reside here for year s. The revolters were joined by one of these. He was a large\, tall\, full -blooded Negro\, with a stern and savage countenance\; the marks on his fa ce showed that he was from one of the barbarous tribes in Africa\, and cla imed that country as his native land\; his only covering was a girdle arou nd his loins\, made of skins of wild beasts which he had killed\; his only token of authority among those that he led\, was a pair of epaulettes mad e from the tail of a fox\, and tied to his shoulder by a cord. Brought fro m the coast of Africa when only fifteen years of age to the island of Cuba \, he was smuggled from thence into Virginia. He had been two years in the swamps\, and considered it his future home. He had met a Negro woman who was also a runaway\; and\, after the fashion of his native land\, had gone through the process of oiling her as the marriage ceremony. They had buil t a cave on a rising mound in the swamp\; this was their home. His name wa s Picquilo. His only weapon was a sword\, made from the blade of a scythe\ , which he had stolen from a neighbouring plantation. His dress\, his char acter\, his manners\, his mode of fighting\, were all in keeping with the early training he had received in the land of his birth. He moved about wi th the activity of a cat\, and neither the thickness of the trees\, nor th e depth of the water could stop him. He was a bold\, turbulent spirit\; an d from revenge imbrued his hands in the blood of all the whites he could m eet. Hunger\, thirst\, fatigue\, and loss of sleep he seemed made to endur e as if by peculiarity of constitution. His air was fierce\, his step obli que\, his look sanguinary. Such was the character of one of the leaders in the Southampton insurrection. All Negroes were arrested who were found be yond their master's threshhold\, and all strange whites watched with a gre at degree of alacrity.\n\nSuch was the position in which Clotel found affa irs when she returned to Virginia in search of her Mary. Had not the slave owners been watchful of strangers\, owing to the outbreak\, the fugitive c ould not have escaped the vigilance of the police\; for advertisements\, a nnouncing her escape and offering a large reward for her arrest\, had been received in the city previous to her arrival\, and the officers were ther efore on the look-out for the runaway slave. It was on the third day\, as the quadroon was seated in her room at the inn\, still in the disguise of a gentleman\, that two of the city officers entered the room\, and informe d her that they were authorised to examine all strangers\, to assure the a uthorities that they were not in league with the revolted Negroes. With tr embling heart the fugitive handed the key of her trunk to the officers. To their surprise\, they found nothing but woman's apparel in the box\, whic h raised their curiosity\, and caused a further investigation that resulte d in the arrest of Clotel as a fugitive slave. She was immediately conveye d to prison\, there to await the orders of her master. For many days\, unc heered by the voice of kindness\, alone\, hopeless\, desolate\, she waited for the time to arrive when the chains were to be placed on her limbs\, a nd she returned to her inhuman and unfeeling owner.\n\nThe arrest of the f ugitive was announced in all the newspapers\, but created little or no sen sation. The inhabitants were too much engaged in putting down the revolt a mong the slaves\; and although all the odds were against the insurgents\, the whites found it no easy matter\, with all their caution. Every day bro ught news of fresh outbreaks. Without scruple and without pity\, the white s massacred all blacks found beyond their owners' plantations: the Negroes \, in return\, set fire to houses\, and put those to death who attempted t o escape from the flames. Thus carnage was added to carnage\, and the bloo d of the whites flowed to avenge the blood of the blacks. These were the r avages of slavery. No graves were dug for the Negroes\; their dead bodies became food for dogs and vultures\, and their bones\, partly calcined by t he sun\, remained scattered about\, as if to mark the mournful fury of ser vitude and lust of power. When the slaves were subdued\, except a few in t he swamps\, bloodhounds were put in this dismal place to hunt out the rema ining revolters. Among the captured Negroes was one of whom we shall herea fter make mention.\n\nCHAPTER XXV\nDEATH IS FREEDOM\n \"I asked but freedom\, and ye gave\n Chains\, and the freedom of the grave.\"—Snelli ng.\n\nTHERE are\, in the district of Columbia\, several slave prisons\, o r \"Negro pens\,\" as they are termed. These prisons are mostly occupied b y persons to keep their slaves in\, when collecting their gangs together f or the New Orleans market. Some of them belong to the government\, and one \, in particular\, is noted for having been the place where a number of fr ee coloured persons have been incarcerated from time to time. In this dist rict is situated the capital of the United States. Any free coloured perso ns visiting Washington\, if not provided with papers asserting and proving their right to be free\, may be arrested and placed in one of these dens. If they succeed in showing that they are free\, they are set at liberty\, provided they are able to pay the expenses of their arrest and imprisonme nt\; if they cannot pay these expenses\, they are sold out. Through this u njust and oppressive law\, many persons born in the Free States have been consigned to a life of slavery on the cotton\, sugar\, or rice plantations of the Southern States. By order of her master\, Clotel was removed from Richmond and placed in one of these prisons\, to await the sailing of a ve ssel for New Orleans. The prison in which she was put stands midway betwee n the capitol at Washington and the President's house. Here the fugitive s aw nothing but slaves brought in and taken out\, to be placed in ships and sent away to the same part of the country to which she herself would soon be compelled to go. She had seen or heard nothing of her daughter while i n Richmond\, and all hope of seeing her now had fled. If she was carried b ack to New Orleans\, she could expect no mercy from her master.