Newspaper Page Text
Mjiwiiiair k
J. A. TURNER, EDITOR.|
VOLUME I.
INDEPENDENT PRESS.
“ Without Four, Favor or AfToction.”
EATONTON, GA.
SATURDAY MORNING. SEPT. 1,1834.
Faith and Reason
Fiith and reason are antagonistic.
Faith is passive—-reasonactive. Faith
receives what is told it. and never asks
‘‘ls it so?" 11 ason inquires into the
evidence which supports the proposi
tion laid before it. Faith is quiet—
reason restless. Faith stands still —
reason advances, Faith is of the earth.
Par thv —reason soars to beaten, 1 nith
is an infant —reason a giant, bait.;
is falsehood—reason is truth.
Reason mov be applied to all things,
sav certain persons, save to religion.
In this, the most important thing of
all, reason must lay aside its sceptre,
and faith alone must be called into
pl.iV. That is. von must receive what
is told you, and never inquire into, or
examine, the subject. And cspecial-
Iv vou must not apply to religious
topics the same system or manner of
reasoning that you do to other sub-
Now, as to the latter proposition,
which we choose to consider first, we
say that whatever is indeed a correct
method of reasoning as to one tiling, is
so Us to all others. Reason is reason,
and reason is truth. And in reason
ing of God and his attributes, you must
make use of the very same system
that you do upon all other subjects.
For if you reason one way as to things
temporal and another way as to things
spiritual, be assured that one or the
other system is wrong. If your tem
poral system is right, then your spir
itual is wrong. If your spiritual sys
tem is right, then your temporal is
wrong. Reason is the process by
which truth is developed. And it the
devclopement of truth is not the result,
then your process is not reason, but
sophistry. Therefore it is we say that
you must apply the same system ot
reasoning to things temporal, that you
do to things spiritual. We do not
say that truth may not be arrived at
by travelling different routes of rea
soning, but this we do say that these
different routes must run parallel with
each other, and never diverge, converge
or curve.
Perhaps it were better that we should
here illustrate what we are contend
ing for. Take this instance : A. be
lieves in unconditional decrees, and
hence believes that some men are de
creed to everlasting perdition. Now
13. comes in and says to A. “Suppose
it were in my power to create a senti
ent being, and I should decree at the
time T am forming it, that it should un
conditionally go into everlasting pun
ishment. I have the choice as well as>
the power to create or not to create,
while that which is to be my creature,
has no choice whatever in the niattei.
Will i> be either good or merciful in
me to exercise my creative power un
der the circumstances?’' A. would
answer, “No! you would be acting the
part of a demon to create even a worm
under such circumstances. Tou should
at least, give your creature a chance to
be a happy being.” “Then,” retorts
13., “if it be so fiendish in me, who
am but a mortal, to create even a worm
under such circumstances, how much
more fiendish would it be in the great
God whom you represent to be all-good,
all-just and all-merciful to create a man
under like circumstances ! But re
turns A., horrified with B’s. blasphe
my, “You must not apply human rea
son to the motives which impel God
head. You can’t reason after the same
manner of God that you do of yourself.
You must throw reason aside, and ex
ercise faith. The doctrine is in the
bible, and you must believe it.” And
straightway A. goes to reasoning with
B. to prove that B. must not reason ,
thus doing himself what he condemns
in another. He may reason, B. must
not. He reasoned very well in the
beginning to show that it would be
fiendish in B. to do what it would be
very merciful and good in God to do!
A. then, ha 6 two systems of reasoning,
one of which he applies to things hu
man, and the other of which he applies
to God and things spiritual. We have
thus illustrated what we mean by hav
ing two systems of reasoning.
