AT length the day arrived on which the Doctor was requested (by letter received from his father-in-law, Mr. Stephens), to send his carriage to the depot for Mrs. Stephens and himself. As it was a permanent move, the Doctor naturally concluded, that, in addition to the carriage, a wagon would be necessary for their baggage; and Uncle Robin was sent with a two-horse wagon. Before they arrive at Selma, we must introduce the reader to the character of each. Mr. Stephens was a man of moderate capacity, of business habits, very industrious, and of so strong, robust a frame, that he could endure much hard labour. His disposition was what would generally be called amiable. Mrs. Stephens had been brought up delicately, was of tall, genteel appearance; her temper, naturally quick, had been soured by a change in their circumstances, from affluence to a state, not of actual poverty, but of very moderate means of support. She was extremely sensitive upon the subject of slavery, and had imbibed, to a very great extent, the prejudices against the South and its peculiar institution, so common in Penn-

  Uncle Robin and George were at the depot sometime before the cars arrived. The carriage was placed opposite the platform where the passengers were to get out. After the cars had stopped, Robin saw a gentleman and lady making their way to the platform, and he and George went up and saluted them.

  "Are you Dr. Boswell's domestics?" said the lady.

  They looked at each other, not exactly understanding the meaning of a word which they perhaps had never heard before. She repeated,

  "Are you Dr. Boswell's domestics?"

  "We he sarvants, missis," said Uncle Robin, who saw her turn up her eyes and repeat something to herself; and in the abiding devotion of his own feelings, and the simplicity of his Christian heart, he concluded that she was returning thanks for her safe delivery from the perils of a railroad car; but he learnt afterwards, that she was kindly commiserating his own and George's situation, and ejaculating with uplifted eyes, "poor creatures." George heard distinctly the same words repeated several times before they reached Selma.

  Mrs. Boswell met them at the carriage, and exclaimed: "My dear father and mother, how delighted I am to see you!" and threw her arms round the necks of both.

  "Oh! my dear child," said Mrs. Stephens, "do carry me into your chamber and let me lie down; I am almost exhausted."

  Mrs. Boswell assisted her to the bed, and brought a smelling-bottle, which she took and held in her hand, remaining some time with her eyes closed. The negro girls were seated around the room, employed in knitting. When she again opened her eyes, she caught a view of them, and exclaimed in a voice audible enough for them to hear, "poor creatures!"

  Mrs. Boswell at first thought her mother had been overcome by the fatigue of her journey, but that exclamation satisfied her that there was some other cause for her nervousness. She ordered the girls to go to the garden and assist Uncle Robin in some work he was to go at there, as soon as he had put away his horses.

  "Oh! mamma," she exclaimed, as soon as the girls left the room, "how sorry I am to see you so much distressed at sight of our slaves. I had hoped that you and papa had come to live with us, and partake the happiness which we all enjoy upon this plantation; indeed, mamma, you are entirely mistaken about slavery. It is nearly three months since I came here, with not a few prejudices against it, but those prejudices have been entirely removed by seeing for myself what slavery really is. I have never, anywhere, seen more satisfaction and happiness than appears to prevail among the slaves throughout this neighbourhood, with the exception of a few who are said to have been enticed off by persons from our state.

  "As to myself, I feel of much more importance in the world than I have ever felt before, surrounded by persons

  "My dear," said her mother, "it is bad enough for me to be constantly exposed to see human beings in a state of slavery, and it will be much worse if I am to smother my feelings; I can't do it, my dear; and if I do produce discontent among them, it will be only hastening what I have so much at heart, their emancipation."

  "I assure you, my dear mamma, it will not have that effect, but will only convert their present contentedness into dissatisfaction and misery."

  "Uncle Robin," said Kate, when he joined them in the garden, "a'nt missis' ma crazy?"

  "What mak' you think so, gal?"

  "She look up to de celin' an' say, poor cre'tur's."