\n\nAt the dusk of the evening previous to the day when she was to be sent off\, as t he old prison was being closed for the night\, she suddenly darted past he r keeper\, and ran for her life. It is not a great distance from the priso n to the Long Bridge\, which passes from the lower part of the city across the Potomac\, to the extensive forests and woodlands of the celebrated Ar lington Place\, occupied by that distinguished relative and descendant of the immortal Washington\, Mr. George W. Custis. Thither the poor fugitive directed her flight. So unexpected was her escape\, that she had quite a n umber of rods the start before the keeper had secured the other prisoners\ , and rallied his assistants in pursuit. It was at an hour when\, and in a part of the city where\, horses could not be readily obtained for the cha se\; no bloodhounds were at hand to run down the flying woman\; and for on ce it seemed as though there was to be a fair trial of speed and endurance between the slave and the slave-catchers. The keeper and his forces raise d the hue and cry on her pathway close behind\; but so rapid was the fligh t along the wide avenue\, that the astonished citizens\, as they poured fo rth from their dwellings to learn the cause of alarm\, were only able to c omprehend the nature of the case in time to fall in with the motley mass i n pursuit (as many a one did that night)\, to raise an anxious prayer to h eaven\, as they refused to join in the pursuit\, that the panting fugitive might escape\, and the merciless soul dealer for once be disappointed of his prey. And now with the speed of an arrow—having passed the avenue— with the distance between her and her pursuers constantly increasing\, thi s poor hunted female gained the \"Long Bridge\,\" as it is called\, where interruption seemed improbable\, and already did her heart begin to beat h igh with the hope of success. She had only to pass three-fourths of a mile across the bridge\, and she could bury herself in a vast forest\, just at the time when the curtain of night would close around her\, and protect h er from the pursuit of her enemies.\n\nBut God by his Providence had other wise determined. He had determined that an appalling tragedy should be ena cted that night\, within plain sight of the President's house and the capi tol of the Union\, which should be an evidence wherever it should be known \, of the unconquerable love of liberty the heart may inherit\; as well as a fresh admonition to the slave dealer\, of the cruelty and enormity of h is crimes. Just as the pursuers crossed the high draw for the passage of s loops\, soon after entering upon the bridge\, they beheld three men slowly approaching from the Virginia side. They immediately called to them to ar rest the fugitive\, whom they proclaimed a runaway slave. True to their Vi rginian instincts as she came near\, they formed in line across the narrow bridge\, and prepared to seize her. Seeing escape impossible in that quar ter\, she stopped suddenly\, and turned upon her pursuers. On came the pro fane and ribald crew\, faster than ever\, already exulting in her capture\ , and threatening punishment for her flight. For a moment she looked wildl y and anxiously around to see if there was no hope of escape. On either ha nd\, far down below\, rolled the deep foamy waters of the Potomac\, and be fore and behind the rapidly approaching step and noisy voices of pursuers\ , showing how vain would be any further effort for freedom. Her resolution was taken. She clasped her hands convulsively\, and raised them\, as she at the same time raised her eyes towards heaven\, and begged for that merc y and compassion there\, which had been denied her on earth\; and then\, w ith a single bound\, she vaulted over the railings of the bridge\, and sun k for ever beneath the waves of the river!\n\nThus died Clotel\, the daugh ter of Thomas Jefferson\, a president of the United States\; a man disting uished as the author of the Declaration of American Independence\, and one of the first statesmen of that country.\n\nHad Clotel escaped from oppres sion in any other land\, in the disguise in which she fled from the Missis sippi to Richmond\, and reached the United States\, no honour within the g ift of the American people would have been too good to have been heaped up on the heroic woman. But she was a slave\, and therefore out of the pale o f their sympathy. They have tears to shed over Greece and Poland\; they ha ve an abundance of sympathy for \"poor Ireland\"\; they can furnish a ship of war to convey the Hungarian refugees from a Turkish prison to the \"la nd of the free and home of the brave.\" They boast that America is the \"c radle of liberty\"\; if it is\, I fear they have rocked the child to death . The body of Clotel was picked up from the bank of the river\, where it h ad been washed by the strong current\, a hole dug in the sand\, and there deposited\, without either inquest being held over it\, or religious servi ce being performed. Such was the life and such the death of a woman whose virtues and goodness of heart would have done honour to one in a higher st ation of life\, and who\, if she had been born in any other land but that of slavery\, would have been honoured and loved. A few days after the deat h of Clotel\, the following poem appeared in one of the newspapers:\n\n\"N ow\, rest for the wretched! the long day is past\,\n And night on yon pr ison descendeth at last.\n Now lock up and bolt! Ha\, jailor\, look there !\nWho flies like a wild bird escaped from the snare?\n A woman\, a slave-up\, out in pursuit.\n While linger some gleams of day!\n Let thy call ring out!—now a rabble rout\n Is at thy heels —speed away!\n\n \"A bold race for freedom!—On\, fugitive\, on!\nHea ven help but the right\, and thy freedom is won.\n How eager she drinks th e free air of the plains\;\nEvery limb\, every nerve\, every fibre she str ains\;\n From Columbia's glorious capitol\,\n Columbia's daughter flees\n To the sanctuary God has given—\n Th e sheltering forest trees.\n\n\"Now she treads the Long Bridge—joy light eth her eye—\n Beyond her the dense wood and darkening sky—\nWild hopes thrill her heart as she neareth the shore:\n O\, despair! there ar e men fast advancing before!\n Shame\, shame on their manhood! they hear\, they heed\n The cry\, her flight to stay\,\n And like demon forms with their outstretched arms\,\n They wait to seize their prey!\n\n \"She pauses\, she turns! Ah\, will she flee back?\nLike wolves \, her pursuers howl loud on their track\;\n She lifteth to Heaven one look of despair—\n Her anguish breaks forth in one hurried prayer\n Har k! her jailor's yell! like a bloodhound's bay\n On the low night wind it s weeps!\nNow\, death or the chain! to the stream she turns\,\n And she leaps! O God\, she leaps!\n\n \"The dark and the cold\, yet mercifu l wave\,\n Receives to its bosom the form of the slave:\n She rises—ea rth's scenes on her dim vision gleam\,\nYet she struggleth not with the st rong rushing stream:\n And low are the death-cries her woman's heart gives \,\n As she floats adown the river\,\n Faint and more faint grow s the drowning voice\,\n And her cries have ceased for ever!\n\n \"N ow back\, jailor\, back to thy dungeons\, again\,\n To swing the red la sh and rivet the chain!\nThe form thou would'st fetter—returned to its G od\;\n The universe holdeth no realm of night\n More drear t han her slavery—\nMore merciless fiends than here stayed her flight—\n Joy! the hunted slave is free!\n\n\"That bond-woman's corpse—l et Potomac's proud wave\n Go bear it along by our Washington's grave\,\n And heave it high up on that hallowed strand\,\n To tell of the freedo m he won for our land.\n A weak woman's corpse\, by freemen chased down\; \n Hurrah for our country! hurrah!\nTo freedom she leaped\, throug h drowning and death—\n Hurrah for our country! hurrah!\ "\n\nCHAPTER XXVI\nTHE ESCAPE\n \"No refuge is found on our unhallowe d ground\,\n For the wretched in Slavery's manacles bound\;\n While our star-spangled banner in vain boasts to wave\n O'er the land of the fr ee and the home of the brave!