Let us turn, now, to the former pro
position, that in religious matters, you
A Mlftlilii foumal:—filcliotcii to filtrate, fjolitits, anil derail Utiscellaitg.
must In\ aside reason and exercise
faith only. You must believe. Be
jlicvewhat, and believe whom? Be
lieve the bible. Well, the bible is
believed. But one man construes it
one way, and another in a different
way. One person says baptism must
be bv immersion, and another says
sprinkling will do as well. One says
that infants may be members of the
church, and another says they may not
be. One believes in close communion,
another in open communion. It may
be said that these are unimportant mat
ters, and therefore you may differ as
to these, but you must believe all the
essentials of doctrine. Well, who is
to sav what are the essentials, and
what are the non-essentials? The or-
F'.odox. Who arc' the orthodox? Who
constituted them so? 1 hey themselves (
did. Have they any more right to
construe the scriptures than other men ?
None. But they answer, “We have
the bible on our side/’ How do you
know you have? Why, reason teach
es us that the construction we put up
on the words of the bible is the only
legitimate and proper one. Reason
teaches you does it ? We thought
you objected to reasoning upon this
subject. Well we did, but we only
objected to reasoning contrary to the
proper construction of the bible. We,
the orthodox, may reason to prove to
vou our construction, because that is
right ; but you must not reason in fa
vor of your construction, because that
is wrong. Ah! but how do you
know that you are right and we
wrong? We know it because ice say
so. —Vain men! Worms of the earth!
who gave you the right to judge ex
clusively of what is right and what is
wrong? Who delivered to you the
keys of heaven and of hell? Who
made you iike dragons to stand before
the throne of Omnipotence, and disrobe
Deity of the power which belongs to
God alone—to wrench off from the
bow of Jehovah the missives of mer
cy that bear healing in their wings,
and affix in their stead the poisonous
darts of hell ? Who gave you the
power to tear Jehovah from his throne,
usurp his seat, and make for your foot
stool the oright intelligence with
which lie has endowed all his crea
tures, and which is the breath of Ilis
own nostril ? Who gave you the
power to trample under your feet the
j fixed law of God, whose fruit is the
I creation of the reasoning faculty in all
I His creatures?
But we return to the question of es
sentials and non-essentials in doctrine.
Take Predestination and Free-agency.
Predestination says a change is neces
sary in the heart, in order to the salva
tion of a man’s soul. Free-agency
says the same. But Predestination
says the work must be begun in the
heart for you, while Free-agency says
you must begin the work yourself.—
Predestination says icpentance and
conversion are necessary, and in this it
is agreed with Free-Agency. But
Predestination says conversion pre
cedes repentance, while Free-Agency
says repentance comes first. Predesti
nation says that there is no falling
from grace. Free-Agency says that
there is. Will you say that there is no
essential difference in these points of
doctrine, and that a man’s conduct, a
man’s efforts to do and be good, will
not be influenced by which of the
above points he believes? No reason
able man will say so. He who be
lieves that the work of grace must be
begun for him, will sit still, and wait
as a passive beiim. lie who believes
that he must begin the work, will be
up and doing. He who believes that
conversion precedes repentance, will
be careless and indifferent as to his
sins. He who believes that conver
sion is only to be gained by repentance,
w ill feel a deep and abiding sorrow on
account of his transgressions of the
law. He who believes that having
once gotten in the way, there is no
danger of getting out of it, may be
come careless and unconcerned, while
he who believes that he may fall from
grace, will be watchful, lest he do fall.
Say you there is no essential differ
ence between the above points of doc
trin ?
If it be true that a man’s salvation is
not in his own hands, but in those of
God alone, what oceans of tears might
not bo dried ! What tempestß of sighs
might not be hushed 1 What groans
and sweatmight not be done away with
| —what groans and sweat, with agony
KATONON, GA., SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1854.
little less than that of the Man of sor
rows, acquainted with grief, when an
guish caused great drops of blood, as
drops of molten lead, to burst from the
Son ot Man, in the dark shadows of
the olives of Gethsemane! If it be
true that the salvation of man depends
upon God alone, what human misery,
what bitter thought, what keen re
morse, what anguish, deep as hell,
might not be rolled off, like mountain
loads, from poor humanity, bowed
down under the curse of an offended
God !
