AT the early dawn of a beautiful morning about the middle of May, Dr. Boswell was aroused from his slumbers by Aunt Dinah, who had come to the house to inform him that old Aunt Juno was very ill. He hurriedly dressed himself, and went to Aunt Juno's cabin. He found her apparently without disease, but so much prostrated that he concluded she could not live many hours, as he had no hope of a reaction of her system, in consequence of her extreme old age."

  "Do you feel any pain, Aunt Juno?" said the Doctor.

  "Juner gwine—Juner gwine—Juner no pain, massy."

  "Why do you think you are going if you have no pain?"

  "Juner feel so—so bad, massy—Juner sent for."

  "Sent for; by whom do you suppose?"

  "Juner Farder in hebbin; dat Farder old missy tell Juner 'bout."

  "Are you willing to go to your Father in Heaven?"

  "Yes, massy, Juner glad—Juner gwine—Juner gwine meet dat Man old missy tell Juner 'bout—say die for Juner—Juner be happy in hebbin—Juner no farder here; no moder here; no broder here; no sisser here."

  "But you have kind friends here; haven't you?"

  "Yes, massy, missy good; massy good; Robin good;

  "I am glad to find, Aunt Juno, that you are willing to go, for I think you will be taken from us in a very short time."

  "Tang God, massy—Tang God Juner gwine—Juner no wan' 'tay here."

  When the Doctor returned, he found Mrs. Boswell waiting breakfast for him.

  "My dear, he observed, I think old Aunt Juno is not long for this world. She seems to be going out like a candle in its socket. I am much pleased to find that she is aware of her situation, and that she is perfectly willing to go. She is a child of God, snatched from heathenism by his grace vouchsafed to the pious labours of my dear mother."

  "My dear husband, what a beautiful thought it is that a poor African, once condemned to be eaten by cannibals, should be now on her death-bed, in a Christian country, surrounded by Christian friends, and rejoicing in the assurance of eternal salvation, procured by the death of her Saviour!"

  "Yes, my dear, it might carry consolation to the bosom of a Wilberforce, mourning over the horrors of the African slave-trade." After breakfast Mrs. Boswell took her work, and repaired to Aunt Juno's cabin, where she intended to spend the day, provided her lamp of life was not extinguished before the day closed.

  "Aunt Juno," she said as she approached her bed, "how are you now?"

  "Juner mighty glad see missy 'fore she go'—massy say

  "I am very glad to hear from your master that you are so willing to go, Aunt Juno."

  "Missy, Juner can't 'tay here—Juner got no farder here—Juner farder up yonder, missy—Juner glad go to Juner farder—Juner gwine see dat Man die for Juner—Juner see ole missy dar—Juner no wan' 'tay here, missy—can missy ting for Juner?"

  "What shall I sing, Aunt Juno?"

  "Dat Man, missy—dat Man die for Juner."

  "Is it this, Aunt Juno?—'Jesus can make a dying bed.'"

  "Dat um, missy, dat um."

  Mrs. Boswell sung it for her, and while she was singing, Aunt Juno lay with her eyes closed, and her hands clasped upon her breast. When the hymn was finished, Mrs. Boswell, thinking she was dozing, did not disturb her. In about half an hour she became restless, and Mrs. Boswell asked her some questions, to which she returned no answer. Poor Aunt Juno was speechless. Dinah was sent for the Doctor, who arrived at the cabin just in time to close her eyes in the sleep of death.

  The Doctor sent for Robin, and gave orders for a pine coffin. By this time many of the women had assembled at the cabin, and were directed to see the corpse decently laid out, and to remain with it, which last order was unnecessary, as the negroes upon some of the plantations in Virginia, whenever the death of a grown negro occurs, are in the habit of keeping wake, singing hymns as a requiem to the dead.

  The next morning the corpse was carried to Uncle Robin's cabin, where several funeral hymns were sung, and an address delivered by a coloured minister of the neighbourhood, from the text, "Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, from henceforth," &c. After the services were ended, the corpse was carried to the plantation burial-ground; and in the grave of Aunt Juno was mingled the dust of two continents.

  The gloom and melancholy which pervaded the mansion house at Selma, that afternoon, was broken in upon by the arrival of Mr. Frazer; and it was fortunate for Mrs. Boswell that she had retired to her chamber, as her presence would not have restrained a person always so anxious to retail news as he was, from making to the Doctor a communication which was calculated to give her much pain.

