is to me, to make my dying bed so easy. It puts
me in mind of the hymn Esther sings. She's got a pleasant voice, hasn't
she, sir?

'And while I feel my heart-strings break,
How sweet the moments roll!
A mortal paleness on my cheek
And glory in my soul.'

"Oh! master, its sweet for me to die, for Jesus is my friend; he makes all
about me friends too, for it seems to me that you and Miss Janet, and all
of you are my friends. Poor Bacchus! he takes on sadly about me; he always
was a tender-hearted soul. Master, when I am gone, I know you will be good
to him and comfort him, but, please sir, do something else. Talk to him,
and pray for him, and read the blessed Book to him! Oh! if he would only
give up liquor! I trust in the Lord he will live and die a sober man, else
I know we'll never meet again. We won't be on the same side at the Judgment
Seat. There's no drunkards in that happy place where I am going fast. No
drunkards in the light of God's face--no drunkards at the blessed feet of
Jesus."

"I think Bacchus has perfectly reformed," said Mr. Weston, "and you may
feel assured that we will do every thing for his soul as well as his body,
that we can. But, Phillis, have you no wishes to express, as regards your
children?"

Phillis hesitated--"My children are well off," she said; "they have a good
master; if they serve him and God faithfully they will be sure to do well."

"If there is any thing on your mind," said Mr. Weston, "speak it without
fear. The distinction between you and me as master and slave, I consider no
longer existing. You are near being redeemed from my power, and the power
of death alone divides you from your Saviour's presence. That Saviour whose
example you have tried to follow, whose blood has washed your soul from all
its sin. I am much older than you, and I live in momentary expectation of
my summons. We shall soon meet, I hope, in that happy place, where the
distinctions of this world will be forgotten. I have thought of you a great
deal, lately, and have been anxious to relieve your mind of every care. It
is natural that a mother, about to leave such a family as you have, should
have some wishes regarding them.

"I have thought several times," continued Mr. Weston, "of offering to set
your children free at my death, and I will do so if you wish. You must be
aware that they could not remain in Virginia after they were manumitted.
In the Middle and Northern states free blacks are