THE SUPPER—ITS CONSEQUENCES—LOSS OF SILVER—A LONELY NIGHT—AMY.

The winter was now drawing to a close. The heavy, dreary winter, that had hung like an incubus upon my hours, was fast drawing to an end. Many a little, tuneful bird came chirping with the sunny days of the waning February. Already the sunbeam had begun to give us a hint of the spring-warmth; the ice had melted away, and the moistened roofs of the houses began to smoke with the drying breath of the sun, and little green pods were noticeable upon the dried branches of the forest trees. It was on such a day, when the eye begins to look round upon Nature, and almost expects to solve the wondrous phenomenon of vegetation, that I was engaged arranging Miss Jane's wardrobe. I had just done up some laces for her, and finished off a nice silk morning-dress. She was making extensive preparations for a visit to the city of L. The protracted rigors of the winter and her own fancied ill-health had induced her to postpone the trip until the opening of spring.

It was decided that I should accompany her as lady's maid; and the fact is, I was desirous of any change from the wearying monotony of my life.

Young master had been absent during the whole winter. Frequent letters from Dr. Mandy (who had accompanied him) informed the family of his slowly-improving health; yet the doctor stated in each communication that he was not strong enough to write a letter himself. This alarmed me, for I knew that he must be excessively weak, if he denied himself the gratification of writing to his family. Miss Bradly came to the house but seldom; and then only to inquire the news from young master. Her principles upon the slavery question had become pretty well known in the neighborhood; so her residence there was not the most pleasant. Inuendoes, of a most insulting character, had been thrown out, highly prejudicial to her situation. Foul slanders were in busy circulation about her, and she began to be a taboed person. So I was not surprised to hear her tell Miss Jane that she thought of returning to the North early in the spring. I had never held any private conversation with her since that memorable one; for now that her principles were known, she was too much marked for a slave to be allowed to speak with her alone. Her sorrowful face struck me with pity. I knew her to be one of that time-serving kind, by whom the loss of caste and social position is regarded as the most fell disaster.

As I turned the key of Miss Jane's wardrobe, she came into the room, with an unusually excited manner, exclaiming,

"Ann, where is your Miss Tildy?"

Upon my answering that I did not know, she bade me go and seek her instantly, and say that she wished to speak with her. As I left the room, I observed Miss Jane draw a letter from the folds of her dress. This was hint enough. My mother-wit told me the rest.

Finding Miss Tildy with a book, in a quiet corner of the parlor, I delivered Miss Jane's message, and withdrew. The contents of Miss Jane's letter soon became known; for it was, to her, of such an exciting nature, that it could not be held in secresy. The letter was from Mr. Summerville, and announced that he would pay her a visit in the course of a few days.

And, for the next "few days," the whole house was in a perfect consternation. All hands were at work. Carpets were taken up, shaken, and put down again with the "clean side" up. Paint was scoured, windows were washed; the spare bedroom was re-arranged, and adjusted in style; the French couch was overspread with Miss Tildy's silk quilt, that had taken the prize at the Agricultural Fair; and fresh bouquets were collected from the green-house, and placed upon the mantel. Everything looked very nice about the house, and in the kitchen all sorts of culinary preparations had gone on. Cakes, cookies, and confections had been made in abundance. As Amy expressed it, in her quaintly comical way, "Christmas is comin' again." It was the first and only time since the departure of "the children," that I had heard her indulge in any of her old drollery.

At length the "day" arrived, and with it came Mr. Summerville. Whilst he remained with us, everything went off in the way that Miss Jane desired. There were fine dinners, with plenty of wine, roast turkey, curry powder, desserts, &c. The silver and best china had been brought out, and Mr. Peterkin behaved himself as well as he could. He even consented to use a silver fork, which, considering his prejudice against the article, was quite a concession for him to make.

Time sped on (as it always will do), and brought the end of the week, and with it, the end of Mr. Summerville's visit. I thought, from a certain softening of Miss Jane's eye, and from the length of the parting interview, that "matters" had been arranged between her and Mr. Summerville. After the last adieu had been given, and Miss Jane had rubbed her eyes enough with her fine pocket-handkerchief (or, perhaps, in this case, it would be well to employ the suggestion of a modern author, and say her "lachrymal,") I say, after all was over, and Mr. Summerville's interesting form was fairly lost in the distance, Miss Tildy proposed that they should settle down to their usual manner of living. Accordingly, the silver was all rubbed brightly by Amy, whose business it was, then handed over to Miss Tildy to be locked up in the bureau.