  "Doctor," said he, "I have a message for you from old Mr. Crosby, whom I saw to-day as I passed the poor-house. The old man made me promise to deliver it this very afternoon. He says that he was told by Mr. Brock, who lived a short time with Mr. Stephens, that his children are dreadfully abused there; that he himself got several hickory switches for Mrs. Stephens, and that she does lay on upon them at a powerful rate; that you promised him they should be well treated; and that it is, moreover, your duty as overseer of the poor, to see that they are not abused. He says, if you don't put a stop to it, that he will go to the court-house, if he has to walk, and employ a lawyer to make complaint to the court, and petition that they shall be taken away from Mr. Stephens, and bound to some one who will treat them better."

  "Well, Mr. Frazer," said the Doctor, "you can tell Mr.

  "Doctor, how is it that abolitionists have so much affection for black people, and are so cruel to whites, when they have anything to do with them?"

  "Is that the case, Mr. Frazer?"

  "Certainly it is, sir, when the black people don't belong to them; but when they get to owning slaves, they are cruel enough to them, too. There's old Mr. Preble whips more in six months than you would do all your lifetime."

  "It is very unaccountable, if it is as you say it is, Mr. Frazer."

  "My dear Doctor, there's no doubt of it. I've known several Yankees to own slaves, and to be the cruellest masters agoing: and show me negroes under a Yankee overseer, and I'll show you scars enough."

  "Doctor," he continued, "ain't it a pity that old Mr. Preble should refuse to let his daughter marry that nice parson, Mr. Grattan? they say it's all off."

  "I have neither heard that it was off, or on," said the Doctor.

  "Ah! Doctor, you don't live at a public place like the cross-roads. People are always stopping there and telling me things that I dont care about hearing. It's strange what a propensity some people have of talking about other people's matters; they come to my house sometimes, sir, so full of neighbourhood news, that if I didn't listen to them, and let them out with it, I do believe they'd almost burst."

  "Some people have that propensity, Mr. Frazer, in a very high degree, and seem to be not conscious of it."

  "Just so, sir, just so! I've seen people, before now, who gossip about everything in the world, and blame their neighbours for doing the same thing. It seems strange that people shouldn't know themselves better. Oh! Doctor, I'd like to have forgot,—did you hear that there are to be two weddings over at Major Scott's, in about ten days? George Preble is to marry one of the young ladies, and a Yankee from Boston the other."

  "Yes, I did hear something of that, Mr. Frazer."

  "Well, now, sir, if I were the Major, I wouldn't let my daughter marry a Yankee, anyhow. And there's Tom Roach's daughter, they say, is going to marry a man who will carry her off to Florida. Parents who let their children go so far off, can't have the same affection for them that I have for my daughters. When they get old enough to be married, I'll let these foreigners know they must keep away from my house."

  Mr. Frazer, finding but little encouragement in the Doctor's manner for him to go on, took his leave.

  The case of the young Crosbys, presented to the Doctor by the message from the old man, was the most difficult and perplexing that he had ever had under consideration. He felt great reluctance to mention it, either to his wife, her father, or her mother, and yet his duty required that something should be done, and done immediately, to prevent a public exposure of the cruelty of his mother-in-law, consequent upon an application to the court for removing those children. He determined, however, that he would consult with Mrs. Boswell on the subject, as her assistance would be necessary in any approach to the old lady by way of remonstrance. He immediately went into her

  "My dear," said he, when on their way to Fredonia, "I have received a message from old Mr. Crosby, about your mother's ill treatment of his children; and he threatens, if she does not treat them better, he will petition the court to take them away. I am very much at a loss to know what course to pursue. What do you think had best be done?"

  "Doctor, we should, in the first place, endeavour to ascertain, with certainty, whether they have been badly treated, and if so, I should not hesitate to remonstrate with mamma, tell her of Mr. Crosby's determination, and point out the disgrace it would bring upon us all to have a public exposure."

  "But how can it be ascertained, my dear, whether there is truth in Brock's statement?"

  "If there is any truth in his statement that they are severely whipped with hickories, they must certainly have marks upon them; and if I can possibly get an opportunity, I will examine Sally, and you do the same with John. It will be a very disagreeable business even to let the children know we suspect such a thing; but the necessity of the case requires some action on your part, and I can think of no other mode of proceeding."

  "My mind can suggest no other, my dear. If an opportunity offers, we will make the examination, and if we find that they are not scarred, we will say nothing to your mamma about it; and if they are, we will postpone until to-morrow, saying anything to her."

