CHAPTER VI.

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About this time poor old Molly, who had been a faithful servant, first to their father and mother, and then to the present farmer Campbell and his wife, began to lose her strength, and she was not allowed to do any thing in the domestic affairs, but nurse the little ones when she liked, and rock the cradle. But her affection for Anna was not decreased by absence; and when she could no longer get to Rosewood to see her, Mrs. Meridith was anxious that Anna should pay her a daily visit. Mrs. Campbell had now four more children, and it was Molly's pride and pleasure to have as many of them about her as she could, but Miss Anna, and some of Edward Campbell's children must be there also, to make her as happy as any old woman of her age could be. In visiting her, and one or other poor person in the neighbourhood, part of every day was spent by Anna; and Bella would often accompany her, who, when she saw old Molly surrounded by the grandchildren of her former mistress, would sigh, and say it was just so in their country, and they were as happy and united, till the cruel white men came amongst them.

"When I was a girl," said she, "though they do call us savages, my father was good man; he did love his wife, and his father, and his mother, and his children; we did all live in one home; we work, and the old did look at us, and tell us what to do; we did no harm to anybody. Then came cruel war; my father and all the men went out to fight: oh shocking, shocking day! I cry now to think of it! then came cruel, wicked, white men; and I sold to be a slave!"

"Oh, do not talk of it," said Molly, clasping her feeble hands together, "be thankful, my dear, dear children, that you are born in England."

"No slaves here," said Bella, "but there be very many bad people, English people too; but not all bad, neither are all black people good. I could tell a great deal—but you are happy, happy people that live and die in this peaceful village: I lived in peaceful village once when I was a girl; I was happy then, so I am now I am old; my dear mistress very very kind to me; I shall die quiet here: no more wars, no more wicked white men; all good here: but I think of what is past, and that makes me cry. I never saw father, or mother, or brothers, or sisters, after I once taken away!"

All the children shed tears at her recital, and Molly folded them to her heart in unfeigned joy that this could never be their case. Anna and the elder boys each extended their hand to Bella, and their countenances more than their words told them how much they pitied her; the younger ones wept because the others did; and Mr. Campbell when he entered the room was surprized to find so sorrowful a party.

"Oh, father," said John, "Bella has been telling us how she was taken from her father and mother, to be a slave; was not that cruel?"

"Indeed it was, my dear," said he; "but they tell us now that the Slave Trade is abolished, or at least put under such restrictions, that it is less cruel than before."

"But why can't they hire the negroes, as servants are hired here?" asked Anna; "would not that be as well?"

"Ah, my dear," replied her uncle, "men, either as a body or individually, seldom do any thing well: but it is said the negroes are of such a disposition that nothing but bondage will do for them."

"O, master, their own conduct makes them so," exclaimed Bella; "they treat us ill at the first, and then think we must not seek revenge, or even to escape from their cruelty; but if they good to us, we good to them; we don't come to them; we want to keep out of their way, but they come for us, and buy us whether we will or not."

"It is a bad subject, my good Bella," returned the farmer, "nor can I justify many of my countrymen in their treatment of you; but some are good."

"Yes, some are good," said she; "but it was my lot to fall into very bad hands at first."

"What did they do to you, my poor Bella?" asked John, his heart beating with compassion.

"Oh, they beat me, and starved me; and, worse than that, they killed my child; or they would not let me see it after it was nine months old, but made me work hard hard work!" Here tears seemed to choke her utterance, and the children looked at each other and their father, in silent distress.

"Get something to revive poor Bella," said he to Molly, whose weeping eyes bore testimony that her feelings were not blunted by age; "and do not begin this subject any more, my dear children," continued he, "you see how it distresses poor Bella, and it only opens to your knowledge crimes which I hope you will never have the inclination to commit. If, as the Scriptures declare, these people are suffering for the sins of their forefathers, and their state of slavery has been foretold so many thousand years, we must acknowledge all God's decrees are just, though the crimes of those who enslave and ill-treat them will most assuredly be punished."

Bella was now a little revived, and Anna proposed their returning home.

"Thank you, good Sir, for your kindness to a poor negro woman," said Bella; "my mistress will tell you all, but me talk no more about it, it tears my heart too much."

Molly begged her to say no more, and the children, after kissing her, promised never to ask her any more questions on so distressing a subject.

