SEVERAL weeks passed before Edward Leamington knew how carefully he had been nursed by his wife; and often, during the period, he had talked wildly and passionately of the dead, and affectionately of the living, while Mr. Henderson, now an inmate of the family, and deeply interested in his recovery, watched him night and day. And when Edward came to himself, he found, in place of Carrie, the faithful Molly in charge of his children—the woman that had ever been with the departed Helen, till her last hours. This negress, though enticed by the good folks, would say—"Very fair preaching, here—but very bad acting—I will run my risk among the slaveholders, rather than the slave-stealers!"
As soon as Mr. L.'s health allowed, the family, with Mr. Henderson and
Molly, departed for the
south; but we must follow the fortunes of the free, and not of the bondsmen and their masters.
Does the reader remember that on the evening the express coach entered Boston, a curricle or barouche passed, with two distinguished personages—Mr. Henry Williams and Miss Southton? He does. Did he notice their style? Not particularly. No! Why it was a la mode, and a touch beyond! Both were done up, and with the most elaborate art, in silks and broadcloths splendent with buckle and button, and sparkling with glass jewelry and French paste!
The gentleman's hair was carded nearly out by the roots into magnificent rolls of wool fit for spinning; the front locks curled as if a jet black ram meant to butt over an antagonist, and with a most crankled pair of horns! How the tippy hat kept its place on the top of its elastic cushion, was the wonder; it must have been by the attraction of adjacency! The coat was sky-blue; the vest white as a milk-strainer; while the oh-don't-mention-ums, in the fashion of the day, were so amazingly skin-tight, that any sudden accession to the growth of his limbs, would have caused a rending, as of the bark from a hide-bound tree! But that cravat!—how superbly it was built up in white from his ruffled breast to his beardless chin, and fixed with a beau-nash tie! while that chin peaked up in a heaven defying style, yet smooth and polished as a veal-soup bone!
The breast pocket was graced with a cambric of whiteness and essence—perhaps, through benevolence, as white friends might prefer rose fragrance to musk. His hands swelled up in white gloves—made to order; for his hands had their full growth. In short, the only jet visible in our white-black, was in his face and shoes—both being very black and shiney.
But the way Mr. Williams did the driving! He must have studied the models adorning the bar-room with the ardor of a devotee—those engraved and printed crack-whips of the day! How light he rested on the edge of the seat—his left upper limb barely in contact with the damask cushion!—his right broadside exposed so fearless to the gaze of all beholders! How tight the reins—an electric telegraph between his will and the steed's mouth! how his right hand crossed the left and held a whip-handle with lash gathered into graceful curves! And that right eye turned towards his nose, and trying to keep in a line with the left turned on Miss Southton, and both eyes so full of love and matrimony!—yet nearly popping from the sockets by hard strains that exposed their whites glaring as a malicious horse's! It was Phoebus burned into crisp and charcoal, and just coming to his natural color!
And the lady!—but no male writer is adequate to this; and yet with all her care, she was only a pea-
hen to a peacock—saving Mr. William's big feet! Her parasol and fan divided and often distracted her attention—the fan being ivory or bone net-work, and fiercely painted with a Venus very scant of clothing and an infant cupid without any diaper!—and the parasol of pure white silk, and spread to prevent the envious sun from tanning the lady's complexion. She was evidently pleased with Mr. W.'s attempts to look interesting; and to reward his labor, and the strain on his optic nerves, she grinned her satisfaction by exposing her rock-like teeth from the bottom of one ear to the bottom of the other.
But what meant all this dressing and driving? this gazing and grinning? this combing and carding? Hark! you, reader!—we are going to a Wedding! So it is in life as in this book—from gay to grave—from tears to smiles; yes, while Mr. Leamington was on his way to meet sorrow, our two black friends were hastening to a scene of joy. That very night Mr. Frank Freeman was to espouse Miss Carrie Wardloe!
Mr. Freeman's visit to the Rev. Paul Philemon's, was, after all, only that
he might be concealed by this clerical receiver of other men's property—a
worthy minister stationed by the Philanthropic Society as a city of refuge
from oppression and bondage. In later days, these houses are stations along
the tunnels, where passengers suddenly pop up for a
breath of air and a glimpse of sunlight, till they emerge in some part of Freedonia, large and lively Citizens.
