 Chapter 24 of Dread, A Tale of the Great Dysmal Swamp by Harriet Beecher Stowe This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by William Jones, Benita Springs, Florida Chapter 24 Life in the Swamps Our readers will perhaps feel an interest to turn back with us and follow the singular wanderings of the mysterious personage whose wild denunciations had so disturbed the minds of the worshippers at the camp meeting. There is a twilight ground between the boundaries of the sane and the insane which the old Greeks and Romans regarded with a peculiar veneration. They held a person whose faculties were thus darkened as walking under the awful shadow of a supernatural presence. And as the mysterious secrets of the stars only become visible in the night, so in these eclipses of the more material faculties they held there was often an awakening of supernatural perceptions. The hot and positive light of our modern materialism which exhales from the growth of our existence every dewdrop while searches out and dries every rivulet of romance which sends an unsparing beam into every cool grotto of poetic possibility withering the moss and turning the dropping cave to a dusty den. This spirit, so remorseless, allows us no such indefinite land. There are but two words in the whole department of modern anthropology, the sane and the insane. The latter dismissed from human reckoning almost with contempt. We should find it difficult to give a suitable name to the strange and abnormal condition in which this singular being of whom we are speaking passed the most of his time. It was a state of exultation and trance which yet appeared not at all to impede the exercise of his outward and physical faculties, but rather to give them a preternatural keenness and intensity such as sometimes attends the more completely developed phenomena of synomulism. In regard to his physical system, there was also much that was peculiar Our readers may imagine a human body of the largest and keenest vitality to grow up so completely under the nursing influence of nature that it may seem to be as perfectly on rapport with them as a tree so that the rain, the wind and the thunder, all those forces from which human beings generally seek shelter seem to hold with it a kind of fellowship and be familiar companions of existence. Such was the case with dread. So completely had he come into sympathy and communion with nature and with those forms of it which more particularly surrounded him in the swamps that he moved about among them with as much ease as a lady treads her turkey carpet. What would seem to us in recital to be incredible hardship was to him that an ordinary condition of existence to walk knee deep in the spongy soil of the swamp to force his way through thickets to lie all night sinking in the porous soil or to crouch like the alligator among reeds and rushes or to him situations of as much comfort as well-curtained beds and pillows are to us. It is not to be denied that there is in this savage perfection of the natural organs a keen and almost fierce delight which must excel the softest seductions of luxury. Anybody who has ever watched the eager zest with which the hunting dog plunges through the woods darts through the thicket or dives into water in an ecstasy of enjoyment sees something of what such vital force must be. Dread was under the inspiring belief that he was the subject of visions and supernatural communications. The African race are said by mesmerists to possess in the fullest degree that peculiar temperament which fits them for the evolution of mesmeric phenomena and hence the existence among them to this day of men and women who are supposed to have peculiar magical powers. The grandfather of Dread on his mother's side had been one of these reputed African sorcerers and he had early discovered in the boy this peculiar species of temperament. He had taught him the secret of snake charming and had possessed his mind from childhood with expectations of prophetic and supernatural impulses. That mysterious and singular gift, whatever it may be which Highland Seers denominate second sight is a very common tradition amongst the Negroes and there are not wanting thousands of reputed instances among them to confirm belief in it. What this faculty may be, we shall not pretend to say whether there be in the soul a yet undeveloped attribute which is to be to the future what memory is to the past or whether in some individuals extremely high in perfect conditions of the sensuous organization endows them with something of that certainty of instinctive discrimination which belongs to animals or things which we shall not venture to decide upon. It was, however, an absolute fact with regard to Dread that he had often escaped danger by means of a peculiarity of this kind. He had been warned from particular places where the hunters had laid in wait for him had foreseen in times of want where game might be ensnared and received intimations where persons were to be found in whom he might safely confide and his predictions with regard to persons and things had often chance to be so strikingly true as to invest his sayings with a singular awe and importance among his associates. It was a remarkable fact, but one not peculiar to this case alone that the mysterious exaltation of mind in this individual seemed to run parallel with the current of shrewd practical sense and like a man who converses alternately in two languages he would speak now the language of exaltation and now that of common life interchangeably. This peculiarity imparted a singular and grotesque effect to his whole personality. On the night of the camp meeting he was, as we have already seen in the state of the highest ecstasy the want and murder of his associate seemed to flood his soul with an awful tide of emotion as a thundercloud is filled and shaken by slow gathering electricity and although the distance from his retreat to the campground was nearly fifteen miles most of it through what seemed to be impassable swamps yet he performed it with as little consciousness of fatigue as if he had been a spirit. Even had he been perceived at that time it is probable that he could no more have been taken or bound than the demoniac of Gadara. After he parted from Harry he pursued his way to the interior of the swamp as was his usual habit repeating to himself in a chanting voice such words of prophetic writ as were familiar to him. The day had been sultry and it was now an hour or two past midnight when a thunderstorm which had long been gathering and muttering in the distant sky began to develop its forces. A low shivering sigh crept through the woods and swayed in the weird whistling's the tops of the pines and sharp arrows of lightning came glittering down among the darkness of the branches as if sent from the bow of some warlike angel. An army of heavy clouds swept in a moment across the moon and then came a broad dazzling, blinding sheet of flame concentrating itself on the top of a tall pine near where dread was standing and in a moment shivered all its branches to the ground as a child strips the leaves from a twig. Dread clapped his hands with a fierce delight and while the rain and wind were howling and hissing around him he shouted aloud, Wake, O Arm of the Lord, wake, put on thy strength. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars yea, the cedars of Lebanon. The voice of the Lord divided the flames of fire. The voice of the Lord shaketh the wilderness of Kadesh, hailstones and coals of fire. The storm which howled around him bent the forest like a reed and large trees abrooted from the spongy and tremulous soil fell crashing with a tremendous noise. But as if he had been a dark spirit of the tempest he shouted and exulted. The perception of such awful power seemed to animate him and yet to excite in his soul an impatience that he whose power was so infinite did not awake to judgment. Rind the heavens, he cried, and come down avenge the innocent blood, cast forth and arrows and slay them, shoot out thy lightnings and destroy them. His soul seemed to kindle with almost a fierce impatience at the toleration of that almighty being who, having the power to blast and to burn, so silently endures. Could dread have possessed himself of those lightnings what would have stood before him? But his cry, like the cry of thousands, only went up to stand in waiting until an awful coming day. Gradually the storm passed by. The big drops dashed less and less frequently. A softer breeze passed through the forest with a patter like the clapping of a thousand little wings, and the moon occasionally looked