For a few weeks matters went on with their usual dullness. Master was still smoking his cob-pipe, kicking negroes, and blaspheming; and Miss Jane making up little articles for the approaching visit to the city. She and Miss Tildy sat a great deal in their own room, talking and speculating upon the coming joys. Passing in and out, I frequently caught fragments of conversation that let me into many of their secrets. Thus I learned that Miss Jane's chief object in visiting the city was to purchase a bridal trousseau, that Mr. Summerville "had proposed," and, of course, been accepted. He lived in the city; so it was decided that, after the celebration of the nuptial rite, Miss Tildy should accompany the bride to her new home, and remain with her for several weeks.

Sundry little lace caps were manufactured; handkerchiefs embroidered; dresses made and altered; collars cut, and an immence deal of "transfering" was done by the sisters Peterkin.

We, of the "colored population," were stinted even more than formerly; for they deemed it expedient to economize, in order to be the better able to meet the pecuniary exigencies of the marriage. Thus time wore along, heavily enough for the slaves; but doubtless delightful to the white family. The enjoyment of pleasure, like all other prerogatives, they considered as exclusively their own.

Time, in its rugged course, had brought no change to Amy. If her heart had learned to bear its bereavement better, or had grown more tender in its anxious waiting, we knew it not from her word or manner. The same settled, rocky look, the same abstracted air, marked her deportment. Never once had I heard her laugh, or seen her weep. She still avoided conversation, and was assiduous in the discharge of her domestic duties. If she did a piece of work well, and was praised for it, she received the praise with the same indifferent air; or if, as was most frequently the case, she was harshly chided and severely punished, 'twas all the same. No tone or word could move those rigid features.

One evening Miss Bradly came over to see the young ladies, and inquire the latest news from young master. Miss Jane gave orders that the table should be set with great care, and all the silver displayed. They had long since lost their olden familiarity, and, out of respect to the present coldness that existed between them, they (the Misses Peterkin) desired to show off "before the discredited school-mistress." I heard Miss Bradly ask Mr. Peterkin when he heard from young master.

"I've just got a letter from Dr. Mandy. They ar' still in New Orleans; but expected to start for home in 'bout three days. The doctor gives me very little cause for hope; says Johnny is mighty weak, and had a pretty tough cough. He says the night-sweats can't be broke; and the boy is very weak, not able to set up an hour at a time. This is very discouragin', Miss Emily. Sometimes it 'pears like 'twould kill me, too, my heart is so sot 'pon that boy;" and here Mr. Peterkin began to smoke with great violence, a sure sign that he was laboring under intense excitement.

"He is a very noble youth," said Miss Bradly, with a quivering voice and a moist eye; "I am deeply attached to him, and the thought of his death is one fraught with pain to me. I hope Doctor Mandy is deceived in the prognostics he deems so bad. Johnny's life is a bright example, and one that is needed."

"Yes, you think it will aid the Abolition cause; but not in this region, I can assure you," said Miss Tildy, as she tossed her head knowingly. "I'd like to know where Johnny learned all the Anti-slavery cant. Do you know, Miss Emily, that your incendiary principles lost you caste in this neighborhood, where you once stood as a model?"

Miss Tildy had touched Miss Bradly in her vulnerable point. "Caste" was a thing that she valued above reputation, and reckoned more desirable than honor. Had it not been for a certain goodness of heart, from which she could not escape (though she had often tried) she would have renounced her Anti-slavery sentiments and never again avowed them; but young master's words had power to rescue her almost shipwrecked principles, and then, whilst smarting under the lash of his rebuke, she attempted, like many an astute politician, to "run on both sides of the question;" but this was an equivocal position that the "out and out" Kentuckians were not going to allow. She had to be, in their distinct phraseology, "one thing or the other;" and, accordingly, aided by young master and her sense of justice, she avowed herself "the other." And, of course, with this avowal, came the loss of cherished friends. In troops they fell away from her. Their averted looks and distant nods nearly drove her mad. If young master had been by to encourage and sustain her with gracious words, she could have better borne it; but, single-handed and alone, she could not battle against adversity. And now this speech of Miss Tildy's was very untimely. She winced under it, yet dared not reply. What a contemptible character, to the brave mind, seems one lacking moral courage!

