"I's in an orful humor, Ann, so jist don't come nigh me."
"Well, but, Aunt Polly, we should learn to control these humors. They are not the dictates of a pure spirit; they are unchristian."
"Oh, laws, chile, what hab us to do wid der Christians? We are like dem poor headens what de preachers prays 'bout. We haint got no 'sponsibility, no more den de dogs."
"I don't think that way, Aunt Polly; I think I am as much bound to do my duty, and expect a reward at the hands of my Maker, as any white person."
"Oh, 'taint no use of talkin' dat ar' way, kase ebery body knows niggers ain't gwine to de same place whar dar massers goes."
I dared not confront her obstinacy with any argument; for I knew she was unwilling to believe. Poor, apathetic creature! she was happier in yielding up her soul to the keeping of her owner, than she would have been in guiding it herself. This to me would have been enslavement indeed; such as I could not have endured. He, my Creator, who gave me this heritage of thought, and the bounty of Hope, gave me, likewise, a strong, unbridled will, which nothing can conquer. The whip may bring my body into subjection, but the free, free spirit soars where it lists, and no man can check it. God is with the soul! aye, in it, animating and encouraging it, sustaining it amid thecrash, conflict, and the elemental war of passion! The poor, weak flesh may yield; but, thanks to God! the soul, well-girded and heaven-poised, will never shrink.
Many and long have been the unslumbering nights when I have lain upon my heap of straw, gazing at the pallid moon, and the sorrowful stars; weaving mystic fancies as the wailing night-wind seemed to bring me a message from the distant and the lost! I have felt whole vials of heavenly unction poured upon my bruised soul; rich gifts have descended, like the manna of old, upon my famishing spirit; and I have felt that God was nearer to me in the night time. I have imagined that the very atmosphere grew luminous with the presence of angelic hosts; and a strange music, audible alone to my ears, has lulled me to the gentlest of dreams! God be thanked for the night, the stars, and the spirit's vision! Joy came not to me with the breaking of the morn; but peace, undefined, enwrapped me when the mantle of darkness and the crown of stars attested the reign of Night!
I grieved to think that my poor friend, this old, lonely negress, had nothing to soothe and charm her wearied heart. There was not a single flower blooming up amid the rank weeds of her nature. Hard and rocky it seemed; yet had I found the prophet's wand, whereby to strike the flinty heart, and draw forth living waters! pure, genial draughts of kindliness, sweet honey-drops, hived away in the lonely cells of her caverned soul! I would have loved to give her a portion of that peace which radiated with its divine light the depths of my inmost spirit. I had come to her now for the purpose of giving her the sad intelligence that awaited poor Amy; but I did not find her in a suitable mood. I felt assured that her harshness would, in some way or other, jar the finer and more sensitive harmonies of my nature. Perhaps she would say that she did not care for the sufferings of the poor, lonely child; and that her bereavement would be nothing more than just; yet I knew that she did not feel thus. Deep in her secret soul there lay folded a white-winged angel, even as the uncomely bulbenvelopes the fair petals of the lily; and I longed for the summer warmth of kindness to bid it come forth and bloom in beauty.
But now I turned away from her, murmuring, "'Tis not the time." She would not open her heart, and my own must likewise be closed and silent; but when I met poor little Amy, looking so neglected, with scarcely apparel sufficient to cover her nudity, my heart failed me utterly. There she held upon her hip little Ben, her only joy; every now and then she addressed some admonitory words to him, such as "Hush, baby, love," "you's my baby," "sissy loves it," and similar expressions of coaxing and endearment. And this, her only comfort, was about to be wrenched from her. The only link of love that bound her to a weary existence, was to be severed by the harsh mandate of another. Just God! is this right? Oh, my soul, be thou still! Look on in patience! The cloud deepens above! The day of God's wrath is at hand! They who have coldly forbidden our indulging the sweet humanities of life, who have destroyed every social relation, severed kith and kin, ruptured the ties of blood, and left us more lonely than the beasts of the forest, may tremble when the avenger comes!
I ventured to speak with Amy, and I employed the kindest tone; but ever and anon little Ben would send forth such a piteous wail, that I feared he was in physical pain. Amy, however, very earnestly assured me that she had administered catnip tea in plentiful quantities, and had examined his person very carefully to discover if a pin or needle had punctured his flesh; but everything seemed perfectly right.
I attempted to take him in my arms; but he clung so vigorously to Amy's shoulder, that it required strength to unfasten his grasp.
"Oh, don'tee take him; he doesn't like fur to leab me. Him usen to me," cried Amy, as in a motherly way she caressed him. "Now, pretty little boy donee cry any more. Ann shan't hab you;—now be a good nice boy;" and thus she expended upon him her whole vocabulary of endearing epithets.
"Who could," I asked myself, "have the heart to untie thissweet fraternal bond? Who could dry up the only fountain in this benighted soul? Oh, I have often marvelled how the white mother, who knows, in such perfection, the binding beauty of maternal love, can look unsympathizingly on, and see the poor black parent torn away from her children. I once saw a white lady, of concededrefinement, sitting in the portico of her own house, with her youngest born, a babe of some seven months, dallying on her knee, and she toying with the pretty gold-threads of its silken hair, whilst her husband was in the kitchen, with a whip in his hand, severely lashing a negro woman, whom he had sold to a trader—lashing her because she refused to gocheerfullyand leave her infant behind. The poor wretch, as a last resource, fled to her Mistress, and, on her knees, begged her to have her child. "Oh, Mistress," cried the frantic black woman, "ask Master to let me take my baby with me." What think you was the answer of this white mother?
"Go away, you impudent wretch, you don't deserve to have your child. It will be better off away from you!" Aye, this was the answer which, accompanied by a derisive sneer, she gave to the heart-stricken black mother. Thus she felt, spoke, and acted, even whilst caressing her own helpless infant! Who would think it injustice to "commend the poison-chalice to her own lips"? She, this fine lady, was known to weep violently, because an Irish woman was unable to save a sufficiency of money from her earnings to bring her son from Ireland to America; but, for the African mother, who was parting eternally from her helpless babe, she had not so much as a consolatory word. Oh, ye of the proud Caucasian race, would that your hearts were as fair and spotless as your complexions! Truly can the Saviour say of you, "Oh, Jerusalem, Jerusalem, I would have gathered you together as a hen gathereth her chickens, but ye would not!" Oh, perverse generation of vipers, how long will you abuse the Divine forbearance!
LINDY'S BOLDNESS—A SUSPICION—THE MASTER'S ACCOUNTABILITY—THE YOUNG REFORMER—WORDS OF HOPE—THE CULTIVATED MULATTO—THE DAWN OF AMBITION.
In about an hour Lindy came in, looking very much excited, yet attempting to conceal it beneath the mask of calmness. I affected not to notice it, yet was it evident, from various little attentions and manifold kind words, that she sought to divert suspicion, and avoid all questioning as to her absence.
"Where," she asked me, "are the young ladies? have they company?"