  "I seed her look up when she 'rive at de depo', an' repeatin' somethin' to herself, an' I thought she mought be prayin', but George tell me jus' now, he hear her heap o' times say, poor cre'tur's, as dey com' 'long."

  "Maybe, Uncle Robin, she lef' som' nigger gals home she couldn' bring 'long, and when she see we gals, it mak' her think o' dem."

  "Ta'nt dat, Kate."

  Uncle Robin had sense enough to know that there were no slaves in Pennsylvania, and began to suspect the real cause of those exclamations, but he had prudence enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

  "Uncle Robin," said Kate, "I hope dey ane gwine put me to wait 'pon dat ole 'oman; I dun fraid o' her reddy."

  "Shure, chil', she ane gwine hu't you."

  "I don' like her looks anyhow, Uncle Robin."

  "If missis tell you to wate 'pon her ma, gal, you mus' do it, an' make no fuss 'bout it."

  The care of the room assigned to Mrs. Stephens, was, sure enough, given to Kate, and when they came up to their room at night, Kate was at her post. The awful words, "poor creatures," reached her ears, just as Mrs. Stephens entered. Kate sidled off to the door, and flew down stairs like lightning.

  "I declare, Mr. Stephens," said his wife, "I can't stand it; I was fearful before I came, that it would make me very nervous, but it is a great deal worse than I apprehended. I cannot be waited upon by these 'poor creatures.'"

  "Well, my dear, we are here among them, and it can't be helped; there are no white servants in this country that I know of; however, if you will agree to clean out the room and make up the bed, I will bring water and attend to the fires, and we shan't want any waiting upon by slaves."

  "You know very well, Mr. Stephens, that I never was accustomed to wait upon myself; I never made up a bed or cleaned out a room in my life."

  "It must be done then by slaves, my dear; there's no help for it."

  "It will kill me, Mr. Stephens, if I am constantly to witness the drudgery done by these poor creatures.'"

  The next morning after breakfast, the Doctor and Mr. Stephens were walking out, the latter said to the Doctor:

  "My wife, sir, has a most unconquerable antipathy to slavery, and I very much fear, from the nervous situation into which she has been thrown, by seeing it all around her, serious consequences to her health."

  "I have heard her," replied the Doctor, "several times, when the servants came into the room, ejaculate, 'poor creatures,' but I thought it would wear off in a few days; I never for a moment apprehended serious consequences. It does seem to me, Mr. Stephens, that this whole abolition feeling has originated in, and is kept up by, the diseased, sickly sensibilities of females, and I am astonished that men of reflection, men in high standing, too, in the nation, should so far lend their aid to such sensibilities, as even to endanger the perpetuity of this Union. I hope, sir, that you have come among us, with a determination to conquer such feelings, if you have them, and to unite with my wife and myself in our efforts to reconcile Mrs. Stephens to the state of things which she finds in the land, where she has cast her lot for the future. You have come here, I know, under very erroneous impressions of what slavery really is, in Virginia, but when you have become better acquainted with it, I will venture to predict that your preconceived notions will be changed. It will be more difficult, however, to deal with the deranged sensibilities of Mrs. Stephens."

  "What was that building intended for, Doctor?" said Mr. Stephens, as they passed a good-looking two-story

  "That house, sir, was built by my father, a short time before his death, for a widowed sister of his. She died about the time it was finished. Her children were taken by their paternal relations, and the house has been locked up ever since."

  "A thought has just struck me, Doctor, which I will make known to you at once. How do you think it would do for my wife and myself to occupy that building? I have ample means to furnish it well, and it is possible that we might hire two or three white servants in the neighbourhood to wait upon us. If you could attach some land to it, I could find profit and amusement in cultivating it, as I am able to endure any kind of hard labour. I think with another grown hand I could make a comfortable support."

  "I certainly, Mr. Stephens, can have no objection to your proposal, other than the great disappointment it would occasion Ann, at not having her mother with her in the same house."

