"YOU jus come from de greathous, Elce?"

  "Yes, Robin, I jus dis minit from dare."

  "Is Charles an' dem gals gittin' long pretty well, cleanin' and fixin' de house for massee and young missis? Masser tell me when he went away, dat he'd be back here de day after to-morrow, an I does want ebery thing mighty nice for him, when he bring he young bride home: Elce, you mus tend to dem gals and Charles, an' see dat dey wash all de windees; an' tell 'em from me, dat I won' be satisfied unless I can see my face in the furnitur plain enough to shabe by."

  "I ain' gwine leave it to dem, Robin; I gwine see to ebery thing myself; I don' want my young missis, when she com home, to think we aint gentle-folks, an' aint use to havin' things like de quality."

  "Elce, you can hab one nother cow to de pail; I gwine kill dat fat veal to-morrow night, so dat dey can hab good dinner prepared for 'em."

  "Robin, I don' think you ought to kill dat veal now, cause I know when massa com home, he gwine hab mighty big weddin' dinner here, an he'll want dat veal for de dinner. I got plenty o' scovy duck and chicken, and Susan can git 'em very good dinner widout de veal."

  "You right, Elce, we'll sav de veal, an I'll giv Susan one mighty nice pig for de dinner day after to-morrow."

  "Pig! Robin, for a dinner for young bride! why, sartinly, Robin, you don' know anything 'bout de quality; pig right down tacky dinner."

  "Why, Elce, I bin see my ole missis hab many pig for dinner, an I spose you'll 'low she was quality, an ebery-body at dinner chuse pig."

  "Robin, you gittin' ole now, an it bin som time sence you was boy waitin' in de house and see pig for dinner; quality mightly altered sence dem days, Robin."

  "Well, Elce, I can't see why quality should 'spise any good thing de Lord giv um to eat, unless dey was Jew, an den dey would be right not to eat de flesh ob de swine."

  "Robin, you may gib ober 'bout de pig; I ain' gwine to suffer pig to come 'pon dat table. I hope, Robin, dis young missis gwine be like our ole missis dat's dead and gone."

  "Elce, I hope massa done chuse one young lady dat will som time or oder be like our dear ole missis; but she too young yit, Elce, to be anything like her now; it require heap o' 'flection to com up to her."

  "Robin, I bin hear um say dat de folks in Pennsylvany

  "Well, Elce, I don' preten' to say oderwise, but 'taint always dat dem folks who make mos' fus 'bout der goodness is de best folks, der's some of de Pharisee lef in de worl' yit; our blessed Savior did'n drive um all out of de worl', I tell you. Elce, if I was gwine to hunt for one good, kind Samaratan, I would'n go out of ole Fugginny to look fur him."

  "Well, Robin, I can't stay longer from my wuck at de house, massa will be here 'pon us in a hurry."

  Elce was right in saying that the quality of Virginia was mightily altered from former days: at the period of the commencement of our narrative, there was scarcely a remnant of its aristocracy left; its time-honoured practices, however, still lingered in the recollection of some of the old servants: Robin's memory (for instance) went back to the day when a grinning roasted pig, with an apple in his mouth, was not only tolerated by the gentry as sufficiently genteel, but luxuriously palatable, whilst the notions of Elce, his wife (a few years younger than himself), were formed upon the refinements of modern gentility, which repudiates the pig as decidedly vulgar.

  We have high authority for saying that the only vestige then remaining of aristocratic ease and gentility, was to be found with some old negro man, who had seen and caught his master's manner, when making his entrée at a birth-night ball, or President Washington's levees. Robin, whom we shall hereafter call Uncle Robin, was too young to have caught the genteel bearing of those palmy days of Virginia; but his old master and mistress, them-

  Doctor Boswell (the young master for whose reception at home with his bride, the servants were anxiously engaged in making preparations) belonged to one of the oldest and most influential families of Virginia.

  After completing his education at William and Mary College, he attended the medical lectures in Philadelphia, and received his diploma in the spring of 1848. While there, he became acquainted with Miss Ann Stephens, a beautiful and highly accomplished young lady from Norristown, Pennsylvania, and a mutual attachment being formed, they were married in the fall of 1848 at Norristown.

  The Doctor being the only child of his parents (who were both dead), succeeded to an estate lying on the northwestern side of the Blue Ridge mountain, on the river Shenandoah. His father had resided on the same estate, where he had reared a comfortable, commodious stone dwelling, on a beautiful height, commanding a view of the low grounds, the river beyond, and of the mountain on the opposite side. Being the owner of about forty slaves, he had built comfortable stone cabins for their accommodation, on the same height, in range with the mansion house, the nearest of which was about two hundred yards

  The green venitians of the dwelling-house, in contrast with its white stuccoed walls, the white-washed cabins, with their green baton shutters and doors, seen through the evergreens, gave to the tout ensemble a richness and softness of beauty, which filled the beholder with delight, as he ascended the slope from the flat to the mansion. It had been locked up during the minority of the doctor, after the death of his father and mother; but faithful Uncle Robin, by his assiduous care and attention, had prevented the least appearance of dilapidation. He had often said to Elce, "my young masser Johnny gwine com home when he gits he edication, an' he shill find ebery thing jist as he pa an' ma lef' it."

