It was late in a drizzly afternoon that a traveler alighted at the doorof a small country hotel, in the village of N----, in Kentucky. In thebarroom he found assembled quite a miscellaneous company, whom stress ofweather had driven to harbor, and the place presented the usual sceneryof such reunions. Great, tall, raw-boned Kentuckians, attired inhunting-shirts, and trailing their loose joints over a vast extent ofterritory, with the easy lounge peculiar to the race,--rifles stackedaway in the corner, shot-pouches, game-bags, hunting-dogs, and littlenegroes, all rolled together in the corners,--were the characteristicfeatures in the picture. At each end of the fireplace sat a long-leggedgentleman, with his chair tipped back, his hat on his head, and theheels of his muddy boots reposing sublimely on the mantel-piece,--aposition, we will inform our readers, decidedly favorable to the turnof reflection incident to western taverns, where travellers exhibita decided preference for this particular mode of elevating theirunderstandings.

Mine host, who stood behind the bar, like most of his country men, wasgreat of stature, good-natured and loose-jointed, with an enormous shockof hair on his head, and a great tall hat on the top of that.

In fact, everybody in the room bore on his head this characteristicemblem of man's sovereignty; whether it were felt hat, palm-leaf, greasybeaver, or fine new chapeau, there it reposed with true republicanindependence. In truth, it appeared to be the characteristic mark ofevery individual. Some wore them tipped rakishly to one side--thesewere your men of humor, jolly, free-and-easy dogs; some had them jammedindependently down over their noses--these were your hard characters,thorough men, who, when they wore their hats, _wanted_ to wear them, andto wear them just as they had a mind to; there were those who had themset far over back--wide-awake men, who wanted a clear prospect; whilecareless men, who did not know, or care, how their hats sat, had themshaking about in all directions. The various hats, in fact, were quite aShakespearean study.

Divers negroes, in very free-and-easy pantaloons, and with no redundancyin the shirt line, were scuttling about, hither and thither, withoutbringing to pass any very particular results, except expressing ageneric willingness to turn over everything in creation generallyfor the benefit of Mas'r and his guests. Add to this picture ajolly, crackling, rollicking fire, going rejoicingly up a great widechimney,--the outer door and every window being set wide open, and thecalico window-curtain flopping and snapping in a good stiff breezeof damp raw air,--and you have an idea of the jollities of a Kentuckytavern.

Your Kentuckian of the present day is a good illustration of thedoctrine of transmitted instincts and peculiarities. His fathers weremighty hunters,--men who lived in the woods, and slept under the free,open heavens, with the stars to hold their candles; and their descendantto this day always acts as if the house were his camp,--wears his hatat all hours, tumbles himself about, and puts his heels on the tops ofchairs or mantelpieces, just as his father rolled on the green sward,and put his upon trees and logs,--keeps all the windows and doorsopen, winter and summer, that he may get air enough for his greatlungs,--calls everybody "stranger," with nonchalant _bonhommie_, andis altogether the frankest, easiest, most jovial creature living.

Into such an assembly of the free and easy our traveller entered. He wasa short, thick-set man, carefully dressed, with a round, good-naturedcountenance, and something rather fussy and particular in hisappearance. He was very careful of his valise and umbrella, bringingthem in with his own hands, and resisting, pertinaciously, all offersfrom the various servants to relieve him of them. He looked round thebarroom with rather an anxious air, and, retreating with his valuablesto the warmest corner, disposed them under his chair, sat down, andlooked rather apprehensively up at the worthy whose heels illustratedthe end of the mantel-piece, who was spitting from right to left, witha courage and energy rather alarming to gentlemen of weak nerves andparticular habits.

"I say, stranger, how are ye?" said the aforesaid gentleman, firing anhonorary salute of tobacco-juice in the direction of the new arrival.

"Well, I reckon," was the reply of the other, as he dodged, with somealarm, the threatening honor.

"Any news?" said the respondent, taking out a strip of tobacco and alarge hunting-knife from his pocket.

"Not that I know of," said the man.

"Chaw?" said the first speaker, handing the old gentleman a bit of histobacco, with a decidedly brotherly air.

"No, thank ye--it don't agree with me," said the little man, edging off.

"Don't, eh?" said the other, easily, and stowing away the morsel inhis own mouth, in order to keep up the supply of tobacco-juice, for thegeneral benefit of society.

