Seeing the man in the thing of merchandise, he inclined to
look upon him as a being worthy of immortality; and yet it seemed
next to impossible that he should bring his natural feelings to
realise the simple nobleness that stood before him,--the man beyond
the increase of dollars and cents in his person! The coloured
winter's hand leaned against the mantel-piece, watching the changes
in Marston's countenance, as Daddy stood at Harry's side, in
patriarchal muteness. A tear stealing down Maxwell's cheek told of
the sensation produced; while Marston, setting his elbow on the
table, supported his head in his hands, and listened. The Deacon,
good man that he was, filled his glass,--as if to say, "I don't stand
nigger preaching." As for the Elder, his pishes and painful
gurglings, while he slept, were a source of much annoyance. Awaking
suddenly-raising himself to a half-bent position-he rubs his little
eyes, adjusts his spectacles on his nose, stares at Harry with
surprise, and then, with quizzical demeanour, leaves us to infer
what sort of a protest he is about to enter. He, however, thinks it
better to say nothing.
"Stop, Harry," says Marston, interrupting him in a point of his
discourse: then turning to his guests, he inquired, with a look of
ridicule, "Gentlemen, what have you got to say against such
preaching? Elder, you old snoring Christian, you have lost all the
best of it. Why didn't you wake up before?"
"Verri-ly, truly! ah, indeed: you have been giving us a monkey-show
with your nigger, I suppose.
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