"I want to see Johnny once again, and then I shall leave for the North," said Miss Bradly, in a pitiful tone.

"See Naples and die, eh?" laughed Miss Tildy.

"Always and ever ready with your fun," replied Miss Bradly.

At first her wiry turnings, her open and shameless sycophancy, and now her cringing and fawning upon the Peterkins, caused me to lose all respect for her. In the hour of her trouble, when deserted by those whom she had loved as friends, when her pecuniary prospects were blighted, I felt deeply for her, and even forgave the falsehood; but now when I saw her shrink from the taunt and invective of Miss Tildy, and then minister to her vanity, I felt that she was too little even for contempt. At tea, that evening, whilst serving the table, I was surprised to observe Miss Jane's face very red with anger, and her manner exceedingly irascible. I began to wonder if I had done anything to exasperate her; but could think of no offence of which I had been guilty. I knew from the way in which she conversed with all at the table, that none of them were offenders. I was the more surprised at her anger, as she had been, for the last week, in such an excellent humor, getting herself ready for the visit to the city. Oh, how I dreaded to see Miss Bradly leave, for then, I knew the storm would break in all its fury!

I was standing in the kitchen, alone, trying to think what could have offended Miss Jane, when Amy came up to me, saying,

"Oh, Ann, two silver forks is lost, an' Miss Tildy done 'cuse me of stealin' 'em, an' I declar 'fore heaven, I gib ebery one of 'em to Miss Tildy de mornin' Misser Summerbille lef, an' now she done told Miss Jane dat I told a lie, and that I stole 'em. Lor' knows what dey is gwine to do 'long wid me; but I don't kere much, so dey kills me soon and sets me out my misery at once."

"When did they miss the forks?"

"Wy, to-night, when I went to set de table, I found dat two of 'em wasn't dar; so I axed Miss Tildy whar dey was, an' she said she didn't know. Den I axed Miss Jane; she say, 'ax Miss Tildy.' Den when I told Miss Tildy dat, she got mad; struck me a lick right cross my face. Den I told her bout de time Mr. Summerbille lef, when I give 'em to her. She say, 'you's a liar, an' hab stole 'em.' Den I begun to declar I hadn't, and she call Miss Jane, and say to her dat she knowed I hab stole 'em, and Miss Jane got mad; kicked me, pulled my har till I screamed; den I 'spose she did 'ant want Miss Bradly to hear me; so she stopped, but swar she'd beat me to death if I didn't get 'em fur her right off. Now, Ann, I doesn't know whar dey is, if I was to be kilt for it."

She drew the back of her hand across her eyes, and I saw that it was moist. I was glad of this, for her silent endurance was more horrible to look upon than this physical softness.

"Oh, God!" I exclaimed, "I would that young master were here."

"What fur, Ann?"

"He might intercede and prevent them from using you so cruelly."

"I doesn't wish he was har; for I lubs young Masser, an' he is good; if he was to see me a sufferin' it wud stress him, an' make his complaint worse; an' he couldn't do no good; for dey will beat me, no matter who begs. Ob, it does seem so strange that black people was eber made. I is glad dat de chillen isn't har; for de sight ob dem cryin' round de 'post,' wud nearly kill me. I can bar anythin' fur myself, but not fur 'em. Oh, I hopes dey is dead."

And here she heaved a dreadful groan. This was the first time I had heard her allude to them, and I felt a choking rush in my throat.

"Don't cry, Ann, take kere ob yourself. It 'pears like my time has come. I don't feel 'feard, an' dis is de fust time I'se eber bin able to speak 'bout de chillen. If eber you sees 'em, (I niver will), tell 'em dat I niver did forget 'em; dat night an' day my mind was sot on 'em, an' please, Ann, gib 'em dis."

Here she took from her neck a string that held her mother's gift, and the coin young master had given her, suspended to it. She looked at it long and wistfully, then, slowly pressing it to her lips, she said in a low, plaintive voice that went to my heart, "Poor Mammy."