\"\n\nWE left Mary\, the daughter of Clotel\, in the capacity of a servant in her own father's house\, where she had be en taken by her mistress for the ostensible purpose of plunging her husban d into the depths of humiliation. At first the young girl was treated with great severity\; but after finding that Horatio Green had lost all feelin g for his child\, Mrs. Green's own heart became touched for the offspring of her husband\, and she became its friend. Mary had grown still more beau tiful\, and\, like most of her sex in that country\, was fast coming to ma turity.\n\nThe arrest of Clotel\, while trying to rescue her daughter\, di d not reach the ears of the latter till her mother had been removed from R ichmond to Washington. The mother had passed from time to eternity before the daughter knew that she had been in the neighbourhood. Horatio Green wa s not in Richmond at the time of Clotel's arrest\; had he been there\, it is not probable but he would have made an effort to save her. She was not his slave\, and therefore was beyond his power\, even had he been there an d inclined to aid her. The revolt amongst the slaves had been brought to a n end\, and most of the insurgents either put to death or sent out of the state. One\, however\, remained in prison. He was the slave of Horatio Gre en\, and had been a servant in his master's dwelling. He\, too\, could boa st that his father was an American statesman. His name was George. His mot her had been employed as a servant in one of the principal hotels in Washi ngton\, where members of Congress usually put up. After George's birth his mother was sold to a slave trader\, and he to an agent of Mr. Green\, the father of Horatio. George was as white as most white persons. No one woul d suppose that any African blood coursed through his veins. His hair was s traight\, soft\, fine\, and light\; his eyes blue\, nose prominent\, lips thin\, his head well formed\, forehead high and prominent\; and he was oft en taken for a free white person by those who did know him. This made his condition still more intolerable\; for one so white seldom ever receives f air treatment at the hands of his fellow slaves\; and the whites usually r egard such slaves as persons who\, if not often flogged\, and otherwise il l treated\, to remind them of their condition\, would soon \"forget\" that they were slaves\, and \"think themselves as good as white folks.\" Georg e's opportunities were far greater than most slaves. Being in his master's house\, and waiting on educated white people\, he had become very familia r with the English language. He had heard his master and visitors speak of the down-trodden and oppressed Poles\; he heard them talk of going to Gre ece to fight for Grecian liberty\, and against the oppressors of that ill- fated people. George\, fired with the love of freedom\, and zeal for the c ause of his enslaved countrymen\, joined the insurgents\, and with them ha d been defeated and captured. He was the only one remaining of these unfor tunate people\, and he would have been put to death with them but for a ci rcumstance that occurred some weeks before the outbreak. The court house h ad\, by accident\, taken fire\, and was fast consuming. The engines could not be made to work\, and all hope of saving the building seemed at an end . In one of the upper chambers there was a small box containing some valua ble deeds belonging to the city\; a ladder was placed against the house\, leading from the street to the window of the room in which the box stood. The wind blew strong\, and swept the flames in that direction. Broad sheet s of fire were blown again and again over that part of the building\, and then the wind would lift the pall of smoke\, which showed that the work of destruction was not yet accomplished. While the doomed building was thus exposed\, and before the destroying element had made its final visit\, as it did soon after\, George was standing by\, and hearing that much depende d on the contents of the box\, and seeing no one disposed to venture throu gh the fiery element to save the treasure\, mounted the ladder and made hi s way to the window\, entered the room\, and was soon seen descending with the much valued box. Three cheers rent the air as the young slave fell fr om the ladder when near the ground\; the white men took him up in their ar ms\, to see if he had sustained any injury. His hair was burnt\, eyebrows closely singed\, and his clothes smelt strongly of smoke\; but the heroic young slave was unhurt. The city authorities\, at their next meeting\, pas sed a vote of thanks to George's master for the lasting benefit that the s lave had rendered the public\, and commanded the poor boy to the special f avour of his owner. When George was on trial for participating in the revo lt\, this \"meritorious act\,\" as they were pleased to term it\, was brou ght up in his favour. His trial was put off from session to session\, till he had been in prison more than a year. At last\, however\, he was convic ted of high treason\, and sentenced to be hanged within ten days of that t ime. The judge asked the slave if he had anything to say why sentence of d eath should not be passed on him. George stood for a moment in silence\, a nd then said\, \"As I cannot speak as I should wish\, I will say nothing.\ " \"You may say what you please\,\" said the judge. \"You had a good maste r\,\" continued he\, \"and still you were dissatisfied\; you left your mas ter and joined the Negroes who were burning our houses and killing our wiv es.\" \"As you have given me permission to speak\,\" remarked George\, \"I will tell you why I joined the revolted Negroes. I have heard my master r ead in the Declaration of Independence 'that all men are created free and equal\,' and this caused me to inquire of myself why I was a slave. I also heard him talking with some of his visitors about the war with England\, and he said\, all wars and fightings for freedom were just and right. If s o\, in what am I wrong? The grievances of which your fathers complained\, and which caused the Revolutionary War\, were trifling in comparison with the wrongs and sufferings of those who were engaged in the late revolt. Yo ur fathers were never slaves\, ours are\; your fathers were never bought a nd sold like cattle\, never shut out from the light of knowledge and relig ion\, never subjected to the lash of brutal task-masters. For the crime of having a dark skin\, my people suffer the pangs of hunger\, the inflictio n of stripes\, and the ignominy of brutal servitude. We are kept in heathe nish darkness by laws expressly enacted to make our instruction a criminal offence. What right has one man to the bones\, sinews\, blood\, and nerve s of another? Did not one God make us all? You say your fathers fought for freedom\; so did we. You tell me that I am to be put to death for violati ng the laws of the land. Did not the American revolutionists violate the l aws when they struck for liberty? They were revolters\, but their success made them patriots—We were revolters\, and our failure makes us rebels. Had we succeeded\, we would have been patriots too. Success makes all the difference. You make merry on the 4th of July\; the thunder of cannon and ringing of bells announce it as the birthday of American independence. Yet while these cannons are roaring and bells ringing\, one-sixth of the peop le of this land are in chains and slavery. You boast that this is the 'Lan d of the Free'\; but a traditionary freedom will not save you. It will not do to praise your fathers and build their sepulchres. Worse for you that you have such an inheritance\, if you spend it foolishly and are unable to appreciate its worth. Sad if the genius of a true humanity\, beholding yo u with tearful eyes from the mount of vision\, shall fold his wings in sor rowing pity\, and repeat the strain\, 'O land of Washington\, how often wo uld I have gathered thy children together\, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings\, and ye would not\; behold your house is left unto you d esolate.' This is all I have to say\; I have done.