But it was no small trouble to keep Mr. Freeman within the house; indeed, any allusion to the possibility of pursuit made him angry in a moment; hence his benefactors began to fear he would run away and turn slave again! But Frank felt that this to him was now a moral impossibility. He saw, however, the propriety of the advice for his immediate marriage; and hence his wedding was by mere chance to come off the night of the very day Mr. L. and family had got back to Boston. And to that scene Mr. W. and Miss S. were hastening, when they met the Express.
Our lady and gentleman had heard the children's exclamation—"Pa! there's Frank!" on which Mr. Williams stretched up still more erect, at thought of resembling Mr. Freeman, while Miss Southton remarked—
"That as far as she was consarned, she thought some folks were as good-looking as Mr. Freeman."
"Much obliged, Miss Southton," replied Mr. W.; "in your company, I forget all other ladies; and cheerfully resign the adorable Miss Wardloe, beauteous as she is—"
"Oh! you flatterin' man!" exclaimed the lady,
hiding her blushes behind the ivory fan, and contemplating the Venus with her little bantling Cupid.
"Flattering! my dear Miss Southton; oh! could I but venture to disclose the secrets of my distracted bosom—oh!"
"Well, don't be afeerd to speak out, Henry; though I can't think to imagine, for sartin, what your secret is; but I won't say nothing to nobody—"
"And am I not understood! Oh! Clarandina, oh!—"
"I'm partiklur sartin not to tell—do say it out."
"And has it all been on one side, Clarandina?"
"Maybe not Henry; but say for proper sartin what it is. I'm your friend, Henry; and a friend in need's a friend indeed."
"A friend! Oh! cold and killing beauty! Can I not inspire you with my flame? Ah! I see, you do understand—your tell-tale eyes are beaming with love through that beauteous fan!"
"Oh! you desperit man! I'll git out of the gig—I'll fall in love, if I don't."
"You bid me hope, then!" At which joyous exclamation, Mr. Williams gave the horse such an unexpected, gratuitous and severe tickler, that he behaved very indecorously; and then set off as if somebody blacker than the driver was behind him.
Now, whether the lady was truly alarmed, or thought she should be, is not
certain; but dropping
her fan, lowering her parasol, and throwing her ebony arms around Mr. W., she cried out—
"Oh! dear Henry! stop 'im! I musn't lose you so—don't let him kill you!"
On this Mr. Williams began and carried on two parts—the lover and the driver, changing his voice to suit the characters, and with amazing rapidity—"Adorable Clarandina! whoa! Charley! I'll love you, forever!—you blasted varmint! I'll hold you to my bosom! Rot your carcass! Oh! my dearest Clarandina! What the dickens do you mean! whoa, I say! Let us have a double wedding! No you don't—whoa! Oh! Whoa! Hold to me! Running off, hay!"
Here the lady, truly alarmed, interrupted—"Oh! Henry—we'll be killed!—just when I got you, I'm going for to lose you! Oh! nice hossey! I'll have you!—good hossey!"
"Don't be alarmed my love!" answered Mr. W. "He's holding up! And will you have me?—so, boy, so! Oh! what a heaven!—so, so, boy, so, so! Clasped to your heart!—why, Charley! we'll be one, forever! My fine Charley, that's you!"
"Nice horse! yes! we'll be one;" responded Miss S. killing the two birds with one stone, in imitation of Mr. W., who went on in two parts—
"You noble brute! I owe you her! don't cry, my love, My Clarandina, oh!"
"I cry for joy—lovely Charley—you git me husbund!"
"And now, my Clarandina, I kiss your ruby lips—a sign that we, to-night, are one!"
Here our lover made a violent effort to suit action to word, wishing to stoop over and still keep his hat on; in which, however, he must have signally failed had not the spouse that was to be, promptly seconded his motion, and met his protruded lips about halfway. But the buss had to be performed so hurriedly, and they both put on so much steam, it smacked short and snappish, like a whip-crack; at which provoking sound the "nice, lovely, good Charley" started for a fresh race; and, so unexpectedly, that the tippy hat leaped from its perch into the road, and the parasol, a moment neglected for the kiss, went following after!
And now Mr. W. was compelled to forego dalliance and dialogue—to abstain from all imitations—to forget model drivers—to be plain Henry, head-waiter of the Boston House; for Charley, under an impression his friends were in "haste to the wedding," and being tired of fashionable paces, where he was forced to show off, began to gallop, as if he meant to run and then to run as if he did not mean to stop-bits, check-rains and palaver, to the contrary, notwithstanding.
