Frank Freeman's Barber Shop
Rev. Baynard R. Hall, D.D.
New York: Charles Scribner, 1852



  MR LEAMINGTON had taken a suite of rooms at the Boston House; and as he intended, on his return from Hopeful, to remain in Boston for a few weeks, the rooms were retained. Suitable arrangements had also been made relative to Frank and Carrie, who would have charge of the chambers and parlors during the absence of their owners.

  Frank had never breathed to Carrie, his betrothed, a syllable of what was imperceptibly, almost, to himself, shaping itself into form in his mind;—the wish, the desire, was no stranger. A man may be under necessity to carry a tinder-box, or a canister of gunpowder all the time; his policy, in that case, being to steer clear of fire and phosphorus, and everything that strikes sparks, or beats. And yet he comes abruptly and most unexpectedly, often, full tilt upon a blacksmith's forge; or, caught by the foot, pitches


head foremost against a flint rock, with a steel knife-sharpener in his hand! Our negro was no murderer; but he thought be could be a patriot. Indeed, Woburn, the leader of the rebellion, was not very far wrong, if he did, as Mr. Jenkins once supposed, intend to designate Frank Freeman as a suitable leader to follow him. But Frank, in this, differed essentially from Woburn—he would not, for the world, engage in a plot that had no end except massacre, and led to nothing except the scaffold.

  Now Mr. Henry Williams had been, to Frank, a metaphorical smith's forge, a figurative flint-rock: the tinder, gun-powder, and steel, the latter kept forever in his own bosom! These combustibles and fire-strikers belonged to his nature; and no one ever had—no one ever will—no one ever can, condemn this negro on that account. If any can,—speak! Him this book offends! And the author is glad it hurts him. If, then, the combustibles and explosives in Frank's bosom had not caught and exploded by contact with this second-rate negro—the affair would have gone off at some other time.

  Hence it is no surprise to know that the tears raining down Frank's eyes on the beloved children's upturned faces, were the gushings of a grand heart nearly broken! for in that sad moment he feared the parting might be—forever! And that night when he betook himself to his matress in the parlor, he


could not sleep! and when he prayed, as he did earnestly and frequently, he did not pray to be delivered from temptation; he only prayed, and as if his heart would dissolve into pity, for his most beloved master and mistress! That was not the prayer for Frank; but his mistake was easy! aha!—it was pleasant and soothing! It did not humble—it only exalted!

  Early next day our hero sat looking with mournful feelings towards the distant south, when a knock at the door being answered by an invitation to enter, Mr. H. Williams obeyed the order, ushering in a reverend personage, with this form:—

  "Dr. Sharpinton, this is my friend, Mr. Frank Freeman; Mr. Freeman, this is our pastor, the Rev. Dr. Ananias Sharpinton." On which Mr. W. bowed and retired.

  Frank was relieved by this unexpected company, it saved him from his thoughts, and so he felt grateful to Mr. Williams for bringing the clergyman, and to that gentleman for coming. Frank, you see, did not know what to do with himself—and "an idle mind is the devil's workshop," and that serpent-wise Tempter ever comes as "an angel of light." And now, spite of himself, Frank found he was assuming the feelings and manners of a gentleman, (the fact is, he was a gentleman,) and that he was doing bow for bow! and when the reverend dignitary advanced


and held out his hand, Mr. Freeman went through the touches and squeezes like another person! Indeed, he offered a chair with a real style; and seating himself at a modest distance, he respectfully and reverently awaited the introduction of the worthy doctor's own topic. And that gentleman in due season commenced:

  "Mr. Freeman, I can hardly tell how great is my satisfaction in being permitted to make the acquaintance of a gentleman to whom we are all under such obligations."

  "Will Dr. Sharpinton please explain," inquiringly said Mr. Freeman, now doing Mr. Henry Williams but only a little. The doctor was in raptures. But if Frank could do Williams, that negro could not do Freeman; for although Williams was great in his way, Freeman was a greater than he—aye! greater than Dr. Sharpinton himself. Frank was only coming out, and he took of necessity a lofty style! The others aped it! Still these were artists, and they went by the rule of three indirect; Frank being guileless himself did not easily suspect trickery in others.

  Willing to explain, the doctor exclaimed,

  "Noble man!"—when, blushing, he added, "Pardon me, sir!—but it is like the character we have of you, that you should forget! Yet, sir,"—the doctor seemed to be moved—"yet, sir, we can never forget how you saved the life of one of our most in-


valuable friends, and one engaged in that sacred cause—Mr. Tibbets."

