ality, or southern perliteness." Mr. Ropes illustrated his
remark by spitting copious tobacco-juice on the floor. "Horsepitality I
look upon as one of the stable institootions of our country."

"No doubt it is so," said Mr. Villars, smiling at the unintentional pun.

"That's one thing," added Silas; "but harboring a abolitionist is
another. That's the question we've jest took the liberty to call and
have a little quiet talk about, to-night."

"Sit down, dear father, do!" entreated Virginia, remaining at his side
in spite of her dread and abhorrence of these men. Holding his hand, and
regarding him with pale and anxious looks, she endeavored with gentle
force to get him into his chair. "My father is very feeble," she said,
appealing to Silas, "and I beg you will have some consideration for
him."

"Sartin, sartin," said Silas. "Keep yer settin', keep yer settin', Mr.
Villars."

But the old man still remained upon his feet,--his tall, spare form,
bent with age, his long, thin locks of white hair, and his wan,
sightless, calm, and beautiful countenance presenting a wonderful
contrast to the blooming figure at his side. It was a picture which
might well command the respectful attention of Silas and his compeers.

"My friends," he said, with a grave smile, "we men of the south are
rather boastful of our hospitality. But true hospitality consists in
something besides eating and drinking with those whose companionship is
a sufficient recompense for all that we do for them. It clothes the
naked, feeds the hungry, shelters the distressed. With the Arabs, even
an enemy is sacred who happens to be a guest. Shall an old Virginian
think less of the honor of his house than an Arab?"

Silas looked abashed, silenced for a moment by these noble words, and
the venerable and majestic mien of the blind old clergyman. It would not
do, however, to give up his mission so; and after coughing, turning his
quid, and spitting again, he replied,--

"That'll do very well to talk, Mr. Villars. But come to the pint. You've
got a Yankee abolitionist in your house--that you won't deny."

"I have in my house," said the old man, "a person whose life is in
danger from injuries received at your hands last night. He came to us in
a condition which, I should have thought, would excite the pity of the
hardest heart. Whether or not he is a Yankee abolitionist, I never
inquired. It was enough for me that he was a fellow-creature in
distress. He is well