Phil. 1:10. Onesimus went back to his master to become
no longer a servant but a "brother beloved."

"Don't quote Bible at me that way, Mr. Wilson," said George, with a
flashing eye, "don't! for my wife is a Christian, and I mean to be,
if ever I get to where I can; but to quote Bible to a fellow in my
circumstances, is enough to make him give it up altogether. I appeal to
God Almighty;--I'm willing to go with the case to Him, and ask Him if I
do wrong to seek my freedom."

"These feelings are quite natural, George," said the good-natured
man, blowing his nose. "Yes, they're natural, but it is my duty not to
encourage 'em in you. Yes, my boy, I'm sorry for you, now; it's a
bad case--very bad; but the apostle says, 'Let everyone abide in the
condition in which he is called.' We must all submit to the indications
of Providence, George,--don't you see?"

George stood with his head drawn back, his arms folded tightly over his
broad breast, and a bitter smile curling his lips.

"I wonder, Mr. Wilson, if the Indians should come and take you a
prisoner away from your wife and children, and want to keep you all your
life hoeing corn for them, if you'd think it your duty to abide in the
condition in which you were called. I rather think that you'd think the
first stray horse you could find an indication of Providence--shouldn't
you?"

The little old gentleman stared with both eyes at this illustration of
the case; but, though not much of a reasoner, he had the sense in which
some logicians on this particular subject do not excel,--that of saying
nothing, where nothing could be said. So, as he stood carefully stroking
his umbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, he
proceeded on with his exhortations in a general way.

"You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend; and
whatever I've said, I've said for your good. Now, here, it seems to me,
you're running an awful risk. You can't hope to carry it out. If you're
taken, it will be worse with you than ever; they'll only abuse you, and
half kill you, and sell you down the river."

"Mr. Wilson, I know all this," said George. "I _do_ run a risk, but--"
he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife.
"There!" he said, "I'm ready for 'em! Down south I never _will_ go.
No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of free
soil,--the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!"

"Why, George, this s