  It must be a wonderful man—a man that might be shown in a museum!—the man that feels not the influence of "soft soap!" And specially when that liquidity is administered adroitly, and by a respectable-looking gentleman, and above all by a clergyman! Frank began to feel slippery himself; for, although he knew, or had strong presumptions for thinking, Tibbets had laid a trap for his foot, he was disposed to gloss that over; and blushing as blacks do—that is, having a tingling in his cheeks—he replied, and with a positive tendency towards a smile;

  "You overrate me, dear Sir!"

  "You underrate yourself, my dear Mr. Freeman—"

  "And yet Dr. Sharpinton," interrupted Mr. FreeMan, "Mr. (!) Tibbets did not deserve all the risk I ran. Sir, he sought to involve me in a nefarious plot! a plot which be promoted and which led to the untimely death of some brave and noble-hearted black men, sir!"

  Dr. S. felt astonished! He could look as he pleased. Mr. F. had begun one way and ended another; and the Doctor, great as was his art and skill in the emancipator's profession, found all would be required in dealing with an honest negro. But


all this moved like lightning in his mind; and he answered with a burst, as if lost in admiration,

  "Sir! you were made for a negro Washington! You, like that most excellent man, are disinterested in your patriotism!—(Truth gilded the pill, and Frank swallowed it)—Like him you harbor no revenge!—(Frank never did harbor revenge, and this praise made him feel good all over)—Go on, Mr. Freeman— pardon my interruption—sir, you will do me a very great favor, if I do not trespass, by giving me a brief outline of that unfortunate outbreak."

  This was asked to gain time and to understand Frank better, and also, from a real desire to have the narrative and to hear Frank talk. The doctor was utterly surprised at his style of conversation but he would have been less so had he known all Frank's early history, and the manner of his life with Mr. Leamington, and the extent of his reading in that gentleman's library. Hence, the doctor was so naturally and honestly earnest in his request, that Mr. Freeman felt willing to oblige him; and maybe Frank was not wholly unwilling to be thought well of by a learned and pious clergyman, as Dr. S. now appeared.

  During the narration—the reader knows the story—the doctor was impressed with a real respect for the black; although in Frank's distinctions between useless massacres and revolutions, the doctor


had glimpses of truths he hated to admit, and contrary to his own publicly avowed sentiments and those of some leading philanthropists, who cried—"Blood, blood! Rise! be free! Leave consequences to God!" He determined to controvert nothing at present, but when Frank ended he fervently and respectfully said:

  "Mr. Freeman! if I were not afraid of offending, I could easily say what I think of your conduct— a conduct without parallel except in the actions of men like our Washington—but I dare not venture. Mr. Tibbets, my dear sir, was then a young man, with more zeal than discretion—his conduct cannot be in all respects defended—indeed, he rather misunderstood his directions, and certainly exceeded them: yet, sir, the society of which I have the honor to be President, more than ever will honor your name, as a man who risked his own life to save a person that had been careless about the life of that very deliverer! Pardon me, Mr. Freeman—I confess I am moved!—(The doctor used his handkerchief—Frank felt whimperish)—Sir!—(the doctor seized Frank's hand)—I thank you in the name of that society in the name of humanity in the name of religion! (Frank trembled with emotion.) And now, Mr. Freeman, I must hasten from this very, to me at least, interesting interview; I have staid much longer than my time and engagements


allow. I take my leave, sir, with an earnest hope Mr. Leamington's stay may be very long among us, both for the pleasure of his acquaintance and of—alas! that unwelcome fact now occurs to me! I do wish this most excellent family could stay with us here in—in—their proper atmosphere; but good morning, Mr. Freeman."

  Pretty well done! Dr. Ananias Sharpinton!—you are an artist—an actor! Ah, Frank! what now? How sweet is sugar candy!—don't be so bashful, we all like confections. How comes on the Wish?—you fervently responded to the doctor's wish about the family staying North, by secretly saving in your heart—"would to God we all could stay!" That was all your new master cared for! When he went, then, after a while, and in the nick of time, and just as you viewed somebody, you met Mr. Henry Williams; who, by the merest accident was in your way! And yet Dr. S. sent him there.

  Frank went now with a smile towards his friend, and at once commenced with this—

  "Dr. Sharpinton is a very interesting gentleman, Mr. Williams, I am satisfied Mr. Leamington will be happy in his acquaintance."

