folded about each other, in such talk as husband and wife have when they
know that a few hours may part them forever.

"Eliza," said George, "people that have friends, and houses, and lands,
and money, and all those things _can't_ love as we do, who have nothing
but each other. Till I knew you, Eliza, no creature had loved me, but my
poor, heart-broken mother and sister. I saw poor Emily that morning the
trader carried her off. She came to the corner where I was lying asleep,
and said, 'Poor George, your last friend is going. What will become of
you, poor boy?' And I got up and threw my arms round her, and cried and
sobbed, and she cried too; and those were the last kind words I got for
ten long years; and my heart all withered up, and felt as dry as ashes,
till I met you. And your loving me,--why, it was almost like raising one
from the dead! I've been a new man ever since! And now, Eliza, I'll give
my last drop of blood, but they _shall not_ take you from me. Whoever
gets you must walk over my dead body."

"O, Lord, have mercy!" said Eliza, sobbing. "If he will only let us get
out of this country together, that is all we ask."

"Is God on their side?" said George, speaking less to his wife than
pouring out his own bitter thoughts. "Does he see all they do? Why does
he let such things happen? And they tell us that the Bible is on their
side; certainly all the power is. They are rich, and healthy, and happy;
they are members of churches, expecting to go to heaven; and they get
along so easy in the world, and have it all their own way; and poor,
honest, faithful Christians,--Christians as good or better than
they,--are lying in the very dust under their feet. They buy 'em
and sell 'em, and make trade of their heart's blood, and groans and
tears,--and God _lets_ them."

"Friend George," said Simeon, from the kitchen, "listen to this Psalm;
it may do thee good."

George drew his seat near the door, and Eliza, wiping her tears, came
forward also to listen, while Simeon read as follows:

"But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well-nigh
slipped. For I was envious of the foolish, when I saw the prosperity
of the wicked. They are not in trouble like other men, neither are they
plagued like other men. Therefore, pride compasseth them as a chain;
violence covereth them as a garment. Their eyes stand out with fatness;
they have more than heart could wish. They are corrupt, and speak
wickedly concerning oppr