I tell you folks don't run away when they are happy; and when they do run, poor creatures! they suffer enough with cold and hunger and fear, without everybody's turning against them; and, law or no law, I never will, so help me God!" "Mary! Mary! My dear, let me reason with you." "I hate reasoning, John,--especially reasoning on such subjects.

There's a way you political folks have of coming round and round a plain right thing; and you don't believe in it yourselves, when it comes to practice.

I know _you_ well enough, John.

You don't believe it's right any more than I do; and you wouldn't do it any sooner than I." At this critical juncture, old Cudjoe, the black man-of-all-work, put his head in at the door, and wished "Missis would come into the kitchen;" and our senator, tolerably relieved, looked after his little wife with a whimsical mixture of amusement and vexation, and, seating himself in the arm-chair, began to read the papers.
After a moment, his wife's voice was heard at the door, in a quick, earnest tone,--"John! John! I do wish you'd come here, a moment." He laid down his paper, and went into the kitchen, and started, quite amazed at the sight that presented itself:--A young and slender woman, with garments torn and frozen, with one shoe gone, and the stocking torn away from the cut and bleeding foot, was laid back in a deadly swoon upon two chairs.

There was the impress of the despised race on her face, yet none could help feeling its mournful and pathetic beauty, while its stony sharpness, its cold, fixed, deathly aspect, struck a solemn chill over him.