  Mr. Williams was too much in a hurry to stay just now; his duties required him in the dining hall; he of course only assented to Mr. Freeman's


observations, and hastened on, well convinced that Mr. F. had determined to have a Master no more. Instead of hastening to the dining-room, however, he hastened to a little room to tell Dr. Sharpinton; who, instantly now stepped into a back street and went home.

  On returning to the parlor Frank found Carrie there, when he immediately spoke,

  "Dear Carrie, how pleasant if you and I were married and Mr. Leamington and all could stay here in Boston?"

  Carrie, whose English was constantly improving, replied—"So Miss Southton say, but master and missis do not wish to live in de north, and I never stay in Boston witout 'em; would you, Frank?"

  "Miss Southton! Who is she?" inquired Frank.

  "A colored lady, Mr. Willyums, the head waiter, he bring 'um to git acquaint with me, she bery nice black woman."

  "Why, where did you see her?"

  "This mornin I met her in de iurnin room."

  "Did she say anything else, Carrie?"

  "Yes—she made me jellus. She say, Mr. Willyums tink so much of Mr. Freeman, she mean to set her cap."

  "Much obliged to her; but, dear Carrie, death only parts us. North or South, I live and die with Carrie!"


  "And I rader leave dear little chiller, than you, Frank!" said the poor black girl, and burst into tears.

  "Oh! Carrie!" replied Frank affectionately, drawing the girl near him, "I'm in great sorrow and trouble! I can never be happy again in the South! Why did we come north!"

  Carrie had for Frank not only a pure love; but she had a filial regard. She was ten years younger, and had always heard him spoken of in terms of highest praise and confidence. Hence she always yielded her opinion to his, being also greatly his inferior in intellect and education, yet she was equal to him in honesty and virtue. Frank was to her the world—saving Mr. and Mrs. Leamington, and Joe, and above all the children. What Frank meant she did not fully comprehend; but she knew what he did would be right or very nearly so, and that he had good reasons for what he might do, even if she never heard them; and so she replied, interrupted by her sobs:

  "Oh! Frank, we just like man and wife afore God! I obey you just like my husbun."

  "Carrie! Carrie! I love you as my life! But if we live South—and they die!—and poor master Edward!—(he used the word affectionately here,)—he is not long for this life! Oh! Carrie, what might happen——"


  "Frank! I no know what is right; I go with you, I stay with you, I die with you!"

  "Oh, Carrie!" vehemently said Frank, "If I could know what is right!"

  "Suppose you ask Mr. Wilyums," replied she, "he very nice man."

  "No! no! Carrie—but I might ask the parson, Dr. Sharpinton?"

  "Yes, ask him; Miss Southton, say he very lubly minister."

  But why did not Frank remember his mother? and her parting word—Pray? Are you, my reader, a man of prayer? Your experience, if you are, may be like this true Christian negro's. He did pray. Yet, mark—when he prayed, he prayed not for direction, be prayed for—confirmation. He resolved, and then prayed! He only wanted a divine word to tell him he had done right!

  Is it right, sometimes, to emancipate men at all hazards and leave consequences to God? It may be right sometimes—not to run away, and thus leave consequences to God! Consequences, clearly foreseen, are good reasons, often, for doing and for not doing; and they may be, themselves, the only constraining and righteous reasons and causes of present conduct. It is not quite a clear case that the freedom of one man outweighs all other considerations; nor even that the nominal freedom of many men must always


outweigh all its murders, rapines, rapes, fires, overthrow of Unions, destruction of States, and its introduction of lasting hate and civil wars, and, perchance, ultimate massacre and extinction of the very men it is meant to serve! It might be proper, for a time, to retain not one only, but many men in bondage; the owners or masters meliorating their condition, and preparing them for freedom—and in doing this, consequences might be religiously and confidently left to God!

  Let us not, reckless of consequences, turn them over to Providence—that is impious and rebellious!

  And did Frank never think of his mother! That thought harrowed his breast, day and night; but, ah! how the Soul resolved, finds confirmation in all things! Frank feared, indeed, she might die, if she saw him not among the returning family; but, maybe there might be a way of buying her freedom. Mr. Wardloe had merely bought her for Frank's sake; he gave only a trifling sum for her; she was rather an expense than a profit, her son could easily sustain her: ten to one Mr. W. would set her free! But her days were few, at most, and in case Mr. L. died, and that event was not apparently far distant, what might happen? He might be separated from Carrie and his mother, too! "What! what Shall I do! oh! for some prophet to tell me!" thought Frank, on these occasions. But, poor fellow, he wanted a


prophet to say—"All right, Frank! stay in the North!"