On the other hand, if it be true that
mans salvation is in his own hands,
how many millions ot sinners annual
ly go down to the bottomless pit of
wo for lack of proper exertion on their
part! If it be true that man’s salva
pon is in his own hands, the paths that
lead down to the gates of!'01 are pav
ed with the bleaching bones of count
less myriads who sat in ignorance that
heaven was within their grasp and
who missed it because they did not
close their hands and clasp the prize
where the smile of God makes all
things bright and level} 7 !
Say you then that there is no essen
tial difference between Predestination
and Free-Agency, as they influence
the actions of man ? And yet both go
to the bible and by their own construc
tion get passages of scripture for their
foundation. Yet they are as much op
posed to each other as heaven and
hell. And yet each reasons to sup
port itself—are both orthodox —and
both say to others who differ with
them, you must not reason. We do,
but you must not. We are agreed as
to essentials, and are right. There is
no difference between us except as to un
important, non-essential points. We
are right and will reason you into the
belief that we are. You are wrong,
and must not reason. We are ortho
dox. We are the vicegerents of God —
you must follow us- And still they
differ widely as the poles, and differ,
too, on the most important points,
(notwithstanding they say they do
not) —points upon which hang their
woes in hell, or their joys in heaven!
The matter then resolves itself into
this, according to the proposition of
ofthose whose cry is, “Up with faith
and down with reason:” That some
one must have the authority to dictate
what shall be believed and what shall
not be believed. It is useless to say
believe the bible, for tha J must neces
sarily be construed. Who shall con
strue it? Who shall be the dictator ?
The pope, of course. It necessarily
runs into this. It may not be the pope
of Rome, but it must be some othe'r
pope. You may say, let it be the or
thodox. Who is to establish the test
of orthodoxy? You may say, the
body of orthodox Christians. But sup
pose they differ among themselves, as
we have shown they do. Suppose the
laity of any particular denomination do
not agree among themselves, what is
to be done —refer the question to the
clergy? But they may differ. What
then ? Do you answer, Some ruling
mind among them will solve the diffi
culty? If so, he whose mind it is, is
to all intents and purposes their pope.
John Calvin is as much a pope over his
followers, and John Wesley over his,
as the pope of Rome is over the Cath
olics.
We say boldly, that if the proposi
tion be a correct one, that men, in re
ligious matters, must believe and not
reason , some one man must tell them
what to believe, and this is popery.—
Indeed, popery is the embodiment of
faith as protestantism is the embodiment
of reason. And when Martin Luther
first burst the chains of papacy which
had bound the Christian world for so
many centuries, and swept off from the
bible the shackles of the holy see of
Rome as a lion would shake oft* a toil
of gossamer, he who claimed to be the
head of the church was no more guilty
of presumption and blasphemy in pro
nouncing his anathemas upon the great
reformer, than they are who style them
selves the orthodox in this day, and
call down the curse of heaven upon the
heads of those who differ with them in
religious opinion.
Men, then, will reason upon the sub
ject of religion. And they ought to
do so. It is wrong not to do so. God
has given them the faculty of reason
ing, and they will use it. Persons op
posed to freedom of thought and free
dom of opinion have fallen upon all
sorts of plans to prevent mankind
—“ WITHOUT Fa FOR OR aFFECTIOJT ”
from reasoning, and especially upon
the subject of religion. The thumb
screw and the rack, tortures and flames,
yea, even the flames of hell, have been
called into requisition to prevent men
from reasoning. Nothing of the sort
has ever succeeded. You cannot fet
ter immortal mind ; for the God of the
Universe, when he created it, no more
designed it to wear chains, than he did
the lightning that courses the paths of
the heavens. “ Canst thou bind the
unicorn with his band in the furrow,
or will he harrow the valleys after
thee ? .Canst thou draw out leviathan
with a hook, or his tongue with a cord
which thou lettest down ? Canst thou
put a hook into his nose, or bore his
jaw through with a thorn? Wilt thou
play with him as with a bird, or wilt
thou bind him for thy maidens?—
Canst thou fill his skin with barbed
irons, his hc?/d with fish-spears ? ”
Popery, we have said, is the embodi
ment of faith, while protestantism is
the embodiment of reason. The for
mer taunts the latter with its supera
bundance of sects and skeptics. And
it is very true that these arise from
freedom of opinion upon religious s ib
jects. Now, more than at any other
period of the world, is there a spirit of
enquiry rife upon the subject of reli
gion and the bible. It leads men into
ten thousand variant creeds and isms.