  "My dear sir, it will be so near, that Ann and her mother may be together every day, and I know that Ann will have much more pleasure in her mother's society when her mother is removed from the sight of slavery."

  "Very well, sir," said the Doctor, "if it is agreeable to the ladies it will be perfectly so to me; and it seems to have happened very apropos, that this morning, as overseer of the poor, I received an order of Court to bind out two children of a father and mother who are unable to support them, and who must themselves go to the poor-

  "If, upon seeing them, I like their appearance, that arrangement will suit exactly."

  They returned to the house, the ladies were consulted. Mrs. Stephens was delighted with the plan; Mrs. Boswell was at first very much opposed to it, but she saw something in her husband's manner which induced her to believe he favoured it, and she acquiesced without farther opposition. It was determined that they should all go to old Mr. Crosby's the next day, to complete the arrangement about his children.

  On the following day they were at Mr. Crosby's by eleven o'clock. Robin had carried the two-horse wagon for the children. Mr. Crosby's house was an old log cabin, in that region of country called the Pine Hills. Although not an old man, he walked with great difficulty, in consequence of a fracture of his thigh-bone, caused by a fall from his horse a few years before, which rendered him entirely unfit for any out-door work; and an affliction in his eyes, by which his sight had been impaired, had put a stop to his in-door work at his trade, which was that of a shoemaker. His wife had supported the family, after his eyes became worse, by her wheel; but, a few weeks before, she had been taken sick, and they were then dependent upon charity. The Doctor had so arranged it with another overseer of the poor, that the father and mother were to be taken to the poor-house, on the day that their children should be taken from them; and they found Mr. Conway's wagon ready to carry them there.

  "Do you know me, Mr. Crosby?" said the Doctor, advancing towards him.

  "No, sir, I don't know you—can't see."

  "My name is Boswell, Mr. Crosby."

  "You be Dr. Boswell, that lives down in that big house 'pon the river?"

  "The very, same, sir. Mr. Crosby, the overseers of the poor have determined to send you and Mrs. Crosby to the poor-house; and Mr. Conway has come with his wagon to carry you there."

  "And what's gwine to become of my children, Doctor?"

  "I am directed by the court, Mr. Crosby, to bind your children out until they are twenty-one years of age; and I have brought my wife's father, who lives upon my plantation, to see them; and, if he likes their appearance, he will take them."

  Mrs. Crosby, upon hearing that, screamed, "Oh! they going to take my poor dear children away from me! what shall I do? what shall I do? My poor Sally never was from me one night, in her life; and now they going to take her away, and I shall never see her again."

  "Why, Mrs. Crosby," said the Doctor, "she will be only about five miles off, and you will see her frequently. I will lend John a horse, and he can take Sally to see you at any time."

  "Oh! I shall die, I shall die, if they take my poor children away from me."

  "It is a case of necessity, Mrs. Crosby; the old man can't work, and you can't work; the children are too young to support you; it is better to take them, than that you should all starve here together. I will promise you, Mrs. Crosby, they shall be well treated."

  "I had a great deal rather starve here with my poor dear children, than to be separated from them. Oh! Doctor! Doctor! don't take my poor children from me."

  The mother and children were all screaming; she clasped her arms round them, and exclaimed, "They shan't go! they shan't go!" The old man hobbled up to the bed, and told her 'twould be best for them all that the children should be bound out.

  "Oh! you cruel father! you cruel father! you shan't take my darlings from me."

  Mrs. Boswell was in tears; Mrs. Stephens looked very composed, until Robin and George came into the room to tear the children away from their mother; when they passed her, she exclaimed, "poor creatures!"

  The children were taken out and put into Robin's wagon, and the screams of the poor mother were heard until they got out of the reach of her voice.

  When they got home, Mrs. Boswell and the girls set about making clothes for the two Crosbys.

  The gentlemen were attending to cleansing and airing the house; and it was arranged that they should go, the next day, to town, to procure furniture.

