Minnie's Sacrifice Part 5

"Why, isn't that enough? You must be rather hard to please this morning."

"Think so?"

"Yes, but I have not told you the crowning attraction."

"What is it?"

"Oh, one of the most beautiful girls I ever saw! We call her the lily of the valley."

"Describe her."

"I can't. It would be like attempting to paint a sun beam or doing what no painter has ever done, sketch a rainbow."

"You are very poetical this morning, but I want you to do as our President sometimes tells us, proceed from the abstract to the concrete."

"Well, let me begin: she has the most beautiful little feet. I never see her stepping along without thinking of Cinderella and the gla.s.s slipper.

As to eyes, they are either dark brown or black, I don't know which; but I do know they are beautiful; and her hair, well, she generally wears that plain in deference to the wishes of her Quaker friends, but sometimes in the most beautiful ripples of golden brown I ever saw."

"That will do, now tell me who she is? You spoke of her Quaker friends.

Is she not their daughter?"

"No, there seems to be some mystery about her history. About ten years ago, my father brought her to Josiah Carpenter's but he's always been reticent about her, in fact I never took the pains to inquire. She's a great favorite in the village, and everybody says she is as beautiful as she is good, and vice versa."

"Well, I'd like to see this paragon of yours. I believe I'll go."

"Well, let us get ready."

"When do you start?"

"To-morrow."

"All right. I'll be on hand." And with these words the two friends parted to meet again the next day at the railroad station.

The first of the speakers is the son of Josiah Collins, and his friend is Louis Le Croix, Camilla's adopted brother. He is somewhat changed within the last ten years. Time has touched the golden wealth of his curls with a beautiful deep auburn, and the rich full tones of his voice tell that departed is written upon his childhood.

He is strongly Southern in his feelings, but having been educated in the North, whilst he is an enthusiast in defense of his section, as he calls the South, he is neither coa.r.s.e and brutal in actions, nor fanatical in his devotion to slavery. He thinks the Negroes are doing well enough in slavery, if the Abolitionists would only let matters rest, and he feels a sense of honor in defending the South. She is his mother, he says, and that man is an ingrate who will not stand by his mother and defend her when she is in peril.

He and Charles Collins are fast friends, but [on the subject of slavery they are entirely opposed?]. And so on that point they have agreed to disagree. They often have animated and exciting discussions, but they [pa.s.s?] and Josiah and Louis are just as friendly as they were before.

There were two arrivals the next evening in the [quiet?] village of S.

One was Charles Collins, the other his Southern friend, who was received with the warmest welcome, and soon found himself at home in the pleasant society of his friend's family. The evening was enlivened with social chat and music, until ten o'clock, when Josiah gathered his children and having read the Bible in a deeply impressive manner, breathed one of the most simple and fervent prayers he had ever heard.

While they were bending at prayer in this pleasant home, a shabby looking man came walking slowly and wearily into the village. He gazed cautiously around and looked anxiously in the street as though he were looking for some one, but did not like to trust his business to every one.

At length he saw an elderly man, dressed in plain clothes, and a broad brim hat, and drawing near he spoke to him in a low and hesitating voice, and asked if he knew a Mr. Thomas Carpenter.

"My name is Carpenter," said the friend, "come with me."

There was something in the voice, and manner of the friend that _a.s.sured_ the stranger. His whole manner changed. A peaceful expression stole over his dark, sad face, and the drooping limbs seemed to be aroused by a new infusion of energy.

"Come in," said Thomas, as he reached his door, "come in, thee's welcome to stop and rest with us."

"Anna," said Thomas,[2] his face beaming with kindness, "I've brought thee a guest. Here is another pa.s.senger by the Underground Railroad."

"I'm sure thee's welcome," said Anna, handing him a chair, "sit down, thee looks very tired. Where did thee come from?"

Moses, that was the fugitive's name, hesitated a moment.

"Oh, never fear, thee's among friends; thee need not be afraid to tell all about thyself."

Moses then told them that he had come from Kentucky.

"And how did thee escape?"

He said, "I walked from Lexington to Covington."

"Why, that was almost one hundred miles, and did thee walk all that way?"

"Yes, sir," said he, "I hid by day, and walked by night."

"Did no one interrupt?"

"Yes, one man said to me, 'Where's your pa.s.s?' I suppose I must have grown desperate, for I raised my fists and said dem's my pa.s.ses; and he let me alone. I don't know whether he was friendly or scared, but he let me alone."

"And how then?"

"When I come to Covington I found that I could not come across the river without a pa.s.s, but I watched my chance, and hid myself on a boat, and I got across. I'd heard of you down home."

"How did you?"

"Oh, we's got some few friends dere, but we allers promise not to tell."

Anna and Thomas[3] smiled at his reticence, which had grown into a habit.

"Were you badly treated?"

"Not so bad as some, but I allers wanted my freedom, I did."

"Well, we will not talk about thee any more; if thee walked all that distance thee must be very tired and we'll let thee rest. There's thy bed. I hope thee'll have a good night's rest, and feel better in the morning."

"Thankee marm," said Moses, "you's mighty good."

"Oh no, but I always like to do my duty by my fellow men! Now, be quiet, and get a good night's sleep. Thee looks excited. Thee mustn't be uneasy. Thee's among friends."

A flood of emotions crept over the bosom of Moses when his kind friends left the room. Was this freedom, and was this the long wished for North?

and were these the Abolitionists of whom he had heard so much in the South? They who would allure the colored people from their homes in the South and then leave them to freeze and starve in the North? He had heard all his life that the slaveholders were the friends of the South, and the language of his soul had been, "If these are my friends, save me from my foes." He had lived all his life among the white people of the South, and had been owned by several masters, but he did not know that there was so much kindness among the white race, till he had rested in a Northern home, and among Northern people.

Here kindness encouraged his path, and in that peaceful home every voice that fell upon his ear was full of tenderness and sympathy. True, there were rough, coa.r.s.e, brutal men even in that village, who for a few dollars or to prove their devotion to the South, would have readily remanded him to his master, but he was not aware of that. And so when he sank to his rest a sense of peace and safety stole over him, and his sleep was as calm and peaceful as the slumber of a child.