The question is, “Which is preferable,
this state of things, or the establish
ment o: one particular creed under the
power and dominion of one man to
be called the pope?’' We answer the
present state of things is to be pre
ferred, because we see looming up in
the future as the result of the theo
logical discussions now going on, the
religion of Christ freed from the dog
mas, the bigotry and intolerance with
which it is now too often surrounded,
dispensing light, and joy, and glad ti
dings to the inhabitants of the earth.—
We look forward with bright hopes
for the human race, to the time when
men every where shall cease disputing
as to the forms of religion, and take
the Nazarene at his word when he
says “that they who worship God must
worship him in spirit and in truth”—
when Jew and Samaritan shall no
longer contend, the one for Jerusalem,
and the other for Gerizim, as the only
places where oblation may be offered
to Jehovah, but when the spirit of thank
fulness may go up to heaven from the
palace or from the cottage, from the
valley or from the mountain, and when
all can bow, not as sects, but as Chris
tians, around one common altar. Rea
son teaches that the passions of men
may be sufficiently brought into sub
jection to attain this desirable end;
and without reason, passion and preju
dice will still hold their sway, and men
grope on in the darkness whose pavil
lion hangs like a shroud around the
inhabitants of the earth.
Imprisonment for Debt.
“It has recently been made public that
Wm. Miller, now seventy-one years
old, has been in Winchester prison,
England, for the last thirty-nine years,
for the crime of being in" debt.”
[ Exchange.
How indignation swells the free and
honest heart when the above is read !
In the 19th century—in England, the
powerful and free—in England who
boasts of her enlightenment, her phi
lanthropy, her Christianity—who sheds
tears over the fate of the fat, sleek,
well fed, comparatively free negro—
in England a man, old and stricken,
his grey-hairs whitened for the grave,
and his old heart throbbing for the
rest which it would find in the em
brace of death, is kept mouldering and
withering in a dungeon for thirty-nine
years! And for what? Because he is
poor —because he has no money to pay
his debts—debts contracted possibly,
yea probably, to obtain bread for
little ones, who cried “Pa, we die of
hunger 1”
We look back nearly forty years, and
our minds are carried beyond the broad
Atlantic. Fancy points us to a happy
cottage in what is called “Merry Eng
land.” We peep into that cottage, and
we see a cheerful little family circle.
The father is in the prime of early
manhood, the mother is by his side,
and the precious links of affection bind
them in tripple chains. Sweet babes
prattle around the happy parents’
knees. We look again and see the
shadow of misfortune cross the
threshold)of that miniature Eden.—
Once again we look, and behold mis-
fortune stalk in at the door, and frown
heavily upon the inmates of the cot
tage. The father is stretched upon a
bed of disease, and fever rages around
his vitals. While disease presses him
with a giant’s gripe in the very jaws of
death, there is no arm at work to pr< -
vide food for the mother and her ten
der babes. And now a quarter’s rent
is due, and at the bidding of the land
lord comes the bailiff, and ere the fe
verish blood of the unhappy man is
cooled by the pinion of health, the
fatner is hurried off to the dungeon,
and iron bolts and bars, instead of soft
white arms, embrace him. The moth
er and the babes weep awhile, and
suffer awhile for lack of bread, and then
a God of mercy sends down his angels,
who bear off the frail flowers of hu
manity to bloom in the paradise of
heaven.