"Yes," I replied, "Miss Bradly is with them, and they are expecting a young gentleman, an acquaintance of Miss B.'s."
"Who is he?"
"Why, Lindy, how should I know?"
"I thought maybe you hearn his name."
"No, I did not, and, even if I had, it would have been so unimportant to me that I should have forgotten it."
She opened her eyes with a vacant stare, but it was perceptible that she wandered in thought.
"Now, Lindy," I began, "Miss Jane has missed you from the house, and both she and Miss Tildy have sworn vengeance against you."
"So have I sworn it agin' them."
"What! what did you say, Lindy?"
Really I was surprised at the girl's hardihood and boldness. She had been thrown from her guard, and now, upon regaining her composure, was alarmed.
"Oh, I was only joking, Ann; you knows we allers jokes."
"I never do," I said, with emphasis.
"Yes, but den, Ann, you see you is one ob de quare uns."
"What do you mean by quare?" I asked.
"Oh, psha, 'taint no use ob talkin wid you, for you is good; but kum, tell me, is dey mad wid me in de house, and did dey say dey would beat me?"
"Well, they threatened something of the kind."
Her face grew ashen pale; it took that peculiar kind of pallor which the negro's face often assumes under the influence of fear or disease, and which is so disagreeable to look upon. Enemy of mine as she had deeply proven herself to be, I could not be guilty of the meanness of exulting in her trouble.
"But," she said, in an imploring tone, "you will not repeat what I jist said in fun."
"Of course I will not; but don't you remember that it was your falsehood that gained for me the only post-whipping that I ever had?"
"Yes; but den I is berry sorry fur dat, and will not do it any more."
This was enough for me. An acknowledgment of contrition, and a determination to do better, are all God requires of the offender; and shall poor, erring mortals demand more? No; my resentment was fully satisfied. Besides, I felt that this poor creature was not altogether blamable. None of her better feelings had been cultivated; they were strangled in their incipiency, whilst her savage instincts were left to run riot. Thus the bad had ripened into a full and noxious development, whilst the noble had been crushed in the bud. Who is to be answerable for the short-comings of such a soul? Surely he who has cut it off from all moral and mental culture, and has said to the glimmerings of its faint intellect, "Back, back to the depths of darkness!" Surely he will and must take upon himself the burden of accountability. The sin is at his door, and woe-worth the day, when the great Judge shall come to pass sentence upon him. I have often thought that the master of slaves must, for consistency's sake, be an infidel—or doubt man's exact accountability to God for the deeds done in the body;for how can he willingly assume the sins of some hundreds of souls? In the eye of human law, the slave has no responsibility; the master assumes all for him. If the slave is found guilty of a capital offence, punishable with death, the master is indemnified by a paid valuation, for yielding up the person of the slave to the demands of offended justice? If a slave earns money by his labors at night or holidays, or if he is the successful holder of a prize ticket in a lottery, his master can legally claim the money, and there is no power to gainsay him? If, then, human law recognizes a negro as irresponsible, how much more lenient and just will be the divine statute? Thus, I hold (and I cannot think there is just logician, theologian, or metaphysician, who will dissent), that the owner of slaves becomes sponsor to God for the sins of his slave; and I cannot, then, think that one who accredits the existence of a just God, a Supreme Ruler, to whom we are all responsible for our deeds and words, would willingly take upon himself the burden of other people's faults and transgressions.
Whilst I stood talking with Lindy, the sound of merry laughter reached our ears.
"Oh, dat is Miss Tildy, now is my time to go in, and see what dey will say to me; maybe while dey is in a good humor, dey will not beat me."
And, thus saying, Lindy hurried away. Sad thoughts were crowding in my mind. Dark misgivings were stirring in my brain. Again I thought of the blessed society, with its humanitarian hope and aim, that dwelt afar off in the north. I longed to ask Miss Bradly more about it. I longed to hear of those holy men, blessed prophets foretelling a millennial era for my poor, down-trodden and despised race. I longed to ask questions of her; but of late she had shunned me; she scarcely spoke to me; and when she did speak, it was with indifference, and a degree of coldness that she had never before assumed.
With these thoughts in my mind I stole along through the yard, until I stood almost directly under the window of the parlor. Something in the tone of a strange voice that reachedmy ear, riveted my attention. It was a low, manly tone, lute-like, yet swelling on the breeze, and charming the soul! It refreshed my senses like a draught of cooling water. I caught the tone, and could not move from the spot. I was transfixed.
"I do not see why Fred Douglas is not equal to the best man in the land. What constitutes worth of character? What makes the man? What gives elevation to him?" These were the words I first distinctly heard, spoken in a deep, earnest tone, which I have never forgotten. I then heard a silly laugh, which I readily recognized as Miss Jane's, as she answered, "You can't pretend to say that you would be willing for a sister of yours to marry Fred Douglas, accomplished as you consider him?"
"I did not speak of marrying at all; and might I not be an advocate of universal liberty, without believing in amalgamation? Yet, it is a question whether even amalgamation should be forbidden by law. The negro is a different race; but I do not know that they have other than human feelings and emotions. The negroes are, with us, the direct descendants from the great progenitor of the human family, old Adam. They may, when fitted by education, even transcend us in the refinements and graces which adorn civilized character. In loftiness of purpose, in mental culture, in genius, in urbanity, in the exercise of manly virtues, such as fortitude, courage, and philanthropy, where will you show me a man that excels Fred Douglas? And must the mere fact of his tawny complexion exclude him from the pale of that society which he is so eminently fitted to grace? Might I not (if it were made a question) prefer uniting my sister's fate with such a man, even though partially black, to seeing her tied to a low fellow, a wine-bibber, a swearer, a villain, who possessed not one cubit of the stature of true manhood, yet had a complexion white as snow? Ah, Miss, it is not the skin which gives us true value as men and women; 'tis the momentum of mind and the purity of morals, the integrity of purpose and nobility of soul, that make our place in the scale of being. I care not if the skin be black as Erebus or fair andsmooth as satin, so the heart and mind be right. I do not deal in externals or care for surfaces."
These words were as the bread of life to me. I could scarcely resist the temptation to leave my hiding-place and look in at the open window, to get sight of the speaker; surely, I thought, he must wear the robes of a prophet. I could not very distinctly hear what Miss Jane said in reply. I could catch many words, such as "nigger" and "marry" "white lady," and other expressions used in an expostulatory voice; but the platitudes which she employed would not have answered the demand of my higher reason. Old perversions and misinterpretations of portions of the Bible, such as the story of Hagar, and the curse pronounced upon Ham, were adduced by Miss Jane and Miss Tildy in a tone of triumph.
