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We hear often of the distress of the negro servants, on the loss of a
kind master; and with good reason, for no creature on God's earth is
left more utterly unprotected and desolate than the slave in these
circumstances.

The child who has lost a father has still the protection of friends,
and of the law; he is something, and can do something,--has acknowledged
rights and position; the slave has none. The law regards him, in every
respect, as devoid of rights as a bale of merchandise. The only possible
acknowledgment of any of the longings and wants of a human and immortal
creature, which are given to him, comes to him through the sovereign and
irresponsible will of his master; and when that master is stricken down,
nothing remains.

The number of those men who know how to use wholly irresponsible power
humanely and generously is small. Everybody knows this, and the slave
knows it best of all; so that he feels that there are ten chances of
his finding an abusive and tyrannical master, to one of his finding
a considerate and kind one. Therefore is it that the wail over a kind
master is loud and long, as well it may be.

When St. Clare breathed his last, terror and consternation took hold
of all his household. He had been stricken down so in a moment, in the
flower and strength of his youth! Every room and gallery of the house
resounded with sobs and shrieks of despair.

Marie, whose nervous system had been enervated by a constant course of
self-indulgence, had nothing to support the terror of the shock, and,
at the time her husband breathed his last, was passing from one fainting
fit to another; and he to whom she had been joined in the mysterious tie
of marriage passed from her forever, without the possibility of even a
parting word.

Miss Ophelia, with characteristic strength and self-control, had
remained with her kinsman to the last,--all eye, all ear, all attention;
doing everything of the little that could be done, and joining with her
whole soul in the tender and impassioned prayers which the poor slave
had poured forth for the soul of his dying master.

When they were arranging him for his last rest, they found upon his
bosom a small, plain miniature case, opening with a spring. It was the
miniature of a noble and beautiful female face; and on the reverse,
under a crystal, a lock of dark hair. They laid them back on the
lifeless breast,--dust to dust,--poor mournful relics of early dreams,
whi