THE
ESCAPE;
OR,
A LEAP FOR FREEDOM.
A Drama,
IN FIVE ACTS.
BY WILLIAM WELLS BROWN,
AUTHOR OF “CLOTEL,” “SKETCHES OF PLACES AND PEOPLE ABROAD,” ETC.
“Look on this picture, and on this.”—HAMLET.
BOSTON:
R. F. WALLCUT, 21 CORNHILL.
1858.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year eighteen
hundred and fifty-eight,
BY WILLIAM WELLS BROWN,
In the Clerk’s office of the District Court for the District of
Massachusetts.
BOSTON:
J. B. YERRINTON AND SON,
PRINTERS.
AUTHOR’S PREFACE.
This play was written for my own amusement, and not with the remotest
thought that it would ever be seen by the public eye. I read it
privately, however, to a circle of my friends, and through them was
invited to read it before a Literary Society. Since then, the Drama has
been given in various parts of the country. By the earnest solicitation
of some in whose judgment I have the greatest confidence, I now present
it in a printed form to the public. As I never aspired to be a dramatist,
I ask no favor for it, and have little or no solicitude for its fate.
If it is not readable, no word of mine can make it so; if it is, to ask
favor for it would be needless.
The main features in the Drama are true. GLEN and MELINDA are actual
characters, and still reside in Canada. Many of the incidents were drawn
from my own experience of eighteen years at the South. The marriage
ceremony, as performed in the second act, is still adhered to in many of
the Southern States, especially in the farming districts.
The ignorance of the slave, as seen in the case of “BIG SALLY,” is common
wherever chattel slavery exists. The difficulties created in the domestic
circle by the presence of beautiful slave women, as found in DR. GAINES’S
family, is well understood by all who have ever visited the valley of the
Mississippi.
The play, no doubt, abounds in defects, but as I was born in slavery, and
never had a day’s schooling in my life, I owe the public no apology for
errors.
W. W. B.
CHARACTERS REPRESENTED.
DR. GAINES, _proprietor of the farm at Muddy Creek_.
REV. JOHN PINCHEN, _a clergyman_.
DICK WALKER, _a slave speculator_.
MR. WILDMARSH, _neighbor to Dr. Gaines_.
MAJOR MOORE, _a friend of Dr. Gaines_.
MR. WHITE, _a citizen of Massachusetts_.
BILL JENNINGS, _a slave speculator_.
JACOB SCRAGG, _overseer to Dr. Gaines_.
MRS. GAINES, _wife of Dr. Gaines_.
MR. and MRS. NEAL, and DAUGHTER, _Quakers, in Ohio_.
THOMAS, _Mr. Neal’s hired man_.
GLEN, _slave of Mr. Hamilton, brother-in-law of Dr. Gaines_.
CATO, SAM, SAMPEY, MELINDA, DOLLY, SUSAN, and BIG SALLY, _slaves
of Dr. Gaines_.
PETE, NED, and BILL, _slaves_.
OFFICERS, LOUNGERS, BARKEEPER, &c.
THE ESCAPE.
ACT I.
_Scene 1._—A SITTING-ROOM.
_MRS. GAINES, looking at some drawings—SAMPEY, a white slave,
stands behind the lady’s chair._
_Enter DR. GAINES, R._
_Dr. Gaines._ Well, my dear, my practice is steadily increasing. I forgot
to tell you that neighbor Wyman engaged me yesterday as his family
physician; and I hope that the fever and ague, which is now taking hold
of the people, will give me more patients. I see by the New Orleans
papers that the yellow fever is raging there to a fearful extent. Men of
my profession are reaping a harvest in that section this year. I would
that we could have a touch of the yellow fever here, for I think I could
invent a medicine that would cure it. But the yellow fever is a luxury
that we medical men in this climate can’t expect to enjoy; yet we may
hope for the cholera.