The old gentleman uniformly gave a little start whenever his long-sidedbrother fired in his direction; and this being observed by hiscompanion, he very good-naturedly turned his artillery to anotherquarter, and proceeded to storm one of the fire-irons with a degree ofmilitary talent fully sufficient to take a city.

"What's that?" said the old gentleman, observing some of the companyformed in a group around a large handbill.

"Nigger advertised!" said one of the company, briefly.

Mr. Wilson, for that was the old gentleman's name, rose up, and, aftercarefully adjusting his valise and umbrella, proceeded deliberately totake out his spectacles and fix them on his nose; and, this operationbeing performed, read as follows:

"Ran away from the subscriber, my mulatto boy, George. Said George six feet in height, a very light mulatto, brown curly hair; is very intelligent, speaks handsomely, can read and write, will probably try to pass for a white man, is deeply scarred on his back and shoulders, has been branded in his right hand with the letter H.

"I will give four hundred dollars for him alive, and the same sum for satisfactory proof that he has been _killed."_

The old gentleman read this advertisement from end to end in a lowvoice, as if he were studying it.

The long-legged veteran, who had been besieging the fire-iron, as beforerelated, now took down his cumbrous length, and rearing aloft his tallform, walked up to the advertisement and very deliberately spit a fulldischarge of tobacco-juice on it.

"There's my mind upon that!" said he, briefly, and sat down again.

"Why, now, stranger, what's that for?" said mine host.

"I'd do it all the same to the writer of that ar paper, if he washere," said the long man, coolly resuming his old employment of cuttingtobacco. "Any man that owns a boy like that, and can't find any betterway o' treating on him, _deserves_ to lose him. Such papers as theseis a shame to Kentucky; that's my mind right out, if anybody wants toknow!"

"Well, now, that's a fact," said mine host, as he made an entry in hisbook.

"I've got a gang of boys, sir," said the long man, resuming his attackon the fire-irons, "and I jest tells 'em--'Boys,' says I,--'_run_ now!dig! put! jest when ye want to! I never shall come to look after you!'That's the way I keep mine. Let 'em know they are free to run any time,and it jest breaks up their wanting to. More 'n all, I've got freepapers for 'em all recorded, in case I gets keeled up any o' thesetimes, and they know it; and I tell ye, stranger, there an't a fellow inour parts gets more out of his niggers than I do. Why, my boys have beento Cincinnati, with five hundred dollars' worth of colts, and broughtme back the money, all straight, time and agin. It stands to reasonthey should. Treat 'em like dogs, and you'll have dogs' works and dogs'actions. Treat 'em like men, and you'll have men's works." And thehonest drover, in his warmth, endorsed this moral sentiment by firing aperfect _feu de joi_ at the fireplace.

"I think you're altogether right, friend," said Mr. Wilson; "and thisboy described here _is_ a fine fellow--no mistake about that. He workedfor me some half-dozen years in my bagging factory, and he was my besthand, sir. He is an ingenious fellow, too: he invented a machine forthe cleaning of hemp--a really valuable affair; it's gone into use inseveral factories. His master holds the patent of it."

"I'll warrant ye," said the drover, "holds it and makes money out of it,and then turns round and brands the boy in his right hand. If I had afair chance, I'd mark him, I reckon so that he'd carry it _one_ while."

"These yer knowin' boys is allers aggravatin' and sarcy," said acoarse-looking fellow, from the other side of the room; "that's why theygets cut up and marked so. If they behaved themselves, they wouldn't."

"That is to say, the Lord made 'em men, and it's a hard squeeze gettin'em down into beasts," said the drover, dryly.

"Bright niggers isn't no kind of 'vantage to their masters," continuedthe other, well entrenched, in a coarse, unconscious obtuseness, fromthe contempt of his opponent; "what's the use o' talents and themthings, if you can't get the use on 'em yourself? Why, all the use theymake on 't is to get round you. I've had one or two of these fellers,and I jest sold 'em down river. I knew I'd got to lose 'em, first orlast, if I didn't."

"Better send orders up to the Lord, to make you a set, and leave outtheir souls entirely," said the drover.

Here the conversation was interrupted by the approach of a smallone-horse buggy to the inn. It had a genteel appearance, and awell-dressed, gentlemanly man sat on the seat, with a colored servantdriving.