  Happy for him the Philanthropic Society had a school of such prophets; and all such would first know, before they uttered their prediction or confirmation was, "Does Mr. F. think of staying here?" Yes!—but he doubts. When these soothsayers immediately cry out—"Stay! it is the monition of God!" Perhaps Mr. Williams now approaching the parlor door may have a message of good; he knocks! After a little delay he is bid come in.

  "I hope," began he, "I do not intrude?"

  "Oh, no! not at all!—not in the least! Walk in Mr. Williams, please take a chair!" answered Mr. Freeman, much relieved and pleased. He was in need of a friend—on his own side the question! Accordingly Mr. W. took a seat, and quietly spoke:

  "This evening our pastor, Dr. Sharpinton, holds his monthly meeting, it would give me great pleasure to have Mr. F. and Miss Wardloe among our hearers."

  "For myself," answered Mr. F., "I should attend with pleasure——"

  "And I go, for sartin, if Mr.—— if Frank go."

  "Permit me, Miss Wardloe" interrupted Mr. W., "to say, if Miss W. goes, the gentlemen are sure to follow."

  Now it is not in female nature, colored or not, to


be insensible to the effect of their charms; still Miss W., while she felt smile-likish, replied with becoming modesty,

  "I never go with no gemman but Mr. Freeman."

  "A thousand pardons, Miss Wardloe! While it would afford me immense satisfaction to escort you, Miss Southton will do herself the honor of calling for you at the proper time."

  "We thank you, Mr. Williams," said Mr. F., delighted with Carrie's reply, and glad too, that Mr. W. admired her; for Carrie was the very pink of perfection, as to face, form, dress, neatness, &c. She was, in fact, a Mrs. Leamington in black—a ditto in all but language, in which she was daily improving.

  "We thank you," said he, "and we shall be ready to receive Mr. W. and Miss S. at your appointment."

  "We will call, then," replied Mr. W., "at seven o'clock precisely. The service commences about half-past."

  And so our friends were caught for a monthly meeting!—a meeting so regularly periodic as to be held whenever "the interests of an immortal soul required,"—in other words, whenever the running off of a negro rendered such trap necessary. Meetings, indeed, were held all the time—in the form of advisory councils—debating clubs—prayer-meetings—planning meetings, money-raising meetings, &c.,


&c. The Committee of the Philanthropic Society believed, after a careful investigation, that in the present case the doctor would best promote the grand cause by a lecture; and the doctor saw that all Mr. Freeman now wanted was somebody to strengthen him.

  Well, in due season our party arrived at the church, on the north-east corner; not, however, in the order designed by Mr. F. and his betrothed; for Mr. W. had adroitly hooked Miss Southton on to Mr. Freeman, and Miss Wardloe had, of necessity, to accept the other gentleman's arm. The fact is, Williams was a good manager, and was, after all, a pretty clever fellow—dandified as he was. That the Southerners were very green became now evident, for Miss W. innocently inquired to what part of the house "colored people went!" And Mr. F., himself, had made an attempt to ascend the gallery stairs, in the vestibule! On which their companions, with marked emphasis, said, "In this land of liberty, and specially in the house of worship, all men are equal; we sit with our brethren and also with the best white persons of the city and state."

  Frank felt queerish, but yet he felt that he was straightening out; while Carrie felt it was almost profane to enter a pew among white folks in broadcloths and satins! But, to her amazement, up sprang dandy-looking white gentlemen, and elaborately


opened the pew doors for the ladies! while Mr. W. and Mr. F. were motioned into seats among well-dressed merchants and manufacturers! But how little did either of our friends dream all this was a plan arranged! The regular checker-board look, however, made it manifest that half and half was the usual character of the amalgam. Our friends soon gained their self-possession, as they seemed to attract not the least attention, after they were seated; and the same politeness was shown to other colored folks who arrived late. Hence, they became, in time, interested in the services, which were well performed; and, most of all, with a set piece of music, not so much, indeed, to the praise of God, as of Liberty; but which was gloriously sung, and by a choir, in which several prominent voices belonged to the cherry-colored singers.

  In the course of his Lectures on Corinthians, by a strange providence, or accident of some sort, the Doctor had reached the 7th chapter of the first epistle; and, he would, of necessity, have to comment on the 21st verse—"but if thou mayest be free, use it rather." At all events, the auditors, who probably did not read their Bibles too attentively, were led to believe this passage came next in order—yet it may have escaped their recollection where the Doctor had ended the last lecture, having been rather more than a week ago. But Mr. Freeman became, and very


naturally, all ear—he was, in fact, an interested hearer; and he began to think Divine Providence had brought him there to have his doubts solved and his resolves strengthened.