"Oh, I sicken over these stories," said the same winning voice. "How long will Christians willingly resist the known truth? How long will they bay at heaven with their cruel blasphemies? For I hold it to be blasphemy when a body of Christians, professing to be followers of Him who came from heaven to earth, and assumed the substance of humanity to teach us a lesson, argue thus. Our Great Model declares that 'He came not to be ministered unto but to minister.' He inculcated practically the lesson of humility in the washing of the disciples' feet; yet, these His modern disciples, the followers of to-day, preach, even from the sacred desk, the right of men to hold their fellow-creatures in bondage through endless generations, to sell them for gold, to beat them, to keep them in a heathenish ignorance; and yet declare that it all has the divine sanction. Verily, oh night of Judaism, thou wast brighter than this our noon-day of Christianity! Black and bitter is the account, oh Church of God, that thou art gathering to thyself! I could pray for a tongue of inspiration, wherewith to denounce this foul crime. I could pray for the power to show to my country the terrible stain she has painted upon the banner of freedom. How dare we, as Americans, boast of this as the home and temple of liberty? Where are the 'inalienable rights' ofwhich our Constitution talks in such trumpet-tones? Does not our Declaration of Independence aver, that all men are born free and equal? Now, do we not make this a practical falsehood? Let the poor slave come up to the tribunal of justice, and ask the wise judge upon the bench to interpret this piece of plain English to him! How would the man of ermine blush at his own quibbles?"
I could tell from the speaker's voice that he had risen from his seat, and I knew, from the sound of footsteps, that he was approaching the window. I crouched down lower and lower, in order to conceal myself from observation, but gazed up to behold one whose noble sentiments and bold expression of them had so entranced me.
Very noble looked he, standing there, with the silver moonlight beaming upon his broad, white brow, and his deep, blue eye uplifted to the star-written skies. His features were calm and classic in their mould, and a mystic light seemed to idealize and spiritualize his face and form. Kneeling down upon the earth, I looked reverently to him, as the children of old looked upon their prophets. He did not perceive me, and even if he had, what should I have been to him—a pale-browed student, whose thought, large and expansive, was filled with the noble, the philanthropic, and the great. Yet, there I crouched in fear and trembling, lest a breath should betray my secret place. But, would not his extended pity have embraced me, even me, a poor, insignificant, uncared-for thing in the great world—one who bore upon her face the impress of the hated nation? Ay, I felt that he would not have condemned me as one devoid of the noble impulse of a heroic humanity. If the African has not heroism, pray where will you find it? Are there, in the high endurance of the heroes of old Sparta, sufferings such as the unchronicled life of many a slave can furnish forth? Martyrs have gone to the stake; but amid the pomp and sounding psaltery of a choir, and above the flame, the fagot and the scaffold, they descried the immortal crown, and even the worldly and sensuous desire of canonization may not have beendead with them. The patriot braves the battle, and dies amid the thickest of the carnage, whilst the jubilant strains of music herald him away. The soldier perishes amid the proud acclaim of his countrymen; but the poor negro dies a martyr, unknown, unsung, and uncheered. Many expire at the whipping-post, with the gleesome shouts of their inhuman tormentors, as their only cheering. Yet few pity us. We are valuable only as property. Our lives are nothing, and our souls—why they scarcely think we have any. In reflecting upon these things, in looking calmly back over my past life, and in reviewing the lives of many who are familiar to me, I have felt that the Lord's forbearance must indeed be great; and when thoughts of revenge have curdled my blood, the prayer of my suffering Saviour: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do," has flashed through my mind, and I have repelled them as angry and unchristian. Jesus drank the wormwood and the gall; and we, oh, brethren and sisters of the banned race, must "tread the wine-press alone." We must bear firmly upon the burning ploughshare, and pass manfully through the ordeal, for vengeance is His and He will repay.
But there, in the sweet moonlight, as I looked upon this young apostle of reform, a whole troop of thoughts less bitter than these swept over my mind. There were gentle dreamings of a home, a quiet home, in that Northland, where, at least, we are countenanced as human beings. "Who," I asked myself, "is this mysterious Fred Douglas?" A black man he evidently was; but how had I heard him spoken of? As one devoted to self-culture in its noblest form, who ornamented society by his imposing and graceful bearing, who electrified audiences with the splendor of his rhetoric, and lured scholars to his presence by the fame of his acquirements; and this man, this oracle of lore, was of my race, of my blood. What he had done, others might achieve. What a high determination then fired my breast! Give, give me but the opportunity, and my chief ambition will be to prove that we, though wronged and despised, are not inferior to the proud Caucasians. I will strive to redeemfrom unjust aspersion the name of my people. He, this illustrious stranger, gave the first impetus to my ambition; from him my thoughts assumed a form, and one visible aim now possessed my soul.
How long I remained there listening I do not remember, for soon the subject of conversation was changed, and I noted not the particular words; but that mournfully musical voice had a siren-charm for my ear, and I could not tear myself away. Whilst listening to it, sweet sleep, like a shielding mantle, fell upon me.
THE CONVERSATION IN WHICH FEAR AND SUSPICION ARE AROUSED—THE YOUNG MASTER.
It must have been long after midnight when I awoke. I do not remember whether I had dreamed or not, but the slumber had brought refreshment to my body and peace to my heart.
I was aroused by the sound of voices, in a suppressed whisper, or rather in a tone slightly above a whisper. I thought I detected the voice of Lindy, and, as I rose from my recumbent posture, I caught sight of a figure flitting round the gable of the house. I followed, but there was nothing visible. The pale moonlight slept lovingly upon the dwelling and the roofs of the out-buildings. Whither could the figure have fled? There was no sign of any one having been there. Slowly and sadly I directed my steps toward Aunt Polly's cabin. I opened the door cautiously, not wishing to disturb her; but easy and noiseless as were my motions, they roused that faithful creature. She sprang from the bed, exclaiming:
"La, Ann, whar has yer bin? I has bin so oneasy 'bout yer."
With my native honesty I explained to her that I had been beguiled by the melody of a human voice, and had lingered long out in the autumn moonlight.
"Yes; but, chile, you'll be sick. Sleepin' out a doors is berry onwholesome like."
"Yes; but, Aunt Polly, there is an interior heat which no autumnal frost has power to chill."
"Yes, chile, you does talk so pretty, like dem ar' great white scholards. Many times I has wondered how a poor darkie could larn so much. Now it 'pears to me as if you knowedmuch as any ob 'em. I don't tink Miss Bradly hersef talks any better dan you does."
"Oh, Aunt Polly, your praise is sweet to me; but then, you must remember not to do me more than justice. I am a poor, illiterate mulatto girl, who has indeed improved the modicum of time allowed her for self-culture; yet, when I hear such ladies as Miss Bradly talk, I feel how far inferior I am to the queens of the white tribe. Often I ask myself why is this? Is it because my face is colored? But then there is a voice, deep down in my soul, that rejects such a conclusion as slanderous. Oh, give me but opportunity, and I will strive to equal them in learning."
"I don't see no use in yer wanting to larn, when you is nothing but a poor slave. But I does think the gift of fine speech mighty valable."