\" Nearly every one pres ent was melted to tears\; even the judge seemed taken by surprise at the i ntelligence of the young slave. But George was a slave\, and an example mu st be made of him\, and therefore he was sentenced. Being employed in the same house with Mary\, the daughter of Clotel\, George had become attached to her\, and the young lovers fondly looked forward to the time when they should be husband and wife.\n\nAfter George had been sentenced to death\, Mary was still more attentive to him\, and begged and obtained leave of h er mistress to visit him in his cell. The poor girl paid a daily visit to him to whom she had pledged her heart and hand. At one of these meetings\, and only four days from the time fixed for the execution\, while Mary was seated in George's cell\, it occurred to her that she might yet save him from a felon's doom. She revealed to him the secret that was then occupyin g her thoughts\, viz. that George should exchange clothes with her\, and t hus attempt his escape in disguise. But he would not for a single moment l isten to the proposition. Not that he feared detection\; but he would not consent to place an innocent and affectionate girl in a position where she might have to suffer for him. Mary pleaded\, but in vain. George was infl exible. The poor girl left her lover with a heavy heart\, regretting that her scheme had proved unsuccessful.\n\nTowards the close of the next day\, Mary again appeared at the prison door for admission\, and was soon by th e side of him whom she so ardently loved. While there the clouds which had overhung the city for some hours broke\, and the rain fell in torrents am id the most terrific thunder and lightning. In the most persuasive manner possible\, Mary again importuned George to avail himself of her assistance to escape from an ignominious death. After assuring him that she\, not be ing the person condemned\, would not receive any injury\, he at last conse nted\, and they began to exchange apparel. As George was of small stature\ , and both were white\, there was no difficulty in his passing out without detection\; and as she usually left the cell weeping\, with handkerchief in hand\, and sometimes at her face\, he had only to adopt this mode and h is escape was safe. They had kissed each other\, and Mary had told George where he would find a small parcel of provisions which she had placed in a secluded spot\, when the prison-keeper opened the door and said\, \"Come\ , girl\, it is time for you to go.\" George again embraced Mary\, and pass ed out of the jail. It was already dark\, and the street lamps were lighte d\, so that our hero in his new dress had no dread of detection. The provi sions were sought out and found\, and poor George was soon on the road tow ards Canada. But neither of them had once thought of a change of dress for George when he should have escaped\, and he had walked but a short distan ce before he felt that a change of his apparel would facilitate his progre ss. But he dared not go amongst even his coloured associates for fear of b eing betrayed. However\, he made the best of his way on towards Canada\, h iding in the woods during the day\, and travelling by the guidance of the North Star at night.\n\nWith the poet he could truly say\,\n\n \"Star of the North! while blazing day\n Pours round me its full tide of light\,\n And hides thy pale but faithful ray\,\n I\, too\, lie hid\, and long fo r night.\"\n\nOne morning\, George arrived on the banks of the Ohio river\ , and found his journey had terminated\, unless he could get some one to t ake him across the river in a secret manner\, for he would not be permitte d to cross in any of the ferry boats\, it being a penalty for crossing a s lave\, besides the value of the slave. He concealed himself in the tall gr ass and weeds near the river\, to see if he could embrace an opportunity t o cross. He had been in his hiding place but a short time\, when he observ ed a man in a small boat\, floating near the shore\, evidently fishing. Hi s first impulse was to call out to the man and ask him to take him over to the Ohio side\, but the fear that the man was a slaveholder\, or one who might possibly arrest him\, deterred him from it. The man after rowing and floating about for some time fastened the boat to the root of a tree\, an d started to a neighbouring farmhouse.\n\nThis was George's moment\, and h e seized it. Running down the bank\, he unfastened the boat\, jumped in\, and with all the expertness of one accustomed to a boat\, rowed across the river and landed on the Ohio side.\n\nBeing now in a Free State\, he thou ght he might with perfect safety travel on towards Canada. He had\, howeve r\, gone but a very few miles when he discovered two men on horseback comi ng behind him. He felt sure that they could not be in pursuit of him\, yet he did not wish to be seen by them\, so he turned into another road leadi ng to a house near by. The men followed\, and were but a short distance fr om George\, when he ran up to a farmhouse\, before which was standing a fa rmer-looking man\, in a broad-brimmed hat and straight-collared coat\, who m he implored to save him from the \"slave-catchers.\" The farmer told him to go into the barn near by\; he entered by the front door\, the farmer f ollowing\, and closing the door behind George\, but remaining outside\, an d gave directions to his hired man as to what should be done with George. The slaveholders by this time had dismounted\, and were in front of the ba rn demanding admittance\, and charging the farmer with secreting their sla ve woman\, for George was still in the dress of a woman. The Friend\, for the farmer proved to be a member of the Society of Friends\, told the slav e-owners that if they wished to search his barn\, they must first get an o fficer and a search warrant. While the parties were disputing\, the farmer began nailing up the front door\, and the hired man served the back door in the same way. The slaveholders\, finding that they could not prevail on the Friend to allow them to get the slave\, determined to go in search of an officer. One was left to see that the slave did not escape from the ba rn\, while the other went off at full speed to Mount Pleasant\, the neares t town. George was not the slave of either of these men\, nor were they in pursuit of him\, but they had lost a woman who had been seen in that vici nity\, and when they saw poor George in the disguise of a female\, and att empting to elude pursuit\, they felt sure they were close upon their victi m. However\, if they had caught him\, although he was not their slave\, th ey would have taken him back and placed him in jail\, and there he would h ave remained until his owner arrived.