Slavery's wrong, uncle;
and it's when one's reduced to such extremes as are presented in
this uninviting garret that we realise it the more forcibly. It
gives the poor wretches no chance of bettering their condition; and
if one exhibits ever so much talent over the other, there is no
chance left him to improve it. It is no recompense to the slave that
his talent only increases the price of the article to be sold. Look
what Harry would have been had he enjoyed freedom. Uncle, we forget
our best interests while pondering over the security of a bad
system. Would it not be better to cultivate the slave's affections,
rather than oppress his feelings?" Franconia has their cause at
heart-forgets her own. She is far removed from the cold speculations
of the south; she is free from mercenary motives; unstained by that
principle of logic which recognises only the man merchandise. No
will hath she to contrive ingenious apologies for the wrongs
inflicted upon a fallen race. Her words spring from the purest
sentiment of the soul; they contain a smarting rebuke of Marston's
former misdoings: but he cannot resent it, nor can he turn the tide
of his troubles against her noble generosity.
They had eaten their humble supper of meats and bread, and coffee,
when Franconia hears a rap at the lower entrance, leading into the
street. Bearing the taper in her hand, she descends the stairs
quickly, and, opening the door, recognises the smiling face of Daddy
Bob. Daddy greets her as if he were surcharged with the very best
news for old mas'r and missus.
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