  Mrs. Stephens met them very kindly, and carried them into her chamber. Sally was employed at her knitting, and John rubbing the furniture.

  "Mamma," said Mrs. Boswell, "did you hear of the death of old Aunt Juno?"

  "Yes, my dear, I heard of the poor old creature's death."

  "Oh! mamma, I wish you could have witnessed her triumphant death. She was not only willing, but anxious to go; and seemed to have an assurance that she was going to heaven to be happy."

  "Poor creatures! it is well they can find a resting-place at last. Their trials in this world are heart-rending, but the Lord will reward them in the next, where they will be exalted far above those who are their oppressors here."

  Dr. Boswell and his wife exchanged looks, but neither of them spoke. It was unnecessary for them to make a close examination of John and Sally. It was too evident, from the marks of the lash upon their faces and hands, that Brock's statement was true.

  "Mamma," said Mrs. Boswell, "have you ever seen a native African?"

  "No, my child, and I hope I never may. The very idea of their being forced away from their parents and friends, and brought to this country and sold to cruel masters, makes me shudder. The Lord will take vengeance upon people who do such things."

  "Well, mamma, I am no advocate for the African slave-trade, but it does seem to me that it was infinitely better for Aunt Juno to be brought here and taught the Christian religion, than to have remained in Africa to be eaten by cannibals."

  "I had much rather, child, be eaten by cannibals than be a slave."

  "Rather be eaten by cannibals! mamma, and not know what will become of you after death, than be a Christian slave, and know that when you die you will go to heaven, and there be happy for ever with your Saviour?"

  "My child, do not talk to me any more about those matters. You know I detest and abhor slavery, and that I never can speak of it with any degree of composure."

  "Mamma, I fear I have been remiss in my duty in not speaking more to you on that subject than I have; your happiness here depends upon your rightly understanding the nature of slavery as it exists in Virginia. You have come here to live with us, with prejudices founded upon very erroneous notions as to what slavery really is, without examining into it, and judging for yourself since you have been in Virginia. You have given yourself up to a fixed idea, attached to the word only, without any apparent wish on your part to divest yourself of that idea, or to see whether it is correct, and sustained by an acquaintance with the workings and incidents of the relation of master and slave. In Pennsylvania you were surrounded by persons who had imbibed the same false views that you have. In your circle there of connexions and friends, there is a sympathy in common for the situation of those persons whom you call, 'poor creatures,' and an expression of such feelings of sympathy was met by corresponding feelings.

  "Here, however, it is different. You stand alone upon that subject, you meet with no corresponding sympathy; if it is indulged by you, it must prey upon your own mind alone, and will be a source of constant inquietude. I have

  "You must excuse me, my dear mamma, for saying that I discover evidences of that vexation upon the persons of those children. With all filial reverence and affection, my dear mamma, I would put this question to you: who is most censurable, he who holds slaves for life, who treats them as friends, furnishes them with all things necessary for their comfort, is lenient towards them for faults common to all human beings; or he who holds white persons in a state of bondage for a term of years (children taken away from fond parents), and corrects them severely for every positive offence, and even for every exhibition of awkwardness.

  "Mamma, I am forced by circumstances to speak plainly to you upon this subject. By hiring white men to work for you, you have subjected all the occurrences in your family to be exposed to this whole community, perhaps with much exaggeration. The man papa hired to work with him, and who has left him, not with the most friendly feelings, has circulated throughout the

  "My dear," said Mrs. Stephens, "I only wish I never had come to Virginia. Here I am avoiding all sort of connexion with what they call their peculiar institution; and because I take white people to work for me, and correct them when they deserve it, my name is carried high among them, and I am called a tyrant. The truth of the matter is, they do not wish anybody whipped but slaves. I wonder, if a master was to whip one of those poor creatures to death, if half the notice would be taken of it, that is taken of the little necessary whipping I give John and Sally?

  "Ann, I must get your father to carry me back to Pennsylvania. I can't stand Virginia any longer. As long as I do stay, however, I will keep John and Sally, and correct them whenever I think they deserve it; and if old Mr. Crosby thinks he can take them away from us, he is very much mistaken. The indentures are signed, and they are our property until the time runs out. As to your saying, Ann, that by hiring white servants we expose to the public whatever happens in our families, is not the master subject to the same exposure from his slaves? When those poor creatures have a chance to get away from home, they have plenty of tales of woe to communicate to those they meet with abroad."

