Reader! digest the moral. In this human menagerie-in
this sink of besotted degradation-lay the nucleus of a power by
which the greatest interests of state are controlled.
A bedusted party of mounted men have returned from a second
ineffectual attempt to recover the lost preacher: the appearance of
responsibility haunts mine host. He assured Mr. Lawrence M'Fadden
that his property would be perfectly secure under the lock of the
corn-shed. And now his anxiety exhibits itself in the readiness
with which he supplies dogs, horses, guns, and such implements as
are necessary to hunt down an unfortunate minister of the gospel.
What makes the whole thing worse, was the report of M'Fadden having
had a good sleep and awaking much more comfortable; that there was
little chance of the fortunate issue of his death. In this, mine
host saw the liability increasing two-fold.
He stands his important person, (hat off, face red with expectancy,
and hands thrust well down into his breeches pocket), on the top
step of the stairs leading to the veranda, and hears the
unfavourable report with sad discomfiture. "That's what comes of
making a preacher of a slave! Well! I've done all I can. It puts all
kinds of deviltry about runnin' away into their heads," he ventures
to assert, as he turns away, re-enters the "bar-room," and invites
all his friends to drink at his expense.
"Mark what I say, now, Squire Jones. The quickest way to catch that
ar' nigger 's just to lay low and keep whist.
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