Still the father and the husband is
in the dungeon, lie weeps until he
can weep no more. A mountain load
is upon his breast, and glad would he
be could he dissolve that load into
tears. But his grief is too deep, his
anguish too keen for that. Day passes
after day and year after year rolls away,
and time every moment places a
heavier burden upon the unhappy
man. The sun shines, the flowers
bloom, the birds sing, but not for him.
He hears the voices of happy persons
near his cell, and he hears the syco
phantic slaves of royalty cry aloud “God
save the Queen,” as regal pomp and
liveried automatons sweep their pa
gentry past his dungeon. There is no
happiness for him, lor lie is guilty of
the crime of being poor.
While this poor old silvery-haired
man lies in the prison at Winchester,
England’s sympathies fly across the
Atlantic to seek the American negro,
and she sends her fleets and armies in
conjunction with those of her ancient
enemy to build up her own ambitious
purposes upon the humbled aspirations
of the Czar. Thus she adds to a na
tional debt which already grinds her
subjects in the dust, and which will
increase the taxes imposed upon them,
and furnish more opportunities to roll
the fate of the Winchester prisoner
upon others of her people. Such is
England’s policy, and such the fruits
of that policy. Her system is rotten
at the core, and the days of her folly
and her tyranny must soon be number
ed with the things that were. W T e
sincerely trust that Nicholas will, as
Bonaparte did, teach her a lesson long
to be remembered. And if he does,
it will only save America the trouble
of doing it in his stead.
foriq.
FOR THE INDEPENDENT PRESS.
[No. 12.]
The Rainy Sunday.
The church-bell with its iron tongue,
Its voice ha3 o’er the village rung,
To call us all to preaching:
But patter, patter , goes the rain,
And bids us at our homes remain,
In spite of our beseeching.
There’s Jenny standing at tho door,
And wishing that 'twould rain no more:—
She wants to see her beau:
But patter, patter, is the sound
Os rain upon the muddy ground:—
To church sho cannot go.
There’s Sally with her finery on,
Who wishes that tho shower were gone,
To show her handsomo bonnet:
But patter, patter, still sho hears,
And if to church she goes, she fears
That it will rain upon it.
There’s Johnny with his new moustache,
And Polly with her scarlet sash,
Bought just to wear to-day:
But patter, patter, kills all hopo,
And they in moody silence mope,
Sinco they at home must stay.
The parson knows not what to do,
For ho is sad and lonely too,
But hope’s ’twill soon stop raining:
He’s studied closely all the week,
That he on Sunday well might speak:—
He’s now—almost I—complaining.
Oh 1 ’tis a gloomy time to day,
It seems ’twill never pass away,
In spite of sleep and reading:
Old Time has hitchod a lazy horse,
To draw his chariot in his course:—
He’s hardly worth his feeding. ‘
Spring of 1848. L. L*
Mrs. Squeezer writes to ask if “sheet
music,” often mentioned in the papers,
is singing in bed, for, she adds, Mr.
Squeezer often sings delightfully while
asleep. The desire of Mrs. S. for in
formation is only equaled by her neces
ity for it
% ®alt.
FOR THE INDEPENDENT PR EM.
BENTWOLD:
A TALE OF FLORIDA AND GEORGIA.
T
(Continued.)
CHAPTER 111.
The morning after the ride on the
beach, mentioned in the last chapter,
while the family at Bentwold were at
breakfast, an intelligent looking negro
came in, and handed Mr. Bentley a
letter. TL is negro was one of a very
small class, to be found at the South.
In describing Howard, we describe the
class.