_Mrs. Gaines._ Yes, I would be glad to see it more sickly here, so that
your business might prosper. But we are always unfortunate. Every body
here seems to be in good health, and I am afraid that they’ll keep so.
However, we must hope for the best. We must trust in the Lord. Providence
may possibly send some disease amongst us for our benefit.
_Enter CATO, R._
_Cato._ Mr. Campbell is at de door, massa.
_Dr. G._ Ask him in, Cato.
_Enter MR. CAMPBELL, R._
_Dr. G._ Good morning, Mr. Campbell. Be seated.
_Mr. Campbell._ Good morning, doctor. The same to you, Mrs. Gaines. Fine
morning, this.
_Mrs. G._ Yes, sir; beautiful day.
_Mr. C._ Well, doctor, I’ve come to engage you for my family physician. I
am tired of Dr. Jones. I’ve lost another very valuable nigger under his
treatment; and, as my old mother used to say, “change of pastures makes
fat calves.”
_Dr. G._ I shall be most happy to become your doctor. Of course, you want
me to attend to your niggers, as well as to your family?
_Mr. C._ Certainly, sir. I have twenty-three servants. What will you
charge me by the year?
_Dr. G._ Of course, you’ll do as my other patients do, send your servants
to me when they are sick, if able to walk?
_Mr. C._ Oh, yes; I always do that.
_Dr. G._ Then I suppose I’ll have to lump it, and say $500 per annum.
_Mr. C._ Well, then, we’ll consider that matter settled; and as two of
the boys are sick, I’ll send them over. So I’ll bid you good day, doctor.
I would be glad if you would come over some time, and bring Mrs. Gaines
with you.
_Dr. G._ Yes, I will; and shall be glad if you will pay us a visit, and
bring with you Mrs. Campbell. Come over and spend the day.
_Mr. C._ I will. Good morning, doctor.
[_Exit MR. CAMPBELL, R._
_Dr. G._ There, my dear, what do you think of that? Five hundred dollars
more added to our income. That’s patronage worth having! And I am glad to
get all the negroes I can to doctor, for Cato is becoming very useful to
me in the shop. He can bleed, pull teeth, and do almost any thing that
the blacks require. He can put up medicine as well as any one. A valuable
boy, Cato!
_Mrs. G._ But why did you ask Mr. Campbell to visit you, and to bring
his wife? I am sure I could never consent to associate with her, for I
understand that she was the daughter of a tanner. You must remember, my
dear, that I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. The blood of the
Wyleys runs in my veins. I am surprised that you should ask him to visit
you at all; you should have known better.
_Dr. G._ Oh, I did not mean for him to visit me. I only invited him for
the sake of compliments, and I think he so understood it; for I should be
far from wishing you to associate with Mrs. Campbell. I don’t forget, my
dear, the family you were raised in, nor do I overlook my own family. My
father, you know, fought by the side of Washington, and I hope some day
to have a handle to my own name. I am certain Providence intended me for
something higher than a medical man. Ah! by-the-by, I had forgotten that
I have a couple of patients to visit this morning. I must go at once.
[_Exit DR. GAINES, R._
_Enter HANNAH, L._
_Mrs. G._ Go, Hannah, and tell Dolly to kill a couple of fat pullets, and
to put the biscuit to rise. I expect brother Pinchen here this afternoon,
and I want every thing in order. Hannah, Hannah, tell Melinda to come
here.
[_Exit HANNAH, L._
We mistresses do have a hard time in this world; I don’t see why the Lord
should have imposed such heavy duties on us poor mortals. Well, it can’t
last always. I long to leave this wicked world, and go home to glory.
_Enter MELINDA._
I am to have company this afternoon, Melinda. I expect brother Pinchen
here, and I want every thing in order. Go and get one of my new caps,
with the lace border, and get out my scolloped-bottomed dimity petticoat,
and when you go out, tell Hannah to clean the white-handled knives, and
see that not a speck is on them; for I want every thing as it should be
while brother Pinchen is here.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES, L., HANNAH, R._
_Scene 2._—DOCTOR’S SHOP—CATO MAKING PILLS.