over the silvery battlements of the great clouds. As dread was starting to go forward one of these clear revelings showed him the cowering form of a man crouched at the root of a tree a few paces in front of him. He was evidently a fugitive, and, in fact, was the one of whose escape to the swamps the Georgia trader had complained of the day of the meeting. "'Who is there at this time of night?' said dread, coming up to him. "'I have lost my way,' said the other. "'I don't know where I am.' "'A runaway!' inquired dread. "'Don't betray me,' said the other apprehensively. "'Betray you?' "'What I do that?' said dread. "'How did you get into this wamp?' I got away from a sole driver's camp that was taking us on through the stays. "'Oh, oh,' said dread, camp meeting and driver's camp right alongside of each other, shippers that sell the flock and pick the bones. "'Well, come, old man, I'll take you home with me.'" "'I'm pretty much beat out,' said the man. "'It's been up over my knees every step, and I don't know but what that set the dogs after me. "'If they do, I'll let them kill me and be done with it, for I'm about ready to have it over with. "'I got free once and got clear up to New York and got me a little bit of a house and a wife and two children with a little money beforehand. "'And then they nabbed me and sent me back again, and Massa sold me to the drivers. "'And I believe I's about his goods die. "'There's no use in trying to live and then going again about it so.' "'Die? No, indeed you won't,' said dread. "'Not if I've got a hold of you. "'Take heart, man, take heart. "'Before morning I'll put you where the dogs can't find you nor anything else. "'Come on, up with you.'" The man rose and made an effort to follow, but wearied and unused as he was to the choked body he stumbled and fell almost every minute. "'How now, brother?' said dread. "'This won't do. I must put you over my shoulder "'as I have many a buck before now.' And suiting the action to the word, he put the man on his back and bidding him hold fast to him, went on picking his ways if he scarcely perceived his weight. It was now between two and three o'clock and the clouds, gradually dispersing, allowed the full light of the moon to slide down here and there through the wet and shivering foliage. No sound was heard, save the humming of insects and the crackling plunges by which dread made his way forward. "'You must be pretty strong,' said his companion. "'Have you been in this once long?' "'Yes,' said the other. "'I have been a wild man, "'every man's hand against me, "'a companion of the dragons and the owls, "'this many a year. "'I have made my bed with the Leviathan "'among the reeds and the rushes. "'I have found the alligators and the snakes "'better neighbors than Christians. "'They let those alone that let them alone. "'But Christians will hunt for the precious life.'" After about an hour of steady traveling, dread arrived at the outskirts of the island, which we have described. For about twenty paces before he reached it, he waited waist-deep in water. Creeping out at last and telling the other one to follow him, he began carefully coursing along on his hands and knees, giving at the same time a long, shrill, peculiar whistle. He was responded to by a similar sound which seemed to proceed through the bushes. After a while a crackling noise was heard as of some animal which gradually seemed to come nearer and nearer to them. Till finally a large water-dog emerged from the underbrush and began testifying to his joy at the arrival of the newcomer by most excravigant gambles. "'So, whole buck, quiet, my boy,' said dread, "'show us the way in.'" The dog, as of understanding the words, immediately turned into the thicket and dread and his companion followed him on their hands and knees. The path wound up and down the brushwood through many a sharp turning till at last it ceased altogether at the roots of a tree. And while the dog disappeared among the brushwood, dread climbed the tree and directed his companion to follow him. And proceeding out onto one of the longest limbs, he sprang nimbly to the ground in the clear space which we have before described. His wife was standing, waiting for him and threw herself upon him with a cry of joy. "'Oh, you've come back! I thought so enough did got you this time!' "'Not yet. I must continue till the opening of the seals, till the vision cometh. Have you buried him?' "'No, there's a grave dug down yonder, and he's been carried there.' "'Come, then,' said dread. And he disted part of the clearing, was a blasted cedar tree, all whose natural foliage had perished. But it was veiled from head to foot in long wreaths of tilancia, the parasitic moss of these regions, and in the dim light of the approaching dawn might have formed no unlapped resemblance to a gigantic spectre dressed in morning weeds. Beneath this tree, dread had interred from time to time the bodies of fugitives which he had found dead in the swamps, attaching to this disposition of them some peculiar superstitious idea. The widow of the dead, the wife of dread and the newcomer, were now gathered around this shallow grave, for the soil was such a scarcely-gave room to make a place deep enough for a grave without its becoming filled with water. The dawn was just commencing a dim foreshadowing in the sky, the moon and stars were still shining. Dread stood and looked up and spoke in a solemn voice, seek him that maketh Arcturus and Orion that turneth the shadow of death into morning. Behold those lights in the sky, the lights in his hands pierced the sins of the world and spread forth as on a cross. But the day shall come that he shall lay down the yoke and he will bear the sin of the world no longer. Then shall come the great judgment, he will lay righteousness to the line and judgment to the plummet and the hail shall sweep away the refuges of lies. He stooped and, lifting the body, laid him in the grave, and at this moment the wife broke into a loud lament. Hush, woman! said Dread, raising his hand. Weep ye not for the dead, neither bewail him, but weep ye soar for the living. He must rest till the rest of his brethren be killed, for the vision is sealed up for an appointed time. If it tarry, wait for it. It shall surely come and shall not tarry. End of Chapter 24 Life in the Swamps Chapter 25 of Dread A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp by Harriet Beecher Stowe This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording by Michelle Fry, Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Dread, Chapter 25 More Summer Talk A glorious morning washed by the tears of last night's shower rose like a bride upon Kanemah. The raindrops sparkled and winked from leaf to leaf are fell and showery diamonds in the breeze. Breath of numberless roses now in full bloom rose in clouds to the windows. The breakfast table with its clean damask, glittering silver and fragrant coffee, received the last evening's participants of the camp meeting in fresh morning spirits ready to discuss as an everyday affair what the evening before they had felt too deeply perhaps to discuss. On the way home they had spoken of the scenes of the day when Newton speculated on the singular incident which closed it. But of all the dark circle of woe and crime, of all that valley of vision which was present to the mind of him who spoke, they were as practically ignorant as the dwellers of the curtained boudoirs of New York are of the fearful mysteries of the five points. The aristocratic nature of society at the south so completely segregates people of a certain position in life with the movements of human nature in the circles below them that the most fearful things may be transacted in their vicinity unknown or unnoticed. The horrors and sorrows of the slave-cuffle were a sealed book to Nanna and Anne Clayton. They had scarcely dreamed of them. And Uncle John, if he knew their existence, took very good care to keep out of their way as he would turn from any other painful and disagreeable scene. Both of them had heard something of Negro hunters and regarded them as low, vulgar people but troubled their heads a little further on the subject so that they would have been quite at a loss for the discovery of any national sins that could have appropriately drawn down the denunciations of heaven. The serious thoughts and aspirations which might have arisen in any of the company the evening before, assumed with everything else quite another light under the rays of morning. All of us must have had experience in our own histories of the great difference between the night and the morning view of the