up
his flask and walks away, saying: "what rubbish!"

Accompanied by his friends and the old sailor, Tom sallies forth into
the atmosphere of sweet freedom. As the old jailer swings back the outer
gate, Spunyarn grasps his friend and companion in sorrow warmly by the
hand, his bronzed face brightens with an air of satisfaction, and like
pure water gushing from the rude rock his eyes fill with tears. How
honest, how touching, how pure the friendly lisp--good bye! "Keep up a
strong heart, Tom,--never mind me. I don't know by what right I'm kept
here, and starved; but I expect to get out one of these days; and when I
do you may reckon on me as your friend. Keep the craft in good trim till
then; don't let the devil get master. Come and see us now and then, and
above all, never give up the ship during a storm." Tom's emotions are
too deeply touched. He has no reply to make, but presses in silence the
hand of the old sailor, takes his departure, and turns to wave him an
adieu.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN WHICH THERE IS AN INTERESTING MEETING.

Our very chivalric dealers in human merchandise, like philosophers and
philanthropists, are composed merely of flesh and blood, while their
theories are alike influenced by circumstances. Those of the first, we
(the South) are, at times, too apt to regard as sublimated and refined,
while we hold the practices of the latter such as divest human nature of
everything congenial. Nevertheless we can assure our readers that there
does not exist a class of men who so much pride themselves on their
chivalry as some of our opulent slave-dealers. Did we want proof to
sustain what we have said we could not do better than refer to Mr.
Forsheu, that very excellent gentleman. Mrs. Swiggs held him in high
esteem, and so far regarded his character for piety and chivalry
unblemished, that she consigned to him her old slave of seventy
years--old Molly. Molly must be sold, the New York Tract Society must
have a mite, and Sister Abijah Slocum's very laudable enterprise of
getting Brother Singleton Spyke off to Antioch must be encouraged. And
Mr. Forsheu is very kind to the old people he sells. It would, indeed,
be difficult for the distant reader to conceive a more striking instance
of a man, grown rich in a commerce that blunts all the finer qualities
of our nature, preserving a gentleness, excelled only by his real
goodness of heart.

When the old slave, leaning on her crutch, stood before Mr. Forsh