_Enter DR. GAINES, L._
_Dr. G._ Well, Cato, have you made the batch of ointment that I ordered?
_Cato._ Yes, massa; I dun made de intment, an’ now I is making the bread
pills. De tater pills is up on the top shelf.
_Dr. G._ I am going out to see some patients. If any gentlemen call, tell
them I shall be in this afternoon. If any servants come, you attend to
them. I expect two of Mr. Campbell’s boys over. You see to them. Feel
their pulse, look at their tongues, bleed them, and give them each a dose
of calomel. Tell them to drink no cold water, and to take nothing but
water gruel.
_Cato._ Yes, massa; I’ll tend to ’em.
[_Exit DR. GAINES, L._
_Cato._ I allers knowed I was a doctor, an’ now de ole boss has put me
at it, I muss change my coat. Ef any niggers comes in, I wants to look
suspectable. Dis jacket don’t suit a doctor; I’ll change it.
[_Exit CATO—immediately returning in a long coat._
Ah! now I looks like a doctor. Now I can bleed, pull teef, or cut off a
leg. Oh! well, well, ef I ain’t put de pill stuff an’ de intment stuff
togedder. By golly, dat ole cuss will be mad when he finds it out, won’t
he? Nebber mind, I’ll make it up in pills, and when de flour is on
dem, he won’t know what’s in ’em; an’ I’ll make some new intment. Ah!
yonder comes Mr. Campbell’s Pete an’ Ned; dems de ones massa sed was
comin’. I’ll see ef I looks right. [_Goes to the looking-glass and views
himself._] I em some punkins, ain’t I? [_Knock at the door._] Come in.
_Enter PETE and NED, R._
_Pete._ Whar is de doctor?
_Cato._ Here I is; don’t you see me?
_Pete._ But whar is de ole boss?
_Cato._ Dat’s none you business. I dun tole you dat I is de doctor, an
dat’s enuff.
_Ned._ Oh! do tell us whar de doctor is. I is almos dead. Oh me! oh dear
me! I is so sick. [_Horrible faces._]
_Pete._ Yes, do tell us; we don’t want to stan here foolin’.
_Cato._ I tells you again dat I is de doctor. I larn de trade under massa.
_Ned._ Oh! well, den, give me somethin’ to stop dis pain. Oh dear me! I
shall die. [_He tries to vomit, but can’t—ugly faces._]
_Cato._ Let me feel your pulse. Now put out your tongue. You is berry
sick. Ef you don’t mine, you’ll die. Come out in de shed, an’ I’ll bleed
you.
[_Exit all—re-enter._
_Cato._ Dar, now take dese pills, two in de mornin’ and two at night, and
ef you don’t feel better, double de dose. Now, Mr. Pete, what’s de matter
wid you?
_Pete._ I is got de cole chills, an’ has a fever in de night.
_Cato._ Come out, an’ I’ll bleed you.
[_Exit all—re-enter._
Now take dese pills, two in de mornin’ and two at night, an’ ef dey don’t
help you, double de dose. Ah! I like to forget to feel your pulse and
look at your tongue. Put out your tongue. [_Feels his pulse._] Yes, I
tells by de feel ob your pulse dat I is gib you de right pills.
_Enter MR. PARKER’S BILL, L._
_Cato._ What you come in dat door widout knockin’ for?
_Bill._ My toof ache so, I didn’t tink to knock. Oh, my toof! my toof!
Whar is de doctor?
_Cato._ Here I is; don’t you see me?
_Bill._ What! you de doctor, you brack cuss! You looks like a doctor! Oh,
my toof! my toof! Whar is de doctor?
_Cato._ I tells you I is de doctor. Ef you don’t believe me, ax dese men.
I can pull your toof in a minnit.
_Bill._ Well, den, pull it out. Oh, my toof! how it aches! Oh, my toof!
