EVENTS of every-day life are constantly occurring, which, if recorded, would make more thrilling histories than many of the volumes which aspire to have no other character than that of romantic interest, produced at the sacrifice, if needs be, of every other quality.

  In the present volume, a truthful story of Southern life has been conscientiously recorded,—one not unusual in the country of its location, yet most deeply interesting, for the many morals its details naturally suggest.

  It is the privilege and duty of the living and responsible actors upon the stage of life to learn from the experience of the past, and make inferences of what may naturally occur in the future.

  What may be the effect of the "Master's House" upon the reader, the author cannot anticipate; his own understanding of the purposes intended is clear, and if he has failed, it has been from a determination on his part to soften his pictures, rather than give them in their true, but unexaggerated colors.

  It would sometimes seem as if the influence of Christianity was fading from the world, or that its ministers had lost their influence, when its plainest precepts can be violated, without rousing a spirit of condemnation, which, if impotent to entirely prevent, might at least protest against the disregard of the plainest precepts of the moral law.

  This volume is dedicated to the lovers of mankind,—to those who desire the highest development,

AN ORDER DISOBEYED.

  AS with all wealthy planters, the most perplexing care to Mildmay, was the management of the overseer. To this individual, the proprietor has to delegate immense authority, and yet the very qualities essential for an overseer, almost necessarily suppose, that he will not, and cannot be a refined and responsible man. Mildmay had his share of difficulties after Fenwick left him, but he at length employed a "Mr. Toadvine," who could command readily in the neighborhood a liberal salary, and was well recommended. Mildmay, upon concluding his agreement with Toadvine, gave him some general instructions, proscribing on his place the use of a certain kind of whip, and incidentally mentioning, that if Jack, one of the "field hands," should at any time need correction, he desired that it would not be administered without his, Mildmay's, knowledge.

  Some months after Toadvine was installed in his office, the unexpected announcement, by Mr. Mildmay, that business would call him away from home for two or three days, caused a feeling of universal gratulation in the mind of the

  "I reckon that'll do," at last muttered the aggrieved man, "that'll do,—I'll teach Mr. Mildmay that niggers is niggers, and that he can't come back here from the free States with his damn'd infernal abolition notions, and interfere in my business. If any of his hands 'aint got thar share of whipping 'fore night it'll be no fault of mine."

  Just at that moment, the front gate of the quarter inclosure opened, and in rode "Col. Price," the overseer of the "Moreton estate." Toadvine saluted his friend, asked him to dismount, and they both entered the house.

  "I came over," said Price, "to ask you to let me have the timber wheels; I think of going into the swamp this

  "It's a wonder," snarled out Toadvine, "that Mr. Mildmay did any thing of the kind. He's been in Connecticut so infarnally long, that I didn't believe he would do a favor."

  "Why, what's turned your hair the wrong way this morning?" inquired Col. Price, with considerable interest.

  "Why, jist this," said Toadvine, "you see I've been overseer here too long to be interfered with by any man, and I won't stand it. Mister Mildmay can't teach me my business, and he shan't tell me I whip too much or too little. It's only yesterday he made me let Monday up, and I had'nt cut his hide nary place!"

  "There is one thing that'll never do," said Col. Price; "one thing 'll never do, and that is, to let employers interfar too much in our business. My notion is, 'let me be head or tail, or no think.'"

  "Them's the way I think," half soliloquized Toadvine, drawing his huge whiplash through his fingers; "them's the way I think, and unless we do something to let these upstarts know who's who, 'taint unlikely we may get down to be thought as little of as a schoolmaster or a preacher."

  "Not as bad as that!" said Col. Price, in a tone of voice that showed that he never thought that such a respectable office as overseer could possibly be degraded by connection with such professions; "no, no, not so bad as that," and rousing himself up, he drove his fist into the table, and looking around in a great excitement, he said,

  Toadvine, who had cruelty enough in his composition to make two Col. Prices, lacked that military gentleman's courage in the expression of his sentiments; so he deeply regretted that he had made even the improbable comparison that had given his friend offence, and getting up from his seat he went to a rude sideboard, and unlocking it, he took out a decanter of raw whiskey, and setting a broken tumbler and a teacup upon the table, he suggested to Col. Price the propriety of taking something to help out his breakfast."

  "That's very good liquor," said Price, smacking his lips, "whar did you come across it?"

  "Well, don't you know it, easy," suggested Toadvine, putting the decanter up to Price's nose, "don't you know the smell?"

  "Upon my word," said Price, drawing in his breath, as if inhaling the perfume of a moss rose, "upon my word, old Gen. Blatherskite's 'electioneering tour,' as the central committee called it; how did you have so much? thought it all went at the 'Clay gut precinct.'"

  "Why, you see," said Toadvine, "I sent word to the General, that if he expected to get the vote of this neighborhood, he had better send up a bar'l of something to drink, and he sent word he'd do it; he said that 'South was in danger,' and he'd do any thing but bribe, to get to get to Congress. I sent after the bar'l the very morning of the day it was wanted, by lazy Jim, and would you believe it, the

  "And so," said Price, helping himself to another glass, "you had the whole left on your hands?"

  "Nuthen else," chuckled Toadvine, and, as if unable to restrain himself longer, and either from the effect of the liquor, or the remembrance of the trick he played upon a candidate for Congress, he kicked his heels in the air and laughed until the tears came in his eyes.

  "But didn't the General smell a rat?" inquired Price, in a deprecating voice, "didn't he find out how you fixed it?"

  "Not a bit of it," said Toadvine, "for I saw the General coming down the road the next day, so I staked down lazy Jim by the side of the fence, and commenced on him just as the General rode up. The nigger hollered 'Oh, lord, Massa Toadvine, have mercy!' 'Yes,' said I, not noticing the General, 'I'll have mercy, you infernal scoundrel, for delaying on the road yesterday with that whiskey. I'll teach you to fool away your time, when you are on Gen. Blatherskite's business.'"

  "'On whose business?' said the General reining up his horse, and looking astonished; 'are you flogging that nigger on my account, Mr. Toadvine?'"

  "'Yes, General,' said I, looking very angry, 'this nigger was sent for the whiskey, to treat your friends at "Clay gut," and he managed to get back after the voting was over.'"

  "'Well, never mind!' said the General, 'just keep it to drink my health with!' and he rode away; but whar was

  At this point in the conversation, a tall likely-looking negro was seen approaching the house, from the field; he carried his hoe jauntily across his shoulder. In coming in the surrounding inclosure, he was obliged to pass through a gate, always placed near the overseer's dwelling.

  "Whar you going?" said Toadvine; and springing into the yard, and whirling his whip over his head, he brought it down on the negro's back, simultaneous with his question, "whar you going, you black devil? did I not tell you to stay in the field?"

  "Master James," said the negro with humility, mixed with astonishment, while still writhing under the pain of the blow; "I cum'd home because Mistress wanted I to clar up de yard, you knows I wouldn't leave de gang, 'cept on permission."

  "I knows nothing of the kind," sneered Toadvine, in the negro's face; "I know nothing except you are a sneaking, skulking scoundrel; but I'll catch you, my man,—I'll catch you! and by the——, if I get a chance at your hide, I'll peel you cleaner than you ever did a possum! now go and clear up the yard;" and Toadvine struck at the boy again; but with surprising agility Jack avoided the blow, and disappeared.

  "There's insurrection for you," snarled out Toadvine, in a perfect fit of rage, at the same time storming up and down the yard; "there's a nigger that his master says I

  Price looked on coolly, apparently uninterested; at any rate he expressed no surprise, but let Toadvine exhaust himself, in giving wordy expressions to his feelings; and then, from a wild flower growing near by, with a well aimed mouthful of tobacco juice, he knocked a bumble-bee on the ground, and spoke as follows:—

  "Toadvine, circumvent that nigger; just teach him you are a warmer friend to him than his master. Don't strike him, as you did just now, in anger, and without a cause,—have a reason, and then work at his hide, like a saw-mill."

  "But I can't get a reason," said Toadvine, groaning under his impotency; "he won't give me half a chance."

  "Well, make a chance," whined out the sapient Colonel. "You know 'fore I come to Moreton's, I overseed for old Captain Berks; well, you see Berks hadn't any but old family niggers, as he called 'em,—and one, that nussed him when he was a boy, he was particularly nice of—that was a nigger, sure; why hog and hominy was too good for him. 'Now,' said old Berks to me, said he, "Colonel Price, that boy I know'd ever since I was a child; he carried me 'bout 'fore I could walk, and saved me from drowning at ten years old. That nigger,' continued Berks, 'cut the fust stick on this yere plantation, and he mustn't be whipped, on no account.'

  "Old Berks hadn't been to Connecticut to school, when he gave that order," continued Price, winking knowingly at Toadvine; "twarn't done for fear, neither, for

  "One night we was weighing cotton, and up walked Big Bill, a thick-lipped scoundrel as there was on the place; he put his basket on the scales, and by the hokey, it went over three hundred. 'Well done!' said old Berks, in ecstasy, 'well done, Big Bill; and now,' said the old man, sort of funny like, 'as you have picked fifty pounds more than usual, you call at the state room, and get a pair of shoes." Big Bill laughed—old Berks laughed— and I stuck my hand into the cotton basket, and pulled out two water-melons, weighing 'bout thirty-nine pounds.

  "At this," continued Price, rubbing his hands in glee, and giving the poor bumble-bee another shower of tobacco juice, "at this, old Berks, who was a 'little tight,' got into a passion; he swore such ungenerous and outrageous conduct, on the part of his niggers, would break his heart, and if I didn't give Big Bill 'forty,' he would dismiss me from the place, and administer the medicine himself.

  "So said I, pretending to be hurt with his severity, said I, 'Captain Berks, them's family niggers.' 'I don't care,' shouted the old man (the brandy, I think, getting the upper hand of him); 'I don't care, family or no family; a fellow that would swindle on one side, and rob my melon patch on the other, shall be flogged. I'd tie up Jeff thar, much as I think of him,' said Berks, 'if he'd do such a thing.' 'You would,' said I, pretending to be astonished. 'Yes, I would,' said old Berks, towering; 'if you ever

  As Price concluded this interesting story, he deliberately walked past Toadvine, who was standing, a perfect monument of mystified surprise, and mounting his horse, appeared as if he was thus unceremoniously going to ride away.

  "And what about Jeff?" finally asked the perplexed and rather dull overseer.

  "Oh nothing," replied Price carelessly, "only the next night, thar was a water melon in Jeff's basket, and every nigger on the place see'd it, and he was given 'forty,' and I think it tuck him six weeks to get out of the hospital."

  Toadvine, as he watched the retreating form of his friend, Colonel Price, seemed suddenly inspired with unusual spirits; he cracked his whip in scientific flourishes, and going into his cabin, he stuck a loaded pistol in his belt, took a drink of whiskey, locked up the decanter, and remarking, "that Colonel Price is smart, and that water-melon trick was beautiful," he mounted his shaggy pony, and was soon lost in the distance, as he rode towards the slave gang, at work in the field.

  As Col. Price reached the main road on his way home, he came up with a small, sandy-faced, light-haired man, mounted on a "creole pony," and followed by five or six fierce-looking hounds; a double-barrelled gun was balanced before him, and he carried in his hand a raw-hide whip.

  "How do you do, Stubbs?" said the colonel, riding

  "Just nosing about," said Stubbs, whipping off one or two dogs, that would occasionally show their teeth at Col. Price's nether limbs.

  "Who's got any niggers out, now?" continued the Colonel, for he took great interest in Stubbs's occupation.

  "Enough out," replied Stubbs, "but no 'rangement made for catching 'em. I'm done," he continued, "a fetching runaways home, just for jail fees; 'twont keep up my pack, and pay expenses."

  "That's right, Stubbs!" said the Colonel, looking approvingly on his friend; "that's right! if these rich planters won't 'antee up,' don't help 'em, that's my notion; but who's that ahead?" asked Price, as he discovered a young person on horseback, waiting in the road.

  "That's young Finch," said Stubbs, without showing any surprise; "that boy," he continued, "does take more interest in a nigger hunt than my dogs do, and he's just waiting thar until I come up, in hopes that he can see a 'brush.'"

  Price and Stubbs shook hands with Finch, a youth perhaps of fourteen, who was armed not only with a gun, but had a bowie knife sticking ostentatiously out of his breast. A little general conversation ensued, when Stubbs and Finch, opening a plantation gate, bade Col. Price "good day," and commenced trotting through the "cotton rows" towards the dark cypress swamps, that loomed up, like mountains in the distance.

  "And what do you think, Stubbs, will be our chance

  "Bad, very bad," said Stubbs; "none is out in this range now, but Busteed's old Phil; the fact is," said Stubbs, reining up his horse, "my dogs has got such a scear on the niggers now, that they won't run away,—the overseer has only to say, 'Now boys, if I cotch any of you leavin' you'll have Stubbs' dogs after you,' and that ends the thing. I ought to get a big price for doing that," suggested Stubbs, conscious that he was the victim of unrewarded merit.

  "And how did you know, Stubbs, that old Phil was in the brake?" inquired the young man.

  "'Cause I saw him yesterday, while 'still hunting;' come right on him, turned up on his back, sound asleep."

  "And why didn't you make him go home?" asked the lad, with some asperity.

  Now Stubbs had been led into an unfortunate remark, which he perceived the instant he had spoken, for he affected only to use his dogs when all other means of capture had failed; and he was afraid that Finch would get an idea that such was not the case; so he assumed a familiar air, and explained himself as follows:—

  "You see, Charley, I was 'still-hunting,' as I said, and looking for deer, and in wading Turtle Creek, for I was a-foot, you mind, I got my powder wet, and what could I do with such a fellow as Phil, if he had a mind to resist? No, no, Charley, I'm more careful than to track runaways, 'cept I 'am prepared,' so I tuck the best course I could, marked his den, and when he hears the 'barkers' after

  "That was very considerate," said young master Finch, evidently much flattered by Stubbs' manner; "it was very considerate indeed, and I think Busteed should be very much obliged to you."

  "To be sure he should!" echoed Stubbs, "and all the planters should; why, sir, but for me, the swamps would be as full of niggers as they is of wild hogs. I get badly paid for my sarvices, Mr. Finch, considerin' I have to feed my own dogs, and take the risks I run."

  "And what risks do you run?" inquired young Finch, carelessly patting his spirited little horse on the neck, and giving his gun a juster balance, as it rested before him on the pommel of the saddle.

  "Why, a heap of risks," said Stubbs, with the air of an injured man; "do you suppose that the niggers can be tuck, and nothing to do but say, 'If you please, Mr. Darkee, your master wants you hum?' Oh, no! I've known shooting and slashing going on afore now, that would hurt any man's feelins."

  "And where was that?" inquired young Finch, with greedy interest.

  "Why you see," said Stubbs, "that two or three years agone, old Duckeye, that's a preacher now, and Bill Blass as was, afore he died, both kept dogs,—well, once they were out huntin', and it seems their packs closed in on the same nigger,—I'm told that their cry was beautiful, when, as they say at camp-meetin', they met, and jined their voices in harmonious song; but Blass's hounds had

  "The row was tremendous, and they would have sent the nigger to kingdom cum, if the dogs, being strangers, had not got to fighting among themselves. There was a hullaboloo, sure enough; I was on the spot the next day, and the palmetto was smoothed down for a half acre, whar the fight was. While the dogs was going it among themselves, and the darkee was crying and yelling, old Duckeye and Blass got to quarrelling about who caught the nigger; Blass contendin', as was his right, that as his dogs was fust to find the trail, so the nigger was his,—and so they got to swearing and scrimmaging, and tucking in to each other their bowies and yelling and cursing, the dogs fell on 'em both, and such a row ensued as never was afore.

  "In this beautiful difficulty, the nigger got clean off, and Blass got stobbed in the side, and died that 'ere very night; and so you see, Mr. Finch, that the infernal runaways is dangerous. I often think of Blass!" said Stubbs, mournfully, "for you see," wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve, "that that 'ere dog thar, with the blood-shot eyes, was own nephy to Blass's Cuba, raised and imported, Santy Christy, as Blass called him."

  "Well, that was surprising," said young Finch, looking with admiration at the dog, that had such a distinguished uncle; and at the same time somewhat confounded by the conglomeration of Stubbs' story; "but how was it," he inquired, "that Duckeye got off from the——" and Finch hesitated to give a name to the deed pictured in his mind.

  "——the stobbing," said Stubbs. Finch nodded yes to the suggestion, and Stubbs went on—"you see the grand jury had Duckeye up, two or three times, but whar was the witnesses; it was agin the law to use the dogs and niggers to swar agin a white man in court, so the matter drapped."