  "There, mamma, you are entirely mistaken. The slaves generally love their masters, and I am told that the reputation of the master is as dear to the slave as his own, and that he will defend his master, his mistress, or their children, whenever anything bad is said about them."

  "You say, Ann, I have got nobody here to join me in sympathy for those poor creatures. There's old Mr. Preble, a good, benevolent old man, who thinks and feels exactly as I do."

  "Mamma, you are just as much mistaken in that, as you are in a good many other things. Mr. Preble talks a great deal about the evils of slavery, but would you believe that Mr. Preble owns slaves himself?"

  "I never would have believed, from Mr. Preble's conversation, that he owned a slave; but I suppose being here, and being surrounded by them, he is obliged to own them in self-defence."

  "Mamma, I wish with all my heart you would adopt that mode of self-defence; I think it just as necessary for you, as it ever was for Mr. Preble. But I could not seriously advise you to that course either; for if anti-slavery views are formed upon principle, and are a matter of conscience, I would never advise a departure from them from mere expediency."

  "You needn't fear, Ann, my adopting that course; I wouldn't be a slave-holder for the universe."

  Mr. Stephens, whose labours had ceased for a time in consequence of his corn-planting being over, had rode out that afternoon, returned, and come into the room just as Mrs. Stephens made the last reply to her daughter.

  "Indeed, my dear," he said, "I am sorry to hear you

  "You men, Mr. Stephens," replied his wife, "are as changeable as weathercocks. The fact is, you have no fixed principles upon any subject. I suppose working with this poor creature, Billy, has converted you. If I had had my way, Billy never should have come here to work." She then left the room.

  The Doctor and Mrs. Boswell looked with astonishment at each other, supposing, as they had done, that Billy's working there would be kept secret from the old lady.

  "How did you like Billy, Mr. Stephens?" said the Doctor.

  "Why, Doctor, "I never have worked with any hand who pleased me more than Billy; he did his work well, was constantly in place, and seemed always cheerful and good-humoured."

  "I did not expect you to send him home after you had done planting; you can have him again at any time that you may want him."

  "I've been to the cross-roads, Doctor, to get Frazer to do a little work for me. What a great talker he is! he told me more news than I have heard before since I have been in Virginia. He said he had seen you this afternoon."

  "Yes, he was at my house just before we left home. You could not have been long with him."

  "Not more than a half-hour, but you know he could tell a good deal in that time."

  "Did he tell you, Mr. Stephens, what carried him to my house?"

  "Yes; he said he had carried you a message from old Mr. Crosby, and I was very sorry to hear, Doctor, that that fellow Brock has been telling tales about my family."

  "Indeed, Mr. Stephens, I am very much concerned at it, especially as old Crosby looks to me for redress of the grievances he complains of. I told Ann, and she has told her mother. We both thought something should be done at once to keep the man quiet. Mrs. Stephens seems to think that he can do nothing, although he should apply to the court, as they are regularly bound by indenture; but she is mistaken. The court can, for good cause shown, cancel the indenture and bind them to others. If the treatment complained of is not repeated, however, the thing will drop, and we shall hear no more about it. I wish you would endeavour, Mr. Stephens, to prevent a repetition of it."

  "I will, Doctor, certainly; and I think I may say there will be no more complaints about severe treatment."

  "I sincerely hope there may not," said the Doctor.

  "My dear," said he (as they were going home), "you were rather more hasty in your communication to your mother than was agreed upon."

  "Well, my dear husband, when I had gone as far as I did in my advice to her, I thought it a very good opportunity to tell her what we had heard. I hope you don't think I have done wrong."

  "No, my dear, I think you have done perfectly right; and what you said about slavery and abolition sympathy was most admirable. Although she expressed an unwil-

  When they arrived at home, it was quite dark. Mrs. Boswell went into the house, the Doctor remaining in the portico to see some person he could distinguish a few yards off approaching him.

  "Your servant, massa," said a spruce young negro man.

  "Well, my man, who do you belong to?"

  "I belongs to Major Scott, sir; my name's George, sir."

  "What's your will and pleasure, George?"

  "Massa, I'm most shame' to tell you, sir, what I come for."

  "Out with it, George; let me hear what you have to say."

  "Massa, sir, you got a gal name' Cecilia, sir. Now, sir, I dun 'tain de 'fection of Cecilia, and she dun 'tain my 'fection, sir; and I want your 'probation, sir, to our bein' man and wife, sir."