[_Cato gets the rusty turnkeys._
_Cato._ Now lay down on your back.
_Bill._ What for?
_Cato._ Dat’s de way massa does.
_Bill._ Oh, my toof! Well, den, come on. [_Lies down, Cato gets astraddle
of Bill’s breast, puts the turnkeys on the wrong tooth, and pulls—Bill
kicks, and cries out_]—Oh, do stop! Oh! oh! oh!
[_Cato pulls the wrong tooth—Bill jumps up._
_Cato._ Dar, now, I tole you I could pull your toof for you.
_Bill._ Oh, dear me! Oh, it aches yet! Oh me! Oh, Lor-e-massy! You dun
pull de wrong toof. Drat your skin! ef I don’t pay you for this, you
brack cuss!
[_They fight, and turn over table, chairs and
bench—Pete and Ned look on._
_Enter DR. GAINES, R._
_Dr. G._ Why, dear me, what’s the matter? What’s all this about? I’ll
teach you a lesson, that I will.
[_The doctor goes at them with his cane._
_Cato._ Oh, massa! he’s to blame, sir. He’s to blame. He struck me fuss.
_Bill._ No, sir; he’s to blame; he pull de wrong toof. Oh, my toof! oh,
my toof!
_Dr. G._ Let me see your tooth. Open your mouth. As I live, you’ve taken
out the wrong tooth. I am amazed. I’ll whip you for this; I’ll whip you
well. You’re a pretty doctor. Now lie down, Bill, and let him take out
the right tooth; and if he makes a mistake this time, I’ll cowhide him
well. Lie down, Bill. [_Bill lies down, and Cato pulls the tooth._] There
now, why didn’t you do that in the first place?
_Cato._ He wouldn’t hole still, sir.
_Bill._ He lies, sir. I did hole still.
_Dr. G._ Now go home, boys; go home.
[_Exit PETE, NED and BILL, L._
_Dr. G._ You’ve made a pretty muss of it, in my absence. Look at the
table! Never mind, Cato; I’ll whip you well for this conduct of yours
to-day. Go to work now, and clear up the office.
[_Exit DR. GAINES, R._
_Cato._ Confound dat nigger! I wish he was in Ginny. He bite my
finger and scratch my face. But didn’t I give it to him? Well, den, I
reckon I did. [_He goes to the mirror, and discovers that his coat is
torn—weeps._] Oh, dear me! Oh, my coat—my coat is tore! Dat nigger has
tore my coat. [_He gets angry, and rushes about the room frantic._]
Cuss dat nigger! Ef I could lay my hands on him, I’d tare him all to
pieces,—dat I would. An’ de ole boss hit me wid his cane after dat nigger
tore my coat. By golly, I wants to fight somebody. Ef ole massa should
come in now, I’d fight him. [_Rolls up his sleeves._] Let ’em come now,
ef dey dare—ole massa, or any body else; I’m ready for ’em.
_Enter DR. GAINES, R._
_Dr. G._ What’s all this noise here?
_Cato._ Nuffin’, sir; only jess I is puttin’ things to rights, as you
tole me. I didn’t hear any noise except de rats.
_Dr. G._ Make haste, and come in; I want you to go to town.
[_Exit DR. GAINES, R._
_Cato._ By golly, de ole boss like to cotch me dat time, didn’t he? But
wasn’t I mad? When I is mad, nobody can do nuffin’ wid me. But here’s my
coat, tore to pieces. Cuss dat nigger! [_Weeps._] Oh, my coat! oh, my
coat! I rudder he had broke my head den to tore my coat. Drat dat nigger!
Ef he ever comes here agin, I’ll pull out every toof he’s got in his
head—dat I will.
[_Exit, R._
_Scene 3._—A ROOM IN THE QUARTERS.
_Enter GLEN, L._
_Glen._ How slowly the time passes away. I’ve been waiting here two
hours, and Melinda has not yet come. What keeps her, I cannot tell.
