y
when some old feud was back of the discussion. There was one question,
as Little Compton discovered, in regard to which there was no
discussion. That question was slavery. It loomed up everywhere and in
everything, and was the basis of all the arguments, and yet it was not
discussed: there was no room for discussion. There was but one idea, and
that was that slavery must be defended at all hazards, and against all
enemies. That was the temper of the time, and Little Compton was not
long in discovering that of all dangerous issues slavery was the most
dangerous.

The young men, in their free-and-easy way, told him the story of a
wayfarer who once came through that region preaching abolitionism to the
negroes. The negroes themselves betrayed him, and he was promptly taken
in charge. His body was found afterward hanging in the woods, and he was
buried at the expense of the county. Even his name had been forgotten,
and his grave was all but obliterated. All these things made an
impression on Little Compton's mind. The tragedy itself was recalled by
one of the pranks of the young men, that was conceived and carried out
under his eyes. It happened after he had become well used to the ways of
Hillsborough. There came a stranger to the town, whose queer acts
excited the suspicions of a naturally suspicious community. Professedly
he was a colporteur; but, instead of trying to dispose of books and
tracts, of which he had a visible supply, he devoted himself to arguing
with the village politicians under the shade of the trees. It was
observed, also, that he would frequently note down observations in a
memorandum book. Just about that time the controversy between the
slaveholders and the abolitionists was at its height. John Brown had
made his raid on Harper's Ferry, and there was a good deal of excitement
throughout the State. It was rumored that Brown had emissaries traveling
from State to State, preparing the negroes for insurrection; and every
community, even Hillsborough, was on the alert, watching, waiting,
suspecting.

The time assuredly was not auspicious for the stranger with the ready
memorandum book. Sitting in front of Compton's store, he fell into
conversation one day with Uncle Abner Lazenberry, a patriarch who lived
in the country, and who had a habit of coming to Hillsborough at least
once a week "to talk with the boys." Uncle Abner belonged to the poorer
class of planters; that is to say, he had a small farm an