|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
 |
||||
|
Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
||||
|
|
||||
|
“I think you slaveholders have an awful responsibility upon you,” said Miss Ophelia. “I wouldn’t have it, for a thousand worlds. You ought to educate your slaves, and treat them like reasonable creatures,- like immortal creatures, that you’ve got to stand before the bar of God with. That’s my mind,” said the good lady, breaking suddenly out with a tide of zeal that had been gaining strength in her mind all the morning. “O! come, come,” said St. Clare, getting up quickly; “What do you know about us?” And he sat down to the piano, and rattled a lively piece of music. St. Clare had a decided genius for music. His touch was brilliant and firm, and his fingers flew over the keys with a rapid and bird-like motion, airy, and yet de- cided. He played piece after piece, like a man who is trying to play himself into a good-humor. After pushing the music aside, he rose up, and said, gayly, “Well, now, cousin, you’ve given us a good talk, and done your duty; on the whole, I think the better of you for it. I make no manner of doubt that you threw a very dia- mond of truth at me, though you see it hit me so directly in the face that it wasn’t exactly appreciated, at first.” “For my part, I don’t see any use in such sort of talk,” said Marie. “I’m sure, if anybody does more for servants than we do, I’d like to know who; and it don’t do ‘em a bit of good,- not a particle,- they get worse and worse. As to talking to them, or anything like that, I’m sure I have talked till I was tired and hoarse, tell- ing them their duty, and all that; and I’m sure they can go to church when they like, though they don’t understand a word of the sermon, more than so many |