And here is another thing upon which I would generalize. Does it not argue the possession of native mind—the immense value the African places upon words—the high-flown and broad-sounding words that he usually employs? The ludicrous attempts which the most untutored make at grandiloquence, should not so much provoke mirth as admiration in the more reflective of the white race. Through what barriers and obstacles do not their minds struggle to force a way up to the light. I have often been astonished at the quickness with which they seized upon expressions, and the accuracy with which they would apply them. Every crude attempt which they make toward self-culture is laughed at and scorned by the master, or treated as the most puerile folly. No encouragement is given them. If, by almost superhuman effort, they gain knowledge, why they may; but, unaided and alone, they must work, as I have done. Moreover, I have been wonder-stricken at the facility with which the negro-boy acquires learning. 'Tis as though the rudiments of the school came to him by flashes of intuition. He is allowed only a couple of hours on Sunday afternoons for recitations, and such odd moments during the week as he can catch to prepare his lessons; for, a servant-boy often caught with his book in hand,would be pronounced indolent, and punished as such. Then, how unjust it is for the proud statesman—prouder of his snowy complexion than of his stores of knowledge—how unjust, I say, is it in him to assert, in the halls of legislation, that the colored race are to the white far inferior in native mind! Has he weighed the advantages and disadvantages of both? Has he remembered that the whites, through countless generations, have been cultivated and refined—familiarized with the arts and sciences and elegancies of a graceful age, whilst the blacks are bound down in ignorance; unschooled in lore; untrained in virtue; taught to look upon themselves as degraded—the mere drudges of their masters; debarred the privileges of social life; excluded from books, with the products of their labor going toward the enrichment of others? When, as in some solitary instance, a single mind dares to break through the restraints and impediments imposed upon it, does not the fact show of what strength the race, when properly cared for, is capable? Is not the bulb, which enshrouds the snowy leaves of the fragrant lily, an unsightly thing? Does the uncut diamond show any of the polish and brilliancy which the lapidary's hand can give it? Thus is it with the African mind. Let but the schoolmen breathe upon it, let the architect of learning fashion it, and no diamond ever glittered with more resplendence. With a more than prismatic light, it will refract the beams of the sun of knowledge; and the heart, the most noble African's heart, that now slumbers in the bulb of ignorance, will burst forth, pure and lovely as the white-petaled lily!
I hope, kind reader, you will pardon these digressions, as I write my inner as well as outer life, and I should be unfaithful to my most earnest thoughts were I not to chronicle such reflections as these. This book is not a wild romance to beguile your tears and cheat your fancy. No; it is the truthful autobiography of one who has suffered long, long, the pains and trials of slavery. And she is committing her story, with her own calm deductions, to the consideration of every thoughtful and truth-loving mind.
"Where," I asked Aunt Polly, "is Lindy?"
"Oh, chile, I doesn't know whar dat gal is. Sompen is de matter wid her. She bin flyin' round here like somebody out ob dar head. All's not right wid her, now you mark my words fur it."
I then related to her the circumstance which had occurred whilst I was under the window.
"I does jist know dat was Lindy! You didn't see who she was talkin' wid?"
"No; and I did not distinctly discern her form; but the voice I am confident was her's."
"Well, sompen is gwine to happen; kase Lindy is berry great coward, and I well knows 'twas sompen great dat would make her be out dar at midnight."
"What do you think it means?" I asked.
"Why, lean up close to me, chile, while I jist whisper it low like to you. I believe Lindy is gwine to run off."
I started back in terror. I felt the blood grow cold in my veins. Why, if she made such an attempt as this, the whole country would be scoured for her. Hot pursuers would be out in every direction. And then her flight would render slavery ten times more severe for us. Master would believe that we were cognizant of it, and we should be put to torture for the purpose of wringing from us something in regard to her. Then, apprehension of our following her example would cause the reins of authority to be even more tightly drawn. What wonder, then, that fright possessed our minds, as the horrid suspicion began to assume something like reality. We regarded each other in silent horror. The dread workings of the fiend of fear were visible in the livid hue which overspread my companion's face and shone in the glare of her aged eye. She clasped her skinny hands together, and cried,
"Oh, my chile, orful times is comin' fur us. While Lindy will be off in that 'lightful Canady, we will be here sufferin' all sorts of trouble. Oh, de Lord, if dar be any, hab marcy on us!"
"Oh, Aunt Polly, don't say 'if there be any;' for, so certain as we both sit here, there is a Lord who made us, and who caresfor us, too. We are as much the children of His love as are the whites."
"Oh Lord, chile, I kan't belieb it; fur, if he loves us, why does he make us suffer so, an' let de white folks hab such an easy time?"
"He has some wise purpose in it. And then in that Eternity which succeeds the grave, He will render us blest and happy."
The clouds of ignorance hung too thick and close around her mind; and the poor old woman did not see the justice of such a decree. She was not to blame if, in her woeful ignorance, she yielded to unbelief; and, with a profanity which knowledge would have rebuked, dared to boldly question the Divine Purpose. This sin, also, is at the white man's door.
I did not strive further to enlighten her; for, be it confessed, I was myself possessed by physical fear to an unwonted degree. I did not think of courting sleep. The brief dream which had fallen upon me as I slept beneath the parlor window, had given me sufficient refreshment. And as for Aunt Polly, she was too much frightened to think of sleep. Talk we did, long and earnestly. I mentioned to her what I had heard Misses Tildy and Jane say in regard to Amy.
"Poor thing," exclaimed Aunt Polly, "she'll not be able to stand it, for her heart is wrapped up in dat ar' chile's. She 'pears like its mother."
"I hope they may change their intentions," I ventured to say.
"No; neber. When wonst Miss Jane gets de notion ob finery in her head, she is gwine to hab it. Lord lub you, Ann, I does wish dey would sell you and me."
"So do I," was my fervent reply.
"But dey will neber sell you, kase Miss Jane tinks you is good-lookin', an' I hearn her say she would like to hab a nice-lookin' maid. You see she tinks it is 'spectable."
"I suppose I must bear my cross and crown of thorns with patience."
Just then little Ben groaned in his sleep, and quickly his ever-watchful guardian was aroused; she bent over him, soothing hisperturbed sleep with a low song. Many were the endearing epithets which she employed, such as, "Pretty little Benny, nothing shall hurt you." "Bless your little heart," and "here I is by yer side," "I'll keep de bars way frum yer."
"Poor child," burst involuntarily from my lips, as I reflected that even that one only treasure would soon be taken from her; then in what a hopeless eclipse would sink every ray of mind. Hearing my exclamation, she sprung up, and eagerly asked,
"What is de matter, Ann? Why is you and Aunt Polly sittin' up at dis time ob of de night? It's most day; say, is anything gwine on?"
"Nothing at all," I answered, "only Aunt Polly does not feel very well, and I am sitting up talking with her."
Thus appeased, she returned to her bed (if such a miserable thing could be called a bed), and was soon sleeping soundly.
Aunt Polly wiped her eyes as she said to me,
"Ann, doesn't we niggers hab to bar a heap? We works hard, and gits nothing but scanty vittels, de scraps dat de white folks leabes, and den dese miserable old rags dat only half kevers our nakedness. I declare it is too hard to bar."
"Yes," I answered, "it is hard, very hard, and enough to shake the endurance of the most determined martyr; yet, often do I repeat to myself those divine words, 'The cup which my Father has given me will I drink;' and then I feel calmed, strong, and heroic."
