Capt. Moore suddenly seized the poker, and commenced stirring the fire
vigorously. Neptune rushed to his covert under the piano, and Mrs. Moore
called out, "Dont, dear, for heaven's sake."
"Why, it's getting cold," said Captain Moore, apologetically. "Don't you
hear the wind?"
"Yes, but I don't feel it, neither do you. The fire cannot be improved. See
how you have made the dust fly! You never can let well alone."
"That is the trouble with the Abolitionists," said Colonel Watson. "They
can't let well alone, and so Mr. Kent and his party want to reorganize the
Southern country."
"There is no well there to let alone," said Mr. Kent, with the air of a
Solomon.
"Don't talk so, Mr. Kent," said Mrs. Moore, entreatingly, "for I can't
quarrel with you in my own house, and I feel very much inclined to do so
for that one sentence."
"Now," said the bachelor captain, "I do long to hear you and Mr. Kent
discuss Abolition. The colonel and I may be considered disinterested
listeners, as we hail from the Middle States, and are not politicians.
Captain Moore cannot interfere, as he is host as well as husband; and Mr.
Jones and Scott have eaten too much to feel much interest in any thing just
now. Pray, tell Mr. Kent, my dear madam, of Susan's getting you to
intercede with her mistress to take her back, and see what he says."
"I know it already," said Mr. Kent, "and I must say that I am surprised to
find Mrs. Moore inducing a fellow-creature to return to a condition so
dreadful as that of a Southern slave. After having been plucked from the
fire, it should be painful to the human mind to see her thrown in again."
"Your simile is not a good one, Mr. Kent," said Mrs. Moore, with a
heightened color. "I can make a better. Susan, in a moment of delirium,
jumped into the fire, and she called on me to pull her out. Unfortunately,
I cannot heal all the burns, for I yesterday received an answer to my
letter to her mistress, who positively refuses to take her back. She is
willing, but Mr. Casey will not consent to it. He says that his wife was
made very sick by the shock of losing Susan, and the over-exertion
necessary in the care of her child. The baby died in Boston; and they
cannot overlook Susan's deserting it at a hotel, without any one to take
charge of it; they placing such perfect confidence in Susan, too. He thinks
her presence would constantly recall to Mrs. Casey her child's death;
besides, after having lived among Abolitionists, he fancies it would not be
prudent to bring her on the plantation. Having attained her freedom, he
says she must make the best of it. Mrs. Casey enclosed me ten dollars to
give to Susan, for I wrote her she was in bad health, and had very little
clothing when she came to me. Poor girl! I could hardly persuade her to
take the money, and soon after, she brought it to me and asked me to keep
it for her, and not to change the note that came from home. I felt very
sorry for her."
"She deserves it," said Mr. Kent.
"I think she does," said Mrs. Moore, smiling, "though for another reason."
Mr. Kent blushed as only men with light hair, and light skin, and light
eyes, can blush.
"I mean," said Mr. Kent, furiously, "she deserves her refusal for her
ingratitude. After God provided her friends who made her a free woman, she
is so senseless as to want to go back to be lashed and trodden under foot
again, as the slaves of the South are. I say, she deserves it for being
such a fool."
"And I say," said Mrs. Moore, "she deserves it for deserting her kind
mistress at a time when she most needed her services. God did not raise her
up friends because she had done wrong."
"You are right, Emmy, in your views of Susan's conduct; but you should be
careful how you trace motives to such a source. She certainly did wrong,
and she has suffered; that is all we can say. We must do the best we can to
restore her to health. She is very happy with us now, and will, no doubt,
after a while, enjoy her liberty: it would be a most unnatural thing if she
did not."
"But how is it, Mr. Kent," said the colonel, "that after you induce these
poor devils to give up their homes, that you do not start them in life; set
them going in some way in the new world to which you transfer them. You do
not give them a copper, I am told."
"We don't calculate to do that," said Mr. Kent.
"I believe you," said Mrs. Moore, maliciously.
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 God 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 God 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 snatch infants from their mothers' breasts, 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 emancipate 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
embarrassment, 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 shivered 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 Washington 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.