same subject. What we have thought and said in the august presence of witnessing stars or beneath the holy shadows of moonlight seems with the hot, dry light of next day's sun to take wings and rise to heaven with the night's clear drops. If all the prayers and good resolutions which were laid down on sleeping pillows could be found there on a waking, the world would be better than it is. Of this, Uncle John Gordon had experience as he sat himself down at the breakfast table. The night before, he realized in some dim wise that he, Mr. John Gordon, was not merely a fat elderly gentleman in blue coat and white vest whose great object in existence was to eat well, drink well, sleep well, wear clean linen and keep out of the way of trouble. He had within him a tumult of yearnings and expirings, uprisings of that great lifelong sleeper which we call soul and which, when it wakes, is an awfully clamorous, craving, exacting, troublesome inmate and which is therefore generally put to sleep again in the shortest time by whatever opiates may come to hand. Last night, urged on by this troublesome guest stimulated by the vague power of such awful words as judgment and eternity, he had gone out and knelt down as a mourner for sin and a seeker for salvation, both words standing for very real and awful facts and this morning, although it was probably a more sensible and appropriate thing than most of the things he was in the habit of doing, he was almost ashamed of it. The question arose at table whether another excursion should be made to the campground. For my part, said Aunt Maria, I hope you'll not go again, Mr. Gordon. I think you had better keep out of the way of such things. I really was vexed to see you in that rabble of such very common people. You'll observe, said Uncle John, that when Mrs. G goes to heaven she'll notify the Lord forthwith that she has only been accustomed to the most select circles and requests to be admitted at the front door. It isn't because I object to being with common people, said Aunt Clayton, that I dislike this custom of going to the altar, but it seems to me an invasion of that privacy and reserve which belong to our most sacred feelings. Besides, there are in a crowd coarse, rude, disagreeable people it isn't pleasant to come in contact. For my part, said Mrs. John Gordon, I don't believe in it at all. It's a mere temporary excitement. People go and get wonderfully wrought up, come away and are just what they were before. Well, said Clayton, isn't it better to be wrought up once in a while than never to have any religious feelings? Isn't it better to have a vivid impression of the vastness and worth of the soul, the power of an endless life for a few hours once a year than never to feel it at all? The multitudes of those people there never hear or think a word of these things at any other time in their lives. For my part, he added, I don't see why it's a thing to be ashamed of, if Mr. Gordon or I should have knelt at the altar last night, even if we do not feel like it this morning. We are too often ashamed of our better moments. I believe Protestant Christians are the only people on earth who are ashamed of the outward recognition of their religion. The Mohammedan will prostrate himself in the street or wherever he happens to be when his hour for prayer comes. The Roman Catholic sailor or soldier kneels down at the sound of the Vesper bell. But we rather take pride in having it understood that we take our religion moderately and coolly and that we are not going to put ourselves much out about it. Well, but brother, said Anne, I will maintain still that there is a reserve about these things which belongs to the best Christians. And did not our savior tell us that our prayers and alms should be in secret? I do not deny at all what you say, Anne, say Clayton. But I think what I said is true, notwithstanding. And both being true, of course, in some way they must be consistent with each other. I think, said Nana, the sound of the singing at these camp meetings is really quite spirit-stirring and exciting. Yes, said Clayton, these wild tunes and hymns with which they are associated form a kind of forest liturgy in which the feelings of thousands of hearts have been embodied. Some of the tunes seem to me to have been caught from the song of birds or from the rushing of wind among the branches. They possess a peculiar rhythmic energy well suited to express the vehement emotions of the masses. Did camp meetings do no other good than to scatter among the people these hymns and tunes I should consider them to be of inestimable value? I must say, said Anne, I always had a prejudice against that class both of hymns and tunes. You misjudge them, said Clayton, the refined cultivated women always do who are brought up in the kid's slipper and carpet view of human life. But just imagine only the old Greek or Roman peasantry elevated to the level of one of these hymns. Take, for example, a verse of one I heard them sing last night. The earth shall be dissolved like snow, the sun shall cease to shine, but God who called me here below shall be forever mine. What faith is there? What confidence in immortality? How could a man feel it and not be ennobled? Then what a rough, hearty heroism was in that first hymn. It was right manly. Ah, said Anne, but half the time they sing them without the slightest perception of their meaning or the least idea of being influenced by them. And so do the worshippers in the sleepiest and most aristocratic churches, said Quentin. There's nothing peculiar to the campground, but if it is true what a certain statesman once said, let me make the ballads of the people and I care not who makes their laws. It is certainly a great game to have such noble sentiments as many of these hymns contain, circulating freely among the people. What upon earth, said Uncle John, do you suppose that last fellow was about up in the clouds there? Nobody seemed to know where he was or who he was, and I thought his discourse seemed to be rather an unexpected addition. He put it into us pretty strong, I thought. Declare such a bundle of woes and curses I never heard distributed. Seemed to have done up all the old prophets into one bundle and tumbled it down upon our heads. Some of them were quite superstitious about it and began talking about warnings and all that. Poo! said Aunt Maria. The likelihood is that some itinerant poor preacher has fallen upon this trick for producing a sensation. There is no end to the trickery and the got-up schemes in these camp meetings just to produce a fact. If I had had a pistol, I should like to have fired into the tree and see whether I couldn't have changed his tune. It seems to me, said Quentin, from the little that I did hear that there was some method in his madness. It was one of the most singular and impressive voices I ever heard and really the enunciation of some of those latter things was tremendous. But then, in the universal license and general confusion of the scene, the thing was not so much to be wondered at. It would be the most natural thing in the world that someone crazy phonetic should be heeded almost to the point of insanity by the scene and take this way of unburdening himself. Such excitements most generally assume the form of denunciation. Well now, said Donna, to tell the truth I should like to go out again today. It's a lovely ride and I like to be in the woods and then I like to walk around among the tents and hear the people talk and see all the different specimens of human nature that are there. I never saw such a gathering together in my life. Agreed, said Uncle John, I'll go with you. After all, Clayton here has got the right of it when he says that a fellow ought to be ashamed of his religion, such as it is, such as it is to be sure, said Aunt Maria sarcastically. Yes, and I say again, such as it is, said Uncle John, bracing himself. I don't pretend it's much. Will all of us bear to be a good deal better without danger of being translated? Now as to this being converted, hang me if I know how to get at it. I suppose that is something like an electric shock. If a fellow is going to get it, he must go up to the machine. Well, you do hear some queer things there, said Nana. Don't you remember that jolly, slashing-looking fellow whom they called Bill Deccan that came up there with his two dogs? In the afternoon after the regular services, we went to one of the tents where there was a very noisy prayer meeting going on, and there was Bill Deccan on his knees with his hands clasped and the tears rolling down his cheeks and Father Bonnie was praying over him with all his