I waited long and late for her last night, and when she approached,
I sprang to my feet, caught her in my arms, pressed her to my heart,
and kissed away the tears from her moistened cheeks. She placed her
trembling hand in mine, and said, “Glen, I am yours; I will never be the
wife of another.” I clasped her to my bosom, and called God to witness
that I would ever regard her as my wife. Old Uncle Joseph joined us in
holy wedlock by moonlight; that was the only marriage ceremony. I look
upon the vow as ever binding on me, for I am sure that a just God will
sanction our union in heaven. Still, this man, who claims Melinda as his
property, is unwilling for me to marry the woman of my choice, because he
wants her himself. But he shall not have her. What he will say when he
finds that we are married, I cannot tell; but I am determined to protect
my wife or die. Ah! here comes Melinda.
_Enter MELINDA, R._
I am glad to see you, Melinda. I’ve been waiting long, and feared you
would not come. Ah! in tears again?
_Melinda._ Glen, you are always thinking I am in tears. But what did
master say to-day?
_Glen._ He again forbade our union.
_Melinda._ Indeed! Can he be so cruel?
_Glen._ Yes, he can be just so cruel.
_Melinda._ Alas! alas! how unfeeling and heartless! But did you appeal to
his generosity?
_Glen._ Yes, I did; I used all the persuasive powers that I was master
of, but to no purpose; he was inflexible. He even offered me a new suit
of clothes, if I would give you up; and when I told him that I could not,
he said he would flog me to death if I ever spoke to you again.
_Melinda._ And what did you say to him?
_Glen._ I answered, that, while I loved life better than death, even life
itself could not tempt me to consent to a separation that would make life
an unchanging curse. Oh, I would kill myself, Melinda, if I thought that,
for the sake of life, I could consent to your degradation. No, Melinda,
I can die, but shall never live to see you the mistress of another man.
But, my dear girl, I have a secret to tell you, and no one must know it
but you. I will go out and see that no person is within hearing. I will
be back soon.
[_Exit GLEN, L._
_Melinda._ It is often said that the darkest hour of the night precedes
the dawn. It is ever thus with the vicissitudes of human suffering.
After the soul has reached the lowest depths of despair, and can no
deeper plunge amid its rolling, fœtid shades, then the reactionary
forces of man’s nature begin to operate, resolution takes the place of
despondency, energy succeeds instead of apathy, and an upward tendency is
felt and exhibited. Men then hope against power, and smile in defiance
of despair. I shall never forget when first I saw Glen. It is now more
than a year since he came here with his master, Mr. Hamilton. It was a
glorious moonlight night in autumn. The wide and fruitful face of nature
was silent and buried in repose. The tall trees on the borders of Muddy
Creek waved their leafy branches in the breeze, which was wafted from
afar, refreshing over hill and vale, over the rippling water, and the
waving corn and wheat fields. The starry sky was studded over with a few
light, flitting clouds, while the moon, as if rejoicing to witness the
meeting of two hearts that should be cemented by the purest love, sailed
triumphantly along among the shifting vapors.
Oh, how happy I have been in my acquaintance with Glen! That he loves
me, I do well believe it; that I love him, it is most true. Oh, how I
would that those who think the slave incapable of the finer feelings,
could only see our hearts, and learn our thoughts,—thoughts that we dare
not utter in the presence of our masters! But I fear that Glen will be
separated from me, for there is nothing too base and mean for master to
do, for the purpose of getting me entirely in his power. But, thanks to
Heaven, he does not own Glen, and therefore cannot sell him. Yet he might
purchase him from his brother-in-law, so as to send him out of the way.
But here comes my husband.
_Enter GLEN, L._
_Glen._ I’ve been as far as the overseer’s house, and all is quiet. Now,
Melinda, as you are my wife, I will confide to you a secret. I’ve long
been thinking of making my escape to Canada, and taking you with me. It
is true that I don’t belong to your master, but he might buy me from
Hamilton, and then sell me out of the neighborhood.