And so Henry, having an indistinct remembrance
now, that his father was a black man, turning square round, with his back aslant upon the gig-back, and heels planted in front, against something; with his carded head lying so as bring the face all-along, horizontal, and his hands wrapping themselves (gloves on, but not air-tight,) with the reins; while the relinquished whip was twisting, snake-like, among the wheel-spokes, its handle in pieces on the turnpike was, alas! no longer driving. No! he was simply pulling in, and with all his talents; and yet all was not equal to a one-horse power; that would have balanced Charley! And that horse—that "noble brute"—had jerked the sentiment completely out of his driver; it had gone off with the new and tippy beaver. Hence, Henry was no longer intent on love and matrimony; but his soul was absorbed in personal matters, more earthly; and it let out, at length, into a natural cry, trembling and high:—
"Whoa! wo! Curse your rottin hide! whoa! won't you, wo! 'Spose you break the gig! whohoo!—whose to pay—wo!—that's what I want to know!—wo-ho-woah!-blame you, stop!—wo! you blasted nigger of a hoss!—"
Here the adorable Clarandina, true to nature, for this time, elapsed both
arms round the middle of her lover, crumpling the sky-blue coat, and rubbing
perspiration into the white vest, and at short intervals mingling with his
manly tones of entreaty and
expostulation, the shrill soprano of her own complaints:—
"I'll be killed for sartin!—wish I had'nt a cum—I'd stay'd with masser!—wher'l I go to! Don't catch me ahind this 'ar hoss agin! Can't see my par'sul! There now—my bran new bonnet's all squash'd up!"
Our three performers continued thus a good three mile heat—and heat it was sure enough! But at length, when Henry was about giving out, Charley began to give in—the bit, by accident, the last half mile having escaped from his teeth and sawing away on his mouth with all sorts of friction—till the horse subsided into a fair trot, his eye suspiciously glaring to see where the whip was, his ears spitefully peaked like Henry's original chin, and himself now and then giving a snort by way of intimating he had done his best and maybe would do it again!
The lady and gentleman, were, however, for awhile literally demolished; and a snappy colloquy at first arose, but was soon mixed with returning smiles and good nature; the female sustaining primo, the male secundo, thus:—
"You said you could drive 'um."
"Tain't what horse the fellow said. He ought to make my hat good."
"You squashed my bonnet when you jerked over so; but you couldn't help it."
"No, dearee—I'll make that good. The white rascal may whistle for the whip, though."
"He ought to git me a new white silk par'sul—it took all my wagus."
"I'll be your sun-shade, love!"
"Oh! I don't mind loosing a par'sul for you."
"Nor I hat! kiss me, dearee!"
"I won't kiss no more, behind that horse."
"Well, to-night, my adorable!"
"Yes, when we are one."
"I mean that, Clarandina, dear! But see, the horses and carriages over there; that's the place—that's the house."
Here, maugre all mishaps, Mr. Williams began to assume his original driving posture; and to rectify the sky-blue coat and white vest and other derangements of the outer man. His hair had remained as from the last touch of a curry-comb; that hair being the stubborn part of his nature, when fixed, would stay fixed. And Miss Clarandina rectified her "squash'd" bonnet, adjusted her curls, straightened her kerchief and smoothed her gloves; till matters adjusted and tempers unruffled, with head erect and chin a-peak, Mr. W. drove up Charley in regular style, to the wonderment and amusement too, of all—a gentleman negro without a hat!
On alighting, other damages and blurs became, for the first, manifest.
Miss Southton's frock-flounce
showed a hole, evidently done by Mr. W.'s heel; while his vest had a touch of some oleaginous compound from the lady's hair. His not-to-be-talked-abouts, in the herculean struggle of the limbs, were strained generally, and in places were leaky—needed the stitch in time; while her tounure made a protuberance on the quarter contrary to nature. But our folks found great commisseration on giving their narrative, and in due season by the aid of needles and pins, and borrowed articles, were ready for the entree; when Mr. Williams performed that grand action like the Lord of all Timbucto, with the interesting lady-love tastefully reposing on his arm—a long kid of snowy white on her own rounded arm, allowing the plump ebony from the elbow upward to the white ruffles resting some two inches broad on the shoulder tip, to display itself. It looked like a bit of midnight between two bright suns! Indeed, amidst that gay and fascinating throng—the elite of several colors—our two won universal admiration, and were as models to all that aspired to manners elaborate and recherche! And when rumor whispered these were to be the second pair to-night, the extemporaneousness of the matter turned the two into lions—male and female!