  When the Doctor and Mrs. Boswell were alone that night, he said:

  "My dear Ann, you must have observed from my manner, when this plan was proposed, for your father and mother to go to housekeeping, that I rather favoured than disapproved of it. I was a silent observer of your mother's conduct after her arrival here; and I was pained to see her extreme sensitiveness whenever she came into the presence of our slaves; because, I knew that such conduct

  "It has, moreover given me an opportunity, to-day, to show you that the evils of separation, and the severance of endearing family ties, are by no means confined to a state of slavery, but are common to all classes of society. I was very forcibly struck, too, with that genuine sympathy manifested by yourself for real suffering, in contrast with your mother's perfect indifference for that which is real, and her affectation of it, for that which is only imagined. She listened to the wailings of a truly bereaved mother with perfect composure, while the presence of George and Robin (two happy beings) could draw forth the unmeaning exclamation, of 'poor creatures.' That was, my dear, a veritable picture of abolitionism; sitting with destruction-dealing look over the desolations it had occasioned to the white man, and shedding tears of sympathy over the imagined sorrows of the negro."

  Dr. Boswell and Mr. Stephens on their way to town, the next day, had to pass by Mr. Frazer's at the crossroads. Mr. Frazer was standing in his yard as they were passing, and hailed the Doctor with,

  "Did you hear the news, Doctor?"

  "No; what news, Mr. Frazer?"

  "Why, sir, they have caught an abolitionist at last.

  While they were absent that day, Mrs. Stephens walked into the garden, and the following conversation was held with Uncle Robin, who was at work there. As she passed him, she made an inclination of the head to him, and with eyes turned up, exclaimed, "Poor creatures!" Uncle Robin waited until she returned down the walk, met her, and very politely said, "Missis, I's feared somethin' press 'pon you' mind mighty; I's hear you say heap a times, poo' cre-

  "But you are slaves, my friend, kept in bondage by a master who has no right to hold you as such, and you are kept ignorant of your real happiness."

  Why, missis, bein' content here, madam, I don' think it wuff while to 'quire 'bout my masser' right to have me as he slave, but if I did, madam, de word o' God does give him 'thority, de word o' God does tell me to serve an' 'bey my masser; and, madam, if people does think dey's happy, 'tis jus' same thing, madam, as bein' happy. I a'nt, missis, as you say, ignant of my rale happiness, my rale happiness up yonder, madam," (pointing up to the heavens.)

  "But you haven't the liberty, my friend, of working when you please, and going where you please, and doing whatever you please; you are a slave, and bound to obey the will of your master, and as long as you are so bound, you can't enjoy what I would call happiness."

  "Now, missis, jus' le's see; s'pose I was free, I'd do maybe jus' like dem free blacks I sees ev'ry day; dey do little wuck, an' dey gits little money, an' dey goes to de grog shop an' spends it all; dey don' clothe demselves or der children; ebery bad thing done in de country falls 'pon deir shoulders, whether dey 'sarve it or not; now, madam, is dat what you call happiness? Which de happiest, madam, dem people, or we, who live here wid masser? and missis, you go to our cabins, madam, an' den go to dem

  "Well, my friend, I see you don't know what's good for you, and I will leave you to reflect upon what I have said."

  As she left, Uncle Robin said to himself:

  "I wish missis would 'flect little 'pon what I bin say."

  Mrs. Boswell was for several days very busy in fixing her father and mother's house, which was made very comfortable, with the best of furniture, carpeting, &c., and they at length took possession of Fredonia, as the old lady called it. The Doctor and Mrs. Boswell dined with them the first day, and they were all very much diverted, except the old lady, at the awkwardness of John and Sally. Mrs. Boswell had proposed to the Doctor to let Charles go over to give them some instruction, but he replied:

  "No, my dear, if you want me to enjoy myself to-day in the land of freedom, let us have no adulteration of it by the presence of these 'poor creatures.'"