  At this moment the two horsemen and their canine followers entered the thick woods, and in course of the fleeting hour, Busteed's old Phil was roused from his lair, and there were to be heard the sharp ringing notes of the open-mouthed pack, as they engaged in "the spirit stirring hunt."

THE TITLE DEED.

  SQUIRE ANDREW HOBBY was professedly a justice of the peace; his chief business, however, was writing out bills for the sale of negroes. He was naturally a pompous man, but generally concealed this peculiarity, as he was dependent upon the good will of the populace for his official dignity. Hobby had a high regard for Mildmay, simply because that gentleman had never treated him with the least passing notice; and he was accordingly quite flattered, when Mildmay checked his horse in front of his little office one morning, and stated that he desired at a particularly named time his official services at the "Heritage Place."

  "And what is it you desire of me?" inquired Hobby before Mildmay had time to finish his commission.

  "Simply," returned Graham, "to execute the papers for the sale of a negro; and my reason for troubling you to come out to my house is, that it may possibly be inconvenient for Mrs. Mildmay to visit Beechland, to sign the title deed."

  "I'll come out with pleasure," said Hobby, rubbing his hands with excitement; "this office of mine is not much of a place to invite ladies in."

  "The office is well enough, said Mildmay; "but ladies, you are aware, find it difficult to leave home."

  "They do," returned Hobby, with emphasis; and suddenly assuming his natural manner, he continued, "Ladies thrive best in the domestic circle, surrounded by the endearments of home; and, as the editor of the Southern War Trumpet observes, depending for support upon the sterner sex, as the vine upon the lordly oak."

  "You are quite an enthusiast, Mr. Hobby, when alluding to the sex," returned Mildmay, gathering up the loose bridle-reins, and preparing to leave.

  "Quite," said Hobby, trying to look impressive; "quite, Mr. Mildmay, for we can never return the debt of gratitude we owe to woman."

  Graham struck his spur gently into his horse's flanks, and as the generous animal started off, he muttered to himself, "Confound that fellow's stereotyped compliments; why don't he practise some of his professions, by taking the most ordinary care of his notoriously neglected wife."

  When Mildmay reached home, Mr. Speers was waiting for him upon the gallery of the house. Mildmay saluted the gentleman, and after a few moments' conversation with Annie, returned to his guest.

  "I saw Squire Hobby," said he, drawing up a chair, and ordering Governor to bring some refreshments; "and

  "I'm not specially engaged at this time," returned Speers, in a drawling voice, filling his tumbler half full of brandy, and declining any water. "I've been over the crap this morning," he continued, "and though smartly in the grass, I reckon the niggers can get along without being touched up, till night, if they must."

  "I am very sorry," said Mildmay, going to his desk, and getting out some papers, "that Mr. Murritt, when he sold me the girl Mary, did not you say, owned her husband."

  "He wouldn't a' told you that, and been sharp at a trade," said Speers, his eyes twinkling at the preposterous idea of a trader's saying any thing to interfere with a bargain; "for," he suggested, "maybe, you wouldn't have bought the girl if you know'd she had been separated from her husband."

  "I certainly would not," said Mildmay, his face flushing with excitement.

  "And do you 'spose," said Speers, with a kind of triumph unconsciously displayed in his voice, "that Murritt could make a living if he consulted his niggers as to how he should sell 'em?"

  Mildmay bit his lip, and internally acknowledging, in spite of himself, that his long residence in the North had unprepared him somewhat for the associations around him; and, at the moment, perceiving the busy Mr. Hobby approaching, he walked toward the gate to meet him, and lead the way to the house.

  Again the ceremony of drinking was gone through with, much to the gratification of Speers and Hobby,—the latter gentleman observing, much to the admiration of Speers,

  "That if he ever did own a big plantation, he rather thought if he hadn't any thing else good, he would have 'No. 1,' sperits;" when, suddenly recollecting that Speers owned only a small plantation, he continued, smiling toward that gentleman, "in the mean time, I'd have plenty of plain whiskey."

  "This Mildmay is rather a stiff man," said Speers, looking nervously about, Graham having for the moment left his guests.

  "He is," almost whispered Hobby; "but you see," he went on, "it's the way with the rich,—they can afford to put on airs."

  "But," continued Speers, with a sort of injured expression, "Mildmay won't drink,—won't frolic,—won't card,—won't chaw,—and smokes a cigar as if he didn't love it; what kind of man is that?" and Speers looked at Hobby as if he had given a question too difficult for human solution.

  "Why, you see, the fact is," said Hobby, puckering up his mouth with the expression that he assumed when on "the bench," "you see Mr. Mildmay, though born in old Carolina, was raised among the Yankees, and his edification has been neglected; I haven't lived, Mr. Speers, in Beechland nigh on to fifteen years for nothing:" and Hobby looked more profound than ever, and touching Speers upon the breast, he continued:

  "We have had a many good cases here like Mildmay, that didn't cut up such shindys more than a year or two, and then begun and went it strong to make up. Why Jim Ruggles, as keeps the race-track, and was tried last court for stocking cards, commenced here nine years ago worse than Mildmay."

  "That Jim Ruggles is a good fellow," said Speers, with great sympathy, and not exactly comprehending Esq. Hobby's meaning; and he continued, with some animation, "that 'ere 'ditement 'bout the cards was done, just 'cause Ruggles is so poor that he can't pertect himself from abuse."

  "That's true—that's true," said the polite Hobby; "for you see," added he, "Major Lively said to the court, 'that if wringing in an ace or two at the last game was to be made a fine of, why he could present the hull bar to the grand jury;' and so the matter dropped."

  When Mildmay returned to the gallery, he was accompanied by a negro girl about twenty years of age, whose drabbled homespun garments betrayed that she had but just left the wet grass of the cotton field.

  "Here's Mary," said he, to Mr. Speers; "you have seen her, and are willing to purchase her at the stipulated price of six hundred dollars?"

  Speers rolled his eyes over towards the girl, and examined her from head to foot, then getting up and whirling her round by a rough jerk of the shoulder, and stooping down and rubbing with his finger a perceptible scar on the calf of the girl's leg, he again seemed desirous to take a good look, and stood off, and put himself in an attitude

  "How come that scar on your leg?"

  "It's whar a dog bit me," said the girl, with perfect indifference. "Squire Hobby," said Speers, "look at that scratch there, and tell me if you believe that girl's lying."

  Hobby at once assumed his official face, and, stooping down, appeared to make a most critical inspection.

  "What do you think of it?" said Speers, finally growing impatient.

  "Why," said the learned justice, "it must have been made by a lash, and it mout have been made by a dog's bite, or a brier; I suspect it was the effect of an accident, as the girl says."

  "That's enough," said Speers, seeming to be relieved; "for you see," he continued, "I don't buy no scarred niggers; if I want any sich marks on my property, I'll make 'em myself."

  "You have decided positively not to sell this girl's husband to me?" said Graham.

  "Yes," said Speers, gruffly; "for you see, Mr. Mildmay, I don't know why I shouldn't own a good nigger as well as any body else."

  "Nor do I," said Mildmay, thoroughly annoyed; "I wish Mr. Speers you owned a hundred, if you desire to,—only I regret that I should have been the instrument of separating the wife from a negro, to whom you seem so much attached."

  Speers evidently felt mortified that he had spoken as he did, and in a milder voice he said,

  "What's the use of troubling ourselves whether this gal lives with Cooney or not; she can find husbands enough on Heritage Place."

  "Mary," said Mildmay, turning to the negro, "when I proposed to buy you, you said you were not married?"

  "So I did, master," said the girl moodily, "but if I hadn't told you so, Mr. Murritt would a' killed me after you went away."

  "Mr. Mildmay," said Speers, perfectly unconscious of the feelings agitating Graham's breast, "if you'd like to keep that gal, you needn't be afeared that Cooney will come on your premises after I tell him to keep away; I would like to own a nigger that would go whar I told him not to."

  "It is best not to tempt him so strongly to disobey you," said Mildmay.

  "Well, if Cooney disobeys me, it shan't be any trouble to you," said Speers, trying to be agreeable.

  "You see Mary," said Mildmay, turning to the girl, "that by being controlled, you deceived me; now you are at liberty to speak the truth: do you prefer to go with Mr. Speers, or stay with me?"

  "I want to be with Cooney," was the terse answer.

  "Very well," said Mildmay; "now go the quarters, gather up your clothes and bedding, and come to the shed of the blacksmith's shop in the front road."

  The girl replied, "Yes, sir," and walked away.

  Mildmay at once produced pen, ink, and paper, and with the assistance of Governor, they were with a table placed on the gallery; and Squire Hobby proceeded to his business of amanuensis.

  After examining the pen in every possible light, sticking the nib between his lips, turning round the paper, and in fact, going through much seemingly useless pantomime, he assumed a very grave face; and turning to Mildmay, said:

  "What's the girl's name?"

  "Mary."

  "Her age?"

  "About twenty."

  "Consideration?"

  "Six hundred dollars," said Speers.

  "Cash?" said the squire, scratching his nose with the feather end of the pen.

  "Cash," said Speers, pulling out a roll of bills and gold half eagles, and laying them down on the table.

  These questions and answers having been obtained, the squire set himself to work. Graham meanwhile went up into Annie's room, and informed her that her presence was necessary one moment to sign the bill of sale.

  The little wife was trembling and nervous, and it instantly attracted Mildmay's attention. "What can the matter be, Annie?" said he, tenderly putting his arm round her waist.

  "Nothing," said she, trying to look unconcerned; "but you know that I am not accustomed to the forms of

  "I fear so," said Graham, looking affectionately down into her face; "you confine yourself too much; let us get clear of this loquacious squire, and our plain, but I have no doubt worthy neighbor, Mr. Speers, and then for a ride down the road. 'Sunnyside' is getting as fat as a Christmas goose just for want of exercise."

  "A ride let it be," said Annie, with animation; and arm-and-arm they proceeded to the gallery.

  Meanwhile, Squire Hobby was intently busy on the longest word in the matter before him; and as he never could master that particular word without much trouble, he was working it out, by pronouncing aloud each letter as he went along; while Speers was intently watching progress,—he having great interest that every thing should be done right.

  "There's 'redhibitory' written out in full," said the squire, breathing freely, as if he had accomplished a gigantic task.

  "What does it mean?" asked Speers, gathering up all his money in his hand.

  "Why it means just this," said the squire, waving his pen around in a sort of flourish; "it means this: 'Redhibition, 'cording to the Code (art. 2497), means the avoidance of sale on account of some vice or defect of the thing sold, which renders its use absolutely useless, or its use so inconvenient and imperfect, that it must be supposed that the buyer would not have purchased it, had he known of the vice."

  "Does it mean all that 'ere?" said Speers, looking with a sort of awe upon Hobby.

  "It don't do any thing else," said the squire, really excited; "and there's many a lawyer as would charge you a double 'V' for not half that information."

  "Has Mary got any thing of the kind you have just been reading about?" continued Speers, putting back his money into his pocket.

  "Not as I knows on," said the squire, enjoying the triumph achieved by his legal knowledge; "for you see, Mr. Speers, the Code says:

  "'Nor can the buyer (art. 2498) institute the redhibitory action, on account of the latent defects, which the seller has declared to him before or at the time of the sale.'"

  "What does that mean?" said Speers, his ideas now nearly all aground.

  "Why," continued the squire, "the 'latent defects' of niggers and animals, 'cording to the Code (art. 2500), is divided into two classes; vices of body,—vices of character. The absolute vices of horses and mules is short wind and glanders; the absolute vices of niggers is leprosy, madness, and epilepsy. The vices of character which give rise to the redhibition of slaves is, that the slave has committed a capital crime, or is addicted to theft, or running away; and they ain't no vices of character for horses to set down in the Code (art. 2505), though I think stumbling, colic, and founder is in horses redhibitory defects."

  "But you don't mean to say," said Speers, now perfectly

  "I mean," said Squire Hobby, endeavoring to imitate his ideal standard of judicial dignity, "that if this nigger Mary has any of them 'ere things, and you find it out afore it is too late, just because I tuck that 'ere word redhibitory down where it is, it gives you your money back,—and that's what I mean;" and the squire intended to have laid back in his chair, as if deeply fatigued under his official importance, when his eye caught sight of Mildmay and Annie coming toward them.

  The delicate sylph-like beauty of Annie attracted both these individuals; and their admiration, involuntarily expressed, could not be less than complimentary—it was so sincere. Annie took her seat near the table, and after a few moments' pause, Squire Hobby went on, and completed his labor.

  The moment that Mildmay saw the paper was drawn up, he proposed at once to close the transaction, pleading, as a reason for his haste, pressing engagements upon his time. This would have been done, but for the squire's vanity; his quotations from the Code had thrown Speers into a profound confusion, and he stated that before the paper was signed, and the money paid, that he must go out and take another look at Mary,—which he did, and not finding visible to his eyes any thing as alarming as the law terms he had heard, he signified his willingness to go on, by again producing his gold and bills.

  After considerable time, six piles of money, of one hundred

  The squire inwardly congratulated himself upon the opportunity he had of displaying his varied talents before Annie, and in an unusually loud voice, even for him, began to read as follows:

  "Beechland, June 15th, 18—. Know all men by these presents, that I, Graham Mildmay, of the first part, do by these presents, grant, bargain, sell and convey to Mr. Joseph William Speers, of the second part, a certain negro girl named Mary La Tour, aged about twenty years, of dark and nearly black color, no distinguishing marks of form, scars, or peculiarities remembered—"

  "There is a dog bite on the calf of her leg," said Speers, turning perfectly red with astonishment, as he raised his eyes and saw Annie looking on with surprise, for Speers was so intent with the purchase, that the reading of the bill for the moment banished every thing else from his mind.

  "It's a mere form," said the squire, gesticulating with his hand, "mere form, Mr. Speers."

  "And more verbose than positively necessary, is it not?" said Mildmay, exceedingly vexed that Annie had to be compelled to be present.

  "Not at all," said the squire. I copied this form from Col. Lee's document, when he sold Tom Jefferson, or Jeff as he was called, and it is admitted that Lee is the best lawyer, being from Virginia, to make tight papers in

  "Well, go on," said Mildmay very impatiently; and as if to protect Annie from further rude remarks, he put his arm around her chair.

  "Where was I?" said the squire, taking up the paper before him: "Oh—ah—I know," and he went on as follows:

  "No distinguishing marks of form, scars, or particulars remembered; said girl, Mary La Tour, being sold for the sum of six hundred dollars, lawful money of the United States, cash in hand paid, and hereby acknowledged by the party of the first part, Graham Mildmay, Esq. The said girl, Mary La Tour, being fully warranted from all redhibitory defects, sound in body and mind, and the title guarantees, against all others for ever, the said Mary La Tour as a slave for life."

  Annie, who had listened to all the proceedings with mechanical attention, now arose, as Graham, taking the pen in his hand, signified that the title deed was complete. He then dashed his name across the paper, placed the pen in Annie's hand, and pointed where she should place her name.

  "Is this positively necessary?" said she, looking earnestly at Graham. "Most certainly," said Squire Hobby, "you see, madam, your paraphernal rights would otherwise vitiate the title."

  "And break the trade," chimed in Spears.

  Annie took up the pen, and her usually delicate and

  The duty performed, Mildmay accompanied Annie to the entrance of the great hall where stood Clemmy; and leaving her with the faithful servant, Mildmay returned,—took up the money still lying on the table, and crushing it together in his hand, without counting it, much to the astonishment of Speers, gave it to the Governor, and told him to place it in the escritoire, and get some fresh water and the decanters, as he presumed the gentlemen were thirsty.

  There ceremony of drinking having gone through with, Mildmay paid Esq. Hobby for his services, walked down to the front gate, waited until both gentlemen had mounted, and bidding them good day, returned rapidly to the house.

  Speers and Hobby rode along a rod or two, when they came up to Mary, who was sitting in a listless attitude on the stump of a fallen tree, her bundle beside her.

  "Here's your owner," said Hobby, thus giving the introduction, "and a good master he will be too," continued he, the politician never deserting him.

  Mary looked up, and shouldering her bundle, quietly asked, "Master, which way must I go?"

  "Cross the bayou beyond here, at the old ruined gin-house," said Speers, pointing down the road with his heavy whip, "go through the woods and you will see Cooney with

  "Yes, master," said Mary, and then she glibly marched away, while Speers and Hobby rode toward Beechland.

DIXON'S REMORSE.

  THERE was living in the vicinity of Beechland, a rich widow, known as Mrs. Hartshorn, past the prime of life, and who, being deeply absorbed in the duties of personally looking after a long estate, attracted but little attention in the vicinity. Her residence was much out of the way, and no one, except on business, or with direct intent, ever visited her.