The groom and bride had not yet made their appearance; but they were ready
and awaited only the arrival of Dr. Sharpinton, who was now momen-
tarily expected. The company, however, managed to get along as well as unmixed ones usually do: they talked as much nonsense; they promenaded; they moved up and down and around without end or motive, intending to be happy, directly; they said things, by courtesy called wit, at which all, near by, laughed and smiled, and then, in turn, for want of recreation, repeated to others, who were straining over to know what the fun was—till a single bon mot or pun seasoned the whole mass with good humor.
Many tried attitudes and studied tones—to appear interesting; hence, were voices lisping, simpering, trilling; and, also, artless looks, and looks of fire and independence; and phizzes of the deepest thought, the brows all puckered together, as a bit of unskilful stitching, and the eyes piercing away down to an abyss without any bottom, and dark and dreary as chaos! One looked oratorically—another statesmanlike—while this colored lady looked poetic—and that lady of the opposite color, as if she were in labor, and would some day be delivered of a book on Emancipation!
And politeness was done on all; everybody atoning in public for his ill-humor and selfishness when out of harness; so that nobody now kept anything for himself, but held it to give to his neighbor—till all was a weaving mass of benevolent beings, acting for each other's good.
The contrast of complexions was superb; black, however, predominating, not because black faces were more numerous, but more visible; for a dozen such were sable enough for thrice that many Caucasian. White faces show a little by candle-light; but black ones absorb all the light, and make dark spots all over the company.
The caution of well-skilled philanthropists marked one regulation; dancing was proscribed on religious principles; by which a most formidable evil was avoided. Amalgamationists, whatever other senses they may have lost, still retain their smelling. As it was, the weather being decidedly warm, many a fair maid, like a timid swimmer sticking to shore, kept near open windows, and invited modest gentlemen to make offers of promenading on the piazza and in the gardens. Night dews were bad to be sure; but something else is worse. Essences chemically prepared, were in great demand—indeed, they became quite as insufferable as the natural fragrancies!
But every noble thing demands a sacrifice; and different styles of patriots pay different prices for honors and eminence. Some undergo great perspirations and sweat out their tasks; but amalgamationists pay through the—nose! Still here is their advantage—they scent their game and follow it in the dark!
Hush!—see! the company is ranging itself! Be-
hold, Dr. Ananias Sharpinton is entering the room; he wears a gown and carries a book; he stands now behind a little table! Look! here they come! What! are those two to be married? By no means: these, my reader, are our colored attendants—the first groomsman, the worthy doctor's son and the first bridesmaid, the worthy host's daughter;—why, the whole affair is to be in keeping, half-and-half! But there come the other colored ones—the second set—fine darkies as ever graced a bridal! How gracefully the four open ranks and wheel about till the white attendants are next—
Mr. Frank Freeman and Miss Carrie Wardloe!
After all what a magnificent fellow it is! Well may the woman he holds by the hand say—"yes," to the question categorical now put to her. How proud he stands! He seems to scorn what his white friends consider condescension! He feels out of place; not that they are better than he; but that, he seemed admitted by sufferance and favor! He began to feel even now that he was part of a machinery for other ends, his personality being lost!
The mixed party feared, while they respected him. The blacks gloried in
such a representative; although they felt they would be more respectable
if he was their king or president in some kingdom or state of their own;
while the whites saw Freeman was a man without them; and several of the more
rate amalgamators among the fair sex, declared, if Mr. Freeman was as light as Mr. George Harris, they would not scruple to marry him.
But little did these know that Frank would have spurned any white lady that would marry a negro. Even so black Simon, a libertus of the author's slaveholding ancestors, on meeting a brother black in Philadelphia, who had just wedded a white woman, exclaimed
"And so, Jerry, you've married a white woman."
"Well what if I have!"
"Nothing, you silly nigger!—only you must have a very strong stummuk!"
However, the knot is tied; for Frank, in obedience to the Rev. Dr. Sharpinton, in the old fashion of ending the ceremony, has saluted the bride; and Carrie is now Mrs. Frank Freeman! But before the reverend gentleman could leave his post; and before the joyous company could shake hands with the happy couple, other groomsmen and bridesmaids (black and white as before) displayed into station, and between them, walked up to the chalk-line, that master of the whip—
MR. HENRY WILLIAMS
to be united to
MISS CLARANDINA SOUTHTON!