The whole party examined the new comer with the interest with which aset of loafers in a rainy day usually examine every newcomer. He wasvery tall, with a dark, Spanish complexion, fine, expressive black eyes,and close-curling hair, also of a glossy blackness. His well-formedaquiline nose, straight thin lips, and the admirable contour of hisfinely-formed limbs, impressed the whole company instantly with the ideaof something uncommon. He walked easily in among the company, and witha nod indicated to his waiter where to place his trunk, bowed to thecompany, and, with his hat in his hand, walked up leisurely to the bar,and gave in his name as Henry Butter, Oaklands, Shelby County. Turning,with an indifferent air, he sauntered up to the advertisement, and readit over.

"Jim," he said to his man, "seems to me we met a boy something likethis, up at Beman's, didn't we?"

"Yes, Mas'r," said Jim, "only I an't sure about the hand."

"Well, I didn't look, of course," said the stranger with a carelessyawn. Then walking up to the landlord, he desired him to furnish himwith a private apartment, as he had some writing to do immediately.

The landlord was all obsequious, and a relay of about seven negroes, oldand young, male and female, little and big, were soon whizzing about,like a covey of partridges, bustling, hurrying, treading on each other'stoes, and tumbling over each other, in their zeal to get Mas'r's roomready, while he seated himself easily on a chair in the middle of theroom, and entered into conversation with the man who sat next to him.

The manufacturer, Mr. Wilson, from the time of the entrance ofthe stranger, had regarded him with an air of disturbed and uneasycuriosity. He seemed to himself to have met and been acquainted with himsomewhere, but he could not recollect. Every few moments, when the manspoke, or moved, or smiled, he would start and fix his eyes on him, andthen suddenly withdraw them, as the bright, dark eyes met his with suchunconcerned coolness. At last, a sudden recollection seemed to flashupon him, for he stared at the stranger with such an air of blankamazement and alarm, that he walked up to him.

"Mr. Wilson, I think," said he, in a tone of recognition, and extendinghis hand. "I beg your pardon, I didn't recollect you before. I see youremember me,--Mr. Butler, of Oaklands, Shelby County."

"Ye--yes--yes, sir," said Mr. Wilson, like one speaking in a dream.

Just then a negro boy entered, and announced that Mas'r's room wasready.

"Jim, see to the trunks," said the gentleman, negligently; thenaddressing himself to Mr. Wilson, he added--"I should like to have a fewmoments' conversation with you on business, in my room, if you please."

Mr. Wilson followed him, as one who walks in his sleep; and theyproceeded to a large upper chamber, where a new-made fire was crackling,and various servants flying about, putting finishing touches to thearrangements.

When all was done, and the servants departed, the young man deliberatelylocked the door, and putting the key in his pocket, faced about, andfolding his arms on his bosom, looked Mr. Wilson full in the face.

"George!" said Mr. Wilson.

"Yes, George," said the young man.

"I couldn't have thought it!"

"I am pretty well disguised, I fancy," said the young man, with a smile."A little walnut bark has made my yellow skin a genteel brown, and I'vedyed my hair black; so you see I don't answer to the advertisement atall."

"O, George! but this is a dangerous game you are playing. I could nothave advised you to it."

"I can do it on my own responsibility," said George, with the same proudsmile.

We remark, _en passant_, that George was, by his father's side, of whitedescent. His mother was one of those unfortunates of her race, markedout by personal beauty to be the slave of the passions of her possessor,and the mother of children who may never know a father. From one of theproudest families in Kentucky he had inherited a set of fine Europeanfeatures, and a high, indomitable spirit. From his mother he hadreceived only a slight mulatto tinge, amply compensated by itsaccompanying rich, dark eye. A slight change in the tint of the skinand the color of his hair had metamorphosed him into the Spanish-lookingfellow he then appeared; and as gracefulness of movement and gentlemanlymanners had always been perfectly natural to him, he found no difficultyin playing the bold part he had adopted--that of a gentleman travellingwith his domestic.

Mr. Wilson, a good-natured but extremely fidgety and cautious oldgentleman, ambled up and down the room, appearing, as John Bunyan hathit, "much tumbled up and down in his mind," and divided between his wishto help George, and a certain confused notion of maintaining law andorder: so, as he shambled about, he delivered himself as follows:

"Well, George, I s'pose you're running away--leaving your lawfulmaster, George--(I don't wonder at it)--at the same time, I'm sorry,George,--yes, decidedly--I think I must say that, George--it's my dutyto tell you so."