  Why she remained a widow caused the usual speculation, but it was evident that she was either disinclined to enter a second time into the bonds of matrimony, or was difficult to please, for many authentic cases were known, and freely spoken of, where she had most rudely refused some of the presumptuous worthies in the neighborhood.

  On the edge of Beechland, just at the cross roads, was an old and much decayed church. Years previous, it had been a pretty village sanctuary, and beneath its shadow reposed the remains of many of the earlier settlers of the country. But for a long time it had been neglected. The doors were battered in,—the windows broken,—the graveyard

  One afternoon, to the astonishment of the villagers, some twenty of Mrs. Hartshorn's best field hands came into town in an ox wagon, and they proceeded along through the street, made the air vocal with their rude songs, and finally, stopping in front of the deserted church, they went to work with hoe and shovel, and in the course of a few hours produced an improvement, that was charming to behold.

  The doors were partially restored to their places. The seats and floor of the interior of the building were carefully cleaned, and the labor thus bestowed, rendered the heretofore neglected building, considering the mildness of the weather, a comfortable place for the assembling together of the people:

  The succeeding morning the Southern Clarion, the local paper of Beechland, in the most conspicuous place in its editorial columns, contained the following notice.

  "We have the pleasure of announcing to our numerous readers, and all others in the vicinity of our thriving and prosperous town, that the Reverend W. Claremont Goshawk, D. D., the great orator and divine, who has so long been distinguished for his defence of Southern Institutions, and his deep interest in the cause of Southern education, has consented, at the earnest request of some of our most influential citizens, to preach a series of two or more sermons. His first discourse will be on Sunday morning next,

  The weather was exceedingly pleasant, and there was a universal desire to hear the Rev. Mr. Goshawk. That dignitary, himself, had been for more than a day the intimate of Mrs. Hartshorn's house, for it was suddenly recalled to the mind of some of the people around the Headquarters, that early one morning, they saw a tall and good-looking gentleman, dressed in black, in the widow's carriage, which was rapidly whirling through the streets.

  Perhaps Annie was more interested than any one else; accustomed to attend church every sabbath, from her youth

  For a long time Beechland had not borne so gay an appearance, as it did in its desire to do honor to the Rev. Mr. Goshawk. Families living many miles distant, had come to "hear the discourse," and almost all of the available ground in the immediate vicinity of the church, was occupied by splendid "turn-outs"—in fact the carriages, in number and equipments, would have done honor to some state occasion.

  People who had been living in each other's neighborhood for years, now met to renew acquaintances that had grown dull for want of attrition, and a genial feeling pervaded the entire assemblage.

  The very sight of the pleasing throng, the subdued, yet self-evident bustle, revived in Annie's mind, most vividly, the joyous feelings that she felt at Malden, on similar occasions, and a delightful glow of excitement lit up her usually rather pale face, as she absolutely threw herself carelessly into Mildmay's arms, as he assisted her from the carriage to the ground. "Really, Graham," said she, her face radiant with smiles, while smoothing the wrinkles from her dress, "really this is pleasant, and I hope Mr. Goshawk will frequently preach for us; I am sure I shall constantly attend."

  Graham smiled on Annie, and offering her his arm, the two proceeded into church. It was the first time that Annie had been seen in public; much, of course, had been

  As for Annie, herself, the moment she stepped inside of the church, she felt a solemnity of feeling pervade her heart, that drove all other thoughts, for the moment, from her mind, as she passed to a proffered seat, and bent her head in prayer, as perfectly self-possessed, as if kneeling at her little alter in her own room.

  The congregation had been some time in their seats, before the reverend gentleman made his appearance. In fact, the first impression of quietness that prevailed, was beginning to give way. Gentlemen were seen to be moving about, and looking at the door, and one or two went out, while the young ladies began to gaze about, and recognize each other in the congregation, while Governor, and his fellow-servants on the outside, it was very evident, from sounds of suppressed laughter, had got together under the shade of a wide-spreading tree, and were detailing gossip, and cracking jokes.

  Suddenly was heard the tramp of horses, driven rapidly along the road,—the whip cracked, at which two or three saddle nags broke their bridles, and scampered down the village street,—steps were heard rapidly unfolded—a sort of kid glove, a gossamer fan confusion ensued in the congregation,

  It was afterwards asserted by some one, careful in such statistics, that almost every gentleman in the congregation rose involuntarily to offer the widow a seat; but nothing could surpass the dignity and urbanity, with which the reverend gentleman abandoned his precious charge, preparatory to ascending the pulpit.

  The Rev. Mr. Goshawk's appearance and manner were decidedly impressive, and he himself was not unconscious of the fact. After remaining a few moments in silent meditation, with his soft white hand pressed to his head, he beckoned to a negro boy, looking in at a side window, and when the fellow climbed in the pulpit, he whispered something in his ear. A long and mysterious pause ensued, while the boy ran over to Head-quarters, and borrowed a pitcher and tumbler, and returning, set them within reach of the Rev. Mr. Goshawk.

  That gentleman arose, and opening a small gilt-edged book, read the beautiful hymn, beginning:

  and finishing it, desired some one present to be so kind as to "lead the singing," and resumed his seat.

  Several moments elapsed, but no voice was raised; it was apparent that one or two gentlemen were half inclined, but their hearts or voices failed them,—the reverend gentleman finally arose, and commenced himself. He was evidently cultivated in church music, and poured out

  Scarcely had he sung the first line, when a sweet female voice, clear as ringing glass, and as hearty as the birds of the field, joined in, and the two, in wonderful accordance and harmony, concluded the stanza.

  The congregation, for the moment entranced at the unexpected exhibition, the instant it ceased, turned, by universal consent, their eyes upon the innocent face of Annie, who, suddenly perceiving the extraordinary interest she had so unconsciously created, blushed deep crimson, and sank back to her seat.

  The reverend gentleman selected for his text, "Be ye holy, as your Father in heaven is holy!" and he made it appear as if this injunction was one of the most literal in the sacred book, one of the most imperative, and necessary to be obeyed. He drew with tremendous fervor the character of the Great Jehovah, stated that none could look on him and live, that he filled all space, was the creator of all things, and yet desired to reside in the heart of corrupt and fallen man,—that man, inclined as he was to wickedness, "even as the sparks fly upward," was by a holy life and godly conversation, to render himself a fit temple, a proper temple, a worthy temple for this for this holy, just, and omnipotent Being,—and then in a few condensed passages, he rapidly portrayed the punishment of those who refused to obey this dread command.

  The congregation swayed to and fro, as if rocked in a storm-driven ship; stern, unflinching men, that in the

  Suddenly Mr. Goshawk stopped, he appeared pained at the effect he had himself produced. Lowering his voice to a clear, heart-breaking tone, he said:—

  "Brethren, think not that the minister of the Gospel delights in harrowing your feelings. Should he consult himself, he would only salute your ears with the dulcet strains of mercy, but alas! wo betide the prophet who refuses to cry out against Ninevah.

  "If, my friends, you hear at the solemn hour of midnight the heart-rending cry of fire—fire—FIRE, do you rush into the streets, and denounce the one who gave the alarm? no, you bless his name, and hastening on, you flee for your life from the devouring element.

  "So stand I here, crying fire—fire—to your slumbering consciences. I would have you escape a consuming flame, that will not only destroy your bodies, but will torment your souls for ever. Flee, I say,—like Bunyan's Christian, put your fingers to your ears, and hasten while you yet may, out of the City of Destruction."

  Among Mr. Goshawk's hearers was Dixon. He had, some weeks before, come up to the vicinity of Beechland, on business, and having been taken sick, he had, while thus prostrated, almost literally passed through the valley and shadow of death. The balmy weather had tempted him into the street, and gratified by any novelty, he had strolled into the church.

  While suffering from disease, he had occasionally reflected

  When the congregation separated, the different members pursued their way homeward, and left Dixon by himself. Although known to almost every person in the house, no one recognized him, save by a glance. Amid all the shaking of hands and congratulations, there was no demonstrations of friendship, or interest, for him. In his usual humor, he would have vented his spleen in muttered oaths, and in a thousand recalled circumstances of fancied power and superiority, that he had, as an offset to any neglect he might receive; but now his spirit was broken. There was something in Mr. Goshawk's manner and voice, that recalled recollections of childhood, when he used to go to church with his good old mother, and on coming home, hear her talk of the feelings that animated her spirit. A thousand words of good advice, a hundred prayers for her dear child, crowded upon his weakened brain, and he felt he was not only despised by man, but also abandoned by his Maker.

  To such an extent was his mind excited, that he hardly had strength to get to his lodgings, which were comfortable, although connected with the "Head-quarters." Once in his room, he threw himself on the bed, and seemed to be overcome by the communing of his thoughts; the acts of his life appeared in review before him, and he was shocked at the scenes of injustice, bloodshed, and

  Although Dixon was a native of Georgia, it had been impressed upon him while still a child, not only that it was an unpardonable thing to buy and sell his fellow-beings, but, also, that it was sinful even to hold slaves. Dixon's mother was a strict Methodist, and she had been inspired by this feeling in her youth, by the teachings of parents, who claimed, while sitting under the unction of John Wesley's preaching, and listening to his voice "'face to face,' that they had been converted from the error of their ways, and convinced of the sin of holding slaves." These were the impressions left by a mother upon the mind of Dixon, and as every reminiscence of his life, that was pleasant to dwell upon, was associated with that mother, so also were the impressions she left most vivid and most binding on his conscience. And these early instructions now came upon him with tenfold force, as the only legacy, and only remembered councils and obligations of one, whom, clouded as was his conscience in other things, he still revered as a sainted being.

  While in this mental agony, Dixon's friend, Puckett, who had so faithfully nursed him through his long sickness, came into his room, with a pack of cards and a couple of tumblers in one hand, and a bottle of whiskey in the other, and setting them down on the table near by, he turned to Dixon and said:

  "Come, old fel', I have brought you some 'picters,' and also something to drink, for you see you can stand a

  "I'm too sick to play, Puckett, and too weak to drink! some other time!" said Dixon, the perspiration starting on his brow, both from excitement and weakness.

  "Bah!" said Puckett, moving a small table into the middle of the floor; "you don't s'pose," he continued, "I've been a mother to you for these three weeks, not to know what you can stand. Drink a little, any how, is my motter; and drink a good deal if you can, is my other motter. Come now, fotch up you chair, and let's high, low, Jack, and the game," and Puckett gave the cards, or "picters," as he called them, a scientific shuffle.

  "I can't play to-day," said Dixon, peevishly, and astonished, himself, at the repugnance he felt; "I can't play, for," he continued, "you know it's Sunday, Puckett."

  At this remark the Kentuckian put down the cards, and laying back in his chair, and thrusting his legs far under the table, he broke out into repeated bursts of laughter; tears streamed down his cheeks, and at last he rolled his head from side to side, as if he was too full, and could not get relief. He found words, however, finally, and said:

  "Dixon, by the Lord you will be the death of me—Sunday! that's a good one; can't play 'cause it's Sunday," and Puckett again went off into hysterical laughter, repeating, "Dixon, you are too funny! Oh! that—that's too good—too good."

  "But I'm serious," said Dixon, greatly annoyed.

  "That's the very thing!" said Puckett, sticking the pack of cards in his mouth, to keep from breaking out

  "Puckett," said Dixon, when that worthy had become somewhat quiet; "Puckett, don't go down stairs and blow on me, but I tell you the truth now, when I say I'm going to reform. I'll do it, Puckett, and you may laugh as much as you please."

  "He he—ha ha!" cachinnated that worthy, but as he looked up, and saw the pale and excited face of Dixon for the first time, a feeling of alarm came over him, and rising up, he said:

  "Why, what's the matter, old boy, you look as white as milk and water?"

  "Did you never think about dying, Puckett, or any thing of that sort?" inquired Dixon, at a loss to know how to get his naturally good-hearted companion serious.

  "Thought about dying?" mechanically echoed he. "Why, yes, I thought about it once, when I got out of tobacker, but I don't recollect any other time."

  "Did you never think, Puckett, about another world, and what will become of us if we go on breaking Sunday, playing cards and drinking?—I have thought of these things. I've laid here on my back for days and nights and been full of thinking. I've been a bad man, Ben. I've seen sights in this very room that have made my brain cold; it's awful, Puckett, awful!" and Dixon's face settled into black despair.

  "What did you see, Jim?" asked Puckett, perfectly at a loss to understand the slave-trader's feelings.

  "I've seen dead nigger women," said Dixon in reply, "screetchin to me for their children—I've seen nigger men praying for their lives—I've seen whole gangs of niggers, with their backs all blood, their eyes all sunken, pointing their long skinny fingers at me, and they keep on doing it whenever I'm alone!"

  "You must have manyaporter," said Ben, with a kind of soothing voice. "Didn't you see rats?" he continued, with an equivocal smile, and looking archly at Dixon. "Why, Jim Ruggles, after he had his last frolic, seed the devil; he told me so himself; said he looked like a rattlesnake forty feet long, twisted all around his body, with his soft jawed and infarnal open mouth pat up agin his face, tongue, pizen-hooks and all; so seeing niggers is nothing," and Puckett looked at Dixon under the impression that he had conveyed much consolation by his remarks.

  "I wish that I could see a snake, or any thing, Puckett, but niggers. I'm afraid of niggers," and as Dixon said this, he nervously clutched his rude but sympathizing companion by the shoulder.

  "Is there a living nigger as can scare Jim Dixon?" asked Ben scornfully, and somewhat confounded at the exhibition he had witnessed.

  "No," said Dixon in a hissing whisper, "not a living nigger, Puckett, they can't scare me; it's dead niggers as claws at my vitals," and as the invalid said this, he fell in a fainting fit back on his pillow.

  Ben instinctively lifted Dixon up, chafed his temples, and the moment that he displayed returning to consciousness, gave him some water. The sick man slowly came to himself,

  It was not long before Dixon fell into a lethargic sleep, when Ben quietly stepped away, and proceeded to the barroom, where sat Busteed and three or four of his patrons, engaged in one of their usual games of chance.

  As the Kentuckian presented himself, Busteed laid down "his hand," and with unfeigned astonishment asked:

  "What's the matter? Puckett, you look as sickly as a glass of lemonade."

  "Do I?" said the 'mother,' who unconsciously to himself, still bore traces of his excitement at witnessing Dixon's sufferings—"do I look white? well that's a good one; and what do you suppose is the reason?" said Puckett, addressing the men before him in a mysterious voice.

  "Can't say," was the universal reply.

  "Well, boys, you see," said he, in almost a whisper, "Dixon's tuck too much; he's got the tremens bad, very bad; he's seen black ghosts, what do you think of that?"

  "I think it's humbug," said Busteed, and with his companions he resumed his game.

  "Maybe it is," half soliloquized Puckett, as he turned away—"maybe it is," and then he walked up and down the room, for the first time in his life in profound reflection, and honestly wondering what the trader did mean.

  Dixon slowly recovered his strength of body, but not his peace of mind. Unable to go much about, he was left to the solitude of his own chamber, where he reviewed the past events of his life, and determined, so far as it was in

  On the plea of indisposition, he carefully abstained from the company of his former boon companions; and he was not a person to be intruded upon when he expressed a distaste for society. In his solitude, he looked forward with considerable interest to the services of the coming Sunday; having a vivid, but undefined impression from what he had heard, that there was a necessity, not only for morality but for holiness, he earnestly desired to learn the way that such a high degree of perfection could be reached,—at the moment, no definite way of propitiation presented itself, but liberal charities and alms.

DIXON ACQUIRES PEACE OF MIND.

  THE Sabbath morning appointed for Mr. Goshawk's second discourse, was one of the most delightful that ever shone upon Beechland. Mr. Goshawk was late in coming; he had been, against his inclination, detained on the road, and although this caused considerable uneasiness among the mass of the congregation, it left Dixon more time to thoroughly collect his ideas, and prepare himself according to his own notions for the service of the day.

  On the previous Sabbath, occasion had been taken by Governor, to extend his acquaintance among the servants out of doors, who, like himself, were occupied by the light labor of looking after their master's vehicles. A group of carriage drivers had huddled themselves beneath the shade of a wide-spreading oak, and there they sat in cozy and confidential conversation.

  Among the group was Mr. Moreton's Quash, a fellow celebrated among his own race as a wit, and he kept his auditors in constant laughter, only suppressed by the vicinity of white folks in church.