  Old Mr. Preble visited them in a few days, and he and Mrs. Stephens held a long conversation upon the subject of slavery, upon which they agreed theoretically, the old man cautiously avoiding any mention of being himself a slave-owner.

  Mr. Stephens hired a white man, Mr. Brock, to work with him on the plantation, as John Crosby had been taken by his wife for the house. He also hired a free black woman to cook, by the name of Rachel.

  As the spring advanced, he laboured hard in preparing

  "Madam did beat me, sir," said John.

  "Yes, and I didn't give you half as much as you deserved, sir; you are the most vexing and perplexing little scamp that I ever had anything to do with. Mr. Stephens, you must, indeed, get me a cowhide; I can't get along with John, or Sally either, without one; they will worry me out of my life."

  "My dear, you must have a little patience with the children, and they will get along better, after a while."

  "Patience, fiddlestick! You are, Mr. Stephens, and always have been, the very worst hand to manage servants I ever saw. Isn't it calculated to spoil them completely, to hear you always preaching up patience to me? If you won't get me a cowhide, I will get Mr. Brock to cut me some hickories. These children, as you call them, must be kept in order, and taught obedience, Mr. Stephens."

  "My dear, I don't know when I shall have time to go from home to get you a cowhide; Mr. Brock can get you plenty of hickories, if you have need of them."

  "Need! I have need of them every hour of the day, Mr. Stephens."

  "Sally," said Mr. Stephens, "carry Mr. Brock his dinner; I must be off to my work."

  That afternoon Mrs. Boswell sent Kate over to Fredonia with a jar of sweetmeats for her mother; and when Kate returned, she asked her what her mother said.

  "She say thanky, madam."

  "Was that all she said, Kate?"

  "I didn' hear her say nothin' else, madam, but call me poo' cretur; an' I's sure I an't so poo' cretur as dat gal she got dar; she look poo' 'nough, goodness knows!"

  George Preble, whom they had not seen for some weeks, rode over to Selma that afternoon. He was in fine spirits, and seemed to have something of a pleasing nature to communicate, as soon as they would give him an opportunity.

  "I hear some good news about you, George," said the Doctor.

  "Ah! what's that, Doctor? I find I have been talked about wherever I go; but a man who has been wounded in a rencounter-with a negro, must expect his ears to burn."

  "There are other rencounters, George, which cause neighbourhood gossippings, in which if a man gets wounded he's not apt to recover so speedily as you have done from your shoulder-wound."

  "I don't clearly understand you, Doctor."

  "They say, George, that you have been pierced in the heart, by a little archer called Cupid; and that not being able to bear the pain alone, you have caused him to pierce somebody else."

  "Do, Mr. Preble," said Mrs. Boswell, "tell us all about it; we have heard something about you, and should be delighted to hear from your own lips that it is true."

  "Well, Mrs. Boswell, as I am somewhat indebted to you in this very matter, I will tell you that I am positively engaged to Miss Julia Scott."

  "I knew it would be a match, Mr. Preble; I was confident that Julia's fainting, when she heard of your wound, proceeded from some other feeling than ordinary sympathy."

  "I declare to you, madam, that I had not at that time addressed Julia. To be sure, I had given her reason to believe that I intended it; your hint on that day brought me to the determination of doing it at once."

  "If I had known there was no engagement between you, I should not have given you the hint, Mr. Preble."

  "Why not, madam?"

  "Because I should have thought I had no right to betray to a gentleman the secret of a lady's heart, before he had obtained it from herself. I had no doubt at the time but that you were then engaged."

  "Well, madam, there's no harm done; I am very much obliged to you, and I don't suppose Julia is very angry about it."

  "What has become of your friend Mr. Benson?" asked Mrs. Boswell.

  "He returned home some weeks ago. Perhaps you would like to hear whether a report which is in circulation about him is true? and, as it is all over the neighbourhood, I might as well tell you at once that he is engaged, to Amelia."