Both were refitted in dress and looks; and their hair was finished beyond
description. Such elastic
moss for spring seats would be a fortune to an upholsterer! An extemporaneous wedding;—the company were in extacies! Mr. Williams was conscious of his responsibilities on this grand occasion—he designed the whole as a model case—a patterncard; and he really out-looked and out-acted even himself, and that was outdoing nature.
His response was prompt, decided, energetic; and was accompanied with a courtly bend of the blue and white breast, while the beardless chin rose to its summit height in the world, and his hinder hair bounced elastic on the velvet collar! His right arm, with ungloved hand across the lower bosom, held by the finger tips, a female band, black as his own, and nearly as big; while his left, gracefully pendant, and tipt with a white kid, dangled another! Silk stockings displayed to advantage all of an ancle that could be seen, without walking round; but his feet being imprisoned, and for no crime except their size, in remorseless pumps, kept the owner in a tiptoe balance of his person, that created a fear lest Mr. W. might topple over to a fall! And everbody felt that it would be a very pitiless joke to step on this groom's toes!
Nor was the lovely bride wanting to herself and her lord; for she spoke
right out, and said her "yes," with the utmost candor; and then inserting
her arm within her man's, she hooked him up with a grip
that meant—"I've got you, Henry, that's sartin—you don't escape, this time!" Her curtsy rivalled his bow; yet from some disorder in her balance, she must have gone clean over backward, if her hold on Henry had been less secure.
But when the order—"Salute your bride"—came, does anybody think Mr. Williams instantly gave a buss, like that which scared his horse! or do you think Mr. W. had lost his manners, and helped himself first to the honeyed nectar of those lovely lips! No! he did not forget himself; he knew all eyes were upon him; he would out-top Mr. Freeman himself; he would show politeness that was politeness; and so with a smile that made a rent across his whole face—with inimitable and undefinable curvatures of body and head—with eyes full open upon the Doctor's face—and with the blandest of tones he proudly said—
"After you, Doctor!"
Ha! ha!—Emancipator! you are caught—fairly caught! Go it! Mr. President!—And yet the astounded doctor after all escaped this most righteous punishment; for, first, the thing was so unexpected and so irresistibly ludicrous, that black and white simultaneously burst into such a haw! haw! and ho! ho! that Mrs. Williams fled alarmed; and, secondly, the whites, fearing they should have to follow suit, contrived to smuggle out their dux-gregis; in which
they, of course, succeeded, being accustomed to smuggle out black people.
It is said, however, that ever after, the doctor omitted that amatory order from his matrimonial formula; at least in mixed companies, and where a pair was colored. And, possibly, this may have been the cause why kissing is gone into disuse at weddings; indeed, if any seriously yet meditate a social amalgam, it seems wise to anticipate numberless little alleviations of things mutually disagreeable, and specially to persons of delicate taste, weak senses, and small philanthropy. Should this book contribute a mite even, this way, future amalgamators, when they come to their senses, will look back with affectionate regards for the author.
As far as supplies were concerned, there was an abundance—an immense abundance
of eatables and drinkables. The fact is Yankee folks are wholesouled that
way—the author in his several visits to Yankeedonia having been always fed,
and with the best, till he could eat no more. His breakfasts were like dinners,
and his dinners like two breakfasts, and his tea and supper like both the
others put into one. But attendants at the wedding were at first few; for,
spite of appeals to conscience and patriotism, natural feelings among the
whites were too strong for service here, although a few humbled themselves
round; but most held back, and some profanely asseverated, they would "never wait on the darkees."
The colored guests had, in daily life, enough of menial services; and here was an opportunity of an holiday, and of trying the sweets of liberty on a higher platform; and of course, all the invited waiters, cooks, scullions, barbers, and swill-barrel blacks, had dropped themselves, and came, even as some whites, in masks. These scorned to be servants here, in a show got tip for their special honor and exaltation.
Volunteers, however, among the whites were found; and after the white ladies and gentlemen entered with tea and cakes on the waiter, then Mr. Freeman, although the principal black, rose, followed by Mrs. Freeman, and both insisted, with great politeness and grace, on relieving the one a white lady, and the other a gentleman; on which the less noble negroes, being ashamed, came in full force to the rescue. But all this will doubtless regulate itself in "the good times coming, boys!" when Oberlin's mixed streams shall flow out to fertilize and purify, and the social amalgam shall be of its kind—perfection.
