from your wife and children, and want to keep you all your life hoeing corn for them, if you'd think it your duty to abide in the condition in which you were called. I rather think that you'd think the first stray horse you could find an indication of Providence-shouldn't you?'
The little old gentleman stared with both eyes at this illustration of the case; but, though not much of a reasoner, he had the sense in which some logicians on this particular subject do not excel,- that of saying nothing, where nothing could be said. So, as he stood carefully stroking his umbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, he proceeded on with his exhortations in a general way.
'You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend; and whatever I've said, I've said for your good. Now, here, it seems to me, you're running an awful risk. You can't hope to carry it out. If you're taken, it will be worse with you than ever; they'll only abuse you, and half kill you, and sell you down the river.'
'Mr. Wilson, I know all this,' said George. 'I
'Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it's getting really desperate George. I'm concerned. Going to break the laws of your country!'
'My country again! Mr. Wilson,
Mr. Wilson's mind was one of those that may not unaptly be represented by a bale of cotton,-downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy and confused. He really pitied George with all his heart, and had a sort of dim and cloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him; but he deemed it his duty to go on talking
'George, this is bad. I must tell you, you know, as a friend, you'd better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, very bad, for boys in your condition,-very;' and Mr. Wilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrella.
'See here, now, Mr. Wilson,' said George, coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; 'look at me, now. Don't I sit before you, every way, just as much a man as you are? Look at my face,-look at my hands,-look at my body,' and the young man drew himself up proudly; 'why am I
'Well, then?'
'My master traded with one of the men, and bought my oldest sister. She was a pious, good girl,-a member of the Baptist church,-and as handsome as my poor mother had been. She was well brought up, and had good manners. At first, I was glad she was bought, for I had one friend near me. I was soon sorry for it. Sir, I have stood at the door and heard her whipped, when it seemed as if every blow cut into my naked heart, and I couldn't do anything to help her; and she was whipped, sir, for wanting to live a decent Christian life, such as your laws give no slave girl a right to live; and at last I saw her chained with a trader's gang, to be sent to market in Orleans,-sent there for nothing else but that,-and that's the last I know of her. Well, I grew up,-long years and years,-no father, no mother, no sister, not a living soul that cared for me more than a dog; nothing but whipping, scolding, starving. Why, sir, I've been so hungry that I have been glad to take the bones they threw to their dogs; and yet, when I was a little fellow, and laid awake whole nights and cried, it wasn't the hunger, it wasn't the whipping, I cried for. No, sir, it was for
This speech, delivered partly while sitting at the table, and partly walking up and down the room,-delivered with tears, and flashing eyes, and despairing gestures,-was altogether too much for the good-natured old body to whom it was addressed, who had pulled out a great yellow silk pocket-handkerchief, and was mopping up his face with great energy.
'Blast 'em all!' he suddenly broke out. 'Haven't I always said so-the infernal old cusses! I hope I an't swearing, now. Well! go ahead, George, go ahead; but be careful, my boy; don't shoot anybody, George, unless-well-you'd
'Gone, sir gone, with her child in her arms, the Lord only knows where;-gone after the north star; and when we ever meet, or whether we meet at all in this world, no creature can tell.'
'Is it possible! astonishing! from such a kind family?'
'Kind families get in debt, and the laws of
'Well, well,' said the honest old man, fumbling in his pocket: 'I s'pose, perhaps, I an't following my judgment,-hang it, I
'No, my kind, good sir!' said George, 'you've done a great deal for me, and this might get you into trouble. I have money enough, I hope, to take me as far as I need it.'
'No; but you must, George. Money is a great help everywhere;-can't have too much, if you get it honestly. Take it,-
'On condition, sir, that I may repay it at some future time, I will,' said George, taking up the money.
'And now, George, how long are you going to travel in this way?-not long or far, I hope. It's well carried on, but too bold. And this black fellow,-who is he?'
'A true fellow, who went to Canada more than a year ago. He heard, after he got there, that his master was so angry at him for going off that he had whipped his poor old mother; and he has come all the way back to comfort her, and get a chance to get her away.'