"
"It does seem a pity to sell ye, young 'uns; ye'r such nice
'uns,--have so much interestin' in yer little skins!" interrupts the
gaoler, suddenly. The man of keys could unfold a strange history of
misery, suffering, and death, if fear of popular opinion,
illustrated in popular liberty, did not seal his lips. He admits the
present to be
We are narrating a scene related to us by the very gaoler we here
describe, and as nearly as possible in his own language. rather an
uncommon case, says it makes a body feel kind a' unhinged about the
heart, which heart, however rocky at times, will have its own way
when little children are sorrowing. "And then, to know their
parents! that's what tells deeper on a body's feeling,--it makes a
body look into the hereafter." The man of keys and shackles would be
a father, if the law did but let him. There is a monster power over
him, a power he dreads-it is the power of unbending democracy, moved
alone by fretful painstakers of their own freedom.
"Poor little things! ye 'r most white, yes!-suddenly changing-just
as white as white need be. Property's property, though, all over the
world. What's sanctioned by the constitution, and protected by the
spirit and wisdom of Congress, must be right, and maintained," the
gaoler concludes. His heart is at war with his head; but the head
has the power, and he must protect the rights of an unrighteous
system. They have arrived at a flight of steps, up which they
ascend, and are soon lost in its windings.
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