How we should all be forgiving.

Let us forget the scenes of the foregoing chapters, and turn to something of pleasanter hue.  In the meantime, let us freely acknowledge that we live in a land-our democratic south, we mean-where sumptuous living and abject misery present their boldest outlines,—­where the ignorance of the many is excused by the polished education of a very few,—­where autocracy sways its lash with bitterest absolutism,—­where menial life lies prostrate at the feet of injustice, and despairingly appeals to heaven for succour,—­where feasts and funerals rival each other,—­and when pestilence, like a glutton, sends its victims to the graveyard most, the ball-room glitters brightest with its galaxy.  Even here, where clamour cries aloud for popular government, men’s souls are most crushed-not with legal right, but by popular will!  And yet, from out all this incongruous substance, there seems a genial spirit working itself upon the surface, and making good its influence; and it is to that influence we should award the credit due.  That genial spirit is the good master’s protection; we would it were wider exercised for the good of all.  But we must return to our narrative.

The Rosebrook Villa has assumed its usual cheerfulness; but while pestilence makes sad havoc among the inhabitants of the city, gaiety is equally rampant.  In a word, even the many funeral trains which pass along every day begin to wear a sort of cheerfulness, in consequence of which, it is rumoured, the aristocracy-we mean those who have money to spend-have made up their minds not to depart for the springs yet awhile.  As for Franconia, finding she could no longer endure M’Carstrow’s dissolute habits, and having been told by that very distinguished gentleman, but unamiable husband, that he despised the whole tribe of her poor relations, she has retired to private boarding, where, with the five dollars a week, he, in the outpouring of his southern generosity, allows her, she subsists plainly but comfortably.  It is, indeed, a paltry pittance, which the M’Carstrow family will excuse to the public with the greatness of their name.

Harry has returned to the plantation, where the people have smothered him in a new suit of black.  Already has he preached three sermons in it, which said sermons are declared wonderful proofs of his biblical knowledge.  Even Daddy Daniel, who expended fourteen picayunes in a new pair of spectacles, with which to hear the new parson more distinctly, pronounces the preaching prodigious.  He is vehement in his exultation, lavishes his praise without stint; and as his black face glows with happiness, thanks missus for her great goodness in thus providing for their spiritual welfare.  The Rosebrook “niggers” were always extremely respectable and well ordered in their moral condition; but now they seem invested with a new impulse for working out their own good; and by the advice of missus,