might. And what do you think he said? He said, Oh Lord, here's Bill Deccan. He is converted. Now take him right to heaven. Now he is ready or he'll be drunk again in two weeks. Well, said Anne Clayton, tossing her head indignantly. That's a bless for me, in my opinion. Oh, perhaps not, said Clayton, any more than the clownish talk of any of our servants is intentional rudeness. Well, said Anne, don't you think it shows a great want of perception? Certainly it does, said Clayton. It shows great rudeness and coarseness of fiber and is not at all to be commended. But still we are not to judge of it by the rules of cultivated society. In well-trained minds, every faculty keeps its due boundaries, but in this kind of wild forest growth, mirthfulness will sometimes overgrow reverence just as the yellow jesamine will completely smother a tree. A great many of the ordinances of the old mosaic dispensation were intended to counteract this very tendency. Well, said Nana, did you notice poor old Tiff so intent on getting his children converted? Tiff didn't seem to have the least thought or reference to getting into heaven himself. The only thing with him was to get those children in. Tiff seems to me just like those mistletoes that we see on the trees in the swamps. He don't seem to have any root of his own. He seems to grow out of something else. Those children are very pretty-looking, genteel children, said Anne, and how well they were dressed. My dear, said Nana, Tiff prostrates himself at my shrine every time he meets me to implore my favorable supervision as to that point, and it really is diverting to hear him talk. The old caliban has an eye for color and a sense of what is suitable equal to any French milliner I assure you, my dear. I always was reputed for having a talent for dress, and Tiff appreciates me. Isn't it charming of him? I declare when I see the old creature lugging about those children I always think of an ugly old cactus with its blossoms. I believe he verily thinks they belong to him just as much. Their father is entirely dismissed from Tiff's calculations. Evidently all he wants of him is to keep out of the way and let him work. The whole burden of their education lies on his shoulders. For my part, said Aunt Nesbitt, I'm glad you have faith to believe in those children. I haven't. They'll be sure to turn out badly. You see if they don't. And I think, said Aunt Maria, we have enough to do with our own servants without taking all these miserable whites on our hands, too. I'm not going to take all the whites, said Naina. I'm going to take these children. I wish you joy, said Aunt Maria. I wonder, said Aunt Nesbitt, if Harry is under concern of mind. He seems to be dreadfully down this morning. Is he, said Naina? I hadn't noticed it. Well, said Uncle John, perhaps you'll get set up today. Who knows? In fact, I hope I shall myself. I'll tell you what it is, Parsons, said he, laying his hand on Clayton's shoulder. You should take the gig today and drive this little sinner and let me go with the ladies. Of course, you know Mrs. G engrosses my whole soul, but then there's a kind of insensible improvement that comes from such celestial bodies as Miss Anne here that oughtn't to be denied to me. The clergy ought to enumerate female influence among the means of grace. I'm sure there's nothing builds me up like it. Clayton, of course, assented very readily to this arrangement and the party was adjusted on this basis. Lookie here now, Clayton, said Uncle John, tipping him a sly wink after he had handed Nina in. You must confess that little penitent. She wants a spiritual director, my boy. I tell you what, Clayton, there isn't a girl like that in North Carolina. There's blood, sir, there. You must humor her on a bit and give her her head a while. Ah, but she'll draw well at last. I always like a creature that kicks to pieces, harness, wagon and all to begin with. They do the best when they are broken in. With which profound remarks Uncle John turned to hand Anne Clayton to the carriage. Clayton understood too well what he was about to make any such use of the interview as Uncle John had suggested. He knew perfectly that his best chance, with the nature so restless as Nina's, was to keep up a sense of perfect freedom in all their intercourse and therefore no grandfather could have been more collected and easy in a tete-a-tete drive than he. The last conversation at the camp meeting he knew had brought them much nearer to each other than they had ever stood before because both had spoken in deep earnestness of feeling what laid deepest in their heart and one such moment, he well knew, was of more binding force than a hundred nominal betrothals. The morning was one of those perfect ones which succeed a thundershower in the night when the air cleared of every gross vapor and impregnated with the moist exhalations from the woods is both balmy and stimulating. The steaming air developed to the full the balsamic properties of the pine groves through which they rode and where the road skirted the swampy land the light fell slanting on the leaves of the deciduous trees rustling and dripping with the last night's shower. The heavens were full of those brilliant island-like clouds which is said to be a peculiarity of American skies in their distinct relief above the intense blue. At a long distance they caught the sound of camp meeting hymns but before they reached the ground they saw, in more than one riotous group, the result of two frequent and application to Abidjah's skin-flint department and others of similar character. They visited the quarters of old Tiff whom they found busy ironing some clothes for the baby which he had washed and hung out the night before. The preaching had not yet commenced and the party walked about among the tents. Women were busy cooking and washing dishes under the trees and there was a great deal of good-natured gossiping. One of the most remarkable features of the day was a sermon from Father Dixon on the sins of the church. It concluded with the most forcible and solemn appeal to all on the subject of slavery. He reminded both the Methodists and the Presbyterians that their books of discipline had most pointedly and unequivocally condemned it, that John Wesley had denounced it as the sum of all villainies and that the general assemblies of the Presbyterian church had condemned it as holy and consistent with the religion of Christ, with the great law which requires us to love others as ourselves. He related the scene which he had lately witnessed in the Slave Cuffle. He spoke of the horrors of the interstate slave trade and drew a touching picture of the separation of families and the rending of all domestic and social ties which resulted from it and alluding to the unknown speaker of the evening before told his audience that he had discerned a deep significance in his words and that he feared if there was not immediate repentance and reformation the land would yet be given up to the visitations of divine wrath. As he spoke with feeling he awakened feeling in return. Many were affected even to tears, but when the sermon was over it seemed to melt away as a wave flows back again into the sea. It was far easier to join in a temporary whirlwind of excitement than to take into consideration troublesome, difficult and expensive reforms. Yet still it is due to the degenerate Christianity of the slave states to say that during the long period in which the church there had been corrupting itself and lowering its standard of right to meet a depraved institution there have not been wanting from time to time noble confessors who have spoken for God and humanity. For many years they were listened to with that kind of pensive tolerance which men give when they acknowledge their fault without any intention of mending. Of late years however the lines have been drawn more sharply and such witnesses have spoken in peril of their lives so that now seldom a voice arises except in approbation of oppression. The sermon was fruitful of much discussion in different parts of the campground and none perhaps was louder in the approbation of it than the Georgia trader who seated on Abidjah's skin flints counter-declared. That was a parson as was a parson and that he liked his pluck and for his part when ministers and church members would give over buying he should take up some other trade. That was a very good sermon said Nana and I believe every word of it but then what do you suppose we ought to do? Why? said Clayton. We ought to contemplate emancipation as a future certainty and prepare our people in the shortest possible time. This conversation