orced to it; he'll charge
it to them that drove us to it."

"Yes," said Tom; "but that won't keep us from growing wicked. If I get
to be as hard-hearted as that ar' Sambo, and as wicked, it won't make
much odds to me how I come so; it's the bein' so,--that ar's what I'm a
dreadin'."

The woman fixed a wild and startled look on Tom, as if a new thought had
struck her; and then, heavily groaning, said,

"O God a' mercy! you speak the truth! O--O--O!"--and, with groans, she
fell on the floor, like one crushed and writhing under the extremity of
mental anguish.

There was a silence, a while, in which the breathing of both parties
could be heard, when Tom faintly said, "O, please, Missis!"

The woman suddenly rose up, with her face composed to its usual stern,
melancholy expression.

"Please, Missis, I saw 'em throw my coat in that ar' corner, and in my
coat-pocket is my Bible;--if Missis would please get it for me."

Cassy went and got it. Tom opened, at once, to a heavily marked passage,
much worn, of the last scenes in the life of Him by whose stripes we are
healed.

"If Missis would only be so good as read that ar',--it's better than
water."

Cassy took the book, with a dry, proud air, and looked over the passage.
She then read aloud, in a soft voice, and with a beauty of intonation
that was peculiar, that touching account of anguish and of glory. Often,
as she read, her voice faltered, and sometimes failed her altogether,
when she would stop, with an air of frigid composure, till she had
mastered herself. When she came to the touching words, "Father forgive
them, for they know not what they do," she threw down the book, and,
burying her face in the heavy masses of her hair, she sobbed aloud, with
a convulsive violence.

Tom was weeping, also, and occasionally uttering a smothered
ejaculation.

"If we only could keep up to that ar'!" said Tom;--"it seemed to come so
natural to him, and we have to fight so hard for 't! O Lord, help us! O
blessed Lord Jesus, do help us!"

"Missis," said Tom, after a while, "I can see that, some how, you're
quite 'bove me in everything; but there's one thing Missis might learn
even from poor Tom. Ye said the Lord took sides against us, because he
lets us be 'bused and knocked round; but ye see what come on his own
Son,--the blessed Lord of Glory,--wan't he allays poor? and have we,
any on us, yet come so low as he come? The Lord han't forgot us,--I'm
sartin' o' that ar'. If