"Oh, Ann, chile, you does talk so beautiful, an' you has got de rale sort ob religion."
"Oh, would that I could think so. Would that my soul were more patient. I am not sufficiently hungered and athirst after righteousness. I pant too much for the joys of earth. I crave worldly inheritance, whilst the Christian's true aim should be for the mansions of the blest."
Thus wore on the night in social conversation, and I forgot, in that free intercourse, that there was a difference between us. The heart takes not into consideration the distinction of mind.Love banishes all thought of rank or inequality. By her kindness and confidence, this old woman made me forget her ignorance.
When the first red streak of day began to announce the slow coming of the sun, Aunt Polly was out, and about her breakfast arrangements.
Since the illness of Master, and the departure of Mr. Jones, things had not gone on with the same precision as before. There was a few minutes difference in the blowing of the horn; and, for offences like these, Master had sworn deeply that "every nigger's hide" should be striped, as soon as he was able to preside at the "post." During his sickness he had not allowed one of us to enter his room; "for," as he said to the doctor, "a cussed nigger made him feel worse, he wanted to be up and beatin' them. They needed the cowhide every breath they drew." And, as the sapient doctor decided that our presence had an exciting effect upon him, we were banished from his room. "Banished!—what's banished but set free!"
Now, when I rose from my seat, and bent over the form of Amy, and watched her as she lay wrapt in a profound sleep, with one arm encircling little Ben, and the two sisters, Jane and Luce, lying close to her—so dependent looked the three, as they thus huddled round their young protectress, so loving and trustful in that deep repose, that I felt now would be a good time for the angel Death to come—now, before the fatal fall of the Damoclesian sword, whose hair thread was about to snap: but no—Death comes not at our bidding; he obeys a higher appointment. The boy moaned again in his sleep, and Amy's faithful arm was tightened round him. Closer she drew him to her maternal heart, and in a low, gurgling, songful voice, lulled him to a sweeter rest. I turned away from the sight, and, sinking on my knees, offered up a prayer to Him our common Father. I prayed that strength might be furnished me to endure the torture which I feared would come with the labors of the day. I asked, in an especial way, for grace to be given to the child, Amy. God is merciful! He moves in a mysteriousmanner. All power comes direct from Him; and, oh, did I not feel that this young creature had need of grace to bear the burden that others were preparing for her!
My business was to clean the house and set to rights the young ladies' apartment, and then assist Lindy in the breakfast-room; but I dared not venture in the ladies' chamber until half-past six o'clock, as the slightest foot-fall would arouse Miss Jane, who, I think, was too nervous to sleep. Thus I was left some little time to myself; and these few moments I generally devoted to reading some simple story-book or chapters in the New Testament. Of course, the mighty mysteries of the sacred volume were but imperfectly appreciated by me. I read the book more as a duty than a pleasure; but this morning I could not read. Christ's beautiful parable of the Ten Virgins, which has such a wondrous significance even to the most childish mind, failed to impart interest, and the blessed page fell from my hands unread.
I then thought I would go to the kitchen and assist Aunt Polly. I found her very much excited, and in close conversation with our master's son John, whom the servants familiarly addressed as "young master."
I have, as yet, forborne all direct and special mention of him, though he was by no means a person lacking interest. Unlike his father and sisters, he was gentle in disposition, full of loving kindness; yet he was so taciturn, that we had seldom an indication of that generosity that burned so intensely in the very centre of his soul, and which subsequent events called forth. His sisters pronounced him stupid; and, in the choice phraseology of his father, he was "poke-easy;" but the poor, undiscriminating black people, called him gentle. To me he said but little; yet that little was always kindly spoken, and I knew it to be the dictate of a soft, humane spirit.
Fair-haired, with deep blue eyes, a snowy complexion and pensive manners, he glided by us, ever recalling to my mind the thought of seraphs. He was now fifteen years of age, but small of stature and slight of sinew, with a mournful expression and dejected eye, as though the burden of a great sorrow hadbeen early laid upon him. During all my residence there, I had never heard him laugh loud or seen him run. He had none of that exhilaration and buoyancy which are so captivating in childhood. If he asked a favor of even a servant, he always expressed a hope that he had given no trouble. When a slave was to be whipped, he would go off and conceal himself somewhere, and never was he a spectator of any cruelty; yet he did not remonstrate with his father or intercede for the victims. No one had ever heard him speak against the diabolical acts of his father; yet all felt that he condemned them, for there was a silent expression of reproof in the earnest gaze which he sometimes gave him. I always fancied when the boy came near me, that there was about him a religion, which, like the wondrous virtue of the Saviour's garment, was manifest only when you approached near enough to touch it. It was not expressed in any open word, or made evident by any signal act, but, like the life-sustaining air which we daily breathe, we knew it only through its beneficent though invisible influence.
THE FLIGHT—YOUNG MASTER'S APPREHENSIONS—HIS CONVERSATION—AMY—EDIFYING TALK AMONG LADIES.
I was not a little surprised to find young master now in an apparently earnest colloquy with Aunt Polly. A deep carnation spot burned upon his cheeks, and his soft eye was purple in its intensity.
"What is the matter?" I asked.
"Lor, chile," replied Aunt Polly, "Lindy can't be found nowhar."
"Has every place been searched?" I inquired.
"Yes," said little John, "and she is nowhere to be found."
"Does master know it?"
"Not yet, and I hope it may be kept from him for some time, at least two or three hours," he replied, with a mournful earnestness of tone.
"Why? Is he not well enough to bear the excitement of it?" I inquired.
The boy fixed his large and wondering eyes upon me. His gaze lingered for a minute or two; it was enough; I read his inmost thoughts, and in my secret soul I revered him, for I bowed to the majesty of a heaven-born soul. Such spirits are indeed few. God lends them to earth for but a short time; and we should entertain them well, for, though they come in forms unrecognized, yet must we, despite the guise of humanity, do reverence to the shrined seraph. This boy now became to me an object of more intense interest. I felt assured, by the power of that magnetic glance, that he was not unacquainted with the facts of Lindy's flight.
"How far is it from here to the river?" he said, as if speaking with himself, "nine miles—let me see—the Ohio once gained, and crossed, they are comparatively safe."
He started suddenly, as if he had been betrayed or beguiled of his secret, and starting up quickly, walked away. I followed him to the door, and watched his delicate form and golden head, until he disappeared in a curve of the path which led to the spring. That was a favorite walk with him. Early in the morning (for he rose before the lark) and late in the twilight, alike in winter or summer, he pursued his walk. Never once did I see him with a book in his hand. With his eye upturned to the heavens or bent upon the earth, he seemed to be reading Nature's page. He had made no great proficiency in book-knowledge; and, indeed, as he subsequently told me, he had read nothing but the Bible. The stories of the Old Testament he had committed to memory, and could repeat with great accuracy. That of Joseph possessed a peculiar fascination for him. As I closed the kitchen door and rejoined Aunt Polly, she remarked,
"Jist as I sed, Lindy is off, and we is left here to hab trouble; oh, laws, look for sights now!"
