There's something in
the comparison!" he says, looking over the old railing into the
water. And then his thoughts wandered to the plantation. There the
germs of an enlightened policy were growing up; the purity of a
noble woman's heart was spreading blessings among a downcast race,
cultivating their minds, raising them up to do good for themselves,
to reward the efforts of the benefactor. Her motto was:--Let us
through simple means seek the elevation of a class of beings whose
degradation has distracted the political wisdom of our happy
country, from its conquest to the present day. "There's something in
it," again mutters Mr. Scranton, as he enters his room, lights his
taper, and with his elbow resting on the table, his head supported
in his hand, sits musing over the subject.
CHAPTER XII.
ELDER PEMBERTON PRAISEWORTHY CHANGES HIS BUSINESS.
LET us beg the reader's indulgence for a few moments, while we say
that Mr. Scranton belonged to that large class of servile flatterers
who too often come from the New England States-men, who, having no
direct interest in slaves, make no scruple of sacrificing their
independence that they may appear true to the south and slavery.
Such men not unfrequently do the political vampirism of the south
without receiving its thanks, but look for the respect of political
factions for being loudest supporters of inconsistency. They never
receive the thanks of the southerner; frequently and deservedly do
they sink into contempt!
A few days after the visit to the plantation we have described in
the foregoing chapter, Elder Pemberton Praiseworthy, divested of his
pastoral occupation, and seriously anxious to keep up his friendly
associations with those who had taken a part in furthering the cause
of humanity, calls on his old acquaintance, Mrs.
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