  Quash, finding that the minister did not arrive at the time expected, insensibly became animated, and putting his hard hand upon the head of a negro sitting next to him, said:

  "Gentlem, I expose to gib you, widout furder circumloquation, a toast"—general attention was paid; "now I wishes to know who owns dis ere eight-hundred-dollar nigger carriage-driver, belonging to Widow Hartshorn?"

  "Why, his missus owns him," said the outsiders all at once.

  "Who owns dis nigger, called Monday?" repeated Quash, looking triumphantly around.

  "Why missus owns me," said Monday, getting rather annoyed at being made a butt.

  "Dus it is, gentlem" said Quashee, "dat de niggers run about in dese supersilious days, and like de poor white man don't know who owns him, consequentially, dis culered gentlem am so ignoramus dat he is prepossessed by de very gentlem, dat is to minister de consolizations of de good book to de sinners dis day."

  This significant allusion to the possible relation the comical-looking Monday might bear toward Mr. Goshawk, was received by Quash's auditors with a burst of laughter which might have continued apparently until now, had not a carriage, rapidly driven, scattered them from the immediate front of the church door; out of which descended the reverend gentleman, and the family of the planter at whose house he was the temporary guest.

  The little church was at an early hour crowded to its utmost capacity, and in an obscure corner, among the listeners,

  The preliminary services having been concluded, the Rev. Mr. Goshawk rose and stated, that he should that day found his sermon on part of the second verse of the thirteenth chapter of Paul's Epistle to the Romans: "Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God."

  In his preliminary remarks, he stated that he presumed the institution of Slavery was most absorbing to their minds, and that therefore he had concluded to confine himself to its scripture view. That he had more recently been on at the North, and had been compelled to have his attention drawn to the important subject, by its agitation among the people he had so recently visited.

  At this announcement Dixon turned fairly pale, and was obliged to disguise his excitement by leaning his head upon the slip before him. His next impulse was to leave the church, for he shrunk, in his then humor, from having the full enormity of his crimes drawn by the powerful eloquence of the preacher; but recovering himself, he determined to receive the reproof in store for him with a penitent spirit, and as part of the penalty he had to pay, for, as he thought, "his many sins."

  "Slavery," continued Mr. Goshawk, "is the oldest institution relating to the government of men that exists in

  Dixon, as these announcements one after another struck his ears, was perfectly overcome with astonishment. He rubbed his eyes, as if trying to wake up from a sound sleep—an expression of incredulity rested upon his face, and he looked around, as if to satisfy himself that he was not dreaming.

  "Again I ask, if slavery were this terrible evil, would the men selected by our Saviour, to carry the everlasting gospel to the uttermost parts of the earth, allowed it to go uncondemned? Could these martyrs to the truth be charged with moral cowardice? No! for men, most all of whom were slain alive in defence of their cherished principles, could have had no fear. The apostles, if they had been anti-slavery men, would have cried aloud, where the evil existed, and not like these modern disorganizers, abused and vilified the slaveholder, when not only out of the way of all usefulness but of all responsibility.

  "The laws of God, touching the subject of slavery, are spread as clearly through every part of the Scriptures as are the stars in the firmament of heaven. Human reason may do battle against them, but the only result will be the most glaring manifestation of mortal weakness. The institution of slavery, from its divine origin, must continue so long as sin shall have a tendency to lead to death, so long as Jehovah shall rule and exercise the attributes of mercy to fallen, degraded man.

  "If slavery," continued the preacher, "was a thing as bad as its ignorant enemies represent, why are the Scriptures so silent as to denunciations. Innumerable chapters can be found justifying it, regulating it, yet no commands that it should not exist. In Genesis, we have a pleasing record of the ameliorating influence of slavery even in those early times. 'Judah said unto his brethren, what profit is it if we slay our brother and conceal his blood? Come, let us sell him to the Ishmaelites, and let not our hand be upon him.' The saving of the life of Joseph was the consequence, and following it came all the blessing that through him flowed toward the children of Israel. We are also to notice, brethren, that the holding of slaves, in Jacob's day, was neither illegal nor uncommon. We are, therefore, not surprised that history gives us to understand, that in the golden streets of Jerusalem were to be found the mart for slaves. I can imagine the patriarchs of old, as do now our noble planters, trafficking for servants, and selecting with care those which best answered their purposes.

  "In later and more glorious days, the streets of Rome, and those of every dependency of that great republic swarmed

  "What," continued Mr. Goshawk, "is the position of the slaveholder? He is the true patriarch; the parent of a large family; his duties are sacred; he not only has the bodies but the souls of men in his keeping; he educates and religiously instructs his dependants; if they are sick, he nurses them; if naked, he clothes them; and if borne down by age and infirmities provides a support and finds a retreat for them. Unlike the employer of the free laborer, his care never ceases, it does not stop the moment the recipient is no longer pecuniarily useful.

  "And here, brethren, it is forced upon me to make those personal applications of our discourse, that naturally arise in considering this interesting theme. It is charged against us, that our peculiar institutions encourage cruelty to the negro. How absurd and unchristian is this scandal. Imperatively commanded by the Holy Book to buy slaves, we are also enjoined by the same Holy injunction, to keep them in obedience. The divine law shows internal evidence of its high origin, by providing for the punishment of slaves with rods, and asserts, that if the slave die in a day or two after his beating, yet his owner shall not be punished, because he can appropriate to his own use, his man-servant

  "Are we immaculate? are we not subject to excitements like unto other men? Is it wonderful, that having, by Providence, the great responsibility of slave-holding put upon us, that we should in the administration of our sacred office, sometimes, in moments of excitement, punish not more severely than the law permits, but more than our interests justify? Moses, who was denominated the meekest of men, in a fit of passion threw down the hand-of-God-inscribed tablets of the law; cannot, therefore, a fatal blow to a degraded negro be passed by in silence? Peter, who was evidently of a southern disposition, of a chivalrous, noble temperament, in the very presence of our Saviour, on the impulse of the moment, drew his sword, and smote the servant of the high priest. That a master, provoked beyond endurance, should do worse to that which he owns and has bought with a price, should be set down to the amiable and redeeming traits of humanity, rather than to the indulgence of improper and brutalizing passions.

  "Brethren, we are charged in the South with assisting in affrays, duels, and murders. I need not say that these slanders need no refutation. Look at the annals of crime of the immaculate North,—the crime of every day,—and ours sink in petty incidents, compared with the enormity of these free people. We are charged with encouraging duelling; but when did a high standard of honor injure the unregenerate heart? As a clergyman, commissioned to preach peace and good will to all men, I condemn the practice; but if the grace of God prevails not, better that

  "We are charged with not being as good as our neighbors. Our brethren of the North have gone into the temple, and thanked God that they are not as other men; announced that they do not oppress,—that they are given to alms. For all they have done in sincerity, Heaven be praised; but I will simply say, in answer to such hypocrisy, that our Souther piety is unobtrusive.

  "If the windy work of blowing trumpets at the corners of the streets,—if vociferation, and noise, are the evidences of religion, we are lost; but Southern Christians 'do good in secret,' that they may in abundant crops, and increasing wealth, be rewarded openly. Our ministers compare favorably for learning and zeal with any North; and if we are not given to sectarian controversy,—if there be a quiet calm in the various churches in our midst,—we have not to blush at beholding the fanatical evidences of misguided and misdirected zeal.

  "But brethren, why dwell upon the unnecessary and needlessly imposed task of defending ourselves against the folly of fanatics and envy of irreligious men?—let us turn and contemplate our glorious destiny, and remember, that we have been singled out by Providence, as were the children of Israel in olden times, to be his peculiar people. The Southern Christians are chosen as the instruments for the greatest and sublimest Christian revolution ever achieved by mortal being. When the poor African was landed on our coast, the slave-robbers did not know that

  "In the glowing and eloquent language of a beloved brother, 'I feel satisfied with the tendencies of things.' I stand upon the mountain-peak, above the clouds. I see far beyond the storm, the calm sea, and the blue sky. I see the Canaan of the African. I stand there on the Nebo of his exodus, and look across not the Jordan, but the Atlantic.

  "I gaze as did Moses from Mount Pisgah over into the promised land; I see the ocean divided by a great wind, and piled up in walls of green glittering glass on either hand; and through this crystal avenue the children of Ham are crossing upon dry ground,—the marching host amid the pillar cloud and fire. I look over the Niger, black with death, to the white man—instinct with life to the children of Ham. There is the black man's home; there, is his father's land,—there will he exhibit his own type of Christianity. Verily, verily! this emancipated race may rival the most amiable form of spiritual life, and the jewel may glitter upon the Ethiop's brow, in meaning more sublime than all the poet's imagery.

  "Brethren, in the ordering of events, the African will go,—the ocean will separate,—the miracle will be accomplished; but let us remember, that we are potter's clay in the hands of an overruling power,—the chosen instruments of great good; and let us encourage in our hearts that simple childlike faith, that makes us satisfied with things as

  Never, probably, was there a discourse uttered by a human voice, that had a more powerful effect upon an auditor, than did Goshawk's upon Dixon. He had taken his place in the congregation an hour or two before with a wan face, sunken, careworn eyes, and debilitated frame; he now walked forth absolutely changed in his physical as well as moral constitution. A new light had broken in upon his mind; he was clay in the hands of the potter,—a blind instrument for doing good. He had gone to church, feeling that he was in the slough of despondency, but was now conscious that, under the enlightened influences of "the sanctuary," his burden had rolled from off his soul; and in the exuberance of his new view of things, he absolutely snapped his fingers over his head, and took one or two steps that gave promise, if their style had been continued, that the spectator would have had a very good idea of a country jig.

  The "Head-quarters" on the morning of Mr. Goshawk's sermon had been unusually dull; as Busteed remarked, "The Sunday races, down at Sawyers, always tuck away some of his customers, but the flare-up at the church coming on at the same time, he was doing nothing at all." Even Puckett for a while deserted the popular resort, and walking over to the church, thrust his head in at the door, and got, what he said, was the "milk in the cocoanut;" and not waiting for the closing ceremonies, he rushed back to Busteed's, and leaning over the bar, commenced quite an animated description of what he had

  "Oh, nonsense, Goshawk didn't pile it on so thick as that, did he?"

  "Yes, he did, though," returned Puckett, emphatically; "and the parson went it even a little stronger, for he make out Dixon and sich like to be rigler missionaries of the gospel."

  At that instant Dixon stepped into the bar-room. His improved appearance, and genial manner, compared with an hour or two before, struck both the landlord and Puckett; the latter, unable to contain his gratification, remarked:

  "Major, you look better than you did this morning—you must be getting well."

  "I am better," said Dixon, emphatically; "I've got clear of them confounded pains, that's troubled me so much: I am now as good as new, and we'll take a drink to celebrate the fact."

DEATH OF JACK.

  NEAR sunset, Toadvine left the "Head-quarters," and rode toward the jail. He was exceedingly intoxicated, which always made him savage; but, in addition to this, he had been literally swindled out of a considerable sum of money at cards,—and this fact goaded him to fury.

  The jail was situated on the suburbs of the town, and was reached by going over a ravine, or, as similar obstructions are termed, "a wash." In ordinarily dry weather, there was no difficulty in crossing the ravine, but heavy and continuous rains had made it saddle-girth deep in mud; and as Toadvine attempted to rush his horse through the conglomerated mass, the poor animal stuck fast,—when being assailed by blows and oaths, in struggling to extricate himself, he fell upon his side, and tumbled his rider "heels-over-head" in the slough. Toadvine was now furious, and as he pulled away at his horse's bridle, he loaded the very air with his fearful imprecations. The animal, released of his rider's weight, recovered his feet, and by repeated plunges, reached the solid earth.

  The negroes confined in the jail, hearing the noise, huddled about the heavy iron-grated window, and were highly amused at what they saw. They made many rough jokes at Toadvine's expense, any one of which if it had reached his ears, in his then humor, would have make him stark, staring mad. Meanwhile, the dogs within the picketed inclosure of the jail commenced furiously barking, and gnashing their teeth through the openings of the fence,—thereby giving additional spirit to the scene.

  Toadvine hitched his horse to an old whipping-post near by; and as soon as he could reach the entrance of the jail, the keeper anticipated his coming by opening the door. Toadvine and the jailer saluted after the manner of old friends, and then disappeared within the precincts of the old building.

  It was with great deal of difficulty that Toadvine could be reconciled to his disagreeable accident; while scolding about it to the jailer, he picked up a piece of cypress shingle from the floor, and pettishly scraped the mud from his clothes,—every moment becoming more excited in his indignation. He abused the road inspectors,—abused the jail,—and the world generally, and Jack in particular and especially.

  The jailer finally, however, reduced him to quiet, by producing an old stone jug from a cleft in the heavy timber walls; and giving Toadvine a broken tumbler, and taking a gourd himself, he poured a liberal allowance of whiskey, and giving the highly original toast, "Better luck next time," the twain touched "glasses" with due solemnity, and drank of the contents.

  The jailer, still bent on mollifying his guest, now produced an immense plug of tobacco, and handing it to Toadvine, told him to take a piece, remarking, in a half playful way, that "that tobacker was sent him 'way from Old Virginny, by a gentleman that had two runaways in jail with him for near about a year."

  "And what the hell did he send that to you for, after keeping his niggers so long?" growled Toadvine, twisting off a large piece of the weed.

  "Because," said the jailer, with a professional smile, "I sent him a paper marked with ink, so he could tell whar was his property."

  "And he was from Virginny, was he?" inquired Toadvine, giving his clothes a rub down with the shingle.

  "He was," said the jailer, emphatically.

  "And a F.F.V.," snarled Toadvine, as he discovered a large "splotch" of mud, heretofore unperceived, over the calf of his leg.

  "I don't know whether he was or not," said the jailer, producing an old greasy playing-card. "Here," he continued, without paying further attention to Toadvine, "is the charges agin Mr. Mildmay, for 'resting Jack;" and he read off the back of a playing-card as follows:

  "To Mr. Stubbs, who tuck him up,—two forty-five.

  "Justasses feez, for committin,—a 'V.'

  "Bored fore daze,—wun twenty; makin a sum total of ait dollars and seventy sents: and not much neither as the times goze."

  "Not much," said Toadvine, taking out his clasp-knife, and picking a bit of tobacco leaf from between his

  And the sincerity with which he made this protestation can be appreciated, when it is known that it closed with Toadvine's climacteric figure of speech, if he wished to be considered particularly in earnest.

  Toadvine now pulled out a ten dollar gold-piece, and giving it to the jailer, told the functionary to take his change.

  The jailer found some difficulty in accomplishing his object, as he had nothing but three half dollar pieces in his pocket. After considerable discussion, and another drink of whiskey, it was decided that Toadvine should throw "heads and tails" for the piece of money in dispute—whereupon the gentleman took the coin, and resting it on the side of the fore finger of the right hand, and placing his thumb underneath it, he emphatically observed:

  "Now mark—head I win, tails you lose," and then sent the silver whirling in the air.

  The coin struck the floor with a ringing noise, and Toadvine bent over to see the result, for it was not getting dark in the jail; rising up suddenly from his stooping attitude, he gave the innocent cause of offence a kick with his foot that sent it spinning across the floor, and then with a great oath he swore that he had "lost all day," and pulling a revolver out of his pocket and examining

  Now Jack, who had been, with his fellow-prisoners, very much amused, as we have already stated, at the floundering of Toadvine in the mire, was perfectly unconscious that it was the overseer, and it was not until some time after, when he recognized the horse hitched in front of the jail, that the whole truth flashed upon him.

  In an instant he seemed to comprehend his situation, and uttering the exclamation, "Oh Master! what will become of poor Jack now?" he sunk down upon the floor the very picture of despair.

  "And what's de matter wid you, Jack?" inquired his humble friends in bondage.

  "Oh Lord! oh Lord!" said the poor fellow, wringing his hands, "it's Mr. Toadvine dats come for me. He's de man as druv me home,—he's de man dat got my wife away,—he's de man as will kill me yet;" and again Jack buried his head between his knees, and the tears rained upon the floor.

  The sympathy for Jack, expressed by his fellow-prisoners, was deeply touching. Helpless themselves, yet feeling the full force of their companion's situation, and too ignorant to express the emotions of their hearts, they stood around him in silent agony, in which position they remained until they heard the huge key rattling the lock, and the chain unfastened from the door.

  "Here's Jack," said the jailer, without noticing the boy's expression of face, "gather up your duds, and get down stairs, you scoundrel." The boy silently obeyed and left

  Jack, meantime, stood in the presence of his worst enemy. Toadvine glared upon him with his bloodshot eyes, until the knees of the boy gave way from fear, and he sank upon the floor.