_Melinda._ But we could never succeed in the attempt to escape.
_Glen._ We will make the trial, and show that we at least deserve
success. There is a slave trader expected here next week, and Dr. Gaines
would sell you at once if he knew that we were married. We must get ready
and start, and if we can pass the Ohio river, we’ll be safe on the road
to Canada.
[_Exit, R._
_Scene 4._—DINING-ROOM.
_REV. MR. PINCHEN giving MRS. GAINES an account of his
experience as a minister—HANNAH clearing away the breakfast
table—SAMPEY standing behind MRS. GAINES’ chair._
_Mrs. Gaines._ Now, do give me more of your experience, brother Pinchen.
It always does my soul good to hear religious experience. It draws me
nearer and nearer to the Lord’s side. I do love to hear good news from
God’s people.
_Mr. Pinchen._ Well, sister Gaines, I’ve had great opportunities
in my time to study the heart of man. I’ve attended a great many
camp-meetings, revival meetings, protracted meetings, and death-bed
scenes, and I am satisfied, sister Gaines, that the heart of man is full
of sin, and desperately wicked. This is a wicked world, sister Gaines, a
wicked world.
_Mrs. G._ Were you ever in Arkansas, brother Pinchen? I’ve been told that
the people out there are very ungodly.
_Mr. P._ Oh, yes, sister Gaines. I once spent a year at Little Rock,
and preached in all the towns round about there; and I found some hard
cases out there, I can tell you. I was once spending a week in a district
where there were a great many horse thieves, and one night, somebody
stole my pony. Well, I knowed it was no use to make a fuss, so I told
brother Tarbox to say nothing about it, and I’d get my horse by preaching
God’s everlasting gospel; for I had faith in the truth, and knowed that
my Savior would not let me lose my pony. So the next Sunday I preached
on horse-stealing, and told the brethren to come up in the evenin’ with
their hearts filled with the grace of God. So that night the house was
crammed brim full with anxious souls, panting for the bread of life.
Brother Bingham opened with prayer, and brother Tarbox followed, and I
saw right off that we were gwine to have a blessed time. After I got ’em
pretty well warmed up, I jumped on to one of the seats, stretched out my
hands, and said, “I know who stole my pony; I’ve found out; and you are
in here tryin’ to make people believe that you’ve got religion; but you
ain’t got it. And if you don’t take my horse back to brother Tarbox’s
pasture this very night, I’ll tell your name right out in meetin’
to-morrow night. Take my pony back, you vile and wretched sinner, and
come up here and give your heart to God.” So the next mornin’, I went out
to brother Tarbox’s pasture, and sure enough, there was my bob-tail pony.
Yes, sister Gaines, there he was, safe and sound. Ha, ha, ha.
_Mrs. G._ Oh, how interesting, and how fortunate for you to get your
pony! And what power there is in the gospel! God’s children are very
lucky. Oh, it is so sweet to sit here and listen to such good news from
God’s people! You Hannah, what are you standing there listening for, and
neglecting your work? Never mind, my lady, I’ll whip you well when I
am done here. Go at your work this moment, you lazy huzzy! Never mind,
I’ll whip you well. [_Aside._] Come, do go on, brother Pinchen, with your
godly conversation. It is so sweet! It draws me nearer and nearer to the
Lord’s side.
_Mr. P._ Well, sister Gaines, I’ve had some mighty queer dreams in my
time, that I have. You see, one night I dreamed that I was dead and in
heaven, and such a place I never saw before. As soon as I entered the
gates of the celestial empire, I saw many old and familiar faces that I
had seen before. The first person that I saw was good old Elder Pike, the
preacher that first called my attention to religion. The next person I
saw was Deacon Billings, my first wife’s father, and then I saw a host of
godly faces. Why, sister Gaines, you knowed Elder Goosbee, didn’t you?