took place as the party were seated at their nooning under the trees around an unpacked hamper of cold provisions which they were leisurely discussing. Why bless my soul Clayton said Uncle John I don't see the sense of such anathema Maranatha as we got today. Good Lord, what earthly harm are we doing? As to our niggers, they are better off than we are. I say it coolly that is as coolly as a man can say anything between one and two o'clock in such weather as this. Why look at my niggers, do I ever have any chickens or eggs or cucumbers? No, to be sure. All my chickens die and the cut worms play the devil with my cucumbers but the niggers have enough. There is flourish like a green bay tree and of course I have to buy of them. They raise chickens, I buy them and cook them and then they eat them. That's the way it goes. As to the slave coffals and slave prisons and the trade why that's abominable to be sure. But Lord bless you, I don't want it done. I kick a trader off my doorsteps forthwith though I'm all eaten up with woolly heads like locusts. I don't like such sermons for my part. Well, said Aunt Nesbitt our Mr. Titmarsh preached quite another way when I attended church in E. He proved that slavery was a scriptural institution and established by God. I should think anybody's common sense would show that a thing which worked so poorly for both sides couldn't be from God, said Nana. Who is Mr. Titmarsh? Said Clayton to her aside. Oh, one of Aunt Nesbitt's favorites and one of my aversions. He isn't a man. He's nothing but a theological dictionary with a cravat on. I can't bear him. Now, people may talk as much as they please of the educated democracy of the north, said Uncle John. I don't like him. What do working men want of education? Ruins them. I've heard of their learned blacksmiths around neglecting their work to make speeches. I don't like such things. It raises them above their sphere. And there's nothing going on up in those northern states but a constant confusion and hubbub. All sorts of heresies come from the north and infidelity and the Lord knows what. We have peace down here. To be sure our poor whites are in a devil of a fix, but we haven't got them under yet. We shall get them in one of these days with our niggers and then all will be contentment. Yes, said none. There's Uncle John's view of the millennium. To be sure, said Uncle John, the lower classes want governing. They want care. That's what they want. And all they need to know is what the Episcopal Church Catechism says. To learn and labor truly to get their own living in the state wherein it has pleased God to call them. That makes a well-behaved lower class and a handsome, gentlemanly, orderly state of society. The upper classes ought to be instructed in their duties. They ought to be considerate and condescending and all that. That's my view of society. Then you are no Republican, said Clayton. Bless you, yes I am. I believe in the equality of gentlemen and the equal rights of well-bred people. That's my idea of a republic. Clayton, none, and Anne left. Now, said none, to see Uncle so jovial and free and how fellow well-met with everybody, you'd think he was the greatest Democrat that ever walked. But you see, it's only because he's so immeasurably certain of his superior position. That's all. He isn't afraid to kneel at the altar with Bill Dakin or Jim Sykes because he's so sure that his position can't be compromised. And besides that chick, said Uncle John, I have the sense to know that in my maker's presence all human differences are child's play. And Uncle John spoke with a momentary solemnity which was heartfelt. It was agreed by the party that they would not stay to attend the evening exercises. The novelty of the effect was over and Aunt Nesbitt spoke of the bad effects of falling dew and night air. Accordingly, as soon as the air was sufficiently cooled to make riding practicable, the party were again on their way home. The woodland path was streaked with green and gold bands of light thrown between the tree trunks across the way and the trees reverberated with the evening song of birds. Naina and Clayton naturally fell into a quiet and subdued train of conversation. It is strange, said Naina, these talkings and searchings about religion. Now there are people who have something they call religion which I don't think does them any good. It isn't of any use. It doesn't make them better. And it makes them very disagreeable. I would rather be as I am than to have what they call religion. But then there are others that have something which I know is a religion, something that I know I have not, something that I give all the world to have and don't know how to get it. Now there was Livy Ray. You ought to have seen Livy Ray. There was something so superior about her and what was extraordinary is that she was good without being stupid. What do you suppose the reason is that good people are generally so stupid? A great deal, said Clayton, is called goodness, which is nothing but want of force. A person is said to have self-government simply because he has nothing to govern. They talk about self-denial when their desires are so weak that one course is about as easy to them as another. Such people easily fall into a religious routine, get by heart a set of phrases, and make, as you say, very stupid good people. Now Livy, said Nina, was remarkable. She had that kind of education that they give girls in New England, stronger and more like a man's than ours. She could read Greek and Latin as easily as she could French and Italian. She was keen, shrewd, and witty, and had the kind of wild grace about her like these grapevines. Yet she was so strong. Well, do you know I almost worship Livy? And I think the little while she was in our school she did me more good than all the teachers and studying put together. Why, it does one good to know that such people are possible. Don't you think it does? Yes, said Clayton. All the good in the world is done by the personality of people. Now in books it isn't so much what you learn from them as the contact it gives you with the personality of the writer that improves you. A real book always makes you feel that there is more in the writer than anything that he has said. That, said Nina eagerly, is just the way I feel towards Livy. She seems to me like a mind. When I was with her the longest I always felt as if I hadn't have seen her. She always made me hungry to know her more. I mean to read you some of her letters sometime. She writes beautiful letters and I appreciate that very much because I can't do that. I can talk better than I can write. Somehow my ideas will not take a course down through my arms. They always will run up to my mouth. But you ought to see Livy such people always make me very discontented with myself. I don't know what the reason is that I like to see superior people and things when they always make me realize what a poor concern I am. Now the first time I heard Jenny Lin sing it spoiled all my music and all my songs for me. Turned them all to trash at one stroke. And yet I liked it. But I don't seem to have got any further in goodness and just dissatisfaction with myself. Well, said Clayton, there's where the foundations stone of all excellence is laid. The very first blessing that Christ pronounced was on those who were poor in spirit. The indispensable condition of all progress in art, science, or religion is to feel that we have nothing. Do you know, said Nana, after something of a pause, that I can't help wondering what you took up with me for. I have thought very often that you ought to have Livy Ray. Well, I'm much obliged to you, said Clayton, for your consideration in providing for me. But supposing I should prefer my own choice after all. We men are a little willful sometimes, like you of the gentler sex. Well, said Nana, if you will have the bad taste then to insist on liking me, let me warn you that you don't know what you are about. You are a very unformed, unpractical person. I don't keep accounts. I'm nothing at all of a housekeeper. I shall leave open doors and scatter papers, and forget the day of the month and tear the newspaper and do everything else that is wicked. And then one of these days it will be, Nana, why haven't you done this and why haven't you done that and why don't you do the other and talk before. And then you see I shan't like it and I shan't behave well. Haven't the least hope of it won't ever engage too. So now won't you take warning? No, said Clayton, looking at her with a curious kind of a smile. I don't think I shall. How dreadfully positive and self-willed men are, said Nana, drawing a long breath and pretending to laugh. I love that in you ladies, said Clayton. We have to do it for both. So then, said Nana, looking round with a half laugh and half blush, you will persist. Yes, you wicked little witch, said Clayton. Since you challenge me, I will. And as he spoke, he passed his arm round, Nana firmly and fixed his eyes on hers. Come now, my little Baltimore Oreo. Have I caught you? And... But we are making our chapters too long. End of Chapter 25. More summer talk. Chapter 26 of Dread, A Tale of the Great Dismal Swamp by Harriet Beecher Stowe. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording by Michelle Fry and Richard Louisiana. Dread. Chapter 26. Millie's Return. The visit of Clayton and his sister, like all other pleasant things, had its end. Clayton was called back to his law office and books and then went to make some summer visits previous to her going to Clayton's plantation of Magnolia Grove, where she was to superintend his various schemes for the improvement of his negroes. Although it was gravely insisted to the last that there was no engagement between Nina and Clayton, it became evident enough to all parties that only the name was wanting. The warmest possible friendship existed between Nina and Anne and notwithstanding that Nina almost every day said something which crossed Anne's nicely adjusted views and notwithstanding Anne had a gentle infusion of that disposition to sermonize which often exists in very excellent young ladies. Still, the two got on excellently well together. It is to be confessed that the week after they left, Nina was rather restless and lonesome and troubled to pass her time. An incident which we shall relate, however, gave her something to think of and opens a new page in our story. While sitting on the veranda after breakfast, her attention was called by various exclamations from the negro department on the right side of the mansion and looking out to her great surprise she saw Millie standing amid a group who were surrounding her with eager demonstrations. Immediately she ran down the steps to inquire what it might mean. Approaching nearer she was somewhat startled to see that her old friend had her head bound up and her arm in a sling and as she came towards her she observed that she seemed to walk with difficulty with a gate quite different from her usual firm, hilarious tread. "'Why, Millie,' she said, running towards her with eagerness, "'What's the matter?' "'Not much, child, I reckon. Now I've got home.' "'Well, but what's the matter with your arm?' "'No, great.' That darn man shod me, but praised the Lord, he didn't kill me. "'I know him no grudge, but I thought it wasn't right and fit that I should be treated so, and so I just put.' "'Why, come in the house this minute,' said Nana, laying hold of her friend and drawing her towards the steps. "'It's a shame. Come in, Millie, come in. That man? I knew he wasn't to be trusted, so this is the good place he found for you, is it?' "'Just so,' said Tom Tit, when all the miles came after, with a towel hanging over one arm and a knife half-cleaned in his hand, while Rose and Old Hundred and several others followed to the veranda. "'Laws are me,' said Aunt Rose, just to think on it. "'That's what it is for old families to hide and niggas out to common people.' "'Well,' said Old Hundred, Millie was all hers too high feeling, held her head up too much. And she was surprised at all. "'Oh, go long, you old hominy beetle,' said Aunt Rose. "'Don't know nobody that holds up their head higher nor you does.' Nana, after having dismissed the special train of juveniles and servants, began to examine into the condition of her friend. The arm had evidently been grazed by a bullet, producing somewhat of a deep flesh wound which had been aggravated by the heat of the weather and the fatigue gone. On removing the bandage around her head, a number of deep and severe flesh cuts were perceived. "'What's all this?' said Nana. "'It's why he hit me over the head. He was in drink, child. He didn't well know what he was about.' "'What an abominable shame! Look here, turn around to Aunt Nesbitt. See what comes of hiring Millie out.' "'I'm sure I don't know what's to be done,' said Aunt Nesbitt beautifully. "'Done? Why, of course, these are to be bandaged and put up in the first place,' said Nana, bustling about with great promptness, tearing off bandages and ringing for warm water. "'Aunt Millie, I'll do them up for you myself. I'm a pretty good nurse when I said about it.' "'Bless you, child. But it seems good to be home, my friends.' "'Yes, and you won't go away again in a hurry,' said Nana as she proceeded rapidly taking, washing and bandaging the wound. "'There now. You look something like, and now you shall lie down in my room and take a little rest.' "'Thank you, honey child, but I'll go on to my room. Peers like is more home like,' said Millie, and Nana with her usual energy waited on her there, closed the blinds and spread a shawl over her after she had lain down, and after charging her two or three times to go to her. She could hardly wait to have her get through her nap, so full was she of the matter, and so interested to learn the particulars of her story. "'A pretty business, indeed,' she said to Aunt Nesbitt. "'We'll prosecute those people and make them pay dear for it.' "'That will be a great expense,' said Aunt Nesbitt apprehensively, besides the loss of her time. "'Well,' said Nana, I shall write to Clayton and he'll feel just as I do. He understands the law and all about those things, and he'll know how to manage it. "'Everything will make expense,' said Aunt Nesbitt in a deplorable voice. "'I'm sure Miss Fortune's never come single. Now if she don't go back, I shall lose her wages, and there's all the expenses of a lawsuit besides. I think she ought to have been more careful.' "'Why, Aunt, for pity's sake, is it really to go back?' "'Oh, no, of course I don't, but then it's a pity. It will be a great loss every way.' "'Why, Aunt, I really think as if you didn't think of anything but your loss. You don't seem to think anything about what Millie has had to suffer.' "'Why, of course I feel sorry for that,' said Aunt Nesbitt. "'I wonder if she's going to be lay that long. I wish on the whole I had hired that one woman.' "'Now, if that isn't just like her,' said Nina, in an indignant tone, as she flung out of the room and went to look softly in at Millie's door. "'Never can see here or think of anything but herself, no matter what happens. I wonder why Millie couldn't have belonged to me.' "'After two or three hours sleep, Millie came out of her room, seeming much better. While moving in the finest order, enabled her to endure much more than ordinary, and Nina soon became satisfied that no material injury had been sustained and that in a few days she would be quite recovered. "'And now, Millie, do pray tell me where you have been and what this is all about.' "'Why, you see, honey, I was hired to Mr. Barker and they said he was a mighty nice man, and so he was, honey, most times. But then, you see, honey, there's some folks, there's two men in him. One is a good and the other is very bad. Well, this year was just that sort. You see, honey, I wouldn't go for to say that he got drunk, but he was that sort that if he took ever so little it made him kind of ugly and cross. And so there ain't no suit in him. Well, his wife, she was pretty fair, and so he was in two separate spots. He's one of these year's streaked men that has dreadful, ugly streaks, and some of them times the Lord only knows what he won't do. Well, you see, honey, I thought I was getting along right well at first, and I was mighty pleased. But there was one day he came home and appeared like there couldn't, nobody sued him. Well, you see, they had a gal there and she had a child, and this year little thing, he got playing with a little burnt stick and blacked one of his clean shirts. I had just hung up for I'd been ironing, you see, just then he came long and you never heard a man go on so. I was here bad talking for, but I never heard no such. He swore he'd kill the child, and I thought my soul he would the poor little thing run behind me and I just kept him off on it because I know he wouldn't fit it. And then he turned on me and he got a cow hide and beat me over the head. I thought my soul he'd kill me but I got to the door and shut the child out and Hannah she took it and run with it. But bless you it appeared like he was a tiger, screeching and foaming and beating me. I broke away from him and run. He just called the rifle. He always kept one loaded and