  When the Doctor arrived with his lovely, interesting bride, the familiar arrangements, the freshness and beauty of Selma and its environs, brought so vividly to his recollection his lamented parents, that a momentary illusion may have presented them as still in existence and ready to greet his return to his much endeared home; 'twas but the dream of a moment, and he awoke to the reality of his indebtedness to the lingering affections of a coloured domestic for the preservation of those comforts and adornments which had been the work of by-gone days.

  Mrs. Boswell and her brother, Mr. Henry Stephens (then a merchant in Norristown), were the only children of their parents, who had, until a few years before their daughter's marriage, been in affluent circumstances, and had brought up their children delicately, and without regard to any possible change which time might bring about in their situation. That change, however, did come, and, on the day before the wedding, old Mr. Stephens thought himself in honour bound to inform Doctor Boswell, that owing to a failure of one of the most extensive mercantile houses in Philadelphia, he was reduced almost to poverty. The doctor, a noble-hearted Virginian, was but little affected by the communication, further than feeling deep sympathy for the old gentleman and his wife. He earnestly entreated them to go and live with him in Virginia, which they consented to do, after they had arranged their matters for a final leave-taking of the place of their nativity.

  As soon as it was known in the neighbourhood, that Doctor Boswell had arrived at Selma with his bride, there was much preparation made to offer customary greetings to the newly-married couple. Major and Mrs. Scott, the two Misses Scott, old Mr. Preble, his daughter, Miss Evelina, and his son, Mr. George Preble, were the first to offer congratulations; those two families being considered the top of the circle of that neighbourhood, were expected to make the first visit to all new comers, as they were generally allowed to be better acquainted with all those little considerations in the beaumonde, which make first visits strictly according to etiquette.

  Mrs. Scott was a highly polished lady, having been well educated by her father Colonel Baytop, who was an officer of some note in the American Revolution, and who at the close of the war had settled in the county of Orange, where he raised an only daughter, and died shortly after her marriage.

  Major Scott had received a tolerably good education, was a gentleman in easy circumstances, and was considered in his neighbourhood, a man of uncommonly sound views on all subjects, and was an oracle to whose judgment were submitted all difficult matters of controversy; although he had never been clothed with legal authority for their final adjustment, and was not entitled to the cognomen of Squire. The two Misses Scott were as different in appearance as two sisters could well be; Miss Julia was a brunette, with large dark-gray eyes, a regular set of features, and dark hair; her countenance was remarkable for its intelligence, and was the index to a mind of ordinary stamp; she was engaging and interesting, without being a beauty. Miss Amelia was fair, with light-blue eyes, flaxen hair, homely features, and a countenance expressive of no intelligence; she was decidedly homely, without exciting much hope for amiability.

  Mr. Preble was an old gentleman who had been left a widower; although himself a slaveholder, he had imbibed in early life, in the North (where he was born), some notions, which he himself could not well define, of something like impropriety in holding human beings in a state of servitude, but was nevertheless considered by his neighbours a very severe master. Miss Evelina Preble.

  "My dear, said Mrs. Scott (addressing herself to Mrs. Boswell), I hope you have come to Virginia with a determination of being happy among strangers;—but I will recall the word strangers, as I trust we shall be no longer considered such, and from this day forward you will look upon us as friends and old acquaintances."

  "If I am not happy here, Mrs. Scott, I am sure it will be my own fault, for it seems to me there is everything calculated to make a reasonable being contented and happy; the doctor anticipates my every wish, and, besides having made every arrangement necessary for my comfort, he has promised me enjoyments derived from the best and most enlightened society, and I assure you I have good reason to believe that his promise will be fulfilled."

  "Well, you must not expect too much from us, Mrs. Boswell; we are a plain people inhabiting this mountain region, but we generally do our best to make all who come among us feel comfortable and easy;" replied Mrs. Scott.

  "I have no doubt of it, madam, that every effort will be made to make my time pass agreeably; and I hope to show, by my conduct, that those efforts are not thrown away upon one who is insensible to, and therefore unworthy of kindness."

  "How are you pleased, Mrs. Boswell," said Major Scott, "with our mountain scenery?"

  "Oh! I am charmed with it, sir. I am naturally of a romantic turn, and I shall never tire in admiring the grandeur of the scenery from our front door. Although the poet has said, 'tis distance lends enchantment to the view,' its nearness has more enchantment for me: there is something grand and sublime in its jaggedness and roughness, which is lost when it becomes an uninterrupted streak of azure."

  "There is something in a near view of all the works of nature," said Miss Evelina Preble,"better calculated to exalt our admiration of the great Architect, than in the distant."

