ling, I think," said General Garwood, "but the
American conscience is a very healthy one--not likely to succumb to
influences that are mainly malarial in their nature; and even from your
point of view some good can be found in American slavery."

"I have never found it," said Miss Tewksbury.

"You must admit that but for slavery the negroes who are here would be
savages in Africa. As it is, they have had the benefit of more than two
hundred years' contact with the white race. If they are at all fitted
for citizenship, the result is due to the civilizing influence of
slavery. It seems to me that they are vastly better off as American
citizens, even though they have endured the discipline of slavery, than
they would be as savages in Africa."

Miss Tewksbury's eyes snapped. "Did this make slavery right?" she asked.

"Not at all," said the general, smiling at the lady's earnestness. "But,
at least, it is something of an excuse for American slavery. It seems to
be an evidence that Providence had a hand in the whole unfortunate
business."

But in spite of these discussions and controversies, the general made
himself so thoroughly agreeable in every way, and was so thoughtful in
his attentions, that by the time Helen and her aunt arrived at Azalia
they were disposed to believe that he had placed them under many
obligations, and they said so; but the general insisted that it was he
who had been placed under obligations, and he declared it to be his
intention to discharge a few of them as soon as the ladies found
themselves comfortably settled in the little town to which Dr. Buxton
had banished them.

III

AZALIA was a small town, but it was a comparatively comfortable one. For
years and years before the war it had been noted as the meeting-place of
the wagon-trains by means of which the planters transported their
produce to market. It was on the highway that led from the
cotton-plantations of Middle Georgia to the city of Augusta. It was also
a stopping-place for the stage-coaches that carried the mails. Azalia
was not a large town, even before the war, when, according to the
testimony of the entire community, it was at its best; and it certainly
had not improved any since the war. There was room for improvement, but
no room for progress, because there was no necessity for progress. The
people were contented. They were satisfied with things as they existed,
though they had an honest, provincial faith in the good old t