_Mrs. G._ Why, yes; did you see him there? He married me to my first
husband.
_Mr. P._ Oh, yes, sister Gaines, I saw the old Elder, and he looked for
all the world as if he had just come out of a revival meetin’.
_Mrs. G._ Did you see my first husband there, brother Pinchen?
_Mr. P._ No, sister Gaines, I didn’t see brother Pepper there; but I’ve
no doubt but that brother Pepper was there.
_Mrs. G._ Well, I don’t know; I have my doubts. He was not the happiest
man in the world. He was always borrowing trouble about something or
another. Still, I saw some happy moments with Mr. Pepper. I was happy
when I made his acquaintance, happy during our courtship, happy a while
after our marriage, and happy when he died. [_Weeps._]
_Hannah._ Massa Pinchen, did you see my ole man Ben up dar in hebben?
_Mr. P._ No, Hannah; I didn’t go amongst the niggers.
_Mrs. G._ No, of course brother Pinchen didn’t go among the blacks. What
are you asking questions for? Never mind, my lady, I’ll whip you well
when I’m done here. I’ll skin you from head to foot. [_Aside._] Do go
on with your heavenly conversation, brother Pinchen; it does my very
soul good. This is indeed a precious moment for me. I do love to hear of
Christ and Him crucified.
_Mr. P._ Well, sister Gaines, I promised sister Daniels that I’d come
over and see her this morning, and have a little season of prayer
with her, and I suppose I must go. I’ll tell you more of my religious
experience when I return.
_Mrs. G._ If you must go, then I’ll have to let you; but before you do, I
wish to get your advice upon a little matter that concerns Hannah. Last
week, Hannah stole a goose, killed it, cooked it, and she and her man Sam
had a fine time eating the goose; and her master and I would never have
known a word about it, if it had not been for Cato, a faithful servant,
who told his master. And then, you see, Hannah had to be severely whipped
before she’d confess that she stole the goose. Next Sabbath is sacrament
day, and I want to know if you think that Hannah is fit to go to the
Lord’s supper after stealing the goose.
_Mr. P._ Well, sister Gaines, that depends on circumstances. If Hannah
has confessed that she stole the goose, and has been sufficiently
whipped, and has begged her master’s pardon, and begged your pardon, and
thinks she’ll never do the like again, why then I suppose she can go to
the Lord’s supper; for
“While the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest sinner may return.”
But she must be sure that she has repented, and won’t steal any more.
_Mrs. G._ Now, Hannah, do you hear that? For my own part, I don’t think
she’s fit to go to the Lord’s supper, for she had no occasion to steal
the goose. We give our niggers plenty of good wholesome food. They have
a full run to the meal tub, meat once a fortnight, and all the sour milk
about the place, and I’m sure that’s enough for any one. I do think that
our niggers are the most ungrateful creatures in the world, that I do.
They aggravate my life out of me.
_Hannah._ I know, missis, dat I steal de goose, and massa whip me for it,
and I confess it, and I is sorry for it. But, missis, I is gwine to de
Lord’s supper, next Sunday, kase I ain’t a-gwine to turn my back on my
bressed Lord an’ Massa for no old tough goose, dat I ain’t. [_Weeps._]
_Mr. P._ Well, sister Gaines, I suppose I must go over and see sister
Daniels; she’ll be waiting for me.
[_Exit MR. PINCHEN, M. D._
_Mrs. G._ Now, Hannah, brother Pinchen is gone, do you get the cowhide
and follow me to the cellar, and I’ll whip you well for aggravating me
as you have to-day. It seems as if I can never sit down to take a little
comfort with the Lord, without you crossing me. The devil always puts
it into your head to disturb me, just when I am trying to serve the
Lord. I’ve no doubt but that I’ll miss going to heaven on your account.
But I’ll whip you well before I leave this world, that I will. Get the
cowhide and follow me to the cellar.
[_Exit MRS. GAINES and HANNAH, R._