  "That is very true," said Major Scott; "but did it never strike you, that there is something wonderful and grand in the fact, that the rough asperities of the mountain can be overcome and made smooth in the distance, by the power of the same Architect, in his formation and adjustment of the medium through which the rays of light pass to our vision?"

  "I declare, "said Miss Amelia Scott, "I don't see how anybody can like the mountain, either near or at a distance; I've been living all my lifetime in sight of the

  "My dear daughter," said the Major, "I should be ashamed to acknowledge my indifference to the grand displays of nature, if I were you; I think I must carry you next summer to the falls of Niagara, to excite in you a taste for the sublime."

  "O! father, do carry us both," said Miss Julia. "I'll promise you to be an exquisite in my admiration of everything grand and sublime. I won't say with sister, however, that I have not now a taste for those things; I have been admiring, from the window, this mixed mountain and water prospect ever since I came. I don't want to go to Niagara only to see the falls; I want to see some of the works of art: Philadelphia, New York, and other cities. We will go through Norristown, Mrs. Boswell, if you will go with us."

  "Indeed, miss, I hardly ever expect to see Norristown again. My father and mother are coming in a few months to live with us, and then I shall have no desire to go back. My brother will visit us occasionally, and we have no other near relations in Pennsylvania. If Doctor Boswell, however, will agree to go and take me, I should be delighted with the trip."

  "That is impossible, my dear," said the Doctor; "I have too much to do at home; you know it is said that a man can't wive and thrive the same year, and it would be certainly true with me, if I were to go journeying too for pleasure; no, my dear, you are now a Virginia farmer's

  "Upon my word, Doctor," said old Mr. Preble, "you have begun in time; well, it is said, that whoever is harnessed in the honeymoon, has to wear it for life. How do you get along with our peculiar institution, Mrs. Boswell? I suppose you come among us with natural, instinctive, and acquired antipathies."

  " I do not know," answered Mrs. Boswell, "that I have any natural or instinctive antipathies; but you may readily suppose that my education has been such as to produce a feeling adverse to what you call your peculiar institution. I am free to confess, sir, that my father and mother are both abolitionists, and that I have come to Virginia entertaining a strong feeling against slavery; indeed, almost with a horror at the thought of being in its midst; but, as I am doomed, you know, to wear the harness all my life, I must wear it, and obey my husband in all things, even should it be to tolerate slavery. It may be, that when I have become familiar with all its incidents I may pull tolerably well in that harness."

  "Well, I don't know," rejoined Mr. Preble, "how it is, but I have been familiar with it here for nearly thirty years, and I am just as much opposed to it now as when I first left Massachusetts."

  "I suppose, of course, you don't own slaves, Mr. Preble?"

  "Why, madam, to tell you the truth, I do own a few: being in Rome, I think it but right to do as the Romans do."

  "Certainly not, sir, when the Romans are leading us astray from the dictates of conscience."

  Mrs. Scott, seeing the effect which this hit had upon Miss Evelina, proposed taking leave, as the carriages were at the door; the whole party left, after urgent entreaties that the Doctor and Mrs. Boswell should visit them.

  "Well, my dear," said the Doctor, "how could you give old Mr. Preble such a rap? I was glad of it, however, for he is always croaking about the evils of slavery, and at the same time has no bowels of compassion for slaves; he neither gives them a sufficiency of clothing or food, and whips most cruelly. My father, who was a justice of the peace, kept him somewhat in check by threatening the law."

  "Why, my dear husband, have you any law in Virginia to punish a master for cruelty to his slave?"

   "Certainly, my dear; a man is not allowed to be cruel to his beasts; but as slaves are the only persons generally present, and as their testimony is not admissible against a white man, the law is rarely enforced against a cruel master."

   "I have always thought it a shocking thing to prevent slaves from giving testimony against a white man; in our state the testimony of a black man is thought as good as that of a white."

   "Well, my dear, as I have brought you to Virginia full of notions and prejudices against this peculiar institution of ours, it is my duty, and it is indispensable to your comfort here, that I should remove those prejudices as soon as possible. My first effort will be to reconcile

   "I must allow that there are evils inseparable from a state of slavery, such (for instance) as a depressed and lowered standard of morals; a general feeling of antagonism on the part of the slave towards the white man; which latter feeling, operating upon the low moral standard, which rejects the proper appreciation of an oath, would not only tend to insecurity of the life and property of the white man, but would injure the slave himself, if he were by law placed in a situation where there was constant temptation to perjury.

   "Moreover, there is always, in every community, a class of whites whose moral standard is as low as that of the slave, but who, on account of their freedom, are more connected than the slave with the property transactions of life; and if, in contests between the whites relative to those transactions, the slave was admitted to bear testimony, what an advantage would the villain litigant have over the conscientious one, when there was so wide a field open for suborning slaves to perjury! A master's influence, too, over his slave might be made to bear very beneficially upon his own interest, and defeat the purposes of justice, if the slave could testify in his behalf; or he might be liable to injury from the testimony of a slave given under feelings of exasperation.

   "It is entirely unsuited to the nature of slavery, to admit slaves as witnesses, for or against those who are