\n\nAfter an absence of nearly two ho urs\, the slave-owner returned with an officer and found the Friend still driving large nails into the door. In a triumphant tone and with a corresp onding gesture\, he handed the search-warrant to the Friend\, and said\, \ "There\, sir\, now I will see if I can't get my nigger.\" \"Well\,\" said the Friend\, \"thou hast gone to work according to law\, and thou canst no w go into my barn.\" \"Lend me your hammer that I may get the door open\,\ " said the slaveholder. \"Let me see the warrant again.\" And after readin g it over once more\, he said\, \"I see nothing in this paper which says I must supply thee with tools to open my door\; if thou wishest to go in\, thou must get a hammer elsewhere.\" The sheriff said\, \"I will go to a ne ighbouring farm and borrow something which will introduce us to Miss Dinah \;\" and he immediately went in search of tools. In a short time the offic er returned\, and they commenced an assault and battery upon the barn door \, which soon yielded\; and in went the slaveholder and officer\, and bega n turning up the hay and using all other means to find the lost property\; but\, to their astonishment\, the slave was not there. After all hope of getting Dinah was gone\, the slave-owner in a rage said to the Friend\, \" My nigger is not here.\" \"I did not tell thee there was any one here.\" \ "Yes\, but I saw her go in\, and you shut the door behind her\, and if she was not in the barn\, what did you nail the door for?\" \"Can't I do what I please with my own barn door? Now I will tell thee\; thou need trouble thyself no more\, for the person thou art after entered the front door and went out at the back door\, and is a long way from here by this time. Tho u and thy friend must be somewhat fatigued by this time\; won't thou go in and take a little dinner with me?\" We need not say that this cool invita tion of the good Quaker was not accepted by the slaveholders. George in th e meantime had been taken to a friend's dwelling some miles away\, where\, after laying aside his female attire\, and being snugly dressed up in a s traight collared coat\, and pantaloons to match\, was again put on the rig ht road towards Canada.\n\nThe fugitive now travelled by day\, and laid by during night. After a fatiguing and dreary journey of two weeks\, the fug itive arrived in Canada\, and took up his abode in the little town of St. Catherine's\, and obtained work on the farm of Colonel Street. Here he att ended a night-school\, and laboured for his employer during the day. The c limate was cold\, and wages small\, yet he was in a land where he was free \, and this the young slave prized more than all the gold that could be gi ven to him. Besides doing his best to obtain education for himself\, he im parted what he could to those of his fellow-fugitives about him\, of whom there were many.\n\nCHAPTER XXVII\nTHE MYSTERY\nGEORGE\, however\, did not forget his promise to use all the means in his power to get Mary out of s lavery. He\, therefore\, laboured with all his might to obtain money with which to employ some one to go back to Virginia for Mary. After nearly six months' labour at St. Catherine's\, he employed an English missionary to go and see if the girl could be purchased\, and at what price. The mission ary went accordingly\, but returned with the sad intelligence that\, on ac count of Mary's aiding George to escape\, the court had compelled Mr. Gree n to sell her out of the state\, and she had been sold to a Negro trader\, and taken to the New Orleans market. As all hope of getting the girl was now gone\, George resolved to quit the American continent for ever. He imm ediately took passage in a vessel laden with timber\, bound for Liverpool\ , and in five weeks from that time he was standing on the quay of the grea t English seaport. With little or no education\, he found many difficultie s in the way of getting a respectable living. However he obtained a situat ion as porter in a large house in Manchester\, where he worked during the day\, and took private lessons at night. In this way he laboured for three years\, and was then raised to the situation of clerk. George was so whit e as easily to pass for a white man\, and being somewhat ashamed of his Af rican descent\, he never once mentioned the fact of his having been a slav e. He soon became a partner in the firm that employed him\, and was now on the road to wealth.\n\nIn the year 1842\, just ten years after George Gre en (for he adopted his master's name) arrived in England\, he visited Fran ce\, and spent some days at Dunkirk. It was towards sunset\, on a warm day in the month of October\, that Mr. Green\, after strolling some distance from the Hotel de Leon\, entered a burial ground\, and wandered along\, al one among the silent dead\, gazing upon the many green graves and marble t ombstones of those who once moved on the theatre of busy life\, and whose sounds of gaiety once fell upon the ear of man. All nature around was hush ed in silence\, and seemed to partake of the general melancholy which hung over the quiet resting-place of departed mortals. After tracing the varie d inscriptions which told the characters or conditions of the departed\, a nd viewing the mounds beneath which the dust of mortality slumbered\, he h ad now reached a secluded spot\, near to where an aged weeping willow bowe d its thick foliage to the ground\, as though anxious to hide from the scr utinising gaze of curiosity the grave beneath it. Mr. Green seated himself upon a marble tomb\, and began to read Roscoe's Leo X.\, a copy of which he had under his arm. It was then about twilight\, and he had scarcely gon e through half a page\, when he observed a lady in black\, leading a boy\, some five years old\, up one of the paths\; and as the lady's black veil was over her face\, he felt somewhat at liberty to eye her more closely. W hile looking at her\, the lady gave a scream\, and appeared to be in a fai nting position\, when Mr. Green sprang from his seat in time to save her f rom falling to the ground. At this moment\, an elderly gentleman was seen approaching with a rapid step\, who\, from his appearance\, was evidently the lady's father\, or one intimately connected with her. He came up\, and \, in a confused manner\, asked what was the matter. Mr. Green explained a s well as he could. After taking up the smelling bottle which had fallen f rom her hand\, and holding it a short time to her face\, she soon began to revive. During all this time the lady's veil had so covered her face\, th at Mr. Green had not seen it. When she had so far recovered as to be able to raise her head\, she again screamed\, and fell back into the arms of th e old man. It now appeared quite certain\, that either the countenance of George Green\, or some other object\, was the cause of these fits of faint ing\; and the old gentleman\, thinking it was the former\, in rather a pet ulant tone said\, \"I will thank you\, sir\, if you will leave us alone.