Aunt Phillis's Cabin Part 6

Mr. Kent looked indignant at the interruption, while his discomfiture was very amusing to the young officers, they being devoted admirers of Mrs.

Moore's talents and mince pies. They laughed heartily; and Mr. Kent looked at them as if nothing would have induced him to overlook their impertinence but the fact, that they were very low on the list of lieutenants, and he was an abolition agent. "We calculate, sir, to give them their freedom, and then let them look out for themselves."

"That is, you have no objection to their living in the same world with yourself, provided it costs you nothing," said the colonel.

"We make them free," said Mr. Kent. "They have their right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. They are no longer enslaved, body and soul. If I see a man with his hands and feet chained, and I break those chains, it is all that G.o.d expects me to do; let him earn his own living."

"But suppose he does not know how to do so," said Mrs. Moore, "what then?

The occupations of a negro at the South are so different from those of the people at the North."

"Thank G.o.d they are, ma'am," said Mr. Kent, grandly. "We have no overseers to draw the blood of their fellow creatures, and masters to look on and laugh. We do not s.n.a.t.c.h infants from their mothers' b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and sell them for whisky."

"Neither do we," said Mrs. Moore, her bosom heaving with emotion; "no one but an Abolitionist could have had such a wicked thought. No wonder that men who glory in breaking the laws of their country should make such misstatements."

"Madam," said Mr. Kent, "they are facts; we can prove them; and we say that the slaves of the South shall be free, cost what it will. The men of the North have set out to emanc.i.p.ate them, and they will do it if they have to wade through fire, water, and blood."

"You had better not talk in that style when you go South," said Captain Moore, "unless you have an unconquerable prejudice in favor of tar and feathers."

"Who cares for tar and feathers?" said Mr. Kent; "there has been already a martyr in the ranks of Abolition, and there may be more. Lovejoy died a glorious martyr's death, and there are others ready to do the same."

"Give me my cane, there, captain, if you please," said Colonel Watson, who had been looking at Mr. Kent's blazing countenance and projecting eyes, in utter amazement. "Why, Buena Vista was nothing to this. Good night, madam, and do tell Susan not to jump into the fire again; I wonder she was not burned up while she was there. Come, captain, let us make our escape while we can."

The captain followed, bidding the whole party good night, with a smile. He had been perfectly charmed with the Abolition discussion. Mr. Jones had got very sleepy, and he and Mr. Scott made their adieu. Mr. Kent, with some embarra.s.sment, bade Mrs. Moore good night. Mrs. Moore begged him to go South and be converted, for she believed his whole heart required changing.

Captain Moore followed them to the door, and s.h.i.+vered as he inhaled the north-easter. "Come, Emmy," said he, as he entered, rubbing his hands, "you've fought for your country this night; let's go to bed."

Mrs. Moore lit a candle, and put out the lard-lamp, wondering if she had been impolite to Mr. Kent. She led the way to the staircase, in a reflective state of mind; Neptune followed, and stood at the foot of the steps for some moments, in deep thought; concluding that if there should be danger of any one's falling into a river up there, they would call him and let him know, he went back, laid down on the soft rug, and fell asleep for the night.

It does not take long to state a fact. Mr. Kent went to Was.h.i.+ngton on Abolition business,--through the introduction of a senator from his own State he obtained access to good society. He boarded in the same house with a Virginian who had a pretty face, very little sense, but a large fortune.

Mr. Kent, with very little difficulty, persuaded her he was a saint, ready to be translated at the shortest notice. He dropped his Abolition notions, and they were married. At the time that my story opens, he is a planter, living near Mr. Weston, and we will hear of him again.

CHAPTER VI.

Arthur Weston is in his college-room in that far-famed city, New Haven. He is in the act of replacing his cigar in his mouth, after having knocked the ashes off it, when we introduce to him the reader. Though not well employed, his first appearance must be prepossessing; he inherited his mother's clear brunette complexion, and her fine expressive eyes. His very black hair he had thrown entirely off his forehead, and he is now reading an Abolition paper which had fallen into his hands. There are two other young men in the room, one of them Arthur's friend, Abel Johnson; and the other, a young man by the name of Hubbard.

"Who brought this paper into my room?" said Arthur, after laying it down on the table beside him.

"I was reading it," said Mr. Hubbard, "and threw it aside."

"Well, if it makes no difference to you, Mr. Hubbard, I'd prefer not seeing any more of these publications about me. This number is a literary curiosity, and deserves to be preserved; but as I do not file papers at present, I will just return it, after expressing my thanks to you for affording me the means of obtaining valuable information about the Southern country."

"What is it about, Arthur," said Abel Johnson, "it is too hot to read this morning, so pray enlighten me?"