  "None of your skulking," fairly roared Toadvine; "none of your gammoning me, you infernal black sop. So you run away, did you, 'cause you couldn't bear to have me whip you? That's for treating you like a lamb." "But," he continued, growing white with anger, "I'll cure you of your tricks to-night 'fore I get you home, and if your whining, half Yankee master don't like it, he can settle next day, and get somebody else to whip his niggers for him;" and Toadvine fairly spun about like a top, with the violence of his passion.

  The jailer, as if it were a customary thing, now opened a box, sitting in one corner of the room, on which was marked in great plainness the magical letters "U.S." It

  "What are you going to do?" inquired the jailer, with some little surprise.

  "Take this feller home, any thing to say agin it?" said Toadvine, the very act of touching Jack's neck inflaming still more his tiger passions.

  "Nothing more," said the jailer, placing his hand on the large bowie-knife he carried in his breast, and eyeing Toadvine with hostile meaning; "Nothing more—only 'civil tongues is best for health,' and I think you'd better tie that boy with his elbers behind him, instead of 'round the neck."

  Toadvine was cowed, but again feeling disposed to give way to his passion, which, suppressed against the jailer, burst with increased fury upon the head of the victim now so completely in his power.

  "I think," said Toadvine, leading the boy away and measuring the effect of his words, "I think I understand my business with niggers."

  "Well, I 'spect you do," replied the jailer, closing the door on Toadvine and Jack, and then locking it on the inside, he proceeded with due deliberation to shut up his establishment for the night.

  Toadvine once out of doors, drove Jack ahead of him while still holding him fast by the rope, and thus the two proceeded until the boy reached the overseer's horse, which he respectfully held until the man mounted. Toadvine then fastened the end of the rope in his hand to the pommel of the Spanish saddle, and with the quickness of thought gave his horse the spurs.

  The animal jumped, and had it not been that Jack was still at his head, would in that spring probably broken the boy's neck; as it was it nearly threw him to the ground, but he recovered himself, and leaping forward kept by the side of the rider. In another moment, Toadvine was again floundering in the 'wash.' Jack instantly seized the horse's head, and by main strength pulled him through. The moment that Toadvine felt the solid earth, he again spurred on the animal, and in the haze of the evening he was recognized as he passed through the streets of Beechland, going at a killing pace, with a negro boy almost undistinguishable in the gloom, following close in his rear.

THE EXCITEMENT OF THE HOUR.

  ON the morning following Toadvine's visit to the jail, the citizens living in the neighborhood of Beechland, were shocked by discovering on the very edge of the town, the mutilated body of a dead negro, and it seemed more than probable that a murder had been committed. The neck of the deceased was not only broken, but the bones thereof had evidently been torn asunder; and with such force, as to elongate the persistent muscles. A piece of rope that had evidently been rudely severed with a sharp knife, was still around his neck, and upon further examination, a deep indentation could be traced for a considerable distance, along the road, showing how far the body had been dragged upon the ground.

  It happened to be that day of the week, when the planters of the vicinity, by general consent, meet in town, not only to transact business, but also for social intercourse, and very soon a large number of the most substantial citizens of the surrounding country, were standing in

  The "coroner" had been summoned; a jury was quickly obtained—an inquest held—and the prompt verdict was, that the deceased negro came to his death by violence at the hands of some person or persons unknown.

  This done, the body was taken to the court-house, and laid out upon the porch, in hopes that some one would identify it.

  About ten o'clock, the jailer had finished his morning work, of letting the negroes get their own breakfast, while he fed his dogs, with such other duties as occurred, when he thrust a cigar in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets, and leaving his charge in the care of a deputy, he started out to learn the news of the day, and prepared to take an active part in a political discussion, or a game of cards, the only two excitements he allowed himself openly to indulge in.

  And it so happened as he passed along, that he came across a group of citizens in deep and earnest conversation and he knew at once that something more than usual "was in the wind."

  "There goes Orcutt the jailer," said Gen. Bledsoe, the most popular and influential man in the community; and continued he, "Orcutt is well acquainted in town, and perhaps he might give us some clew to this strange matter," and with the universal approval of all present, Orcutt was called into the conference.

  This notice pleased the jailer, and as he came toward the group, he decided in his own mind that they were

  "Orcutt," said Gen. Bledsoe, after the salutations of meeting were over, "we called you over here, to ask what you think of this murder that was committed last night?"

  "Haven't heard a word of it," said Orcutt, his suspicions however prompting him to believe that he knew all the history.

  "You haven't heard of it!" exclaimed two or three voices at once; "why, what have you been doing this morning?"

  "Nothing but looking after the 'stone jug,'" said Orcutt, with a sort of injured look, "nothing else."

  "The fact is," continued Gen. Bledsoe, "a negro boy was killed last night just a few hundred yards from the jail"—

  "Up the old bayou road"—involuntarily suggested Orcutt.

  "The same," said the general, exchanging glances of intelligence with the gentlemen in the crowd.

  "Well, let me see the body," said the jailer, who instantly became an object of suspicious interest, and the party walked towards the court-house.

  The body of Jack, as we have stated, had been laid upon the court-house steps. An infirm old negro, who had, years agone, become useless as a servant, and earned a precarious living in the town, had, in the natural goodness of her heart, washed off the mud from the body, and disposing

  "And who is it, aunty?" said Gen. Bledsoe, addressing the old negress kindly, "do you know the face?"

  "Bress you, no, master;" and turning to the corpse, she muttered, "he's done gone to heav'n now, dat's one comfort," and then instinctively moved away from the immediate presence of the white people.

  Orcutt was exceedingly annoyed that, by an unguarded expression, he had made his suspicions a matter of interest, for he did not wish to have the responsibility of recognizing the body, and probable arrest of the murderer, thrown upon his shoulders. Holding his office at the mercy of political partisans, it instantly occurred to him, that the enmity of Toadvine and his friends, could secure his removal, and he was exceedingly embarrassed at the position in which he found himself.

  Now the usually most talkative man in the community was in the crowd, but from the time he heard of the murder, he had been dumb as a mouse. This gentleman was Maj. Trimmer, "the great criminal lawyer and active politician" of the surrounding country; he knew that he had a client somewhere in the parish, as soon as he saw Jack's body, and was then actually looking out for his "retaining fee."

  He discovered Orcutt's embarrassment, and tucking that worthy under the arm, he led him a step aside, and

  "I'd nothing to do with it," said Orcutt doggedly, "but you'll give me a letter, major, in case it is ever necessary, that what I do say is under compulsion."

  "Certainly I will," said the major, shaking Orcutt by the hand.

  Orcutt returned to the group of inquirers, and carelessly throwing back the old sheet from the face of the corpse, examined the swollen and ghastly lineaments for a moment, and said:—

  "As I expected, it's—" but before he could say more, Gen. Bledsoe suddenly seized him by the shoulder, and with great emphasis exclaimed:

  "You know the negro, and you believe he was murdered?" Orcutt was about to resist such rude treatment, but the eyes of too many resolute men were upon him, who evidently sympathized with the general's conduct.

  "I think I know the negro, and I believe that he was killed," said Orcutt, looking confused.

  "And why did you ask if the murder was committed in the bayou road, when you claimed to have heard nothing about it," asked a very matter of fact planter, thrusting his nose into Orcutt's face.

  "Don't speak as you value life," whispered Bledsoe, becoming every moment more excited, "don't speak until I tell you."

  Orcutt was then pushed aside, as it were, and he was instantly surrounded by the most influential persons present, among whom there was an astonishing display of

  The news spread that a clew to the murder had been obtained, and crowds began to collect about the court-house; men, and boys, and negroes, could be seen coming from every direction to the common focus, all excited and all curious. The keeper of the "Head-quarters" adjoining the seat of justice, was in ecstasies, and this was displayed in a professional way, for, rushing behind his bar, he commenced cleaning his glasses, feeling assured that very soon his "groceries" would be in even unusual demand.

  "And now, Mr. Orcutt," said Gen. Bledsoe, looking at his compeers, and letting go his hold on the jailer, "now, sir, we will hear your story."

  Without ceremony, Orcutt gave a very truthful account of things connected with Jack's leaving the jail; as he progressed with his story, many of his listeners became livid with rage, and deep and bitter were the subdued execrations that feel upon Toadvine's head.

  Orcutt soon discovered how popular feeling was going, and he began to artfully exaggerate things already dreadful; he felt that Toadvine's power had gone, and therefore, to conciliate the influence of the overseer was no longer a matter of importance.

  As soon as the full force of Toadvine's conduct was understood, there was a universal clamor for his arrest and prompt punishment. The feeling was more than usually strong, from the fact, that recently two or three slave murders had been committed, only a little less atrocious than the case under consideration, and in truth, so great was the excitement,

  Every now and then some one would, after being whispered by Gen. Bledsoe, leave, and presently return with a double-barrelled fowling-piece or musket. The sheriff also made his appearance, and was uncommonly active to find some justice of the peace, to get out a warrant, for he regretted that he could do nothing, "unless especially instructed by a proper officer."

  It was soon evident that one universal feeling had settled down upon the crowd. Some three or four who had been active in the deliberations, were already mounted, as if bent on a hasty journey, when one of the younger men of the party rose, in his saddle, and speaking in a loud voice, said:

  "Gentlemen, we have had to-day the painful evidence of the reckless destruction of our property. If irresponsible men are permitted to thus injure our interests, what will be the result? Utter ruin. It is proposed that the violator of our rights, in consideration of his seeming defiance of the laws, be not left to the mercy of its delays, but have justice dealt out to him with our own indignant hands."

  A loud and enthusiastic shout was given, and twenty men in an instant were in their saddles. Away these horsemen scattered through the streets, many riding hither and thither, and almost all indulging in the free use of liquor, either from canteens carried in their pockets, or such as could be purchased at the "groceries." In the course of a half hour more, the town had assumed its usually dull appearance, for that particular time of day.

  On that eventful morning, Toadvine had risen at his accustomed hour, and externally, as if nothing in his history of extraordinary character had occurred, he went into the field with the negroes. After he returned to his house for breakfast, he quietly walked over the "residence," and asked Mr. Mildmay for a prospective order for the amount of money due him up to date, remarking, "that he had created some debts, which he wished to settle;" he then strolled out upon the gallery, and taking up an old newspaper, seemed to absorbed in its contents.

  Mildmay, after looking over his memorandum book, wrote a draft on his merchant for the amount due Toadvine, and stepping out on the gallery, handed it to the overseer, with the question, "Did you bring home Jack, last night, as you intended?"

  "Why, the fact is," said Toadvine, folding up the paper and putting it in his pocket—"the fact is, that I spent too much time, yesterday evening, at the 'Head-quarters,' and besides losing some money, I drank too much—" and Toadvine apparently hesitated to finish his remark.

  "I am sorry, for your sake, that such is the fact!"

  Toadvine moved away, crossed the yard, and entered his own house, and sitting down at his deal table, and taking a deep potation of his ever favorite whiskey, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, he commenced soliloquizing, thus:

  "I wonder what did become of Jack? I must have been pretty tight last night. I was so infarnally mad about that mud-hole, that I 'most forget every thing else. How he did pull, when he tried to get away; if it hadn't been for breaking off the pommel of my saddle, to say nothing of that rope across my thigh, I'd a pulled him home, or killed my horse."

  And giving utterance to these expressions, Toadvine, for some ten minutes, seemed lost in a deep reverie, then rousing himself, he put away his decanter, and looked over the "promise to pay," so recently received from his employer, and after cyphering some time on the floor with a piece of charcoal, he observed:

  "Well, if Mr. Mildmay does send me off for this little frolic, he don't owe me any thing, thank fortune!" and with this consoling reflection, and entirely unconscious of the real extent of his offending, he mounted his horse, and again rode into the field.

  To avoid the appearance of any thing extraordinary in

  Here in conclave it was agreed, that it was useless to trust to the laws for the punishment of Toadvine; that the law was a mere farce, gotten up for no other purpose than to enable lawyers to rob the community, and escape the consequences. It was further decided, that it would save the parish expense, and a great deal of feeling besides, in the minds of those interested, by seeing him summarily hung to a limb of the nearest tree; and also teach him, and others similarly disposed to tamper with the rights of the planters, that it could not be done with impunity.

THE RESCUE.

  AN hour's riding brought the party near the "Heritage Place;" the young men rode ahead to reconnoitre, and one soon returned and reported, to the astonishment of every one, that Toadvine was actually in the field; and that by leaving the main road, threading a deep, but not impassable sluiceway, he could be easily cut off from all connection with the house, and if he attempted escape after he discovered that he was to be arrested, he would have to take to the woods, when "he could be run down at leisure."

  Gen. Bledsoe at once decided upon taking advantage of the opportunity thus unexpectedly offered, to make an easy capture, and in another instant the horsemen were galloping to their several assigned places, distributing themselves so that Toadvine had no other way of escape than by striking into the fastnesses of the swamp.

  The doomed man soon discovered that there were persons in his vicinity, but still remained unconscious of his danger, and also of the extent of his crime. Two or three

  Rushing to his horse, that was cropping grass by the edges of one of the field roads, he leaped upon his back, and, as if Mildmay was most likely to now befriend him, he turned the animal's head towards Heritage Place; but before he had rode many yards he was hailed to stop—turning suddenly, he went headlong down the field, when again he discovered that the fowling-pieces bore directly upon him; desperate, and alarmed for his life, he now turned his horse's head, as Bledsoe had anticipated, toward the swamp, and fairly flew, with speed; accelerated no doubt, by a number of curs belonging to the negroes, barking and howling at his rear; with a bound he cleared the fence, and knowing the country well, it seemed as if he would escape, so rapidly did he disappear amid the rich mellow gloom.

  But Toadvine had those upon his track, who knew the swamp even better than himself,—persons who had, for years, pursued the deer and wild cat through the very labyrinth he was then threading; and those persons, conscious of their power, rode even leisurely along, knowing that the must, almost without an effort, soon fall into their hands.

  Mildmay, from the time that Toadvine left him, had been engaged in looking over papers, brought his recollection

  Mildmay, from an upper gallery, glanced over the field, just in time to see Toadvine's fearful leap, and as he discovered the armed men follow in pursuit, he was instantly impressed with the belief that something serious had happened.

  Without betraying his excitement, he ordered Wash to saddle his horse, that he might ride down and see what was going on. It was with difficulty that he could repress his impatience until the boy arrived with his steed, and still more was it painful to retain an ambling pace, when he descried Annie's affectionate eyes were bent upon him. But once relieved of the necessity for restraint, he put spurs to his horse, and followed swiftly on the new-made trail.

  In the meanwhile, it would seem that Gen. Bledsoe's party crossed the diameter of the circle made by Toadvine, in his ignorance of the ground he was going over, and ere the pursued was aware of it, he was surrounded. A dozen "shots" had sight upon him at once, and he was commanded to stop, and reigning up his horse, he sat in his saddle a perfect picture of blank despair.

  The pursuers rushed upon him, and checked their excited horses so close to his person, that his hair was fanned by the distended nostrils of their foaming steeds.

  "Dismount, you wretch!" cried Bledsoe, as he kept his

  To Toadvine, the command seemed to cause the world to be passing away as a sheet of fire. He knew that he was guilty of some crime, but the uncertainty of its extent magnified his fears, and he felt as if an awful judgment was upon him. Looking around, he saw faces familiar in appearance, yet glaring upon him with strange and intense passion; a confused ringing sound passed through his brain, and fainting, he fell from his horse.

  Before, however, he reached the ground, he was in the arms of one of the men, and by the time he recovered his senses, the rope that had deprived poor Jack of his life, was around another victim's neck.

  Toadvine, the instant he felt the cord, comprehended his fate, and uttered one long, loud shriek for mercy; but ere he could have repeated that heart rending cry, the power to do so would have been at an end for ever, had not Mildmay, glowing with excitement, rushed into the ring; checking his speed so abruptly, that his horse's hoofs ploughed their way deeply into the virgin soil.

  Dark and lowering looks were turned upon the intruder, which instantly cleared away, as some one exclaimed, "Mildmay, by the gods!"

  This name electrified with sudden life the sinking and terror-stricken Toadvine, who frantically seized Mildmay's feet, and begged him for the love of God, to interfere and save his life.

  The young man though calm, was, nevertheless embarrassed, and turning instinctively towards Gen. Bledsoe, whom he did not know, he begged to be informed as to the meaning of the scene enacted before him.

  The fact that Toadvine was Mildmay's overseer, and that it was Mildmay's wrongs the party was professedly about to redress, caused his unannounced and unexpected presence to be greeted with a respect that might, under other circumstances, with persons so excited, have been attended with a different result.