I made no reply, but silently set about assisting her in getting breakfast. Shortly after old Nace came in, with a strange expression lighting up his fiendish face.
"Has you hearn de news?" And without waiting for a reply, he went on, "Lindy is off fur Kanaday! ha, ha, ha!" and he broke out in a wild laugh; "I guess dat dose 'ere hounds will scent her path sure enoff; I looks out for fun in rale arnest. I jist hopes I'll be sint fur her, and I'll scour dis airth but what I finds her."
And thus he rambled on, in a diabolical way, neither of us heeding him. He seemed to take no notice of our silence, being too deeply interested in the subject of his thoughts.
"I'd like to know at what hour she started off. Now, she was a smart one to git off so slick, widout lettin' anybody know ob it. She had no close worth takin' wid her, so she ken runde faster. I wish Masser would git wake, kase I wants to be de fust one to tell him ob it."
Just then the two field-hands, Jake and Dan, came in.
"Wal," cried the former, "dis am news indeed. Lindy's off fur sartin. Now she tinks she is some, I reckon."
"And why shouldn't she?" asked Dan, a big, burly negro, good-natured, but very weak in mind; of a rather low and sensuous nature, yet of a good and careless humor—the best worker upon the farm. I looked round at him as he said this, for I thought there was reason as well as feeling in the speech. Why shouldn't she be both proud and happy at the success of her bold plan, if it gains her liberty and enables her to reach that land where the law would recognize her as possessed of rights? I could almost envy her such a lot.
"I guess she'll find her Kanady down de river, by de time de dogs gits arter her," said Nace, with another of his ha, ha's.
"I wonder who Masser will send fur her? I bound, Nace, you'll be sent," said Jake.
"Yes, if dar is any fun, I is sure to be dar; but hurry up yer hoe-cakes, old 'ooman, so dat de breakfust will be ober, and we can hab an airly start."
The latter part of this speech was addressed to Aunt Polly, who turned round and brandished the poker toward him, saying,
"Go 'bout yer business, Nace; kase you is got cause fur joy, it is not wort my while to be glad. You is an old fool, dat nobody keres 'bout, no how. I spects you would be glad to run off, too, if yer old legs was young enuff fur to carry you."
"Me, Poll, I wouldn't be free if I could, kase, you see, I has done sarved my time at de 'post,' and now I is Masser's head-man, and I gits none ob de beatings. It is fun fur me to see de oders."
I turned my eyes upon him, and he looked so like a beast that I shut out any feeling of resentment I might otherwise have entertained. Amy came in, bearing little Ben in her arms, followed by her two sisters, Jinny and Lucy.
"La, Aunt Polly, is Lindy gone?" and her blank eyes opened to an unusual width, as she half-asked, half-asserted this fact.
"Yes, but what's it to you, Amy?"
"I jist hear 'em say so, as I was comin' along."
"Whar she be gone to?" asked Lucy.
"None ob yer bisness," replied Aunt Polly, with her usual gruffness.
Strange it was, that, when she was alone with me, she appeared to wax soft and gentle in her nature; but, when with others, she was "wolfish." It seemed as if she had two natures. Now, with Nace, she was as vile and almost as inhuman as he; but I, who knew her heart truly, felt that she was doing herself injustice. I did not laugh or join in their talk, but silently worked on.
"Now, you see, Ann is one ob de proud sort, kase she ken read, and her face is yaller; she tinks to hold herself 'bove us; but I 'members de time when Masser buyed her at de sale. Lor' lub yer, but she did cry when she lef her mammy; and de way old Kais flung herself on de ground, ha! ha! it makes me laf now."
I turned my eyes upon him, and, I fear, there was anything but a Christian spirit beaming therefrom. He had touched a chord in my heart which was sacred to memory, love, and silence. My mother! Could I bear to have her name and her sorrow thus rudely spoken of? Oh, God, what fierce and fiendish feelings did the recollection of her agony arouse? With burning head and thorn-pierced heart, I turned back a blotted page in life. Again, with horror stirring my blood, did I see her in that sweat of mortal agony, and hear that shriek that rung from her soul! Oh, God, these memories are a living torture to me, even now. But though Nace had touched the tenderest, sorest part of my heart, I said nothing to him. The strange workings of my countenance attracted Amy's attention, and, coming up to me, with an innocent air, she asked:
"What is the matter, Ann? Has anything happened to you?"
These questions, put by a simple child, one, too, whose own young life had been deeply acquainted with grief, were too much for my assumed stolidity. Tears were the only reply I couldmake. The child regarded me curiously, and the expression, "poor thing," burst from her lips. I felt grateful for even her sympathy, and put my hand out to her.
She grasped it, and, leaning close to me, said:
"Don't cry, Ann; me is sorry fur you. Don't cry any more."
Poor thing, she could feel sympathy; she, who was so loaded with trouble, whose existence had none of the freshness and vernal beauty of youth, but was seared and blighted like age, held in the depths of her heart a pure drop of genuine sympathy, which she freely offered me. Oh, did not my selfishness stand rebuked.
Looking out of the window, far down the path that wound to the spring, I descried the fair form of the young John, advancing toward the house. Pale and pure, with his blue eyes pensively looking up to heaven, an air of peaceful thought and subdued emotion was breathing from his very form. When I looked at him, he suggested the idea of serenity. There was that about him which, like the moonlight, inspired calm. He was walking more rapidly than I had ever seen him; but the pallor of his cheek, and the clear, cold blue of his heaven-lit eye, harmonized but poorly with the jarring discords of life. I thought of the pure, passionless apostle John, whom Christ so loved? And did I not dream that this youth, too, had on earth a mission of love to perform? Was he not one of the sacred chosen? He came walking slowly, as if he were communing with some invisible presence.
"Thar comes young Masser, and I is glad, kase he looks so good like. I does lub him," said Amy.
"Now, I is gwine fur to tell Masser, and he will gib you a beatin', nigger-gal, for sayin' you lub a white gemman," replied the sardonic Nace.
"Oh, please don't tell on me. I did not mean any harm," and she burst into tears, well-knowing that a severe whipping would be the reward of her construed impertinence.
Before I had time to offer her any consolation, the subjectof conversation himself stood among us. With a low, tuneful voice, he spoke to Amy, inquiring the cause of her tears.
"Oh, young Masser, I did not mean any harm. Please don't hab me beat." Little Ben joined in her tears, whilst the two girls clung fondly to her dress.
"Beaten for what?" asked young master, in a most encouraging manner.
"She say she lub you—jist as if a black wench hab any right to lub a beautiful white gemman," put in Nace.
"I am glad she does, and wish that I could do something that would make her love me more." And abeatificsmile overspread his peaceful face. "Come, poor Amy, let me see if I haven't some little present for you," and he drew from his pocket a picayune, which he handed her. With a wild and singular contortion of her body, she made an acknowledgment of thanks, and kissing the hem of his robe, she darted off from the kitchen, with little Ben in her arms.
