master, and answered, "Mas'r, if you was sick,
or in trouble, or dying, and I could save ye, I'd _give_ ye my heart's
blood; and, if taking every drop of blood in this poor old body would
save your precious soul, I'd give 'em freely, as the Lord gave his for
me. O, Mas'r! don't bring this great sin on your soul! It will hurt you
more than 't will me! Do the worst you can, my troubles'll be over soon;
but, if ye don't repent, yours won't _never_ end!"

Like a strange snatch of heavenly music, heard in the lull of a tempest,
this burst of feeling made a moment's blank pause. Legree stood aghast,
and looked at Tom; and there was such a silence, that the tick of the
old clock could be heard, measuring, with silent touch, the last moments
of mercy and probation to that hardened heart.

It was but a moment. There was one hesitating pause,--one irresolute,
relenting thrill,--and the spirit of evil came back, with seven-fold
vehemence; and Legree, foaming with rage, smote his victim to the
ground.

Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and heart. What
man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to hear. What brother-man and
brother-Christian must suffer, cannot be told us, even in our secret
chamber, it so harrows the soul! And yet, oh my country! these things
are done under the shadow of thy laws! O, Christ! thy church sees them,
almost in silence!

But, of old, there was One whose suffering changed an instrument of
torture, degradation and shame, into a symbol of glory, honor, and
immortal life; and, where His spirit is, neither degrading stripes, nor
blood, nor insults, can make the Christian's last struggle less than
glorious.

Was he alone, that long night, whose brave, loving spirit was bearing
up, in that old shed, against buffeting and brutal stripes?

Nay! There stood by him ONE,--seen by him alone,--"like unto the Son of
God."

The tempter stood by him, too,--blinded by furious, despotic
will,--every moment pressing him to shun that agony by the betrayal of
the innocent. But the brave, true heart was firm on the Eternal Rock.
Like his Master, he knew that, if he saved others, himself he could not
save; nor could utmost extremity wring from him words, save of prayers
and holy trust.

"He's most gone, Mas'r," said Sambo, touched, in spite of himself, by
the patience of his victim.

"Pay away, till he gives up! Give it to him!--give it to him!" shouted
Legree. "I'll take every drop of blood he has