  Gen. Bledsoe, in a few and hastily-delivered words, explained the outrage.

  "And Jack is dead?" said Mildmay, snapping his eyes as if awakening from a sleep.

  "Yes, dead!" said Bledsoe, "and murdered by that skulking wretch who is hanging at your heel."

  "A shame and an outrage!" said Mildmay, his face darkening, as he kicked himself loose from the overseer's grasp.

  "A shame indeed," said Gen. Bledsoe, his face burning with excitement, "and that he may not serve others so, tuck him up boys, and let the buzzards have their rights."

  "You would not hang this man," said Mildmay, leaping from his horse, and literally throwing himself as a shield over Toadvine's prostrate form. "You would not hang this man. Let me beg of you, gentlemen, that the laws have their sway; let my injury go unredressed, rather than tarnish our honor with so great a wrong as this."

  "The laws be d—d," said a fellow, in an Arkansas blanket coat, seizing hold of Toadvine's shoulder. "If you've got nothing but the law to reach this 'ere gentleman

  At the mention of this name, Mildmay turned toward the person addressed and said:

  "General Bledsoe, for such I understand you to be, permit me to beg as a personal favor, that you will leave this man in the hands of the law. The case is too plain to fear that he will escape the penalty due to his crime, and to the extent of the law, will I see that he is prosecuted and punished."

  "What say you, gentlemen?" said Bledsoe, looking around upon the group of excited faces—and after scanning them for a moment, he said, with a graceful wave of the hand:

  "Mr. Mildmay, that creature is your prisoner."

  At this announcement, the spectators fairly rocked to and fro with the sudden reaction of their moral feelings, and Toadvine fell to the earth as if struck by the hand of death.

  "Well, he's made a die of it, any how," said the owner of the green blanket coat, looking at Toadvine with comical pity, and loosening the cord about his neck,—"but maybe," the fellow continued, "this will bring him too," and with the most affecting attention, he took his whiskey bottle from his pocket and held it to Toadvine's nostrils.

  "You see," said General Bledsoe, looking at Mildmay, and playfully pointing at the rough Samaritan before him, "you see that Ben Puckett isn't so bad a man after all, although he has a poor opinion of the laws."

  Mildmay forced a sickly smile, and asked, directing his

  "Certainly you can," said the general with vivacity, "and I will be responsible that Puckett will never let him go until he has the jailer's receipt in full for the amiable gentleman."

  "I'll go to jail," said Toadvine with a humble voice, and absolutely grown wan and pallid with the terror he had undergone.

  "Of course you will," said Puckett, while tying Toadvine's elbows behind him,—"of course you will; ain't I promised to take you?" and Puckett laughed at his own humor.

  The crowd now dispersed. All left evidently satisfied, for you could hear the merry, ringing laugh of different individuals, expressive of a consciousness of being relieved from a fearful responsibility.

  Toadvine, once on his way, soon arrived at Beechland jail. He managed, in the course of conversation along the road, to secure Puckett's friendship, but could not overcome the sturdy Kentuckian's innate sense of honor sufficient to induce him to let his prisoner go, as was suggested under the plea of "accidental escape." Puckett was too powerful a man, to make it probable that he could be mastered in a scuffle, and too ambitious mentally, to be willing to have it reported that he was outwitted, when placed in a responsible position.

  "And what do you 'spose," said Toadvine to Puckett, as Beechland appeared in view,—"what do you 'spose

  "'Cause you didn't own him," said Puckett with a patronizing manner.

  "Perhaps that was it," replied Toadvine, still as if in a dream, and riding a short distance he resumed: "I never heard such a fuss about killing a nigger before. Thar was Bill Stiger down at the 'Oaks' who chopped a darkee into pieces with a cane knife, and bragged on it arterwards, and he was never touched."

  "And didn't the Grand Jury find a bill?" inquired Puckett with solemnity.

  "Of course it ended," said Toadvine, overflowing with a sense of his own unjust treatment—"of course it ended, and Stiger could have gone to the Legislature the next 'lection, only he wouldn't."

  "Well, it's too bad," said Puckett with a sympathetic voice, "that they treat you so; but no matter, Toady," said he playfully, "Buss, Orcutt, and I, will come up in your room and play 'poker' and 'seven up,' and you shan't want for friends, you know—and we'll have a real good time of it, and no mistake."

  With this assurance, Toadvine, who was uncomfortably depressed in spirits, when left to his own reflections, brightened up, and saw that lying in jail a few weeks wasn't

  Upon arriving at the suburbs of Beechland, Puckett relieved Toadvine of the hated rope that had heretofore bound his elbows, the prisoner solemnly promising not to attempt to get away, and Puckett threatening to split Toadvine's head open, if he did forfeit his honor by any such performance; "for you see," said Puckett, opening for the last time the knots in the cord,—"you see, Toady, I gave my word to General Bledsoe, that I would take you to jail, and I must do it if I help you out agin at sundown."

  The ever busy Orcutt answered the first knock at the jail door, and he started back with some surprise at seeing Toadvine safe and sound before him:—"Why, I thought you went off this mornin'," said the jailer, unconscious of the severity of his allusion.

  "But he didn't, though," said Puckett mysteriously, "though he was at the 'went off place,' wasn't you, Toady."

  The jests were too suggestive to the overseer of the dark side of his situation, and with pallor upon his cheek, he requested to be shown to his room, saying that he "felt sick," and wanted rest.

UNEXPECTED RELATIONSHIP.

  THE instant that Toadvine disappeared, and with him the different persons who had been so recently engaged in his pursuit, General Bledsoe turned to Mildmay, and showed by his manner a desire to enter into familiar conversation. The two gentlemen consequently rode out of "the swamp," side by side, and so continued in the open fields, as their road necessarily led toward Heritage Place. Mildmay was himself highly delighted with General Bledsoe, and as he had always heard him spoken of as one of the most influential persons in the surrounding neighborhood, Graham felt more than ordinary pleasure that a mutual friendship promised to be the result of a most singular introduction.

  Long before the two had reached the Heritage, all the particulars of Toadvine's conduct had been discussed and commented upon, and had given way to more pleasing subjects, and General Bledsoe had, with exceeding frankness, accepted an invitation to make a call at the house and partake of some slight refreshment, before he pursued his way homeward.

  As the gentlemen dismounted, Wash took the horses and they proceeded on through the lawn. Annie was walking on the upper gallery, and as Mildmay looked up and greeted her with a smile, General Bledsoe instinctively turned his eye also upward, and unexpectedly seeing a lady, raised his hat and passed uncovered into the house.

  Wash soon made his appearance, and armed with water and a snowy napkin, he presented them to the general, who, quietly removing his gloves, laved his hands, while Mildmay performed the same pleasant office in his own room.

  When Graham returned to his guest, he was followed by Wash, carrying a salver, on which were two or three kinds of choice liqueurs, and a box of superior cigars. The two gentlemen simply went through the ceremony of drinking, when Gen. Bledsoe set down his glass, and taking another, and filling it with cool water, he drank it with evident satisfaction; and then throwing himself into an easy chair, with Mildmay most comfortably disposed of, directly opposite him, cigars were selected and lighted; and after a few moments' silence, the general, slowly blowing the smoke from his mouth, turned to Mildmay, and observed:

  "From your given name, Mr. Mildmay, I judge that you are from the "Old North State?"

  "Such is the fact," replied Mildmay, rousing himself into an attitude of interest.

  "Yet I think," continued the general, in a musing manner, "that Mildmay is not a North Carolina name?"

  "It is not," said Mildmay; "while my mother's family

  "Your mother then was a Graham," said the general, still deeply musing. "The Grahams and the Bledsoes are intimately connected: was your family from the neighborhood of Mecklenberg?"

  "They were from the immediate vicinity of Mecklenberg," said Mildmay.

  "Then, Mr. Mildmay," said the general, his face animated with a smile, "if we Americans paid much attention to genealogical trees, I should not be surprised if we could trace ourselves to the same stock; I know of no Mecklenberg Grahams that are not relations of mine."

  "I am quite flattered," said Graham, "by your supposition; it will be a source of pleasure for me to know that I have so interesting, though so vague a claim upon your good opinion."

  "And not so vague, either," interrupted the general. "Your grandfather, or great uncle,—and I don't know which,—just at the close of the Revolution, married Hetty Bledsoe, and we are certainly third cousins at least."

  Graham laughed, and replied, "he hoped it were true."

  At this instant, the young mistress of Heritage Place came into the room. She was attired in a simple dress of white, and had endeavored to assume a dignified appearance by arranging her hair over her temples; but the straggling curls peeped out quite comically, in spite of her labor: a delicate rosebud and a few green leaves glistened

  "Mrs. Mildmay—General Bledsoe," said Graham, rising.

  The general rose from his seat, and placing his hand upon his heart, he bowed, as if a courtier by profession; and then extending his hand, he just touched the tips of Annie's fingers, and remarked:

  "I am happy to have the pleasure of meeting with a lady whose presence has added so much grace and beauty to our vicinity. At this very moment, I was trying to prove to your good husband that we were some sort of cousins at least; and now," he continued, smiling at Annie, "I shall especially insist that I am right."

  Annie expressed her gratification at Gen. Bledsoe's evident cordiality of manner,—more by her eyes, than by her remarks; the conversation soon become discursive and agreeable, and when Gen. Bledsoe left Heritage Place, a mutual friendship had sprung up between himself and its occupants: and this feeling seemed to have been founded rather upon long years of intercourse, than an accidental meeting of an hour's duration.

  The moment Gen. Bledsoe left, Mildmay ordered "old Uncle Dan" to go to Beechland, and bring up the body of Jack, that it might be decently interred upon the plantation.

  Uncle Dan was an eccentric, stuttering old man, who believed in charms and necromancy, and was looked upon

  "Wha—wha—what make Jack done die for?"

  "You will hear that some other time," said Mildmay, a cloud passing over his face at the recollection of the boy's fate; "do as I tell you, and ask no questions now."

  "But master," said Dan, his face still indicating unmitigated terror, "Wha—wha—what I goin' to do alone wid such a funeral?"

  "Come straight back from town," said Mildmay, sternly; "and if you stop by the way at any of those groggeries on the edge of Beechland, you will regret it, sir, for the rest of the year."

  "Wh'—wh'—why, master, you tink I do dat?" and Dan hobbled off with a manner that would leave an impression upon those who did not know him, that he was exceedingly injured at Mildmay's imputation on his immaculate character.

  Dan went to the stable, and catching a mule that was used for all work, he put on the harness, and then attached the cart; and then having arranged everything to suit his mind, he crept into the loft, and brought down a bag of shelled corn; then going to his own garden-patch, he pulled up a few vegetables, nearly gone to seed, and placed them beside the corn; then jumping over the fence into his mistress's garden, he crawled over his hands and knees among some low bushes, covered by what was once the shed of a bee-house, and dexterously took two setting

  Mildmay, who was temporarily occupied in superintending some repairs in the road, was sitting on his horse, when Dan made his appearance; and as the old negro humbly touched his hat to "master," he remarked:

  "I see, Dan, you have not forgotten the old mule's appetite, judging from the fodder you take along with you."

  Dan covered up the confusion of his face, by pretending to look at something in his rear, and then pulling his old hat over his eyes, as a mark of respect to his master, he passed on without detection. Mildmay under ordinary circumstances would have discovered the fraud, but his mind was too much occupied by the events of the day, to observe all the minor incidents passing before him.

  Dan, as is the case with all old negroes, had a way of conversing with himself, and if you could overhear him, it would be difficult, at first, to imagine that he was really alone, he gave such effect to his "thinking aloud,"—the moment therefore he got out of reach of observation, he commenced giving expression to his thoughts:—

  "Wha-wha-wha-wal, I didn't take de big hens, wha-wha-wha-what was worth something to mistress, not me; tuck de little ones jus worth notin at all—he-he-he—tuck em cause de eggs all done spile by de thunder—and ain't

  In similar pleasant conversation, Dan indulged, until he reached the suburb of Beechland, and then stopping his mule, he cautiously looked around to see if any one was near him, when satisfying himself that he was not observed, he took out his stolen goods, and depositing them with precipitation underneath some brush by the road side, he hobbled into his seat and rode along.

  In a few moments he was in the town—among the old ruined buildings that every where met his eye, was one distinguishable for having doors still on their fastenings, and windows patched with paper, and sashes filled with rags. Across from the front of this wretched house, was painted "Grocery," but some wag had blotted up the bottom curve of the c, and it read, groGery, which was really the idea the sign was intended to convey.

  As Dan neared this noticeable place, he commenced hallooing with unusual vehemence to his mule, at the same time, by pretending the animal would not obey the reins, he managed to land close against the door, which was immediately opened, and Dan was greeted by a rough-looking white man,—a few telegraphic signs passed between the pair, and the negro assuming his naturally innocent and stolid look, continued his journey.

  Passing by a large and evidently substantial store, a very gentlemanly-looking young man hallooed out to Dan.

  "Ho! boy, don't you belong to Mr. Mildmay?"

  "Ye—ye-yes—master," said Dan touching his hat.

  "Then," said the gentleman, "when you go home, stop here, I have something to put in your cart."

  "Ye-ye-es, sir," said Dan, again touching his apology for a hat.

  Without more adventure, Dan reached the court-house, where still lay, and entirely alone, the body of the unfortunate Jack, but now protected from the vulgar gaze, by a straight-sided box, made of rough boards, which had been supplied by the order of the coroner.

  Dan sat in his cart, and filled with strange emotions, eyed askance the wreck of mortality.—As we have said, he was superstitious, and he had a terrible dread of the dead.

  "Wha—wha-wha-what in de world massa send old Dan down here for, spose Jack come back agin, and I 'lone in de woods, wha-wha-wha-what cum of old Dan, ha?" and the poor fellow seemed to expect that every moment he should be assaulted by spirits from another world.

  Not many moments passed, however, before Dan was surrounded by a number of idle negro gossips, and long and dismal stories and fearful reminiscences were given, until from talking and listening, they would start at their own voices—then anxious to get away from the suggesting cause of so much terror, they helped Dan to place the coffin in the cart, and rapidly disappeared.

  The negro, now almost paralyzed with fear and trembling, took out his charm, and addressing the little parcel as if it had been an intelligent being, asked of it to

  "Wa-wa-well," said Dan, as he moved along, "got something else in dat cart to keep old Dan company; s'pose old Dan tinks da-da-da-dat box empty, den it's all right: go 'long, Dick Johnson," jerking the mule, "don't be getting to sleep at dis time ob day. Oh, Lord! wah-a-a-what will become of old niggers?" and for a moment lost in this reflection, he broke out in a loud voice, "Dar's Dick a dancin' wid my gal—le-le-let de cotton grow, who car's—old Dan is all de way from old Kaintuck—Virginny shuffle—master's home—keep de-de-de pot a bilin as you pass over Jourdan. Wha-wha-wha—oh, Lord!"

  Arriving at the place where he deposited his "plunder," he got down from his seat, and looking cautiously around, thrust his hand under the bush, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey "corked" with a corncob; and taking therefrom a hearty swig, he resumed his place, more vociferous than ever.

  Towards midnight the body of Jack was deposited in his humble, but once happy cabin.

  The grave had already been dug; and just as the moon commenced rising above the horizon, a few fellow-servants, who kindly remembered Jack, joined in a funeral

  "Thank old Marster above! Jack's done got free papers at last."

  Major Trimmer was not disappointed in his expectations of a client, when he saw the murdered body of Jack, for he knew that he must be "engaged for the defence," for no sooner had Toadvine time to collect his ideas, than he sent the jailer to the major; as might be expected, Trimmer immediately answered the summons.

  "The first thing to be attended to," said the major, suddenly finding his loquacious tongue, "is the fee; arrange for that, and we will at once proceed to business."

  "And how much will it be?" asked Toadvine, putting his hand in his pocket.

  "A thousand dollars would be a small sum for so bad a case as yours; but, considering you are not too rich, I'll say five hundred."

  "You don't mean to say you charge five hundred for

  "I don't know what you call a little affair," said the major, rising and buttoning his coat, as if intending to go; "if living in the penitentiary for ten years is a little affair, I hope you will have a good time of it."

  "But you don't think it is any thing serious, do you?" inquired Toadvine, becoming alarmed.

  "Why, if being in custody, with a clear sense of killing against you, and the whole community in arms, ain't serious, then I have studied my profession in vain."

  "I see," said Toadvine, his fears coming upon him with tenfold force—"I see, but how can I pay you so large a sum, when I haven't got the money?"

  "Well, what have you got?" inquired the major, sententiously.

  "There's my horse," said Toadvine, with bitterness; "he is worth seventy-five dollars."