"Why are you sorry, sir?" said George, calmly.

"Why, to see you, as it were, setting yourself in opposition to the lawsof your country."

"_My_ country!" said George, with a strong and bitter emphasis; "whatcountry have I, but the grave,--and I wish to God that I was laidthere!"

"Why, George, no--no--it won't do; this way of talking iswicked--unscriptural. George, you've got a hard master--in fact, heis--well he conducts himself reprehensibly--I can't pretend to defendhim. But you know how the angel commanded Hagar to return to hermistress, and submit herself under the hand;* and the apostle sent backOnesimus to his master."**

* Gen. 16. The angel bade the pregnant Hagar return to her mistress Sarai, even though Sarai had dealt harshly with her.

** Phil. 1:10. Onesimus went back to his master to become no longer a servant but a "brother beloved."

"Don't quote Bible at me that way, Mr. Wilson," said George, with aflashing eye, "don't! for my wife is a Christian, and I mean to be,if ever I get to where I can; but to quote Bible to a fellow in mycircumstances, is enough to make him give it up altogether. I appeal toGod Almighty;--I'm willing to go with the case to Him, and ask Him if Ido wrong to seek my freedom."

"These feelings are quite natural, George," said the good-naturedman, blowing his nose. "Yes, they're natural, but it is my duty not toencourage 'em in you. Yes, my boy, I'm sorry for you, now; it's abad case--very bad; but the apostle says, 'Let everyone abide in thecondition in which he is called.' We must all submit to the indicationsof Providence, George,--don't you see?"

George stood with his head drawn back, his arms folded tightly over hisbroad breast, and a bitter smile curling his lips.

"I wonder, Mr. Wilson, if the Indians should come and take you aprisoner away from your wife and children, and want to keep you all yourlife hoeing corn for them, if you'd think it your duty to abide in thecondition in which you were called. I rather think that you'd think thefirst stray horse you could find an indication of Providence--shouldn'tyou?"

The little old gentleman stared with both eyes at this illustration ofthe case; but, though not much of a reasoner, he had the sense in whichsome logicians on this particular subject do not excel,--that of sayingnothing, where nothing could be said. So, as he stood carefully strokinghis umbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, heproceeded on with his exhortations in a general way.

"You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend; andwhatever 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'retaken, it will be worse with you than ever; they'll only abuse you, andhalf kill you, and sell you down the river."

"Mr. Wilson, I know all this," said George. "I _do_ run a risk, but--"he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife."There!" he said, "I'm ready for 'em! Down south I never _will_ go.No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of freesoil,--the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!"

"Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it's getting really desperateGeorge. I'm concerned. Going to break the laws of your country!"

"My country again! Mr. Wilson, _you_ have a country; but what countryhave _I_, or any one like me, born of slave mothers? What laws are therefor us? We don't make them,--we don't consent to them,--we have nothingto do with them; all they do for us is to crush us, and keep us down.Haven't I heard your Fourth-of-July speeches? Don't you tell us all,once a year, that governments derive their just power from the consentof the governed? Can't a fellow _think_, that hears such things? Can'the put this and that together, and see what it comes to?"

Mr. Wilson's mind was one of those that may not unaptly be representedby a bale of cotton,--downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy and confused.He really pitied George with all his heart, and had a sort of dim andcloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him; buthe deemed it his duty to go on talking _good_ to him, with infinitepertinacity.

"George, this is bad. I must tell you, you know, as a friend, you'dbetter not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, verybad, for boys in your condition,--very;" and Mr. Wilson sat down to atable, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrella.

"See here, now, Mr. Wilson," said George, coming up and sitting himselfdeterminately down in front of him; "look at me, now. Don't I sit beforeyou, every way, just as much a man as you are? Look at my face,--look atmy hands,--look at my body," and the young man drew himself up proudly;"why am I _not_ a man, as much as anybody? Well, Mr. Wilson, hear what Ican tell you. I had a father--one of your Kentucky gentlemen--who didn'tthink enough of me to keep me from being sold with his dogs and horses,to satisfy the estate, when he died. I saw my mother put up at sheriff'ssale, with her seven children. They were sold before her eyes, one byone, all to different masters; and I was the youngest. She came andkneeled down before old Mas'r, and begged him to buy her with me, thatshe might have at least one child with her; and he kicked her away withhis heavy boot. I saw him do it; and the last that I heard was her moansand screams, when I was tied to his horse's neck, to be carried off tohis place."