Without saying one word, young master walked away from the kitchen, but not without first casting a sorrowful look upon Nace. Strange it seemed to me, that this noble youth never administered a word of reproof to any one. He conveyed all rebukes by means of looks. Upon me this would have produced a greater impression, for those mild, reproachful eyes spoke with a power which no language could equal; but on one of Nace's obtuseness, it had no effect whatever.
Shortly after, I left the kitchen, and went to the breakfast-room, where, with the utmost expedition, I arranged the table, and then repaired to the chamber of the young ladies. I found that they had already risen from their bed. Miss Bradly (who had spent the night with them) was standing at the mirror, braiding her long hair. Miss Jane was seated in a large chair, with an elegant dressing-wrapper, waiting for me to comb her "auburn hair," as she termed it. Miss Tildy, in a lazy attitude, was talking about the events of the previous evening.
"Now, Miss Emily, I do think him very handsome; but I cannot forgive his gross Abolition sentiments."
"How horribly vulgar and low he is in his notions," said Miss Jane.
"Oh, but, girls, he was reared in the North, with those fanatical Abolitionists, and we can scarcely blame him."
"What a horrible set of men those Abolitionists must be. They have no sense," said Miss Jane, with quite a Minerva air.
"Oh, sense they assuredly have, but judgment they lack. They are a set of brain-sick dreamers, filled with Utopian schemes. They know nothing of Slavery as it exists at the South; and the word, which, I confess, has no very pleasant sound, has terrified them." This remark was made by Miss Bradly, and so astonished me that I fixed my eyes upon her, and, with one look, strove to express the concentrated contempt and bitterness of my nature. This look she did not seem to heed. With strange feelings of distrust in the integrity of human nature, I went on about my work, which was to arrange and deck Miss Jane's hair, but I would have given worlds not to have felt toward Miss Bradly as I did. I remembered with what a different spirit she had spoken to me of those Abolitionists, whom she now contemned so much, and referred to as vain dreamers. Where was the exalted philanthropy that I had thought dwelt in her soul? Was she not, now, the weakest and most sordid of mortals? Where was that far and heaven-reaching love, that had seemed to encircle her as a living, burning zone? Gone! dissipated, like a golden mist! and now, before my sight she stood, poor and a beggar, upon the great highway of life.
"I can tell you," said Miss Tildy, "I read the other day in a newspaper that the reason these northern men are so strongly in favor of the abolition of slavery is, that they entertain a prejudice against the South, and that all this political warfare originated in the base feeling of envy."
"And that is true," put in Miss Jane; "they know that cotton, rice and sugar are the great staples of the South, and where can you find any laborers but negroes to produce them?"
"Could not the poor class of whites go there and work forwages?" pertinently asked Miss Tildy, who had a good deal of the spirit of altercation in her.
"No, of course not; because they are free and could not be made to work at all times. They would consent to be employed only at certain periods. They would not work when they were in the least sick, and they would, because of their liberty, claim certain hours as their own; whereas the slave has no right to interpose any word against the overseer's order. Sick or well, hemustwork at busy seasons of the year. The whip has a terribly sanitary power, and has been proven to be a more efficient remedy than rhubarb or senna." After delivering herself of this wonderful argument, Miss Jane seemed to experience great relief. Miss Bradly turned from the mirror, and, smiling sycophantically upon her, said: "Why, my dear, how well you argue! You are a very Cicero in debate."
That was enough. This compliment took ready root in the shallow mind of the receiver, and her love for Miss B. became greater than ever.
"But I do think him so handsome," broke from Miss Tildy's lips, in a half audible voice.
"Whom?" asked Miss Bradly.
"Why, the stranger of last evening; the fair-browed Robert Worth."
"Handsome, indeed, is he!" was the reply.
"I hope, Matilda Peterkin, you would not be so disloyal to the South, and to the very honorable institution under which your father accumulated his wealth, as to even admire a low-flung northern Abolitionist;" and Miss Jane reddened with all a Southron's ire.
Miss Bradly was about to speak, but to what purpose the world to this day remains ignorant, for oath after oath, and blasphemy by the volley, so horrible that I will spare myself and the reader the repetition, proceeded from the room of Mr. Peterkin.
The ladies sprang to their feet, and, in terror, rushed from the apartment.
MR. PETERKIN'S RAGE—ITS ESCAPE—CHAT AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE—CHANGE OF VIEWS—POWER OF THE FLESH POTS.
It was as I had expected; the news of Lindy's flight had been communicated by Nace to Mr. Peterkin, and his rage knew no limits. It was dangerous to go near him. Raving like a madman, he tore the covering of the bed to shreds, brandished his cowhide in every direction, took down his gun, and swore he would "shoot every d——d nigger on the place." His daughters had no influence over him. Out of bed he would get, declaring that "all this devilment" would not have been perpetrated if he had not been detained there by the order of that d——d doctor, who had no reason for keeping him there but a desire to get his money. Fearing that his hyena rage might vent some of its gall on them, the ladies made no further opposition to his intention.
Standing just without the door, I heard Miss Jane ask him if he would not first take some breakfast.
"No; cuss your breakfast. I want none of it; I want to be among them ar' niggers, and give 'em a taste of this cowhide, that they have been sufferin' fur."
In affright I fled to the kitchen, and told Aunt Polly that the storm had at length broken in all its fury. Each one of the negroes eyed the others in silent dismay.
Pale with rage and debility, hot fury flashing from his eye, and white froth gathering upon his lips, Mr. Peterkin dashed into the kitchen. "In the name of h—ll and its fires, niggers, what does this mean? Tell me whar that d——d gal is, or I'll cut every mother's child of you to death."
Not one spoke. Lash after lash he dealt in every direction.
"Speak, h—ll hounds, or I'll throttle you!" he cried, as he caught Jake and Dan by the throat, with each hand, and half strangled them. With their eyes rolling, and their tongues hanging from their mouths, they had not power to answer. As soon as he loosened his grasp, and their voices were sufficiently their own to speak, they attempted a denial; but a blow from each of Mr. Peterkin's fists levelled them to the floor. In this dreadful state, and with a hope of getting a moment's respite, Jake (poor fellow, I forgive him for it) pointed to me, saying:
"She knows all 'bout it."
This had the desired effect; finding one upon whom he could vent his whole wrath, Peterkin rushed up to me, and Oh, such a blow as descended upon my head! Fifty stars blazed around me. My brain burned and ached; a choking rush of tears filled my eyes and throat. "Mercy! mercy!" broke from my agonized lips; but, alas! I besought it from a tribunal where it was not to be found. Blow after blow he dealt me. I strove not to parry them, but stood and received them, as, right and left, they fell like a hail-storm. Tears and blood bathed my face and blinded my sight. "You cussed fool, I'll make you rue the day you was born, if you hide from me what you knows 'bout it."
I asseverated, in the most solemn way, that I knew nothing of Lindy's flight.
"You are a liar," he cried out, and enforced his words with another blow.