  "Upon my word, they made quick work of it."

  "I think, Mrs. Boswell, that short courtships and short engagements are best."

  "I am glad to hear you say so, about engagements, as it gives promise of an early wedding, and I am very fond of weddings."

  "Well, my dear," said the Doctor, "that is a plain hint for an invitation."

  "Mr. Preble says I brought it about, and if so, I have a right to claim a bid to it."

  "Certainly you have, madam, and your right shall not be withheld from you. Doctor, I have received an invitation from a relation of my mother, to come to San Francisco and join him in a very profitable business he is engaged in there. I have mentioned it to Julia, and she is willing to go; my father is anxious for me to go; Aunt Pris and Lina oppose it most violently; I want your advice upon the subject."

  "What do Julia's father and mother think of it? I should suppose that they would not even consent to your marriage, if they thought you would carry Julia to such a distance. What will they do, George, after both their children are taken from them? you say Amelia is going to Boston."

  "Well, sir, if they oppose it very strenuously, I will abandon all idea of going; I would not give up Julia for all California, and Mexico to boot."

  "You had better weigh the matter well, George, even if they consent; you will have enough here, and I do not like the thoughts of your going away, to such a distance, as there is no earthly necessity for it. There is another matter, George, in which I feel considerable interest, and I hope you will not think me too inquisitive, if I ask you how it goes with Mr. Grattan and Evelina. I think very highly of both, that they are well suited to each other, and I should like to hear that their love matters were as well adjusted as yours and Mr. Benson's."

  "I don't know much about it, Doctor; if it suits them, I am very well disposed to their union. My father, I fear, will be opposed to it, from hints he occasionally drops, of the necessity of having something to make the pot boil. I dare say Lina hasn't much objection, and Aunt Pris no doubt thinks that that match has been registered in heaven a long time ago. Mr. Grattan is a very pious man, and a very sensible one, and I think Lina was intended for a minister's wife."

  "I wish, with all my heart," said the Doctor, "that it could be brought about, and I see no reasonable ground for objecting. Mr. Grattan, as to worldly matters, is pretty much like other young ministers, and we see that they all get along very well; besides, your father is very able to assist them."

  "Yes, my father's very able, but you know he don't like to part with his property, Doctor. Aunt Pris has something considerable, and I suppose Lina will get all that, except her negroes. They are as dead a shot for Liberia as ever pointed that way."

  "Oh!" said Mrs. Boswell, "I do feel very much interested in that matter; I wish it could take place; suppose we all try to prevail upon Mr. Preble to give up his objections, and let them be married at once?"

  "My dear, it is a delicate business to meddle with; I neither like match-making nor match-breaking. Matrimony, you know, is at best a lottery, and those who draw blanks are the first to blame those who persuaded them to buy tickets."

  "Yes," said George, "and I can tell you, it is best to let the old man alone; he will go his own way, and the more

  "George," said the Doctor, "you talk of going to California; don't you know you can't carry your negroes there?"

  "I have no negroes, Doctor, to carry there. My old mammy Phillis couldn't be kept back by a regiment of soldiers, if I go. She would be free when she gets there, but I should like to see the mountain of gold that could induce her to leave us after getting there."

  "But, George, your father-in-law could spare you at least ten negroes; and if he gives them to you, what will you do with them if you go to California?"

  "If I could carry them with me, Doctor, and keep them all together, I would; but as I can't carry them, if the old man gives me any, I must sell them. I would not sell negroes who had not misbehaved, to traders; I would sell them in the neighbourhood in families, even at a sacrifice. That is one of the evils resulting to the South, from California being a free state. We Southern people who go there, must either make a sacrifice in selling them at home, or we must do what is revolting to humanity, sell them to traders, who will scatter them all over the extreme Southern slave states, without any sort of regard to natural ties. I wonder the abolitionists don't think of that when they are eager to apply the Wilmot proviso to all new states, and are at the same time abusing the South for cruelty, in separating husband and wife, parent and child, and all other connexions."