  "Well," said the major.

  "Then here is a due-bill on Smithers & Co., drawn at ninety-days by Mr. Mildmay, for one hundred and sixty dollars."

  "Well," echoed the major.

  "And is that not enough to commence with?" gasped Toadvine, for the first time beginning to feel that it did cost something to "kill a nigger."

  "Why," said the major, reckoning a moment in his head," if I take the due-bill even as cash, they will only make two hundred and forty-four dollars; secure

  "You wouldn't go agin me?" said Toadvine, turning pale with apprehension.

  "I must make a living," said the major, as cold as marble.

  "But," said Toadvine, more than ever sorry that he had killed Jack, "I have no other property except an undivided interest in the boy Jo, now in the possession of Col. Price."

  "How much do you own of that nigger?"

  "One half," said Toadvine.

  "And do you think I could buy the other half of Price?"

  "I think not, because, you see, ever since Col. Price parted from his wife, she won't sign away, what he calls, her 'infarnal rights.'"

  "'Paraphernal rights,' you mean," said the major, his eye beaming with conscious superiority.

  "Well, it's something that keeps Price from selling his half of Jo, and that's all I know about it."

  Now the major had informed himself in advance of all the property that Toadvine was worth, so pulling out a paper, and pocket inkstand, he made a preliminary transfer to himself of all Toadvine's worldly goods, viz., the horse,—Mildmay's due-bill,—and the legal possession of half of the negro boy Jo; that being done, the major at once entered upon the business before him, and in less than ten minutes satisfied Toadvine that it was now, easy to get clear of the consequences of killing Jack,—

  After a great deal of "tacking and filling" by the major, more to affect the imagination of his client than any thing else, it was finally agreed that the "habeas corpus" was not to be attempted, because it might be possible that the judge would be strict, as the excitement on the public mind was decidedly against the prisoner. And Major Trimmer came to the conclusion, also, that it was possibly safer for Toadvine to stay in jail than to run the risk of falling into the hands of Gen. Bledsoe and his friends; and by way of consolation to the prisoner, he said: "By lying in jail a few weeks before the trial, it will create a sympathy for you outside; and will enable me to show the jury, that even while the law presumed that you were innocent, you had suffered sufficient punishment, even if guilty of the crime charged:" and with these reasons, Toadvine was content to remain in durance vile.

THE TESTIMONY.

  THE first witness called was the jailer. Upon the announcement of his name by the sheriff, he promptly made his appearance; and as he was so often a witness in one way and another, he looked around as complacently as the "Court" itself. The clerk held out the Bible, on which the jailer in a professional manner placed his hand, when the subordinate official said, "Mr. Orcutt, you swear before Almighty God, and these witnesses, that you will e-l-d-h-a-r-truth-p-s-d-r-u-m-c-l-w-s-d-i-y-and-r-t-v-a-h-e-r," whereupon Mr. Orcutt delicately kissed his own fingers, instead of the book, the district attorney, in a solemn voice, then asked:

  "Mr. Orcutt, you are the jailer of Beechland, I believe?"

  "That's the understanding, considering you have known the fact for eleven years," said Orcutt, with a grin.

  "May it please the Court," said the major, swinging round his arms, in sympathy with a burst of eloquence which he could, but did not utter; "may it please the Court, that the witness answers in a respectful manner."

  "The Court" temporarily relieved its mouth of a

  Mr. Orcutt went on:—"Mr. Toadvine come to me just at dark for the boy Jack, and I delivered him up, knowing Mr. Toadvine to be Mr. Mildmay's overseer." The jailer then gave his version of Toadvine's taking the negro out of the jail,—leaving the impression on the mind of the jury, however, that Toadvine did it in the most considerate manner; at the same time, he was most positive that after he closed the jail door, he knew nothing—saw nothing, of Toadvine's actions or treatment of the negro. The piece of rope that was found round Jack's neck, was acknowledged by Orcutt to be of the same coil in his possession.

  "Was the prisoner intoxicated at the time he came for Jack?" asked the district attorney, supposing that Major Trimmer had done with the witness.

  "I object to that question!" said Major Trimmer, looking very fierce.

  "If the Court please," returned the district attorney, "I will finish my examination uninterrupted, and then hand the witness over to the defence."

  "Was the prisoner intoxicated, Mr. Orcutt?" repeated the district attorney.

  Orcutt looked confused. "Remember you are under oath!" suggested "his honor," picking his teeth with a jack-knife.

  "Mr. Toadvine was slightly, very slightly elevated!" said Orcutt, after much hesitation.

  "What do you mean by 'elevated,' Mr. Orcutt?" asked the district attorney, appearing entirely at loss as to the witness's meaning.

  Orcutt scratched his head, looked despairingly around, stared at Major Trimmer, then at the Court, and finally said: "By 'elevated,' I mean that Mr. Toadvine 'felt well.'"

  The district attorney now "begged" the Court to order the witness to answer the question direct, and he again repeated it, with unusual emphasis on the word 'intoxicated.'

  "Perhaps," said Orcutt, "he mought have been 'considerable,' and he mought not—people as stay at the 'Head-quarters' all the afternoon, if they participate at all, get somewhat 'anti-fogmatic,' but not always. Toadvine was 'straight,' now I remember, for we tossed coppers for an odd quarter (great sensation with Major Trimmer), and Toadvine knew which side his bread was buttered, as quick as the soberest man as ever was in Beechland."

  "You can go!" said the district attorney, who, catching Gen. Bledsoe's eye at the instant, assumed a look of disgust at Orcutt's evident unwillingness to state a single fact.

  "You perceive, gentlemen of the jury," now chimed in Major Trimmer, "that the prosecutor's own witness acknowledges that Mr. Toadvine was 'straight,' when he went for the negro boy Jack."

  "Why didn't Orcutt say Toadvine was drunk, at once," said Withers, the juryman to Buatt, "for what harm would that have been?"

  Gen. Bledsoe, after taking the oath, was requested to state, by the district attorney, what he knew of the finding of Jack's body.

  The general, in clear voice, and very decided manner, stated that he was one of the deceased; that it was evident to the dullest intellect, from the very deep furrow, made for more than a hundred yards in the soft mud, and the appearance of the body itself, that it had been dragged swiftly all that long distance. He further stated, that he assisted with his own hands in taking the rope off the deceased neck, and that he found the spinal column not only broken from the base of the skull, but that the muscles of the neck had been extraordinarily stretched, while in the act of sustaining the dragging weight of the body. As Gen. Bledsoe was a very wealthy man, and given to taking the law in his own hands, where he was personally concerned, he escaped, of course, any undue cross-questioning from Major Trimmer.

  Graham Mildmay was next called. After being sworn, he stated that he knew nothing of the murder, until informed of it by Gen. Bledsoe, and other gentlemen. He testified that the boy Jack was, in his estimation, a harmless, inoffensive negro; that he had never been, to his knowledge, whipped for disobedience. That he was satisfied that his running away was more from ignorance of the consequences, than any thing else; and that it would

  "Do you not consider that Mr. Toadvine was unnecessarily severe, as an overseer?" asked the district attorney.

  "If I had so thought him to be," answered Mildmay, "I should not have employed him on my place. It was not since he left me, that I have become aware of the difficulties he had in managing my negroes. Without wishing to interfere with proper discipline," continued Mildmay, "I must think that Mr. Toadvine was not always considerate, and that he acted frequently from impulses which overcame his judgment."

  Two witnesses, much to Major Trimmer's astonishment, were now brought in by the district attorney, who testified, that they saw a man on the night of the murder, going out of Beechland, with a negro tied by a rope around the neck, following close behind his horse; but neither would say positively, that it was Toadvine. In fact, they both exhibited great consternation, and seemed to be afraid of committing themselves against the prisoner, being possessed of an idea in their minds, that the law was powerless to protect them against the vengeance of Toadvine's friends, in case he was convicted on their testimony; and beyond the fact, that they saw a man going out of town with a negro, on the night of the murder, nothing positive was elicited.

  Major Trimmer (who had been nervously watching the progress of the trial, and was exceedingly embarrassed, not only by the testimony, but also by the respectability of the witnesses, which kept him from displaying his favorite

  The first witness for the defence was Stubbs, the owner of the negro-catching dogs. he took his place at the stand, and went through the, to him, unnecessary form of an oath; and was requested by Major Trimmer, to be so kind as to state to the jury what he knew of the boy Jack.

  Stubbs, who had been by Major Trimmer designedly kept in the bar-room of the "Head-quarters," until Mildmay's testimony had been given, got up, perfectly prepared to answer Major Trimmer's leading questions, without regard to their meaning or effect, which would not have been the case, had he known all the particulars; for he knew he was dependent upon the planters for his business, and therefore did not like to offend them. As it was, Major Trimmer "pumped" Stubbs to his heart's content, and concluded as follows:

  "It has been stated, Mr. Stubbs, that Jack was a very good negro. When you arrested him, what took place?"

  "Why you see," said Stubbs, counting the ends of his fingers in his embarrassment, "you see, that I thinks all runaways is dangerous. Why? 'cause they mostly go armed with 'bowies.'"

  "Exactly so!" said Major Trimmer, highly delighted. "All runaways are dangerous, gentlemen of the jury, and wear 'bowies,'—please remember that, gentlemen!" and thus saying, the major requested Stubbs to go on.

  "I warn't, when I cotch't Jack, if that was his name, arter any of Mr. Mildmay's niggers; I was, at the time, a

  "Never mind about that, now!" said the district attorney, sort of waking up.

  "As I said, I was trailin' for 'Juba George,' when Tiger opened on a hot scent, and Terror gave a yelp as made me yell with pride at the dog's smartness; and the hull pack commenced singing beautiful, and runnin' along as true as a bee-line, when what should turn up but this 'ere nigger as died, when Mr. Toadvine was a takin' him home."

  "Address the jury!" said the Court, unfolding out of a sort of stupid doze.

  "As I was saying," continued Stubbs, turning to the jury, and now becoming quite interested, "the dogs was a runnin' as fine as a ha'r, when this Jack sprung up, leaped like a deer over a tree, gave a yell and was off; but it was no go, he come to bay in five minutes, and fou't beautiful; I think Tige' broke one of his front teeth a holdin' on, and Bruiser got crippled for a week, and if that ain't a dangersome nigger, I'd like to see one as is."

  "Then you think," said Major Trimmer, with a slow, hesitating voice, "that this boy, Jack, was really of bad character, and would resist if even proper discipline was enforced upon him?"

  "I think I've tuck many niggers as guv up easier than him."

  The sheriff then called Mr. Busteed, and the proprietor of the well-known "Head-quarters" presented himself.

  It was a saying among the younger members of the bar, that Busteed was a "standing witness," and Buatt, a "permanent juryman," and that the two ought to enter into business together, in these official capacities, and get a heavy salary for their services. The fact was, that most difficulties in Beechland commenced at the "Head-quarters," or could be traced directly to that popular place of resort, consequently, Busteed's testimony was always necessary, and what was most unaccountable to people of weak minds, he was always on the part of the "prosecuted," or he said, "taking up for them was imposed on by the law."

  "Was Mr. Toadvine intoxicated on the evening that he took Jack out of jail?" asked Major Trimmer.

  "How can I tell when a man's 'toxicated?" replied Busteed, with the air of an injured man.

  "But you must have some notion of such a thing!" suggested Major Trimmer.

  "Not a bit of it!" said Busteed, with a confidential air, at the same time lolling against the front of the judge's stand. "People that are fools enough to drink bad liquor will get sick, and that's what I tells my customers whenever I see 'em going to 'imbibe' at places they don't know about; besides, how can I know when a man's intoxicated,—thar's Judge Barley can carry just as much as he can git down, without a winkin', and then there's others as will keel up at the first glass."

  "I wish to know whether Mr. Toadvine left your house sober, or not?" said Major Trimmer, affecting (as had

  "Mr. Toadvine left my house as sober as any gentlemen do, and always does, and would!" replied Busteed, authoritatively.

  "Wasn't he much annoyed on the evening referred to, by losses at cards?" asked the district attorney, looking at a piece of paper handed to him by Gen. Bledsoe.

  "I demand protection of the Court for my client!" exclaimed Mr. Trimmer, with great admiration. "Protection, may it please your honor, from inquisitorial and improper questions. Whether or no my client plays cards, is a private affair,—and the witness should not answer."

  The judge, who, was getting very sleepy, on account of not being able to smoke while on the bench, and who had been, half the whole time of the proceedings, almost oblivious to what was going on before him, now roused himself, and discharging his tobacco on the floor, and tasting of the water before him, as if its primitive purity was nauseating to the last degree, he put on his spectacles in a careful manner, looked at Busteed full in the face, and solemnly said:

  "The Court will see that not only the witnesses are protected, but also that the bar and the bench are respected."

  This sudden ebullition of official dignity had a great effect on the spectators; many of them stopped talking and laughing, and things would for the moment have been quite calm and dignified, had not the sheriff startled the

  The worthy jailer at the sound came rushing out of the "Head-quarters," where he had been looking after Busteed's customers, while that gentleman was "legally engaged;" and mounting the witnesses' stand, almost entirely out of breath, he wiped his lips with his coat-sleeve, and observed to the clerk, that "he was ready to take a swar."

  The clerk reminded Mr. Orcutt that he was still under the weighty responsibility of an oath, as a witness in the case of the State v. Toadvine, and that the form alluded to would not be repeated.

  "Mr. Orcutt," said Major Trimmer, rising with dignity, and opening a volume of Blackstone, which he held upside down in his hands; "Mr. Orcutt, please state to this honorable jury, whether or no the boy Jack was sick while under your charge in jail?"

  "He wasn't sick as I knows on," returned the witness, eyeing Trimmer intently, as much as to ask, "Why didn't you post me up before the trial on this point?—what are you driving at?"

  "You say," said Major Trimmer, looking very earnest, and seizing a pen, "that the boy was not sick?"

  "No, I don't, though," said Orcutt, brightening up; "I don't say nothing of the kind, because I wouldn't say under oath of niggers in jail, that the wellest-looking of them wasn't sick."

  "Then there is a great deal of sickness in the jail?"

  "Why, generally thar is 'mong the runaways when

  "And the boy Jack suffered as others do?"

  "He did complain of the dog-bite on the calf of his leg, but nothing more, as I recollect."

  "Are you sure, Mr. Orcutt, that none of the prisoners were sick with cholera?"

  The jailer reflected for a few seconds, and said, "that he believed one of the prisoners was troubled that way; but which one, he didn't know:" and with this answer, he retired.

  "Colonel Price!" shouted the sheriff; and the name was sooner uttered, than that portly worthy presented himself. Major Trimmer, who seemed to be very much delighted with "the colonel's" appearance, asked the witness:—

  "Do you think, Colonel Price, that Mr. Toadvine is a mild or a severe man with niggers?"

  "Mild—very mild," replied the colonel.

  "What reason, Colonel Price, have you for declaring Mr Toadvine to be 'mild—very mild?'"

  "'Cause he'd let niggers off for nothing that 'ud get staked down by me, and have forty," replied the colonel, flushing with excitement.

  "Colonel Price," said the district attorney, "do you know any thing about the defendant's whipping the deceased before he ran away?"

  "Who's defendant,—and what's deceased?" asked the colonel, an idea passing through his mind that the district

  "I mean," said the district attorney, "did Mr. Toadvine ever whip Jack to your knowledge?"

  "Sartain he did," said the Colonel, looking very blank; "sartin he did, and by my advice, too."

  Major Trimmer was again upon his feet, and with a loud voice he appealed to the Court to know, if witnesses were obliged to answer questions relating to their private business, particularly gentlemen overseers, regarding their punishment of negroes.

  Price thought that Trimmer asked him the question, and he vehemently replied:

  "I rather think I ain't obliged to answer any questions that I don't want to, and you may depend on that."

  "The Court" seemed very much delighted with its temporary mouth-piece.

  "How much was Jack whipped by Mr. Toadvine on your suggestion, Colonel Price?" pursued the district attorney.

  "Just as much," replied the colonel, "as Toadvine had grease in his back to work his arms with; and since you want to know so many particulars," said the colonel, turning to the district attorney, "I would just say, that if any man gets out of 'dictment agin me for killing a nigger, I'll cut his——"

  "Silence!" said the sheriff;—"Take him out!" cried the lawyers; "Go it, old colonel!" vociferated the "outsiders."

  The judge finally leaned over, and said to the deputy

  "Oh, come out of the court—I want to tell you something," whispered the officious deputy.

  Price gazed upon the speaker vacantly, for he was very much intoxicated, and walked quietly through the crowd into the street. Quiet being restored, it was announced that "the defence was closed."