"She is not," cried Aunt Polly, whose forbearance had now given out. This unexpected boldness in one of the most humble and timid of his slaves, enraged him still farther, and he dealt her such a blow that my heart aches even now, as I think of it.
A summons from one of the ladies recalled him to the house. Before leaving he pronounced a desperate threat against us, which amounted to this—that we should all be tied to the "post," and beaten until confession was wrung from us, and thentaken to L——, and sold to a trader, for the southern market. But I did not share, with the others, that wondrous dread of the fabled horror of "down the river." I did not believe that anywhere slavery existed in a more brutal and cruel form than in the section of Kentucky where I lived. Solitary instances of kind and indulgent masters there were; but they were the few exceptions to the almost universal rule.
Now, when Mr. Peterkin withdrew, I, forgetful of my own wounds, lifted Aunt Polly in my arms, and bore her, half senseless, to the cabin, and laid her upon her ragged bed. "Great God!" I exclaimed, as I bent above her, "can this thing last long? How much longer will thy divine patience endure? How much longer must we bear this scourge, this crown of thorns, this sweat of blood? Where and with what Calvary shall this martyrdom terminate? Oh, give me patience, give me fortitude to bow to Thy will! Sustain me, Jesus, Thou who dost know, hast tasted of humanity's bitterest cup, give me grace to bear yet a little longer!"
With this prayer upon my lips I rose from the bedside where I had been kneeling, and, taking Aunt Polly's horny hands within my own, I commenced chafing them tenderly. I bathed her temples with cold water. She opened her eyes languidly, looked round the room slowly, and then fixed them upon me, with a bewildered expression. I spoke to her in a gentle tone; she pushed me some distance from her, eyed me with a vacant glance, then, shaking her head, turned over on her side and closed her eyes. Believing that she was stunned and faint from the blow she had received, I thought it best that she should sleep awhile. Gently spreading the coverlet over her, I returned to the kitchen, where the affrighted group of negroes yet remained. Stricken by a panic they had not power of volition.
Casting one look of reproach upon Jake, I turned away, intending to go and see if the ladies required my attention in the breakfast-room; but in the entry, which separated the house from the kitchen, I encountered Amy, with little Ben seated upon herhip. This is the usual mode with nurses in Kentucky of carrying children. I have seen girls actually deformed from the practice. An enlargement of the right hip is caused by it, and Amy was an example of this. Had I been in a different mood, her position and appearance would have provoked laughter. There she stood, with her broad eyes wide open, and glaring upon me; her unwashed face and uncombed hair were adorned by the odd ends of broken straws and bits of hay that clung to the naps of wool; her mouth was opened to its utmost capacity; her very ears were erect with curiosity; and her form bent eagerly forward, whilst little Ben was coiled up on her hip, with his sharp eyes peering like those of a mouse over her shoulder.
"Ann," she cried out, "tell me what's de matter? What's Masser goin' to do wid us all?"
"I don't know, Amy," I answered in a faltering tone, for I feared much for her.
"I hopes de child'en will go 'long wid me, an' I'd likes for you to go too, Ann."
I did not trust myself to reply; but, passing hastily on, entered the breakfast-room, where Jane, Tildy, and Miss Bradly were seated at the table, with their breakfast scarcely tasted. They were bending over their plates in an intensity of interest which made them forget everything, save their subject of conversation.
"How she could have gotten off without creating any alarm, is to me a mystery," said Miss Jane, as she toyed with her spoon and cup.
"Well, old Nick is in them. Negroes, I believe, are possessed by some demon. They have the witch's power of slipping through an auger-hole," said Miss Tildy.
"They are singular creatures," replied Miss Bradly; "and I fear a great deal of useless sympathy is expended upon them."
"You may depend there is," said Miss Jane. "I only wish these Northern abolitionists had our servants to deal with. I think it would drive the philanthropy out of them."
"Indeed would it," answered Miss Bradly, as she took a warm roll, and busied herself spreading butter thereon; "they have no idea of the trials attending the duty of a master; the patience required in the management of so many different dispositions. I think a residence in the South or South-west would soon change their notions. The fact is, I think those fanatical abolitionists agitate the question only for political purposes. Now, it is a clearly-ascertained thing, that slavery would be prejudicial to the advancement of Northern enterprise. The negro is an exotic from a tropical region, hence lives longer, and is capable of more work in a warm climate. They have no need of black labor at the North; and thus, I think, the whole affair resolves itself into a matter of sectional gain and interest."
Here she helped herself to the wing of a fried chicken. It seemed that the argument had considerably whetted her appetite. Astonishing, is it not, how the loaves and fishes of this goodly life will change and sway our opinions? Even sober-minded, educated people, cannot repress their pinings after the flesh-pots of Egypt.
Miss Jane seemed delighted to find that her good friend and instructress held the Abolition party in such contempt. Just then young master entered. With quiet, saintly manner, taking his seat at the table, he said,
"Is not the abolition power strong at the North, Miss Emily?"
"Oh, no, Johnny, 'tis comparatively small; confined, I assure you, to a few fanatical spirits. The merchants of New York, Boston, and the other Northern cities, carry on a too extensive commerce with the South to adopt such dangerous sentiments. There is a comity of men as well as States; and the clever rule of 'let alone' is pretty well observed."
Young master made no reply in words, but fixed his large, mysterious eyes steadfastly upon her. Was it mournfulness that streamed, with a purple light, from them, or was it a sublimated contempt? He said nothing, but quietly ate his breakfast. His fare was as homely as that of an ascetic; henever used meat, and always took bread without butter. A simple crust and glass of milk, three times a day, was his diet. Miss Jane gave him a careless and indifferent glance, then proceeded with the conversation, totally unconscious of his presence; but again and again he cast furtive, anxious glances toward her, and I thought I noticed him sighing.
"What will father do with Lindy, if she should be caught?" asked Miss Tildy.
"Send her down the river, of course," was Miss Jane's response.
"She deserves it," said Miss Tildy.
"Does she?" asked the deep, earnest voice of young master.
Was it because he was unused to asking questions, or was there something in the strange earnestness of his tone, that made those three ladies start so suddenly, and regard him with such an astonished air? Yet none of them replied, and thus for a few moments conversation ceased, until he rose from the table and left the room.
"He is a strange youth," said Miss Bradly, "and how wondrously handsome! He always suggests romantic notions."
"Yes, but I think him very stupid. He never talks to any of us—is always alone, seeks old and unfrequented spots; neither in the winter nor summer will he remain within doors. Something seems to lure him to the wood, even when despoiled of its foliage. He must be slightly crazed—ma's health was feeble for some time previous to his birth, which the doctors say has injured his constitution, and I should not be surprised if his intellect had likewise suffered." This speech was pronounced by Miss Tildy in quite an oracular tone.
Miss Bradly made no answer, and I marvelled not at her changing color. Had she not power to read, in that noble youth's voice and manner, the high enduring truth and singleness of purpose that dwelt in his nature? Though he had never spoken one word in relation to slavery, I knew that all his instincts were against it; and that opposition to it was the principle deeply ingrained in his heart.