  On this verse, among other very sensible and well-timed observations, the preacher remarked, "Man, as all well know, has naturally a desire for liberty; and all natural desires are, by consequence, right desires. Hence we obey one end of our creation when we preserve liberty acquired or possessed, or seek freedom if we have it not; and to be willingly slaves, or servants, as the Bible terms such unfortunate persons, especially if opportunity of freedom offers, is to do wrong. We sin against our Creator by any counteracting of his manifest intentions. Of course we must here understand adults, because children must, by the Divine arrangement, be under parents, and governors, and tutors—but only to educate and prepare them for the natural freedom and liberty that awaits us, on becoming men and women.

  "Hence the loss of liberty is the greatest of all losses and the hardest to endure, because we all the time fight against our innate and unavoidable wishes and tendencies towards the free. So that by all good and noble spirits death is deliberately preferred to that loss—as some of you, beloved brethren, well know. Our own Puritan forefathers, the true sons


of liberty, and most of them sons of heaven,—religious and pious men—rather than pay a few pence, as a badge of servitude, stained the streets of this very city, and yonder sacred hill-top with their hearts' blood! Oh! what would those pious and godly men have done if any had sought to mar that divine image of liberty, and make them property to be bought, and sold!—to lash them to their labor as horses!—to compel them in anyway to do task-work!

  "It is hard, dearly beloved, for the preacher on such a topic as this to restrain himself, and observe the decorum proper to this sacred desk; and, therefore, we may not here say all that is so right to be said elsewhere, all that your hearts acknowledge to be proper.

  "Men, as fit punishment for certain crimes, lose their lives; and they may, therefore, as a punishment, lose their liberty. It was always thus—it is so now—it will always be the same; but only as a punishment for crime. Captives in war anciently became slaves, as such now become prisoners; in that case, life was given for liberty, although many then preferred death on the battle-field. But this became one of the laws of nations, to be changed when the world grew wiser and better; but stealing men to make them slaves, has always been regarded as an atrocious crime, and under the Jewish law, was, as it should be, punished with death.


  "We are prepared then to hear, we should have been much surprised not to hear—an inspired writer say to slaves—'if you may be free, use it rather,' i.e., 'obey your natural wish, your desire; do not sin against your nature, be free.' What the apostle meant by saying, 'if thou mayest be,' will be plain enough with a little elucidation.

  "Like most other divine directions, this is general, and not restricted to one or two cases; that would make the Scriptures a matter of private and individual interpretation, whereas they are designed for all, in all ages, and of every nation and color. Hence the general rule is to be applied to each according to his varying circumstances; and as men may be slaves under many conditions, the rule will vary with those conditions. Here now are, among other conditions, three different cases in which men may be living as slaves:—

  "1. As slaves among heathen and idolatrous nations, surrounded by believers or Christians.

  "2. As slaves among Christians, surrounded by heathen.

  "3. As slaves among Christians, surrounded by other Christians.

  "4. We may add, as slaves among heathen, surrounded by heathen.

  "Now, while as a general rule the apostle had reference to freedom with the will and consent


of the owner or master; that must have referred to freedom where the freedman continued in the land of his master, with such civil rights as might become his in the land of his adoption. But every one must see that the apostle did not exclude the other modes and opportunities that might present for an escape from heathen owners into a Christian community. If masters had no right to live in idolatry, their slaves had none; and, therefore, they ought to flee away from an idolatrous slaveholding community. And thus, in fact, when anciently slaves ran away from among the surrounding heathen nations and took refuge among the Israelites, they were received with open arms—they were never delivered up. But when Onesimus ran away from a Christian master, and would have to live among heathen people, he was safer and better off as a servant or slave; and, therefore, the apostle advised him to go back. Had the world all been true Christians, it is not at all likely Paul would have sent him back, he would at least have left it optional with the freedom-seeking brother. But none can, for a moment, suppose Onesimus would have been sent back, or even advised to go back from a Christian community to a pagan master! It was not so under the old, why should it have been under the new, and specially as the new is of greater freedom than the old—and


the Founder of Christianity came not to destroy, but to fulfil!

  "Taking, therefore, reason as a guide, we should infer that if opportunity offers, a servant may and should, indeed, go away from a heathen master to a Christian people; and hence, as a manifest inference, he may go away from very bad and cruel masters, to places where he can have religious privileges.