  "George," said the Doctor, "abolitionism is a humbug,

  "Well," said George, when he was about to leave, "you must keep in mind the first day of June."

  Mr. Stephens walked over from Fredonia. As soon as he entered the house, his daughter and the Doctor discovered something in his countenance like trouble and inquietude.

  "Doctor," said he, I am in a terrible fix; Brock has left me, and I can't get along with my planting."

  "What was the cause of his leaving you?" said the Doctor.

  "He has been growling and grumbling for some time, I understand, because he did not eat with us at the table; and last Saturday night, I wanted my boots cleaned for Sunday, and sent them to him; he sent them back, positively refusing to do it, and said that white people wa'n't accustomed to do such mean work, that I had better send them over for one of Dr. Boswell's niggers to clean."

  "It is very different with us, Mr. Stephens, from what it is in your state. With you there are only two classes, the labouring whites and those whose circumstances put them above labour. With us, there are three classes, those above labour, the labouring whites, and the slaves. Your two classes are just as far removed from each other in social intercourse, as the two extremes of ours. The labouring white man, with us, occupies a grade between those extremes, and he is watchful and jealous to maintain that grade, and takes umbrage at any real or imagined effort on the part of the highest grade to sink him to a

  "I should have no objection myself, Doctor, but my wife won't agree to it; and we have been in the habit of sending Brock's meals to him in the entry. Is there no other white man in the neighbourhood you could recommend to me, Doctor?"

  "Let me see—let me see—Yes, there is a man living close by, who sometimes hires himself by the day, week, or month. Charles, take my horse and ride over to Mr. Looney's, and ask him to come over here immediately. Tell him I want see him on some particular business."

  "My dear daughter," said Mr. Stephens, "you seem to get along with your domestics, here, with very little trouble."

  "Papa, I find it the easiest thing in the world. These girls that you see about the house have been trained to do certain work; and all the trouble I have, is to fix for them parts of the work, which they find difficult to do, without instruction. They are tractable and obedient, and I find very little need even for scolding."

  "You are very fortunate, my dear, to be so situated."

  "Papa, I wish you would prevail upon mamma to come over here to see me; I am there almost every day, and she has not been here since you moved."

  "My dear, your mother in her new establishment has a good deal of fixing to do. Those children too, get along very badly, and worry her a good deal; you ought to go every day, Ann, to see your mamma."

  "I sincerely wish mamma was back here, papa, and that we could be constantly together; it does seem so strange, that you and she should live on the same plantation with an only daughter, and not in the same house; and then, papa, I am afraid you will injure your health by hard work, which you are not accustomed to."

  "My dear, I feel happier when I am at work, than when I am idle, and I think work agrees very well with my constitution. You know how excitable your mother's nervous system is in certain situations; you must be satisfied at the separation, and make her time as agreeable as possible, by coming over at all times of the day."

  "Good-evening, Mr. Looney," said the Doctor, to a stout, robust-looking man, as he entered the room; "how do you do, Mr. Looney?"

  "I'm up and a-going, sir," said Looney.

  "Here is a gentleman, Mr. Looney, who lives upon my plantation, who is preparing to make a crop of corn, and wishes a white man to assist him in his work."

  "Well, sir, I'm just that man, sir, who can do any sort of plantation work, and if the gentleman will give me my price, and will treat me well, I'll work with him till Christmas, if he likes. There's one thing, Doctor, I ginerally stipulates for; some of you gentlefolks have a way of treating poor white folks like niggers, by sending them to the kitchen to eat; now, I can't stand that, Doctor; I'm a free man, and thinks myself as good as any other free man going."

  "I would certainly not send you to the kitchen to eat, Mr. Looney," said Mr. Stephens, "but my wife is very particular and neat, and doesn't wish her carpet to be

  "Well, sir, if I can't eat at the same table with gentlefolks, it's no go with me, sir. Good-evening, gentlemen; and you, too, madam," (turning to Mrs. Boswell).