shot at me and the ball just struck my arm and glanced off again. Bless the Lord it didn't break it. That door was a mighty close run I can tell you. But I did run because thanks me there ain't no safety for me and that their house. And you see I run until I got to the bush and then I got to where there was some free colored folks and they did it up and kept me a day or two. Then I started and came home just as you told me to. Well said Miss Donna you did well to come home and I tell you what I'm going to have that man prosecuted. Oh Lord's know Miss Donna don't you goes doing nothing to him. His wife is a mighty nice woman and appeared like he didn't rightly know what he was about. Yes but Millie you ought to be willing because it may make him more careful with other people. Lord's Miss Donna why there is some sense in that but I wouldn't do it as malice. Not at all said Nina I should wait to Mr. Clayton and take his advice about it. He's a good man said Millie. He won't say nothing that ain't right. I expect that will do very well that our way. Yes said Nina such people must be taught that the law will take hold of them that will bring them to their bearings. Nina went immediately to her room and dispatched a long letter to Clayton full of all the particulars and begging his immediate assistance. Our readers those who have been in similar circumstances will not wonder that Clayton saw in this letter an immediate call of duty to go to Panama. In fact as soon as the letter could go to him and he could perform a rapid horseback journey he was once more a member of the domestic circle. He entered upon the case with great confidence and enthusiasm. It is a pity he said to the character of our state and to the purity of our institutions to prove the efficiency of the law in behalf of that class of our population whose helplessness places them more particularly under our protection. They are to us in the condition of children under age and any violation of their rights should be more particularly attended to. He went immediately to the neighboring town where Millie had been employed and found unfortunately that the principal facts had been subject to inspection of white witnesses. A woman who had been hired to do some sewing had been in the next room during the whole time and Millie's flight from the house and the man firing after her had been observed by some workmen in the neighborhood. Everything therefore promised well and the suit was entered forthwith. This ends Chapter 26. Millie's return. Chapter 27. The Trial. Well now, said Frank Russell, two under two lawyers with whom he was sitting in the side room of the courthouse at E. Look out for breakers. Clayton has mounted his war horse and is coming upon us now like Leviathan from the rushes. Clayton is a good fellow, said one of them, I like him, though he doesn't talk much. Good, said Russell, taking his cigar from his mouth why as the back woodsmen say he ain't nothing else. He is a big man. Nothing else. He is a great seventy-four pounder charged to the muzzle with goodness. But if he should be once fired off, I'm afraid he'll carry everything out of the world with him. Because, you see, abstract goodness doesn't suit our present mortal condition. But it is a perfect God's sin that he has such a case as this to manage for his maiden plea because it just falls in with his turn. Why, when I heard of it, I sure I'd be stirred myself. I went about and got Smithers and Jones and Peters to put off suits so as to give him fair field and full play. For if he succeeds in this, it may give him so good a conceit of the law that he will keep on with it. Why, said the other, don't he like the law? What's the matter with the law? What's the point of a serial stomachs that rise against almost everything in this world? Now there isn't more than one case in a dozen that he'll undertake. He sticks and catches just like an old bureau drawer. Some conscientious crick in his back has always taken him at a critical moment, and so he is knocked up for actual work. But this defending a slave-woman said one of them. And belongs to a good old family, said the other. Yes, said the third, and I understand his lady-love has something to do with the case. Yes, said Russell, to be sure she has. The woman belongs to a family connection of her, as I'm told. Miss Gordon is a spicy little puss, one that would be apt to resent anything of that sort. And the Gordon's are a very thick case, though I'm not clear that the law is on his side by any means. Not, said the other barrister who went by the name of Will Jones. No, said Russell, in fact I'm pretty clear it isn't. But that will make no odds. When Clayton is thoroughly waked up, he is a whole team, I can tell you. He'll take jury and judge along with him fast enough. I wonder, said one, that Barker doesn't compound the matter. Oh, Barker is one of the stubbed sort, you know, those middling kind of people who always have a spite against old families. He makes fight because it is the Gordon's, and that's all. And there comes in his republicanism. He isn't going to be whipped in by the Gordon's. Barker has got scotch-blood in him, and he'll hang on to it. Clayton will make a good speech, said Jones. Speech? That he will, said Russell. Bless me, I could lay off a good speech on it myself. Because, you see, it really was quite an outrage. And the woman is a presentable creature. And then there's the humane dodge. That can be taken, beside all going to work up into a speech. But Clayton will do it better yet because he is actually sincere in it. And after all said and done, there's a good deal in that. When a fellow speaks in solemn earnest, he gives a kind of weight that you can't easily get at any other way. Well, but, said one, I don't understand you, Russell. Why do you think the law isn't on Clayton's side? Here it's a very clear case of terrible abuse. Oh, certainly it is, said Russell, and the man is a dolt and a brute beast and ought to be shot and so forth. But then he hasn't really exceeded his legal limits because, you see, the law gives to the hireer all the rights of the master. There's no getting away from that, in my opinion. Now any master might all that and nobody could have done anything about it. They do do it, for that matter, if they're bad enough and nobody thinks of touching them. Well, I say, said Jones, Russell, you don't think that's too bad? Laws, yes, man. But the world is full of things that are too bad. It's a bad kind of place, said Russell as he led another cigar. Well, how do you think Clayton is going to succeed, if the law is so clearly against him? Oh, bless you. You don't know Clayton. He is a glorious mystifier. In the first place, he mystifies himself. And now, you mark me, when a powerful fellow mystifies himself so that he really gets himself thoroughly onto his own side, there's nobody he can't mystify. I speak it in sober sadness, Jones, that the want of this faculty is a great hindrance to me in certain class of cases. You see, I can put on the pathetic and heroic aftersort, but I don't take myself along with me. I don't really believe myself. There's a trouble. It's the power of self-mystification that makes what you call earnest men. If men saw the real bread and butter and green cheese of life, as I see it, the hard-dry primitive facts, they couldn't raise such commotions as they do. Russell, it always makes me uncomfortable to hear you talk. It seems as if you don't believe in anything. Oh yes, I do, said Russell. I believe in the multiplication table and several other things of that nature at the beginning of the arithmetic, and also that the wicked will do wickedly. But as to Clayton's splendid abstractions, I only wish him joy of them. But then I shall believe him while I hear him talk. So will you. So will all the rest of us. That's the fun of it. But the thing will be just where it was before, and I shall find it so when I wake up tomorrow morning. It's a pity such fellows as Clayton couldn't be used as we use big guns. He is death on anything he fires at, and if he only would let me load and point him he and I together would make a firm that would sweep the land. But here he comes upon my word. Hello, Clayton, already? Yes, said Clayton, I believe so. When will the case be called? Today I'm pretty sure, said Russell. Clayton was destined to have something of an audience in his first play. For the Gordon's being an influential and largely connected family, there was quite an interest excited among them in the affair. Clayton also had many warm personal friends, and his father, mother, and sister were to be present, for though