\" The child whom the lady was leading\, had now set up a squall\; and amid the death-like appearance of the lady\, the harsh look of the old man\, an d the cries of the boy\, Mr. Green left the grounds\, and returned to his hotel.\n\nWhilst seated by the window\, and looking out upon the crowded s treet\, with every now and then the strange scene in the grave-yard vividl y before him\, Mr. Green thought of the book he had been reading\, and\, r emembering that he had left it on the tomb\, where he had suddenly dropped it when called to the assistance of the lady\, he immediately determined to return in search of it. After a walk of some twenty minutes\, he was ag ain over the spot where he had been an hour before\, and from which he had been so unceremoniously expelled by the old man. He looked in vain for th e book\; it was nowhere to be found: nothing save the bouquet which the la dy had dropped\, and which lay half-buried in the grass from having been t rodden upon\, indicated that any one had been there that evening. Mr. Gree n took up the bunch of flowers\, and again returned to the hotel.\n\nAfter passing a sleepless night\, and hearing the clock strike six\, he dropped into a sweet sleep\, from which he did not awaken until roused by the rap of a servant\, who\, entering his room\, handed him a note which ran as f ollows:—\"Sir\,—I owe you an apology for the inconvenience to which yo u were subjected last evening\, and if you will honour us with your presen ce to dinner to-day at four o'clock\, I shall be most happy to give you du e satisfaction. My servant will be in waiting for you at half-past three. I am\, sir\, your obedient servant\, J. Devenant. October 23. To George Gr een\, Esq.\"\n\nThe servant who handed this note to Mr. Green\, informed h im that the bearer was waiting for a reply. He immediately resolved to acc ept the invitation\, and replied accordingly. Who this person was\, and ho w his name and the hotel where he was stopping had been found out\, was in deed a mystery. However\, he waited impatiently for the hour when he was t o see this new acquaintance\, and get the mysterious meeting in the grave- yard solved.\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII\nTHE HAPPY MEETING\n \"Man's love is of ma n's life\, a thing apart\;\n 'Tis woman's whole existence.\"—Byron. \n\nTHE clock on a neighbouring church had scarcely ceased striking three\ , when the servant announced that a carriage had called for Mr. Green. In less than half an hour he was seated in a most sumptuous barouche\, drawn by two beautiful iron greys\, and rolling along over a splendid gravel roa d completely shaded by large trees\, which appeared to have been the accum ulating growth of many centuries. The carriage soon stopped in front of a low villa\, and this too was embedded in magnificent trees covered with mo ss. Mr. Green alighted and was shown into a superb drawing room\, the wall s of which were hung with fine specimens from the hands of the great Itali an painters\, and one by a German artist representing a beautiful monkish legend connected with \"The Holy Catherine\,\" an illustrious lady of Alex andria. The furniture had an antique and dignified appearance. High backed chairs stood around the room\; a venerable mirror stood on the mantle she lf\; rich curtains of crimson damask hung in folds at either side of the l arge windows\; and a rich Turkey carpet covered the floor. In the centre s tood a table covered with books\, in the midst of which was an old-fashion ed vase filled with fresh flowers\, whose fragrance was exceedingly pleasa nt. A faint light\, together with the quietness of the hour\, gave beauty beyond description to the whole scene.\n\nMr. Green had scarcely seated hi mself upon the sofa\, when the elderly gentleman whom he had met the previ ous evening made his appearance\, followed by the little boy\, and introdu ced himself as Mr. Devenant. A moment more\, and a lady—a beautiful brun ette—dressed in black\, with long curls of a chestnut colour hanging dow n her cheeks\, entered the room. Her eyes were of a dark hazel\, and her w hole appearance indicated that she was a native of a southern clime. The d oor at which she entered was opposite to where the two gentlemen were seat ed. They immediately rose\; and Mr. Devenant was in the act of introducing her to Mr. Green\, when he observed that the latter had sunk back upon th e sofa\, and the last word that he remembered to have heard was\, \"It is her.\" After this\, all was dark and dreamy: how long he remained in this condition it was for another to tell. When he awoke\, he found himself str etched upon the sofa\, with his boots off\, his neckerchief removed\, shir t collar unbuttoned\, and his head resting upon a pillow. By his side sat the old man\, with the smelling bottle in the one hand\, and a glass of wa ter in the other\, and the little boy standing at the foot of the sofa. As soon as Mr. Green had so far recovered as to be able to speak\, he said\, \"Where am I\, and what does this mean?\" \"Wait a while\,\" replied the old man\, \"and I will tell you all.\" After a lapse of some ten minutes h e rose from the sofa\, adjusted his apparel\, and said\, \"I am now ready to hear anything you have to say.\" \"You were born in America?\" said the old man. \"Yes\,\" he replied. \"And you were acquainted with a girl name d Mary?\" continued the old man. \"Yes\, and I loved her as I can love non e other.\" \"The lady whom you met so mysteriously last evening is Mary\,\ " replied Mr. Devenant. George Green was silent\, but the fountains of min gled grief and joy stole out from beneath his eyelashes\, and glistened li ke pearls upon his pale and marble-like cheeks. At this juncture the lady again entered the room. Mr. Green sprang from the sofa\, and they fell int o each other's arms\, to the surprise of the old man and little George\, a nd to the amusement of the servants who had crept up one by one\, and were hid behind the doors\, or loitering in the hall. When they had given vent to their feelings\, they resumed their seats\, and each in turn related t he adventures through which they had passed. \"How did you find out my nam e and address?\" asked Mr. Green. \"After you had left us in the grave-yar d\, our little George said\, 'O\, mamma\, if there aint a book!' and picke d it up and brought it to us. Papa opened it\, and said\, 'The gentleman's name is written in it\, and here is a card of the Hotel de Leon\, where I suppose he is stopping.' Papa wished to leave the book\, and said it was all a fancy of mine that I had ever seen you before\, but I was perfectly convinced that you were my own George Green. Are you married?