"Why, here," said Arthur, opening the paper again, "here is an advertis.e.m.e.nt, said to be copied from a Southern paper, in which, after describing a runaway slave, it says: 'I will give four hundred dollars for him alive, and the same sum for satisfactory proof that he has been killed.' Then the editor goes on to say, 'that when a planter loses a slave, he becomes so impatient at not capturing him, and is so angry at the loss, that he then does what is equivalent to inducing some person to murder him by way of revenge.' Now, is not this infamous?"

"But it is true, I believe," said Mr. Hubbard.

"It is not true, sir," said Arthur, "it is false, totally and entirely false. Why, sir, do you mean to say, that the life of a slave is in the power of a master, and that he is not under the protection of our laws?"

"I am told that is the case," said Mr. Hubbard.

"Then you are told what is not true; and it seems to me, you are remarkably ignorant of the laws of your country."

"It is not my country," said Mr. Hubbard, "I a.s.sure you. I lay no claims to that part of the United States where slavery is allowed."

"Then if it is not your country, for what reason do you concern yourself so much about its affairs?"

"Because," replied Mr. Hubbard, "every individual has the right to judge for himself, of his own, and of other countries."

"No, not without proper information," said Arthur. "And as you have now graduated and intend to be a lawyer, I trust you will have consideration enough for the profession, not to advance opinions until you are sufficiently informed to enable you to do so justly. Every country must have its poor people; you have yours at the North, for I see them--we have ours; yours are white, ours are black. I say yours are white; I should except your free blacks, who are the most miserable cla.s.s of human beings I ever saw. They are indolent, reckless, and impertinent. The poorer cla.s.ses of society, are proverbially improvident--and yours, in sickness, and in old age, are often victims of want and suffering. Ours in such circ.u.mstances, are kindly cared for, and are never considered a burden; our laws are, generally speaking, humane and faithfully administered. We have enactments which not only protect their lives, but which compel their owners to be moderate in working them, and to ensure them proper care as regards their food."

"But," said Mr. Hubbard, "you have other laws, police-laws, which deprive them of the most innocent recreations, such as are not only necessary for their happiness, but also for their health."

"And if such laws do exist," said Arthur, "where is the cause? You may trace it to the interference of meddling, and unprincipled men. They excite the minds of the slaves, and render these laws necessary for the very protection of our lives. But without this interference, there would be no such necessity. In this Walsh's Appeal, which is now open before me, you will find, where Abel left off reading, these remarks, which show that not only the health and comfort of the slaves, but also their feelings, are greatly considered. 'The master who would deprive his negro of his property--the product of his poultry-house or his little garden; who would force him to work on holidays, or at night; who would deny him common recreations, or leave him without shelter and provision, in his old age, would incur the aversion of the community, and raise obstacles to the advancement of his own interest and external aims.'"

"Then," said Mr. Hubbard, "you mean to say, he is kind from self-interest alone."

"No, I do not," replied Arthur; "that undoubtedly, actuates men at the South, as it does men at the North; but I mean to say, so universal is it with us to see our slaves well treated, that when an instance of the contrary nature occurs, the author of it is subject to the dislike and odium of his acquaintances."

"But," said Mr. Hubbard, "that does not always protect the slaves--which shows that your laws are sometimes ineffectual. They are not always secure from ill-treatment."

"But, do your laws always secure you from ill-treatment?" said Arthur.

"Of course," said Mr. Hubbard, "the poorest person in New England is as safe from injustice and oppression, as the highest in the land."

"Nonsense," said Arthur, "don't you think I can judge for myself, as regards that? Abel, do tell Mr. Hubbard of our little adventure in the bakehouse."

"With pleasure," said Abel, "especially as you two have not let me say a word yet. Well, Mr. Hubbard, Arthur and I having nothing else to do, got hungry, and as it was a fine evening, thought we would walk out in search of something to satisfy our appet.i.tes, and there being a pretty girl in Brown's bakehouse, who waits on customers, we took that direction. Arthur, you know, is engaged to be married, and has no excuse for such things, but I having no such ties, am free to search for pretty faces, and to make the most of it when I find them. We walked on, arm-in-arm, and when we got to the shop, there stood Mrs. Brown behind the counter, big as all out doors, with a very red face, and in a violent perspiration; there was some thing wrong with the old lady 'twas easy to see."

"'Well, Mrs. Brown,' said Arthur, for I was looking in the gla.s.s cases and under the counter for the pretty face, 'have you any rusk?'

"'Yes, sir, we _always_ have rusk,' said Mrs. Brown, tartly.

"'Will you give us some, and some cakes, or whatever you have? and then we will go and get some soda water, Abel.'

"Mrs. Brown fussed about like a 'bear with a sore head,' and at last she broke out against _that gal_.

"'Where on earth has she put that cake?' said she. 'I sent her in here with it an hour ago; just like her, lazy, good-for-nothing Irish thing.

They're nothing but white n.i.g.g.e.rs, after all, these Irish. Here, Ann,' she bawled out, 'come here!'

"'Coming,' said Ann, from within the gla.s.s door.

"'Come this minute,' said the old woman, and Ann's pretty Irish face showed itself immediately.