's what he says, William. He has got a prejudice ag'inst color, you
know. Since he lost the election, through the opposition of the
abolitionists, as he thinks, he's been very much excited on the
subject," added Mr. Williams, in his subdued way.

"Excited!" echoed his wife, bitterly.

She was a much-suffering woman, inclined to melancholy; but there was a
latent fire in her when she seemed most despondent, and she roused up
now and spoke with passionate, flashing eyes:--

"Sence he got beat, town-meetin' day, he don't 'pear to take no comfort,
'thout 't is hatin' Judge Gingerford and spitin' niggers, as he calls
us. He sent his hired man over agin this mornin', to say, if we wa'n't
out of the house by Monday, 't would be pulled down on to our heads.
Call that Christian, when he knows we can't git another house, there 's
sich a s'picion agin people o' color?"

"'T wa'n't alluz so; 't wa'n't so in my day," said the old woman,
pausing, as she was administering the gruel to Fessenden's with a spoon.
"Here's gran'pa, he was a slave, and I was born a slave, in this here
very State, as long ago as when they used to have slaves here, as I've
told ye time and agin; though I don't clearly remember it, for I scacely
ever knowed what bondage was, bless the Lord! But we allus foun'
somebody to be kind to us, and got along,--for it did seem as though God
kind o' looked arter us, and took keer on us, same as He did o' white
folks. We've been carried through, somehow or 'nother; and I can't help
thinkin' as how we shall be yit, spite o' Mr. Frisbie. S'pose God'll
forgit us 'cause His grand church-folks do? S'pose all they can say'll
pedijice Him?"

Having advanced this unanswerable question, she turned once more to her
patient, who put up his head, and opened his mouth wide, to receive the
great spoon.

"Lucky for them that can trust the Lord!" said Mrs. Williams, over her
patching. "But if I was a man, I'm 'fraid I should put my trust in a
good knife, and stan' by the ol' house when they come to pull it down!
The fust man laid hands on 't 'ud git hurt, I'm dreffle 'fraid! Prayin'
won't save it, you see!"

"Mr. Frisbie owns the house," observed Gentleman Bill, "and I wouldn't
resort to violent measures to prevent him; though 't isn't possible for
me to believe he'll be so unhuman as to demolish it before you find
another."

"I'm inclined to think he will," answered Mr. Williams, calmly. "He's a
rather determined man, William.