residing in a different part of the state they were at this time on a visit in the vicinity of the town of E. There is something in the first essay of a young man in any profession like the first launching of a ship which has a never-ceasing hold on human sympathies. Clayton's father, mother, and sister with Nina, at the time of the dialogue we have given, were sitting together in the parlor of a friend's house in E. discussing the same event. I'm sure that he will get the case, said Anne Clayton with the confidence of a generous woman and warm-hearted sister. He has been showing me the course of his argument and it is perfectly irresistible. Has he said anything to you about it, father?" Judge Clayton had been walking up and down the room with his hands behind him with his usual air of considerate gravity. Stopping short at Anne's question he said, "'Edward's mind and mine work so differently that I have not thought best to embarrass him by any conference on the subject. I consider the case an error that he could have had some other.' "'Why?' said Anne eagerly. "'Don't you think he'll gain it?' "'Not if the case goes according to law,' said Judge Clayton. But then Edward has a great deal of power of eloquence and a good deal of skill in making a diversion from the main point. So that perhaps he may get the case.' "'Why?' said Nina. I thought cases were always decided according to the law. What else do they make laws for?' "'You are very innocent, my child,' said Judge Clayton. "'But, father, the proof of the outrage is most abundant. Nobody could pretend to justify it.' "'Nobody will, child, but that's nothing to the case. The simple point is, did the man exceed his legal power? It's my question he did not.' "'Father, what a horrible doctrine,' said Anne. "'I simply speak of what is,' said Judge Clayton. I don't pretend to justify it. But Edward has great power of exciting the feelings and under the influence of his eloquence the case may go the other way and humanity triumph at the expense of law.' Clayton's plea came on in the afternoon and justified the expectations of his friends. His personal presence was good, his voice melodious, and his eloquence fine. But what impressed his auditors perhaps more than these was a certain elevation and clearness in the moral atmosphere around him, a gravity and earnestness of conviction which gave a secret power to all he said. He took up the doctrine of dependent relations of life and of those rules by which they should be guided and restrained and showed that while absolute power seems to be a necessary condition of many relations in life, both reason and common sense dictate certain limits to it. The law guarantees to the parent, the guardian, and the master the right of enforcing obedience by chastisement, and the reason for it is the subject being supposed to be imperfectly developed, his good will on the whole be better consulted by allowing to his lawful guardian this power. The good of the subject, he said, is understood to be the foundation of the right. But when chastisement is inflicted without just cause, and in a manner so inconsiderate and brutal as to endanger the safety and well-being the great foundation principle of the law is violated. The act becomes perfectly lawless and is incapable of legal defense as it is abhorrent to every sentiment of humanity and justice. He would endeavour to show, he said, by full testimony that the case in question was one of this sort. In examining the witnesses Clayton showed great dignity and justice, and as the feeling of the court was already prepossessed in his favour, the cause evidently gathered strength as it went on. The testimony showed in the most conclusive manner the general excellence of Millie's character and the utter brutality of the outrage which had been committed upon her. In his concluding remarks Clayton addressed the jury in a tone of great elevation on the duty of those to whom is entrusted the guardianship of the helpless. No obligation, he said, can be stronger to an honourable mind than the obligation of entire dependence. The fact that a human being has no refuge from our power no appeal from our decisions so far from leading to careless security is one of the strongest possible motives to caution and to most exact care. The African race, he said, had been bitter sufferers. Their history had been one of wrong and cruelty painful to every honourable mind. We of the present day who sustain the relation of slave-holder, he said, received from the hands of our fathers and awful trust. Irresponsible power is the greatest trial of humanity and if we do not strictly guard our own moral purity in the use of it, we shall degenerate into despots and tyrants. No consideration can justify us in holding this people in slavery and our unless we make this slavery a guardian relation in which our superior strength and intelligence is made the protector and educator of their simplicity and weakness. The eyes of the world are fastened upon us, he said. Our continuing in this position at all is in many quarters matter of severe animate version. Let us therefore show by the spirit in which we administer our laws, by the impartiality with which we protect their rights that the master of the helpless African is his best and truest friend. It was evident, as Clayton spoke, that he carried the whole of his audience with him. The counsel on the other side felt himself much straightened. There is very little possibility of eloquence in defending a manifest act of tyranny and cruelty and a man speaks also at great disadvantage who not only is faint-hearted in his own cause but feels the force of the whole surrounding atmosphere against him. The result was that the judge charged the jury if they found the chastisement to have been disproportionate and cruel to give verdict for the plaintiff. The jury with little discussion gave it unanimously accordingly and so Clayton's first cause was won. If ever a woman feels proud of her lover, it is when she sees them as a successful public speaker when the case was over stood half laughing, half blushing in a circle of ladies who alternately congratulated and rallied her on Clayton's triumph. Ah, said Frank Russell, we understand the magic. The knight always fights well when his lady-love looks down. Miss Gordon must have the credit of this. She took all the strength out of the other side, like the mountains of England that used to draw all the nails out of their ship. I am glad, said Judge Clayton as he walked home with his wife. I am very glad that Edward has met with such success. His nature is so fastidious that I have had my fears that he would not adhere to the law. There are many things in a diagram which would naturally offend a fastidious mind and one which, like his, is not. He has established a noble principle, said Mrs. Clayton. I wish he had, said the Judge, it would have been a very ungrateful task, but I could have shattered his argument all to pieces. Who don't tell him so, said Mrs. Clayton apprehensively. Let him have the comfort of it. Certainly I shall. Edward is a good fellow, and I hope that after a while he will draw well in the harness. Meanwhile Frank Russell and Will Jones were walking along in another direction. Didn't I tell you so, said Russell? You see Clayton run Bedford down horse and foot and made us all as solemn as a preparatory lecture. But he had a good argument, said Jones. To be sure he had. I never knew him to want that. He builds up splendid arguments always and the only thing to be said of him after it's all over is it isn't so. It's no such thing. Barker is terrible Roth, I can assure you. He swears he'll appeal the case, but that's no matter. Clayton has had his day all the same. He is evidently waked up. Oh, he has no more objection to a little popularity than you or I have now. And if we could humor him along as we would a trout we should have him a first rate lawyer one of these days. Did you see Miss Gordon while he was pleading? By George. She looked so handsome I was sorry I hadn't taken her myself. Is she that dashing little flirting Miss Gordon that I heard of in New York? The very same. How came she to take a fancy to him? How do I know? She's as full of streaks as a tulip and her liking for him is one of them. Did you notice her well? Scarf flying one way and little curls and pennants and streamers unveil the other. Why, then, those eyes she's alive every inch of her. She puts me in mind of a sweet briar bush winking and blinking full of dewdrops, full of roses and brisk little thorns beside. Ah, she'll keep him awake. End of Chapter Twenty-Seven The Trial.