\" \"No\, I a m not.\" \"Then\, thank God!\" exclaimed Mrs. Devenant. \"And are you sing le now?\" inquired Mr. Green. \"Yes\,\" she replied. \"This is indeed the Lord's doings\,\" said Mr. Green\, at the same time bursting into a flood of tears. Mr. Devenant was past the age when men should think upon matrimo nial subjects\, yet the scene brought vividly before his eyes the days whe n he was a young man\, and had a wife living. After a short interview\, th e old man called their attention to the dinner\, which was then waiting. W e need scarcely add\, that Mr. Green and Mrs. Devenant did very little tow ards diminishing the dinner that day.\n\nAfter dinner the lovers (for such we have to call them) gave their experience from the time that George lef t the jail dressed in Mary's clothes. Up to that time Mr. Green's was subs tantially as we have related it. Mrs. Devenant's was as follows:—\"The n ight after you left the prison\,\" said she\, \"I did not shut my eyes in sleep. The next morning\, about eight o'clock\, Peter the gardener came to the jail to see if I had been there the night before\, and was informed t hat I had\, and that I had left a little after dark. About an hour after\, Mr. Green came himself\, and I need not say that he was much surprised on finding me there\, dressed in your clothes. This was the first tidings th ey had of your escape.\" \"What did Mr. Green say when he found that I had fled?\" \"Oh!\" continued Mrs. Devenant\, \"he said to me when no one was near\, I hope George will get off\, but I fear you will have to suffer in his stead. I told him that if it must be so I was willing to die if you c ould live.\" At this moment George Green burst into tears\, threw his arms around her neck\, and exclaimed\, \"I am glad I have waited so long\, wit h the hope of meeting you again.\" Mrs. Devenant again resumed her story :—\"I was kept in jail three days\, during which time I was visited by t he magistrates\, and two of the judges. On the third day I was taken out\, and master told me that I was liberated\, upon condition that I should be immediately sent out of the state. There happened to be just at the time in the neighbourhood a Negro-trader\, and he purchased me\, and I was take n to New Orleans. On the steamboat we were kept in a close room\, where sl aves are usually confined\, so that I saw nothing of the passengers on boa rd\, or the towns we passed. We arrived at New Orleans\, and were all put into the slave-market for sale. I was examined by many persons\, but none seemed willing to purchase me\, as all thought me too white\, and said I w ould run away and pass as a free white woman. On the second day\, while in the slave-market\, and while planters and others were examining slaves an d making their purchases\, I observed a tall young man\, with long black h air\, eyeing me very closely\, and then talking to the trader. I felt sure that my time had now come\, but the day closed without my being sold. I d id not regret this\, for I had heard that foreigners made the worst of mas ters\, and I felt confident that the man who eyed me so closely was not an American.\n\n\"The next day was the Sabbath. The bells called the people to the different places of worship. Methodists sang\, and Baptists immerse d\, and Presbyterians sprinkled\, and Episcopalians read their prayers\, w hile the ministers of the various sects preached that Christ died for all\ ; yet there were some twenty-five or thirty of us poor creatures confined in the 'Negro Pen\,' awaiting the close of the holy Sabbath\, and the dawn of another day\, to be again taken into the market\, there to be examined like so many beasts of burden. I need not tell you with what anxiety we w aited for the advent of another day. On Monday we were again brought out a nd placed in rows to be inspected\; and\, fortunately for me\, I was sold before we had been on the stand an hour. I was purchased by a gentleman re siding in the city\, for a waiting-maid for his wife\, who was just on the eve of starting for Mobile\, to pay a visit to a near relation. I was the n dressed to suit the situation of a maid-servant\; and upon the whole\, I thought that\, in my new dress\, I looked as much the lady as my mistress .\n\n\"On the passage to Mobile\, who should I see among the passengers bu t the tall\, long-haired man that had eyed me so closely in the slave-mark et a few days before. His eyes were again on me\, and he appeared anxious to speak to me\, and I as reluctant to be spoken to. The first evening aft er leaving New Orleans\, soon after twilight had let her curtain down\, an d pinned it with a star\, and while I was seated on the deck of the boat n ear the ladies' cabin\, looking upon the rippled waves\, and the reflectio n of the moon upon the sea\, all at once I saw the tall young man standing by my side. I immediately rose from my seat\, and was in the act of retur ning to the cabin\, when he in a broken accent said\, 'Stop a moment\; I w ish to have a word with you. I am your friend.' I stopped and looked him f ull in the face\, and he said\, 'I saw you some days since in the slavemar ket\, and I intended to have purchased you to save you from the condition of a slave. I called on Monday\, but you had been sold and had left the ma rket. I inquired and learned who the purchaser was\, and that you had to g o to Mobile\, so I resolved to follow you. If you are willing I will try a nd buy you from your present owner\, and you shall be free.' Although this was said in an honest and off-hand manner\, I could not believe the man t o be sincere in what he said. 'Why should you wish to set me free?' I aske d. 'I had an only sister\,' he replied\, 'who died three years ago in Fran ce\, and you are so much like her that had I not known of her death\, I wo uld most certainly have taken you for her.' 'However much I may resemble y our sister\, you are aware that I am not her\, and why take so much intere st in one whom you never saw before?' 'The love\,' said he\, 'which I had for my sister is transferred to you.' I had all along suspected that the m an was a knave\, and this profession of love confirmed me in my former bel ief\, and I turned away and left him.\n\n\"The next day\, while standing i n the cabin and looking through the window\, the French gentleman (for suc h he was) came to the window while walking on the guards\, and again comme nced as on the previous evening. He took from his pocket a bit of paper an d put it into my hand\, at the same time saying\, 'Take this\, it may some day be of service to you\; remember it is from a friend\,' and left me in stantly. I unfolded the paper\, and found it to be a 100 dollars bank note \, on the United States Branch Bank\, at Philadelphia. My first impulse wa s to give it to my mistress\, but\, upon a second thought\, I resolved to seek an opportunity\, and to return the hundred dollars to the stranger.\n \n\"Therefore I looked for him\, but in vain\; and had almost given up the idea of seeing him again\, when he passed me on the guards of the boat an d walked towards the stem of the vessel. It being now dark\, I approached him and offered the money to him. He declined\, saying at the same time\, 'I gave it to you keep it.' 