  "He's a rough chap, that," said the Doctor; "I fear, Mr. Stephens, you will find it a difficult matter to get another white man; I can't think of any other in the neighbourhood. How would it do to take my man Billy? he is an excellent hand, and you are very welcome to his services. If you take him, you know you could keep him out of sight of the house, as there would be no necessity for his going nearer than the kitchen."

  "You are very kind; Doctor, and the necessity of the case is such, that I will take Billy, and be very thankful to you for him."

  "Papa, I have heard the Doctor say that he has more negroes on his plantation than he has use for, and he was sorry that circumstances prevented his offering you the services of both field hands and house servants."

  "The Doctor is very, very kind, my dear, but you know it would not do to have them in the house; your mother would never consent to it, I know."

  "Well, papa, I hope to see the day when mamma will think very differently upon the subject of slavery than she now does."

  "It may be so, my dear, it may be so. You must come over, Ann, early to-morrow, and spend the day with your mother."

  "If it is a good day, I will, papa. Good-bye, my dear papa."

  "I will send Billy over early in the morning," said the Doctor, as Mr. Stephens took his leave.

  "Well, Ann, this thing is working just as I expected. Your father and mother, too, will find that slaves are the only servants they can get along with in comfort in this country. Your mother will have more trouble with those two little Crosbys than you would have with a hundred blacks such as ours. I must say to you, Ann, without any intention of wounding your feelings, that I very much fear there will be a necessity for taking those children from her, and for putting them somewhere else. You know, my dear, that I am under a promise to their parents to see them well treated; and, independent of that, my duty as an overseer of the poor requires that I should take care that they are not abused. From what I have seen and heard, my Ann, I am fearful that your mother is not as kind to them as she should be. This excessive sympathy for slaves seems to me to close all avenues to the heart for kindly consideration for the indentured white servant."

  "What in the world would she do, my dear husband, if they were taken away from her? and then the mortification of having it known throughout the country that they were taken away because of bad treatment! nothing that could happen would give me more pain. I hope, my dear, for my sake, you will put it off as long as you possibly can. Perhaps, after they become better acquainted with the work they are put to, there will be an alteration in mamma's treatment of them. I think when I go over

  "You had better be cautious, my dear, or you may make it worse. There are very few persons who can bear being interfered with in matters of that kind. Most people would at once conclude that sympathy expressed for persons in their situation had been elicited by misrepresentations on their part; and such an idea would increase rather than diminish severity."

  Mrs. Boswell spent the following day with her mother; but seeing nothing particular about those children than a melancholy cast of countenance, declined saying anything to her mother about them. The old lady was more composed and cheerful than she had seen her since her arrival in Virginia; but strenuously resisted all her daughter's importunity for a visit to Selma. Not a word was said by her about Billy, and Mrs. Boswell concluded that her father had kept him out of sight. The old man, however, took the opportunity, afforded by Mrs. Stephens's absence from the room, to say that he was, so far, very much pleased with Billy; that he seemed to understand work, and to do it with good-will and cheerfulness. He had made a lucky escape, he thought, in not employing that rough fellow, Looney.

  "Papa, from what I have seen since I came here, he is a pretty good sample of the white labourers in this country, I would think."

  "If so, my dear, I would greatly prefer Billy to any of them. If I had employed that fellow, Looney, he would have given me much trouble, and perhaps would

  "I sincerely hope, papa, that you will continue to like him, and that after a while you will find out that slavery is not so terrible a thing as most of our Pennsylvania people think it is."

  "I have no time now, my dear daughter, to argue that matter with you. You must come over and see us every day, and bring my kind friend the Doctor with you sometimes."

  "I have no doubt, papa, he will often come over with me with much pleasure. Don't let me keep you from your work, papa; good-bye."