I then took it from her, and hid it in my pocket. A cold horror stole over me. I had not the power to gainsay her; for an instinctive idea that something terrible was going to occur, chained my lips.

"Ann, I thanks you for all your kindness to me. I hopes you may hab a better time den I has hab. I feel, Ann, as if I niver should come down from dat post alive.

"Trust in God, Amy."

She shook her head despairingly.

"He will save you."

"No, God don't kare for black folks."

"What did young master tell you about that? Did he not say God loved all His creatures alike?"

"Yes, but black folks aint God's critters."

"Yes, they are, just as much as white people."

"No dey aint."

"Oh, Amy, I wish I could make you understand how it is."

"You kant make me belieb dat ar' way, no how you can fix it. God don't kare what a comes ob niggers; an' I is glad he don't, kase when I dies, I'll jist lay down and rot like de worms, and dere wont be no white folks to 'buse me."

"No, there will be no white folks to abuse you in heaven; but God and His angels will love you, if you will do well and try to get there."

"I don't want to go ther, for God is one of the white people, and, in course, he'd beat de niggers."

Oh, was not this fearful, fearful ignorance? Through the solid rock of her obtusity, I could, with no argument of mine, make an aperture for a ray of heavenly light to penetrate. Do Christians, who send off missionaries, realize that heathendom exists in their very midst; aye, almost at their own hearthstone? Let them enlighten those that dwell in the bonds of night on their own borders; then shall their efforts in distant lands be blest. Numberless instances, such as the one I have recorded, exist in the slave States. The masters who instruct their slaves in religion, could be numbered; and I will venture to assert that, if the census were taken in the State of Kentucky, the number would not exceed twenty. Here and there you will find an instance of a mistress who will, perhaps, on a Sunday evening, talk to a female slave about the propriety of behaving herself; but the gist of the argument, the hinge upon which it turns, is—"obey your master and mistress;" upon this one precept hang all the law and the prophets.

That night, after my house duties were discharged, I went to the cabin, where I found Amy lying on her face, weeping bitterly. I lifted her up, and tried to console her; but she exclaimed, with more energy than I had ever heard her,

"Ann, every ting seems so dark to me. I kan't see past to-morrow. I has bin thinkin' of Aunt Polly; I keeps seein' her, no matter what way I turns."

"You are frightened," I ventured to say.

"No, I isn't, but I feels curus."

"Let me teach you to pray."

"Will it do me any good?"

"Yes, if you put faith in God."

"What's faith?"

"Believe that God is strong and willing to save you; that is faith."

"Who is God? I never seed him."

"No, but He sees you."

"Whar is He?" and she looked fearfully around the room, in which the scanty fire threw a feeble glare.

"Everywhere. He is everywhere," I answered.

"Is He in dis room?" she asked in terror, and drew near me.

"Yes, He is here."

"Oh lor! He may tell Masser on me."

This ignorance may, to the careless reader, seem laughable; but, to me, it was most horrible, and I could not repress my tears. Here was the force of education. Master was to her the strongest thing or person in existence. Of course she could not understand a higher power than that which had governed her life. There are hundreds as ignorant; but no missionaries come to enlighten them!

"Oh, don't speak that way; you know God made you."

"Yes, but dat was to please Masser. He made me fur to be a slave."

Now, how would the religious slave-holder answer that?

I strove, but with no success, to make her understand that over her soul, her temporal master had no control; but her ignorance could not see a difference between the body and soul. Whoever owned the former, she thought, was entitled to the latter. Finding I could make no impression upon her mind, I lay down and tried to sleep; but rest was an alien to me. I dreaded the breaking of the morn. Poor Amy slept, and I was glad that she did. Her overtaxed body yielded itself up to the most profound rest. In the morning, when I saw her sleeping so soundly on the pallet, I disliked to arouse her. I felt, as I fancied a human jailer must feel, whose business it is to awaken a criminal on the morning of his execution; yet I had it to do, for, if she had been tardy at her work, it would have enraged her tyrants the more, and been worse for her.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat upright on the pallet and murmured,

"Dis is de day. I's to be led to de post, and maybe kilt."

I dared not comfort her, and only bade her to make haste and attend to her work.