known in this community, where he has never been
guilty of wrong towards any one; and, even if he were a dangerous
person, he is not now in a condition to do mischief. Gentlemen, my guest
is very ill with a fever."

"Can't help that; you must git red of him," said Silas. "I'm a talking
now for your own good as much as any body's, Mr. Villars. You're a man
we all respect; but already you've made yourself a object of suspicion,
by standing up fur the old rotten Union."

"When I can no longer befriend my guests, or stand up for my country,
then I shall have lived long enough!" said the old man, with impressive
earnestness.

"The old Union," said Gad, coming to the aid of Silas, "is played out.
We couldn't have our rights, and so we secede."

"What rights couldn't you have under the government left to us by
Washington?"

"That had become corrupted," said Mr. Ropes.

"How corrupted, my friend?"

"By the infernal anti-slavery element!"

"You forget," said Mr. Villars, "that Washington, Jefferson, and indeed
all the wisest and best men who assisted to frame the government under
which we have been so prospered, were anti-slavery men."

"Wal, I know, some on 'em hadn't got enlightened on the subject," Mr.
Ropes admitted.

"And do you know that if a stranger, endowed with all the virtues of
those patriots, should come among you and preach the political doctrines
of Washington and Jefferson, you would serve him as you served Penn
Hapgood last night?"

"Shouldn't wonder the least mite if we should!" Silas grinned. "But
that's nothing to the purpose. We claim the right to carry our slaves
into the territories, and Lincoln's party is pledged to keep 'em out,
and that's cause enough for secession."

"How many slaves do you own, Mr. Ropes?" Mr. Villars, still leaning on
his daughter's arm, smiled as he put this mild question.

"I--wal--truth is, I don't own nary slave myself--wish I did!" said
Silas.

"How many friends have you with you?"

"'Lev'n," said Gad, rapidly counting his companions.

"Well, of the eleven, how many own slaves?"

"I do!" "I do!" spoke up two eager voices.

"How many slaves do you own?"

"I've got as right smart a little nigger boy as there is anywheres in
Tennessee!" said the first, proudly.

"How old is he?"

"He'll be nine year' old next grass, I reckon."

"Well, how many negroes has your friend?"

"I've got one old woman, sir."

"How old is she?"

"Wal, plaguy nigh a hunder