  "It is unhappily the case, that where Christianity is even more than nominal, the laws, the usages, expose servants at the death of excellent owners to be sold into infidel and irreligious places, where marriage ties are lightly esteemed and even openly scoffed at—even then, in such comparatively excellent places, a worthy and believing brother 'if he may be free, should use it rather;' he may properly look, not at the present, but the future. The future must regulate his present, for as the poet beautifully expresses it—

'Man's foresight is conditionally wise.'

  "So far, dearly beloved, we all agree; it is difficult to suppose that in these views correct thinkers should not all see alike-the views are so plain, so useful, so honorable. They render the Scriptures so luminous; they make different dispensations to blend so beautifully, and to harmonize so with our innate perceptions and natural desires. But, still, good and wise men


may, possibly, differ a little in reading the Divine Will, where there is no Revelation; and yet here all do substantially agree.

  "For instance, if no opportunity offer for doing a certain thing, we cannot hesitate a moment in understanding that Providence does not now will or wish a man to do that thing—he no more requires us, in that case, to do the thing, than to enter on a pathway shut against us by massy and iron-bound doors. And the converse is manifestly just as true—the thing being, of course, a natural and proper duty—that when we have the opportunity God wishes us to do it. Why should we pray for a door to be opened, and then refuse to enter, when the door is open? That gives the lie to our words.

  "But in these days Providence will not answer us miraculously; but he requires us to follow our reason in matters not clearly revealed; and if we do not, we sin against our Maker.

  "Take a case—and let it be a case of slavery and freedom. Suppose a man, without any thought or contrivance of his own, after wishing and earnestly praying on the point, finds himself unexpectedly among a free, Christian people, and with those of his race he most loves; and suppose the wicked prejudices of the infidel part of the population shuts him out, as we say, accidentally, from a public conveyance, and thus, without the least thought on his part,


leaves him alone with freemen of his own nation—if that is not providential, what is? Will a man, after special prayer, wait for an audible voice or visible finger?

  "Were I a colored man, I know well enough what would be my course—and the consequences I should leave to God. But as the Apostle says, 'All men have not faith;' and hence, in another place he says, 'let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind,'—or, as I understand him, let every man who is fully persuaded in his own mind that he had ought to be free—be free! But let no one else persuade him—he must judge and act for himself—if he neglects his opportunities and disobeys Providence, let the man himself bear the blame. Indeed a man that needs another to persuade him, on this point, had better remain a slave. We must, however, consider the other verses."

  "This does look like the finger of God," thought Frank. "I'm certain, six weeks ago I had no kind of idea of being here—how strange! And how passing strange that I could not have a seat in the stage!—and yet the infidels never meant to send me to church! Why, all this looks like direct answer to prayer! and I prayed for guidance all night! This is all plain, common sense—no abuse of dear master Edward—no coaxing me to run off—bah! let any fellow try that game on me! And it looks too, as if


I might commit sin, by not embracing opportunity; the fact is, I am staggered, I never heard the thing so clearly reasoned out—I think—yes, that will be best—I'll take counsel—I'll see this parson to-morrow. He's not quite like parson L., yet he seems to have heart and soul."

  And by degrees the tumult of his breast became comparatively quiescent; or, at most, the waves swelled larger and slower, showing that the waters were tending to a level. Poor fellow! how could he disentangle the meshes of so fine-wrought a net—and wholly invisible—and strong by the plausible interweaving of truth and falsehood!—and when his innate tendencies and wishes made him see only the truth!

  But when the congregation was dismissed, and men of both colors, and women too, shook hands with one another; and some bowed and smiled into him and Carrie, and others were introduced and invited him to dinner, or to call, and named principal streets and places of residence; and he heard smothered whispers of admiration and allusions to heroic doings; why, I tell you what, reader, Mr. Freeman felt that some how or other he must be among the ancient Israelites, and that if he did not stay among them, he might offend Providence!

  Reader! have you never imagined Providence all on your side? and for nobody else? Yes, you have


—be candid. Well, then you felt as self-complacent and self-satisfied, and looked as meek and sleepy as a domestic cat, smoothed by a soft hand from the top of the head downward towards the tail-tip! Just so Frank began to be, dreamy and easy; for Dr. Ananias Sharpinton and his "dearly beloved," had done him over evenly, and smoothly, and pleasantly—had mesmerised him into the purring state and he thought it was Providence!

  That night our hero slept soundly, like a man that saw his duty and intended to do it; and before he went to bed, he did not pray—