“Shout, shout, the devil’s about;
  Shut the door and keep him out,”

leaps frog over two or three of the servants’ shoulders, disappearing from among them in an immoderate state of conceit and perspiration.

Bacchus is forced at this crisis to put down the banjo and wipe his face with his sleeve, breathing very hard.  He was thinking he wouldn’t get near so tired if he had a little of the “Oh, be joyful” to keep up his spirits, but such aspirations were utterly hopeless at the present time:  getting tipsy while his master, and Mr. Barbour, and Alice were looking at him, was quite out of the question.  He made a merit of keeping sober, too, on the ground of setting a good example to the young servants.  He consoled himself with a double-sized piece of tobacco, and rested after his efforts.  His promising son danced Juba at Mr. Weston’s particular request, and was rewarded by great applause.

A little courting scene was going on at this time, not far distant.  Esther, Phillis’s third daughter, was a neat, genteel-looking servant, entirely above associating with “common niggers,” as she styled those who, being constantly employed about the field, had not the advantage of being called upon in the house, and were thus very deficient in manners and appearance from those who were so much under the eye of the family.  Esther, like her mother, was a great Methodist.  Reading well, she was familiar with the Bible, and had committed to memory a vast number of hymns.  These, she and her sister, with William, often sung in the kitchen, or at her mother’s cabin.  Miss Janet declared it reminded her of the employment of the saints in heaven, more than any church music she had ever heard; especially when they sang, “There is a land of pure delight.”

That heart must be steeled against the sweet influences of the Christian religion, which listens not with an earnest pleasure to the voice of the slave, singing the songs of Zion.  No matter how kind his master, or how great and varied his comforts, he is a slave!  His soul cannot, on earth, be animated to attain aught save the enjoyment of the passing hour.  Why need he recall the past?  The present does not differ from it—­toil, toil, however mitigated by the voice of kindness.  Need he essay to penetrate the future? it is still toil, softened though it be by the consideration which is universally shown to the feelings and weaknesses of old age.  Yet has the Creator, who placed him in this state, mercifully provided for it.  The slave has not the hopes of the master, but he is without many of his cares.  He may not strive after wealth, yet he is always provided with comfort.  Ambition, with its longings for fame, and riches, and power, never stimulates his breast; that breast is safe from its disappointments.  His enjoyments, though few, equal his expectations.  His occupations, though servile, resemble the mass of those around him.  His eye can see the beauties of nature; his ear drinks in her harmonies; his soul content itself with what is passing in the limited world around him.  Yet, he is a slave!  And if he is ever elevated above his condition, it is when praising the God of the white man and the black; when, with uplifted voice, he sings the songs of the redeemed; when, looking forward to the invitation which he hopes to receive, “Come in, thou servant of the Lord.”