ty."

"But I always resolve I won't and I try to break off."

"Well, I have been resolving I won't, off and on, these ten years," said
St. Clare; "but I haven't, some how, got clear. Have you got clear of
all your sins, cousin?"

"Cousin Augustine," said Miss Ophelia, seriously, and laying down
her knitting-work, "I suppose I deserve that you should reprove my
short-comings. I know all you say is true enough; nobody else feels
them more than I do; but it does seem to me, after all, there is some
difference between me and you. It seems to me I would cut off my right
hand sooner than keep on, from day to day, doing what I thought was
wrong. But, then, my conduct is so inconsistent with my profession, I
don't wonder you reprove me."

"O, now, cousin," said Augustine, sitting down on the floor, and laying
his head back in her lap, "don't take on so awfully serious! You know
what a good-for-nothing, saucy boy I always was. I love to poke you
up,--that's all,--just to see you get earnest. I do think you are
desperately, distressingly good; it tires me to death to think of it."

"But this is a serious subject, my boy, Auguste," said Miss Ophelia,
laying her hand on his forehead.

"Dismally so," said he; "and I--well, I never want to talk seriously in
hot weather. What with mosquitos and all, a fellow can't get himself
up to any very sublime moral flights; and I believe," said St. Clare,
suddenly rousing himself up, "there's a theory, now! I understand now
why northern nations are always more virtuous than southern ones,--I see
into that whole subject."

"O, Augustine, you are a sad rattle-brain!"

"Am I? Well, so I am, I suppose; but for once I will be serious, now;
but you must hand me that basket of oranges;--you see, you'll have to
'stay me with flagons and comfort me with apples,' if I'm going to make
this effort. Now," said Augustine, drawing the basket up, "I'll begin:
When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for a fellow
to hold two or three dozen of his fellow-worms in captivity, a decent
regard to the opinions of society requires--"

"I don't see that you are growing more serious," said Miss Ophelia.

"Wait,--I'm coming on,--you'll hear. The short of the matter is,
cousin," said he, his handsome face suddenly settling into an earnest
and serious expression, "on this abstract question of slavery there
can, as I think, be but one opinion. Planters, who have money to make by
it,--clergymen, w