Further and further, as he contemplated, did it open
to his thoughts the strange social and political mystery of that
more strange institution for reducing mankind to the level of
brutes. And yet, democracy, apparently honest, held such inviolable
and just to its creed; which creed it would defend with a cordon of
steel. The dejected gentleman sighs, rests his head on his left
hand, and his elbow on the little table at his side. Without, the
weather is cold and damp; an incessant rain had pattered upon the
roof throughout the day, wild and murky clouds hang their dreary
festoons along the heavens, and swift scudding fleeces, driven by
fierce, murmuring winds, bespread the prospect with gloom that finds
its way into the recesses of the heart.
"Who is worse than a slave!" sighs the rejected man, getting up and
looking out of his window into the dreary recesses of the narrow
lane. "If it be not a ruined planter I mistake the policy by which
we govern our institution! As the slave is born a subject being, so
is the planter a dependent being. We planters live in
disappointment, in fear, in unhappy uncertainty; and yet we make no
preparations for the result. Nay, we even content ourselves with
pleasantly contemplating what may come through the eventful issue of
political discord; and when it comes in earnest, we find ourselves
the most hapless of unfortunates. For myself, bereft of all I had
once,--even friends, I am but a forlorn object in the scale of weak
mankind! No man will trust me with his confidence,--scarce one knows
me but to harass me; I can give them no more, and yet I am suspected
of having more.
Pages:
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507