cake that was to
constitute their only supper." But such statements need no denial; the very
appearance of the slaves themselves show their want of truth. Look at their
sound and healthy limbs, hear the odd, but sweet and musical song that
arrests the traveler as he goes on his way; listen to the ready jest which
is ever on his lips, and see if the slavery which God has permitted in all
ages to exist, is as is here described; and judge if our fair Southern land
is tenanted by such fiends as they are represented to be, by those who are
trying to make still worse the condition of a mass of God's creatures, born
to a life of toil, but comparative freedom from care. If it be His will
that men should be born free and equal, that will is not revealed in the
Bible from the time of the patriarchs to the present day. There are
directions there for the master and the slave. When the period of
emancipation advances, other signs of the times will herald it, besides the
uncalled-for interference, and the gross misrepresentations, of the men and
women of the North.

Sidney Smith said of a man, who was a great talker, that a few flashes of
silence would make a great improvement in him. So of the Abolition cause, a
few flashes of truth would make it decidedly more respectable.

CHAPTER XI.

"Come, Alice," said Mr. Barbour, "I hear, not the trump of war, but the
soul-inspiring scrape of the banjo. I notice the servants always choose the
warmest nights to dance in. Let us go out and see them."

"We'll go to the arbor," said Alice; "where we will be near enough to see
Uncle Bacchus's professional airs. Ole Bull can't exceed him in that
respect."

"Nor equal him," said Mr. Barbour. "Bacchus is a musician by nature; his
time is perfect; his soul is absorbed in his twangs and flourishes."

"I must come, too," said Mr. Weston. "You are afraid of the night air,
Cousin Janet?"

"Never mind me," said Cousin Janet; "I'll sit here and fan myself."

"And as I prefer music, especially the banjo, at a distance, I will stay
too," said Mrs. Weston.

Aunt Phillis was smoking outside her door, her mind divided between
speculations as to what had become of Jim, and observations on the
servants, as they were collecting from every direction, to join in the
dancing or to find a good seat to look on.

The first sound of the banjo aroused Bacchus the younger from his dreams.
He bounded from his bed on the chest, regardless of the figure he c