"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 ashandsome as my poor mother had been. She was well brought up, and hadgood manners. At first, I was glad she was bought, for I had one friendnear me. I was soon sorry for it. Sir, I have stood at the door andheard her whipped, when it seemed as if every blow cut into my nakedheart, 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 giveno slave girl a right to live; and at last I saw her chained with atrader's gang, to be sent to market in Orleans,--sent there fornothing else but that,--and that's the last I know of her. Well, Igrew up,--long years and years,--no father, no mother, no sister, nota 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 gladto take the bones they threw to their dogs; and yet, when I was a littlefellow, and laid awake whole nights and cried, it wasn't the hunger, itwasn't the whipping, I cried for. No, sir, it was for _my mother_ and_my sisters_,--it was because I hadn't a friend to love me on earth. Inever knew what peace or comfort was. I never had a kind word spoken tome till I came to work in your factory. Mr. Wilson, you treated me well;you encouraged me to do well, and to learn to read and write, and totry to make something of myself; and God knows how grateful I am for it.Then, sir, I found my wife; you've seen her,--you know how beautifulshe is. When I found she loved me, when I married her, I scarcely couldbelieve I was alive, I was so happy; and, sir, she is as good as she isbeautiful. But now what? Why, now comes my master, takes me right awayfrom my work, and my friends, and all I like, and grinds me down intothe very dirt! And why? Because, he says, I forgot who I was; he says,to teach me that I am only a nigger! After all, and last of all, hecomes between me and my wife, and says I shall give her up, and livewith another woman. And all this your laws give him power to do, inspite of God or man. Mr. Wilson, look at it! There isn't _one_ of allthese things, that have broken the hearts of my mother and my sister,and my wife and myself, but your laws allow, and give every man power todo, in Kentucky, and none can say to him nay! Do you call these the lawsof _my_ country? Sir, I haven't any country, anymore than I have anyfather. But I'm going to have one. I don't want anything of _your_country, except to be let alone,--to go peaceably out of it; and when Iget to Canada, where the laws will own me and protect me, _that_ shallbe my country, and its laws I will obey. But if any man tries to stopme, let him take care, for I am desperate. I'll fight for my liberty tothe last breath I breathe. You say your fathers did it; if it was rightfor them, it is right for me!"

This speech, delivered partly while sitting at the table, and partlywalking up and down the room,--delivered with tears, and flashing eyes,and despairing gestures,--was altogether too much for the good-naturedold body to whom it was addressed, who had pulled out a great yellowsilk pocket-handkerchief, and was mopping up his face with great energy.

"Blast 'em all!" he suddenly broke out. "Haven't I always said so--theinfernal 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 _better_ not shoot, I reckon; at least, I wouldn't_hit_ anybody, you know. Where is your wife, George?" he added, as henervously rose, and began walking the room.

"Gone, sir gone, with her child in her arms, the Lord only knowswhere;--gone after the north star; and when we ever meet, or whether wemeet 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 _our_ country allow themto sell the child out of its mother's bosom to pay its master's debts,"said George, bitterly.

"Well, well," said the honest old man, fumbling in his pocket: "Is'pose, perhaps, I an't following my judgment,--hang it, I _won't_follow my judgment!" he added, suddenly; "so here, George," and, takingout a roll of bills from his pocket-book, he offered them to George.

"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, totake me as far as I need it."

"No; but you must, George. Money is a great help everywhere;--can't havetoo much, if you get it honestly. Take it,--_do_ take it, _now_,--do, myboy!"

"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?--notlong or far, I hope. It's well carried on, but too bold. And this blackfellow,--who is he?"

"A true fellow, who went to Canada more than a year ago. He heard, afterhe got there, that his master was so angry at him for going off thathe had whipped his poor old mother; and he has come all the way back tocomfort her, and get a chance to get her away."

"Has he got her?"

"Not yet; he has been hanging about the place, and found no chance yet.Meanwhile, he is going with me as far as Ohio, to put me among friendsthat helped him, and then he will come back after her.

"Dangerous, very dangerous!" said the old man.

George drew himself up, and smiled disdainfully.

The old gentleman eyed him from head to foot, with a sort of innocentwonder.

"George, something has brought you out wonderfully. You hold up yourhead, and speak and move like another man," said Mr. Wilson.

