“Carry him off,” said Mr. Weston, again.  “John, help Mark.”

“Be off wid yourselves, both of ye,” said Bacchus; “if ye don’t, I’ll give you de devil, afore I quits.”

“I’ll shut your mouth for you,” said Mark, “talking so before master; knock him over, John, and push him out.”

Bacchus was not so easily overcome.  The god whose namesake he was, stood by him for a time.  Suddenly the old fellow’s mood changed; with a patronizing smile he turned to Mr. Weston, and said, “Master, you must ’scuse me:  I aint well dis evening.  I has the dyspepsy; my suggestion aint as good as common.  I think dat ox was done too much.”

Mr. Weston could not restrain a smile at his grotesque appearance, and ridiculous language.  Mark and John took advantage of the melting mood which had come over him, and led him off without difficulty.  On leaving the kitchen, he went into a pious fit, and sung out

  “When I can read my title clar.”

Mr. Weston heard him say, “Don’t, Mark; don’t squeeze an ole nigger so; do you ’spose you’ll ever get to Heaven, if you got no more feelins than that?”

“I hope,” said Mr. Weston, addressing the other servants, “that you will all take warning by this scene.  An honest and respectable servant like Bacchus, to degrade himself in this way—­it gives me great pain to see it.  William,” said he, addressing a son of Bacchus, who stood by the window, “did you deliver my note to Mr. Walter?”

“Yes, sir; he says he’ll come to dinner; I was on my way in to tell you, but they was making such a fuss here.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Weston.  “The rest of you go to bed, quietly; I am sure there will be no more disturbance to-night.”

But, what will the Abolitionist say to this scene?  Where were the whip and the cord, and other instruments of torture?  Such consideration, he contends, was never shown in the southern country.  With Martin Tupper, I say,

  “Hear reason, oh! brother;
    Hear reason and right.”

It has been, that master and slave were friends; and if this cannot continue, at whose door will the sin lie?

The Abolitionist says to the slave, Go! but what does he do that really advances his interest?  He says to the master, Give up thine own! but does he offer to share in the loss?  No; he would give to the Lord of that which costs him nothing.

Should the southern country become free, should the eyes of the world see no stain upon her escutcheon, it will not be through the efforts of these fanatics.  If white labor could be substituted for black, better were it that she should not have this weight upon her.  The emancipation of her slaves will never be accomplished by interference or force.  Good men assist in colonizing them, and the Creator may thus intend to christianize benighted Africa.  Should this be the Divine will, oh! that from every port, steamers were going forth, bearing our colored people to their natural home!