  "Ah! it's a love matter, is it, George? Well, Cecilia is in the gift of my wife. If she consents, George, and you will bring me a note from your master, giving his assent and saying that you are a good character, George, I will consent to it, too.

  "Ann, my dear, come here." When she reached the

  "Doctor, if you are willing, and Cecilia is willing, I shall not object, certainly."

  "George, I have told you the terms upon which you get my consent."

  "I'll be here to-morrow night, sir, with a note from masser, sir."

  "When do you think of having the knot tied, George?"

  "The night of de fus' day of June, sir."

  "That is the very same night that your young mistresses are to be married; and as Mr. Grattan will be engaged for that night, you must get Parson Peter to come and tie the knot, George."

  "Yes, massa, dat's what I 'tend to do, sir. Missis, I's ten thousand times obliged to you, madam; an' so also to you, massa."

  George returned the next night with a note from his master, in which he gives him a very good character, and consents to his being married. As the wedding-day approached, there was much gossipping in the neighbourhood as to the splendid preparations which were being made for it. Old Mr. Frazer stopped everybody who passed the cross-roads, to tell what he had heard of the immense cost of the wedding garments, all of which were to be made in Baltimore; of the large amount of the confectioner's bill; of the costly addition to the furniture, and of the various other items of expenditure; of the beautiful presents which had already been sent to the intended brides; that the girls in the neighbourhood all intended

  Mrs. Boswell, too, was making preparations for a wedding. Cecilia was a great favourite with her, and she determined that her wedding should at least equal any that report had given her from the annals of negro matrimony. In looking over her wardrobe, she selected her second day's wedding-dress for Cecilia to be married in, reserving her bridal dress for the wedding at Major Scott's. Cecilia would have fallen heir to that, if her wedding could have been postponed but one day longer. Aunt Dinah, Cecilia's mother, was furnished flour, sugar, butter, and eggs, to make a very large pound cake, and with a beautiful wreath of artificial flowers to decorate it. Dr. Boswell's contribution was two hams of bacon and a pig. The poultry was furnished by Aunt Dinah herself. With a little fixing by Mrs. Boswell, the dress was adjusted to Cecilia's dimensions, and pronounced a good fit.

  "How do you like it, Cecilia?" asked her mistress.

  "Oh, missis, I mighty 'bliged to you, madam; I likes it monstrous well; I's sure I never seed black folks hav' sich a dress as dis, madam, before."

  "I am afraid you will be too fine for George, Cecilia."

  "George tell me, madam, he got mighty fine suit, madam; Masser George gin him mighty nice coat, almos' new; Missis Scott gin him mighty nice pair pantaloons, dat Major Scott hadn' war much, and Miss Julia mak' him a fus' rate wes'co't wid her own hands, madam."

  "I did not suppose Miss Julia could have found time to make up clothes for George, when she has so much to do for herself."

  "Oh! as to dat, madam, Miss Julia, and Miss Amelia, too, had der things made up in Baltimo', an' dey been had one millinery dar for weeks, fixin' little things, madam. Missis, George tell me, madam, dat when I married I must 'bey him, as I promised to 'bey him, and he say de Scriptur' say wife mus' 'bey she husban'. A'n't I got to 'bey masser, and not George, missis? I's sure I hearn 'em say dat the Scriptur' say we can't 'bey two massers."

  "You will have to obey three masters, Cecilia, instead of one or two, and I must try and explain this matter to you. In the first place, you must obey God (who is your Heavenly Master) above all others. Whatever He tells you to do in his word, you must do. He tells you that you must pray to him, and if your earthly master was to tell you not to pray to God, you are bound to obey God rather than man, and you could pray in secret, and your master here could not prevent it if he wished; but your master here never will wish you to disobey your Master

  "I am confident, from the character we have of George, that he would not give you an order to do anything contrary to the wish and orders of your heavenly and earthly masters. We are told in Scripture that we cannot serve two masters; we cannot serve God and Mammon. The meaning of that is, we cannot serve God, by loving him, obeying him, and worshipping him as he wishes us to do, and at the same time serve the world by loving it, and indulging in its sinful practices; because when you love and serve one, you must of course despise and not serve the other. Do you think you understand what I have said, Cecilia?"

  "Yes, missis, when George wan' me to do what God don' wan' me to do, and what masser don' wan' me to do, I musn' 'bey George."

  "That is a very good understanding of it, Cecilia."