'I do not want it\,' I said. 'Now\,' said he\, 'you had better give your consent for me to purchase you\, and you shall go with me to France.' 'But you cannot buy me now\,' I replied\, 'for my m aster is in New Orleans\, and he purchased me not to sell\, but to retain in his own family.' 'Would you rather remain with your present mistress th an be free?' 'No\,' said I. 'Then fly with me tonight\; we shall be in Mob ile in two hours from this\, and when the passengers are going on shore\, you can take my arm\, and you can escape unobserved. The trader who brough t you to New Orleans exhibited to me a certificate of your good character\ , and one from the minister of the church to which you were attached in Vi rginia\; and upon the faith of these assurances\, and the love I bear you\ , I promise before high heaven that I will marry you as soon as it can be done.' This solemn promise\, coupled with what had already transpired\, ga ve me confidence in the man\; and rash as the act may seem\, I determined in an instant to go with him. My mistress had been put under the charge of the captain\; and as it would be past ten o'clock when the steamer would land\, she accepted an invitation of the captain to remain on board with s everal other ladies till morning. I dressed myself in my best clothes\, an d put a veil over my face\, and was ready on the landing of the boat. Surr ounded by a number of passengers\, we descended the stage leading to the w harf\, and were soon lost in the crowd that thronged the quay. As we went on shore we encountered several persons announcing the names of hotels\, t he starting of boats for the interior\, and vessels bound for Europe. Amon g these was the ship Utica\, Captain Pell\, bound for Havre. 'Now\,' said Mr. Devenant\, 'this is our chance.' The ship was to sail at twelve o'cloc k that night\, at high tide\; and following the men who were seeking passe ngers\, we went immediately on board. Devenant told the captain of the shi p that I was his sister\, and for such we passed during the voyage. At the hour of twelve the Utica set sail\, and we were soon out at sea.\n\n\"The morning after we left Mobile\, Devenant met me as I came from my state-ro om\, and embraced me for the first time. I loved him\, but it was only tha t affection which we have for one who has done us a lasting favour: it was the love of gratitude rather than that of the heart. We were five weeks o n the sea\, and yet the passage did not seem long\, for Devenant was so ki nd. On our arrival at Havre we were married and came to Dunkirk\, and I ha ve resided here ever since.\"\n\nAt the close of this narrative\, the cloc k struck ten\, when the old man\, who was accustomed to retire at an early hour\, rose to take leave\, saying at the same time\, \"I hope you will r emain with us to-night.\" Mr. Green would fain have excused himself\, on t he ground that they would expect him and wait at the hotel\, but a look fr om the lady told him to accept the invitation. The old man was the father of Mrs. Devenant's deceased husband\, as you will no doubt long since have supposed. A fortnight from the day on which they met in the grave-yard\, Mr. Green and Mrs. Devenant were joined in holy wedlock\; so that George a nd Mary\, who had loved each other so ardently in their younger days\, wer e now husband and wife.\n\nA celebrated writer has justly said of woman\, \"A woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her wo rld\; it is there her ambition strives for empire\; it is there her avaric e seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure\ ; she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection\; and\, if shipwr ecked\, her case is hopeless\, for it is a bankruptcy of the heart.\"\n\nM ary had every reason to believe that she would never see George again\; an d although she confesses that the love she bore him was never transferred to her first husband\, we can scarcely find fault with her for marrying Mr . Devenant. But the adherence of George Green to the resolution never to m arry\, unless to his Mary\, is\, indeed\, a rare instance of the fidelity of man in the matter of love. We can but blush for our country's shame whe n we recall to mind the fact\, that while George and Mary Green\, and numb ers of other fugitives from American slavery\, can receive protection from any of the governments of Europe\, they cannot return to their native lan d without becoming slaves.\n\nCHAPTER XXIX\nCONCLUSION\nMY narrative has n ow come to a close. I may be asked\, and no doubt shall\, Are the various incidents and scenes related founded in truth? I answer\, Yes. I have pers onally participated in many of those scenes. Some of the narratives I have derived from other sources\; many from the lips of those who\, like mysel f\, have run away from the land of bondage. Having been for nearly nine ye ars employed on Lake Erie\, I had many opportunities for helping the escap e of fugitives\, who\, in return for the assistance they received\, made m e the depositary of their sufferings and wrongs. Of their relations I have made free use. To Mrs. Child\, of New York\, I am indebted for part of a short story. American Abolitionist journals are another source from whence some of the characters appearing in my narrative are taken. All these com bined have made up my story. Having thus acknowledged my resources\, I inv ite the attention of my readers to the following statement\, from which I leave them to draw their own conclusions:—\"It is estimated that in the United States\, members of the Methodist church own 219\,363 slaves\; memb ers of the Baptist church own 226\,000 slaves\; members of the Episcopalia n church own 88\,000 slaves\; members of the Presbyterian church own 77\,0 00 slaves\; members of all other churches own 50\,000 slaves\; in all\, 66 0\,563 slaves owned by members of the Christian church in this pious democ ratic republic!\"\n\nMay these facts be pondered over by British Christian s\, and at the next anniversaries of the various religious denominations i n London may their influence be seen and felt! The religious bodies of Ame rican Christians will send their delegates to these meetings. Let British feeling be publicly manifested. Let British sympathy express itself in ten der sorrow for the condition of my unhappy race. Let it be understood\, un equivocally understood\, that no fellowship can be held with slaveholders professing the same common Christianity as yourselves. And until this stai n from America's otherwise fair escutcheon be wiped away\, let no Christia n association be maintained with those who traffic in the blood and bones of those whom God has made of one flesh as yourselves. Finally\, let the v oice of the whole British nation be heard across the Atlantic\, and throug hout the length and breadth of the land of the Pilgrim Fathers\, beseechin g their descendants\, as they value the common salvation\, which knows no distinction between the bond and the free\, to proclaim the Year of Jubile e. 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