"Because I'm a _freeman_!" said George, proudly. "Yes, sir; I've saidMas'r for the last time to any man. _I'm free!"_

"Take care! You are not sure,--you may be taken."

"All men are free and equal _in the grave_, if it comes to that, Mr.Wilson," said George.

"I'm perfectly dumb-founded with your boldness!" said Mr. Wilson,--"tocome right here to the nearest tavern!"

"Mr. Wilson, it is _so_ bold, and this tavern is so near, that theywill never think of it; they will look for me on ahead, and you yourselfwouldn't know me. Jim's master don't live in this county; he isn't knownin these parts. Besides, he is given up; nobody is looking after him,and nobody will take me up from the advertisement, I think."

"But the mark in your hand?"

George drew off his glove, and showed a newly-healed scar in his hand.

"That is a parting proof of Mr. Harris' regard," he said, scornfully."A fortnight ago, he took it into his head to give it to me, becausehe said he believed I should try to get away one of these days. Looksinteresting, doesn't it?" he said, drawing his glove on again.

"I declare, my very blood runs cold when I think of it,--your conditionand your risks!" said Mr. Wilson.

"Mine has run cold a good many years, Mr. Wilson; at present, it's aboutup to the boiling point," said George.

"Well, my good sir," continued George, after a few moments' silence, "Isaw you knew me; I thought I'd just have this talk with you, lest yoursurprised looks should bring me out. I leave early tomorrow morning,before daylight; by tomorrow night I hope to sleep safe in Ohio. I shalltravel by daylight, stop at the best hotels, go to the dinner-tableswith the lords of the land. So, good-by, sir; if you hear that I'mtaken, you may know that I'm dead!"

George stood up like a rock, and put out his hand with the air of aprince. The friendly little old man shook it heartily, and after alittle shower of caution, he took his umbrella, and fumbled his way outof the room.

George stood thoughtfully looking at the door, as the old man closed it.A thought seemed to flash across his mind. He hastily stepped to it, andopening it, said,

"Mr. Wilson, one word more."

The old gentleman entered again, and George, as before, locked the door,and then stood for a few moments looking on the floor, irresolutely. Atlast, raising his head with a sudden effort--"Mr. Wilson, you have shownyourself a Christian in your treatment of me,--I want to ask one lastdeed of Christian kindness of you."

"Well, George."

"Well, sir,--what you said was true. I _am_ running a dreadful risk.There isn't, on earth, a living soul to care if I die," he added,drawing his breath hard, and speaking with a great effort,--"I shallbe kicked out and buried like a dog, and nobody'll think of it a dayafter,--_only my poor wife!_ Poor soul! she'll mourn and grieve; andif you'd only contrive, Mr. Wilson, to send this little pin to her. Shegave it to me for a Christmas present, poor child! Give it to her,and tell her I loved her to the last. Will you? _Will_ you?" he added,earnestly.

"Yes, certainly--poor fellow!" said the old gentleman, taking the pin,with watery eyes, and a melancholy quiver in his voice.

"Tell her one thing," said George; "it's my last wish, if she _can_ getto Canada, to go there. No matter how kind her mistress is,--no matterhow much she loves her home; beg her not to go back,--for slavery alwaysends in misery. Tell her to bring up our boy a free man, and then hewon't suffer as I have. Tell her this, Mr. Wilson, will you?"

"Yes, George. I'll tell her; but I trust you won't die; takeheart,--you're a brave fellow. Trust in the Lord, George. I wish in myheart you were safe through, though,--that's what I do."

"_Is_ there a God to trust in?" said George, in such a tone of bitterdespair as arrested the old gentleman's words. "O, I've seen things allmy life that have made me feel that there can't be a God. You Christiansdon't know how these things look to us. There's a God for you, but isthere any for us?"

"O, now, don't--don't, my boy!" said the old man, almost sobbing ashe spoke; "don't feel so! There is--there is; clouds and darkness arearound about him, but righteousness and judgment are the habitation ofhis throne. There's a _God_, George,--believe it; trust in Him, and I'msure He'll help you. Everything will be set right,--if not in this life,in another."

The real piety and benevolence of the simple old man invested him witha temporary dignity and authority, as he spoke. George stopped hisdistracted walk up and down the room, stood thoughtfully a moment, andthen said, quietly,

"Thank you for saying that, my good friend; I'll _think of that_."