Reader! this chapter must, after all, end with tragedy. For, on a sudden,
was now heard the rapid hoof of an approaching horse. What can it be? perhaps,
some tardy emancipator, too late for the ceremony, and yet in time for cake
and jelly? No!
What then can be the matter? Behold! our quondam friend, Mr. Short, of the umbrella, comes hurriedly into the room, and much agitated, exclaims
"Oh, Doctor! Doctor! Mr. Somerville is dead!"
"Dead!" was the outcry of all.
"Dead! dead!" repeated Mr. Short, "and by the bands of cowardly slaveholders!"
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Dr. S., "What! was he assassinated, Mr. S.?"
"No, sir, he was only killed—"
"Only killed! But how? why? where?"
"Why, sir, he was shot; and with a bullet; and in the breast; and because he wouldn't give up!"
"Do, brother Short, give us some connected account—how do you know it is true, at all?"
"Why, brother Sharpinton, it is in the Truth Teller, and will be out to-morrow; but Mr. Slashup, the editor, has sent you this letter to read to the company, and it well tell the how, as I calculate;" and with that, Mr. Short handed over the letter, which the reverend gentleman read out, thus
"REV. AND DEAR SHARPINTON:—My soul is fairly on fire—it fairly cries out, 'Away with the accursed slavers from the earth!' Oh, heavens! doctor, they've killed our Somerville; and in defence of his press! Freedom!—where's our right to publish the truth—the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?
"Don't tell me of freedom! Union or no union!
down with the gag-loving, press-muzzling, slavery-aiding, colonization-scheming, God-defying, double-dyed, negro-lashing, humanity-crushing, base, grovelling, truckling villains, that, in face of the sun, will assault and pull down a printing-office, and pitch the types into the street, and shoot down, spite of law, justice, and rights of man, the noble Somerville, and standing to defend his rights! It hadn't ought to be the 19th century! no, it hadn't ought to!———I know it cannot be done; but, still, follow me, ye friends of the poor, down-trodden, brute-degraded, blood-squeezed, and sweat-defrauded sons of Africa! oh! ye men of tried souls, ye true Americans, and we will drive the accursed South into the earth-girdling ocean!
"Vain to hope for Justice! We cannot draw the avenging sword of our godly forefathers! but, beware! we can handle a pen! And here I swear, thou martyred hero! while a single quill can be plucked from the wing, to use my columns to expose the vile craft of colonizers, that would tear away the exiled African from his native America, and second the bribing slavers to fill up the places of worn-out bondsmen with new ones!
"Thus will I best avenge thy death! and I further swear, the whole northeast
shall have one heart and this shall be the fugitive's home! Here he shall
be protected and concealed! And with one
hand we will resist the miscreant knaves that shall defile our virgin soil with their pursuing feet!
"Down! down! with man's law! brother; up with higher law! And let us defend that higher law with bullet, and steel, and blood! Rest thee, thou all over-gored Somerville, in thy crimson blood bed—the tramp of the free shall yet be above thy holy grave!
"In haste, &c.,
Having read the letter, and before the company had time to utter their feelings, Dr.S. spoke as follows:—
"I presume, my friends, to-morrow we shall have the whole narrative in the Truth Teller. That our devoted Somerville has fallen a victim, because of his adherence to truth and justice is plain; but what steps our Society must take is a matter of deliberation for the Committee. The Committee, will, therefore, meet to-morrow at 3 P. M., in the room. And now, it is proper our happy company break up; as for myself I must bid good-night to all, as I purpose to set off for Boston by four o'clock in the morning."
The company, accordingly, immediately separated; some to the neighboring houses, among friends, and some to the country taverns, where they had made arrangements.
What others thought we know not: but that night
Mr. Freeman said to his wife; "Carrie! this man may not have deserved death from those that murdered him—yet God is just. This man would have sent me to the gallows and with the brand of traitor and murderer on my name! Yes!—he stirred up my intimate friends!—and I saw their quivering bodies as they swung from that frightful gibbet!"
Carrie was amazed and stood almost terrified at her husband's words and manner; and trembling, she exclaimed—
"I no understand you, Frank!"
"Another time," he replied, "I will tell you all, Carrie; and you then will say with me,
GOD IS JUST."