In a few days after this poor Molly died, as she was sitting in her arm-chair; and her young companions supposed her to be asleep, till their mother came in and perceived her altered countenance. She was laid on the bed, and the two eldest children sent to tell Anna that Molly was very ill. Bella and she came down immediately, and every thing was done to restore the pulse of life: but it had ceased to beat, and Mr. and Mrs. Campbell rejoiced that their faithful servant had not suffered more at the close of life. She had lived in their family from the age of fifteen to seventy-five, and deserved, by her strong attachment to it, every attention which they paid her; and never did a master, mistress, and servant agree so well as Molly, and both the Mr. and Mrs. Campbells had done. All the children greatly lamented her loss, and with Mrs. Meridith's permission, Anna, Bella, and Syphax attended her funeral, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell being the chief mourners. Such is a village funeral, where the parade of ostentation is not known; but the simple honours which are paid to honest integrity come from the heart. Every one had a sigh and a good word for poor Molly, as they returned from the affecting scene; rendered still more so by the unfeigned grief of the children, and the grateful testimony her master and mistress gave of her fidelity and attachment. All the people were pleased that they were not above attending her funeral themselves; and that Mrs. Meridith should let Miss Anna (who was her child now) follow, was another proof of her condescension. But Mrs. Meridith knew what was due to merit, though in humble life, and rejoiced that she had escaped from a world, where such an acknowledgment of it would have been thought ridiculous, or at least superfluous.

Anna had seen Bella so distressed at reverting to her former days, and had felt so much herself at hearing the recital, that she feared to ask Syphax if he had known similar troubles; but one day, as he was assisting her in planting a piece of the garden, he looked up, and with a dejected air said:

"Ah, Miss, this is a deal better than planting sugar-canes, with the whip over my head, and irons on my feet."

"Irons on your feet!" said she, shuddering, "poor Syphax, why was that?"

"All the slaves wear them in the West-Indies, Miss; I come from there."

"Did you know Bella, there?" asked Anna.

"No Miss, she came away before I did come there: she got good mistress before me."

"And where did you know Mrs. Meridith first?"

"In the East-Indies, Miss; I ashamed to say how I became acquainted; she be too good to me if she has not told all."

"I never heard her say more than that Bella and you were both servants she brought with her from the East-Indies," said Anna.

"So she did, Miss, and thank her for it a thousand times, for we had no friends there; poor Bella torn from all her's long ago, and I never had any but poor slaves like myself. I was born a slave, but I did not feel the whip, or the irons, and the cruel ratings the less for that; but I have been a sad, sad man, Miss," continued he; "ask me no more, and if my good lady ever tell you, do not hate me for it, as she has forgiven me: I knew no better then, but good deal of good has come of it to me."

Anna was too mindful of her kind protectress's maxim, "the way to be happy ourselves is to add to the happiness of others, not to take from it," to press for any farther explanation from Syphax, when she saw he wished not to give it; and she looked forward to Mrs. Meridith's promised recital with increased anxiety.

"I am afraid Syphax has been the cause of some of her sorrows," said she to herself. "How wrong of him to distress so kind a friend! and what has she gone through! Oh! if I cannot add to her happiness, I shall never be happy myself."

With this view she was still more attentive to the instructions her kind friend was continually giving her, and those of the different masters provided for her. Accustomed to be Mrs. Meridith's constant companion; to read to her, and hear her remarks on what she read, as well as to express her own, and have her judgment informed and set right when she had formed a wrong opinion, it was not extraordinary that her understanding was beyond her years; and when little more than fourteen, her manners and sentiments were those of a woman double that age, and in many respects her ideas and knowledge was far more correct. Her conversation, also, was of great use to William and John; she either lent to them or gave them an account of whatever books she read, and this encouraged in them a taste for literature it is probable they would not have indulged, but that they might converse more freely with her.

Mrs. Campbell had now seven children; four boys and three girls. The infant which she had in her arms when Mrs. Meridith first visited them was grown a fine girl of ten years old, and her sisters were one eight, and the other six; the two youngest were boys, but none of these had that affection for Anna as William and John, who still thought of her as a sister. Anna would have instructed the girls in every thing she knew, had not her uncle and aunt prevented her.

"It is not necessary," said Mr. Campbell, "that our daughters should learn singing, and music, and French, or any accomplishment; though for Mrs. Meridith's child, as she has been pleased to make you, it is. Our's are farmer's daughters, and I hope never to see instilled into their minds a desire to be otherways; which might be the case were they to know a little, of what you I hope know enough to justly appreciate its value; and which is not worth anything, unless it enables you to amuse Mrs. Meridith, and to pass through the world with more credit to her, as her adopted daughter, than you could have done, had you been ill-bred and illiterate. But let my children never have an idea of learning accomplishments, for they can never be useful to them. Every thing which can make them sensible companions they shall know, as far as books, and my ideas of education will permit; and should you continue to live here as your kind patroness has done, I hope you will not find them unworthy of your friendship, or less agreeable companions than Mrs. Meridith, has condescended to say she has found their mother."

Anna could not but allow the justice of his remark; and while she saw how little he thought of those acquirements, which most young ladies are proud of possessing, she imperceptibly learnt how far she ought to value them in herself. She could not say her cousins were the happier for not knowing them, since she had not found them causes of unhappiness in herself: the idea of affording Mrs. Meridith amusement, or adding to her pleasure, gave a zest to her attainments; but this was a motive her cousins could not have, since their father and mother did not desire it.

"I will not say then," thought she, "that they cannot be happy without them, but it is all best as it is; it is right I should endeavour to attain them, and that they should not: thus shall we be each fitted for our separate stations."


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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