  Meanwhile, Gen. Bledsoe and the particular friends, who came with him to Beechland in the morning, formed a group by themselves, and seemed in angry conference. Expressions of contempt for the whole proceedings of the trial were to be heard, reminding one of the mutterings of a coming storm; the judge was denounced as one of "Busteed's right-hand men,"—the jury, as "a set of packed rascals,"—the district attorney, as "an ass,"—and Trimmer, "as a parasite upon the community in which he lived."

  Mildmay, who had left home at the cost of neglecting important business that required his personal attention; and feeling sorely disgusted at all he had witnessed, called Gen. Bledsoe apart, stated the facts, and announced his intention of returning home at once.

  "I would go by all means," said Gen. Bledsoe, without hesitation, "if my presence were needed elsewhere. You now see, Mr. Mildmay," exclaimed the general, with some feeling, "that that scoundrel, Toadvine, will cheat the gallows after all; you will learn, when you have lived here a few more years, that we are obliged sometimes to

  "It is a fearful alternative," sighed Mildmay; and cordially shaking Gen. Bledsoe by the hand, he musingly pursued his way to Heritage Place.

  Some little excitement existed among the spectators preceding the "opening of the prosecution." After a few general remarks, the district attorney, who was quite a young man, said:—

  "The defendant stands charged with murder. In accordance with just mercy, the laws of Louisiana make no invidious distinctions against the negro, when we come to the protection of his life; and the white man, who with malice aforethought, wilfully kills the humblest slave, has committed in the eye of the law the highest crime known to our statutes.

  "In all cases of death by violence, the law presumes it to be done in malice until the contrary be proved: this is so constructed for the protection of life. If, therefore, you are satisfied that the killing was done with malice, and find no extenuating circumstances, you cannot do less than what the law demands of you.

  "In the operation of our police regulations, a negro is committed to jail; in due course of time, the overseer calls at the place of the slave's confinement,—obtains possession of him,—ties one end of a rope around the slave's neck, and the other to the pommel of his saddle,—and before half a mile is accomplished, the negro becomes exhausted, is dragged through the mud for more than a hundred

  "The peculiar character of our institutions requires that the master should necessarily delegate a great deal of power to his confidential agent—the overseer; but that authority is not to be abused. I am sorry to say, gentlemen, that the abuse of power by overseers is becoming too common; it is a source of alarm to the thinking people of the community, that there is exhibited a growing wantonness in the sacrifice of this species of property, and the consequent shedding of human blood. Unless, gentlemen, we protect our slaves,—unless the strong arm of the law is exerted to shield them from the death-dealing influences of the irresponsible white men, society among us will rapidly degenerate into barbarism, and there will settle down upon us a cloud deeper and more terrible than that which once overwhelmed Egypt.

  "You have, also, gentlemen, a duty to perform, which should be one to you of serious consideration. There are fanatics at the North, who make it their unrighteous business to vilify and misrepresent the South. It is such cases, as we have here to-day presented, that give foundation to the misrepresentations we have alluded to; and we are bound, as we wish to have our community protected by the powerful support of the sanction of good men of every land, to punish those who would give force to the odium that is heaped upon us. We must let no more feathers, plucked from the breast of our own body politic,

  "The most responsible,—the most honorable men of our community, have given in their testimony to-day. It has been shown by Mr. Orcutt, that the accused tied the deceased with a rope around his neck previous to leaving the jail; it has been proven that the prisoner was seen leaving the town at dusk,—the negro following close in the rear. It has been shown by the testimony of such gentlemen as General Bledsoe, and others of equal moral veracity, that the deceased was found in the road, his neck broken, and with all the corresponding marks of a fearful murder.

  "Mr. Mildmay, the owner of the deceased, states distinctly, that the victim of brutality was unexceptional in character; and although a family servant, grown up under his own eye, yet no recollection was had that the deceased was ever struck a blow for insubordination, or any other cause of disobedience whatever. In view of all these facts, gentlemen, it is for you to vindicate the sincerity of our laws, passed for the protection of the slave, and show those who are willing to trample them underfoot, that it cannot be done with impunity. Spurn not the cries of blood that come from the ground, because that blood flowed from the heart of a poor African slave. Remember that the eye of Heaven is no respecter of persons; feel the full force of the demand made upon you, from the very fact, that the murdered victim was helpless,—was unsupported,—had no family influence,—no position; that he was a helpless, unoffending negro slave, with no inheritance,

  There was no applause expressed at the conclusion of the district attorney's speech, for as Puckett said to Busteed, "there was nothing in it to make a man yelp." The moment, however, it was announced that Major Trimmer was "to begin the defence," there was great excitement among the spectators. The bar-room of the "Head-quarters" was vacated in a moment by quite a number of individuals who had found the "prosecution tedious," but who were very anxious to hear the "scathing eloquence" of "the most distinguished criminal lawyer in the district."

  It was perfectly understood that the major would "exalt himself" on this particular occasion. He was always a candidate for political honors, and, as in law practice, either on one side or another, and as an election was near at hand, he had expressed to an intimate friend of the opinion, that he thought he might take advantage of his defence of Toadvine to say something so handsome of the overseers as a body, that he could secure their influence at the polls.

  The major began by saying, "that he felt deeply the fearful responsibility resting upon him, but that he was afraid that his astonishment at the fact of his client being tried at all for killing the negro Jack, would overcome his ability to do justice to the mighty wrongs his client had suffered, in this unjust and absurd prosecution." When the major concluded this opening sentence, Toadvine

  The major proceeded:—"If I were left to consult my own feelings, I should submit my injured client's cause without argument to your keeping; but, honored gentlemen, I should be doing injustice to society, to good morals, and to the rights of an American sovereign, if I did not here before this honorable court, before these enlightened arbiters, and before this chivalrous audience, express my opinion; and in my official capacity as a member of this bar, enter my protest against the unnecessary and extraordinary legal proceedings which have been made to sacrifice the liberty and happiness of one of our most useful, and, poor though he be, I will add, one of our most influential citizens.

  "Gentlemen of the jury, who is my client? I answer, a person I have long known, and been intimate with; an individual, who forms one of the bright galaxy of overseers—those noble men, who control our servile population,—who brave the heats of tropical sun in the performance of their arduous duties,—who sleep at night beside their arms, to be ready to defend whom—themselves? No, gentlemen of the jury, to defend their employers—the lordly planters—from insubordination and insurrection; a class of men, who risk their life daily, and take a sum of money as renumeration, which would be as nothing, if they were not inspired by patriotism,—were not philanthropists by trade; of such, gentlemen, is Sylvanus Toadvine, who now sits before you. And this is the man possessed of so many admirable qualities, who has

  "My legal brother, the district attorney, had stated, that it was proven beyond a doubt, that a negro had been killed. Where is the authority for such a presumption? It has been shown that past contradiction that a negro was dead, which negro, as I shall show, probably died of a fatal disorder, from what is termed a natural cause; and no personal violence to any thing to do with the case.

  "Now what are the facts? Simply these. The defendant is overseer on a large plantation; he has the control of sixty or eighty brutalized Africans, who require his constant attention; he has contracted with their master to cultivate a certain amount of land, and produce a fixed number of bales of cotton. To do this, and escape losing the reputation of a business man, the overseer labors night and day, and is properly intrusted with the sole control and management of the slave gang.

  "The overseer knows well the disposition of the negro, and while the master is treading, with dainty steps, his marble halls, the faithful overseer is winding his devious way through interminable swamps; while the master is lounging upon the delicate ethereal spring-made ottoman, the overseer makes his couch upon the hard, cold ground; while the master is indulging in the delights of the table groaning beneath the luxuries of every clime, the overseer

  "Therefore, gentlemen of the jury, when the owner of a negro comes into court, and under oath declares that negro to have been without a fault,—to have been well-behaved and harmless, that owner acts conscientiously, believes what he says, speaks what he thinks is true; but the overseer, gentlemen, can alone know the facts,—one word from Col. Price, a disinterested and capable witness, as to the outrageous insubordination of the deceased, is worth whole volumes of presumption from the good-natured, and where the affections are easily concerned, easily deceived master. Having satisfied you, gentlemen (as a mere incident), of the savage and barbarous character of this negro, Jack, for it is not necessary for me, in any way to strengthen the defence, to dwell upon the subject, I will examine the testimony adduced for the attempted proof, that he died by the hands of my injured client.

  "It is stated by Mr. Orcutt, that Mr. Toadvine left the jail with Jack; and two respectable witnesses swear they saw a man, on the evening of 'the murder,' going out of Beechland, a negro following at his horse's heels, with a rope tied around his neck.

  "Well, gentlemen of the jury, I have had some practice in criminal cases, but I never have had so weak a one before to defend. Mr. Orcutt says that the boy was tied—of course he was tied,—was Mr. Toadvine to risk his life in the hands of a desperate and dangerous runaway, armed

  "But two witnesses say they saw a man going out of town, with a negro at his horse's heels, and a rope around his neck. Gentlemen, I do not wish to impugn the motives of these witnesses, but I leave it to your imagination to comprehend, how distinctly they could see a rope in the dusk of the evening, and also to decide, if, because a man went out of Beechland, as the witnesses testify, it must necessarily have been my client, or the insubordinate and dangerous Jack.

  "The district attorney has dwelt at length on the fact, that the law announces the punishment of murder for killing a negro; he therefore argues that if the crime be proved, the law should be executed. Let me say, gentlemen, that these laws, so inconsistent with our feelings and our institutions, are borrowed with the common law of England; they were made for serfs, not independent, enlightened Southern men; and although they are legally living on our statute books, they are virtually dead; repealed by the superiority of our enlightened public opinion, by custom, and by necessity.

  "Suppose, for a moment, that my client did kill Jack, is the law such an absurdity; is the perfection of human

  "It is not true, gentlemen, that a law is a law, because it is upon the statute book. The same law that in England is construed to mean murder in the first degree, when brought before our enlightened courts, and our independent juries, is translated to be 'justifiable homicide.' In this country public opinion controls and governs the conduct of all men, and we are forced to act in obedience to its potential voice, whatever law to the contrary may exist. You will pardon me, gentlemen of the jury, for this digression, and coming back to the trial under consideration, I shall endeavor to treat it with all due solemnity, and at least to go through the forms of defence, however unnecessary it may be.

  "My client did tie a rope around the boy Jack, and why? Because he was afraid, unless he had him in the most complete manner in his power, he would slay him before

  "But gentlemen, I perceive that I am wasting your precious time by my unnecessary remarks, yet I must, before I close, allude to one extraordinary appeal, made to you by the district attorney. Not content to take every advantage of the technicalities of the law, to prejudice you against the prisoner, he has threatened you with the indignation of 'the fanatics of the North,' as a penalty for letting the innocent go free. I am shocked at such a sentiment, uttered by a Southern lawyer to a chivalrous Southern jury. What care we for the 'favorable opinion of the

  "Gentlemen, I leave my client in your hands; you have the noble, the exalted, the majestic right, to unloose the hold of justice upon him; you can open his prison doors, and bid him go free. Restore him, gentlemen, to his exalted position in society as a citizen. Remember that the blind goddess of Justice is looking down upon you, anxiously waiting to see you vindicate her purity,—that the Angel of Liberty has her pen in hand, ready to inscribe upon the stars and stripes, that Toadvine and our country are free,—that the American eagle is standing upon the apex of the Rocky Mountains, with outstretched wings, one eye bent upon this interesting scene, and the other, unblenched, staring at the noonday sun, ready in his exalted flight to scream, 'Give me liberty, or give me death!'"

  Great and continuous cheering by the jury and audience now interrupted the major, who bowed repeatedly to his admirers, and in a satisfied and oracular voice, he concluded:

  "Before you retire, gentlemen of the jury, the honored Court will give you the usual charge; you will hear the law expounded, sanctioned by the 'sacred ermine,' so long

  The moment that the applause called forth by Major Trimmer's eloquence had ceased, the sheriff vociferously called out order, order; and then taking a lounging negro by the shoulder, rudely thrust him out of doors, to show his vigilance in the public welfare; this being done, the "ermine" delivered itself as follows:

  "Gentlemen of the jury, you have heard the testimony on both sides of this case, and"—here the "ermine" yawned, and then went on: "if you think the prisoner guilty, you will bring in a verdict accordingly; if you think him innocent, you will bring in a verdict accordingly!"—the remainder of the "charge" became so indistinct, that the jurors, presuming that the "ermine" had concluded, headed by the sheriff, left their seats, and in a moment could be heard, in shuffling sounds, overhead.

  The moment the "twelve honest men" were left to themselves, for deliberation, they proceeded at once to elect a "foreman," which being done, a general conversation ensued, about crops, races, hard seats in the jury box, and Major Trimmer's speech. It was generally agreed that it was one of his tamest efforts, and this was accounted for by the fact, "that the trial being only about a nigger, didn't call forth his best style." A "piney woods' man" remarked, that he had shot a great many eagles, but he didn't see how one of them could look down and

  Buatt, who had been exceedingly restless throughout the whole trial, and had not hesitated to express it in every allowable way, now that he was in the jury-room, where he could speak, deliberately took off his overcoat, and folding it up for a pillow, stretched himself out upon a bench, remarking, "You know my sentiments,—I'm for hanging the jury, I don't care how your verdict is!" and in a few moments he fell into a profound slumber.

  The foreman said there was no use of going down stairs immediately, that it would look better to appear to deliberate a while, at least; and he started a very animated conversation about the coming election, in which the different members of the jury entered warmly, and freely expressed their opinions of the "prominent candidates."

  The sun had gone down, and as most of the jurors had become thirsty, it was decided to take down the verdict of "not guilty," which was agreed upon without any formal consultation; but there was the stubborn Buatt, ready to differ with his eleven compeers, no matter how they decided, and who, if not managed, might keep them prisoners, at the mercy of the judge.

  The foreman finally struck upon a bright idea; he told all to say they were for "guilty," and then waking up Buatt, that worthy was informed that the jury had "agreed." "How?" asked Buatt, still half asleep. "Guilty!" was the universal exclamation. "Well, I'm 'not guilty,'" said Buatt, turning over to take another nap. The foreman then said, "Here, Buatt, put down

  "Gentlemen, thar's no use a-staying here all night,—let's go over to Buatt's side, and get done with the business." The proposition was instantly agreed to, and a general laugh ensued at Buatt's expense. At first, he was quite indignant, but soon became reconciled; and as the jury was going to report to the "ermine," he said, "If you hadn't played that trick on me, I intended to keep you tied up for three days; there's the bread and cheese I had to do it on," and he pointed to a large package protruding from his coat pocket.

  The moment the jury retired, Gen. Bledsoe was seen moving about on the outside of the court-house. He had private consultations with different persons; and as the sun disappeared, a number of armed men might have been seen stationed at different points,—all appearing intent on some special object. Two were side by side, and as they examined their double-barrel fowling-pieces, one remarked, "There cannot be a doubt but that the jury will bring in a verdict of not guilty, but we will teach him that there's law outside the court-house, if there is none in it."

  The increasing darkness had settled upon the court-room,—the two or three candles that were burning only gave a sepulchral effect to the many spectators, who in silent groups remained to see the end, for it was rumored that Toadvine was "to be lynched," if let off by the jury. The prisoner maintained his place behind his counsel,

  Presently there was a movement of the jury overhead, and its members could be heard descending the stairs, which gave the usual signal that the jury had agreed upon a verdict. Every body commenced crowding round the judge's stand, and universal confusion prevailed. The jury appeared, and after the usual preliminaries, each member answered "not guilty," as his name was called by the clerk. This done, "the ermine" complimented the jury on its attention, and the high-toned manner with which it had conducted itself,—announced it "discharged;" and declared the prisoner free. Amid a great deal of confusion, a shout went up from the crowd; Gen. Bledsoe heard the offensive noise,—knew what it meant, and gnashed his teeth in anger. "Now," said he, to some persons near him, "let us vindicate the outraged laws."

  Every one now moved but the late prisoner; there he sat, from his dress the most conspicuous person in the court-house, as if overcome with emotion; he stirred not, but burying his face, remained statue-like and still. Soon the self-constituted arbiters of the law, who were hovering outside in the darkness, became impatient for their prey, and some, unable longer to restrain their fury, rushed into the court-room, to seize him where he sat, when, lo and behold! instead of the sinister face of Toadvine, there was revealed the honester one of Puckett!

  In the confusion of the giving in of the verdict, Toadvine, who had throughout acted under Major Trimmer's instructions, had shed his coat, slipped unperceived through the cordon of his enemies, and at that very moment, was swiftly speeding down the rapid current of the Mississippi.