Asa general rule, whenever you find
a negro of superior intelligence you
perceive, in the lightness of his com
plexion, evidence of the existence of
Caucassian blood. Occasionally, how
ever, as in the present instance, this
superior intelligence is accompanied
by the unmitigated blackness of com
plexion which is possessed in common,
by the least intelligent of the sons of
Ham. Howard, was entirely black,
and so far the color was concerned,
differed not front the rest of his sable
brethren.. But, in spite of the black
ness of his complexion, his features
differed as much from the flat un
meaning ones of most negroes, as
it is possible for one human face to dif
fer from another, whose color is the
same. His features were regular and
prominent as those of a white man.
To a well formed nose and mouth, was
added an eye whose glance gave evi
dence of a mind far above mediocrity.
In that negro’s eye, you could also
read evidence of faithfulness, steadi
ness and devotion* of an extraordinary
kind.
Howard was indeed an extraordin
ary negro —a perfect treasure, to his
master. In Mr. Bentley’s young days,
concerning which the reader shall soon
know something—Howard had attend
ed him in all his wanderings, and
had ever proved a faithful, devoted
servant, —on one occasion risking his
life in defence of his master, perfectly
deaf to all offers of freedom, from ab
olitionists in whose company he had
been thrown. His master had expos
ed him to temptation of this kind for
the express purpose of testing his de
votion. He wished to make a choice,
of a body servant, a constant attendant,
and took the earliest opportunity of
putting him to the proof.
And well did Howard bear the test;
so well that he had been retained about
the person of Mr. from the
time they were both mere youths, till
now. At this time, he not only serv
ed his master as valet, but was env loy
ed by him to execute nearly all of his
most important commissions, which
could be legally entrusted to a slave.
At this time, he was lately returned
from Mr. Bentley’s Blue Spring Plan
tation.
“Well Howard,” said Mr. Bentley,
after glancing at the letter, “I suppose
you delivered my note to Jones?”
“Yes sir,” said Howard, “and he gave
me that letter for you.”
“Never mind the letter now. What
time did you get back?”
“Long after bed time, sir.”
“And how are matters and things
generally, at the plantation ?”
fair sir. They’ve' had
some sickness. Old aunt Phillis can’t
last much longer.”
“Poor old woman !” said the com
passionate master. “Howard are you
sure she is well attended to? I would
go down and see about it oftener, my
self, but for my confidence in you.”
“Don’t be uneasy master,” was the
reply. “She has good care taken of
her. Mr. Jones sees to it himself.”
“Well she has been a faithful ser
vant, and great will be her reward.
It affords me satisfaction to know she
is as comfortable as she can be made,
in her present condition. Are any of
the hands laid up now?”
“No sir. There were some sick last
week, jj but they are at work now.”
“And how is the crop?”
“The crop is first-rate. They’ve had
plenty of rain this Spring, and the
neighbors all say they will make bet
ter crops this year than they have in
two or three years. The poor people
are mighty thankful for it, too, for they
hardly made enough to eat last year.
| TERMS, $2,00 A YEAR*
NUMBER 20.
Juba says they needn’t be troubling
God with their thanks for the rain.--
He says that God fixed clouds so that’’'
they could hold just so much water
and no more—and that when ever they
get more water in them than they
can hold, they run over, and that
makes rain. He says that God fixed
all these things at first, and after that
he didn’t bother his head any more
about the matter.”
“And what do you think of jubi’s
system of Philosophy, Howard ?” said
Mr. Bentley, amazed at old Juba’s no- ?
tions.
“Twould take me a long time to tell
what I think about it, master,” was the
reply: “I think though Juba is nearer
right than you might suppose he is.”
“What!” said Mr. Bentley, “are you
both opposed to the doctrine of special
providence? I’m afraid Mr. Smooth
face, the missionary in the neighbor- ’
hood will pronounce you both sad in
fidels. But never mind that now. Did
you go over the low-ground corn?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, how is it doing?”
“I think it will make ten barrels to
the acre; and so does Mr. Jones.”
“And what does Juba think of it?
for he is a good judge of crops, if he
is a free thinker like you.”
“ Why Juba says he walked all
through it last Sunday and that it
won’t make but nine barrels and four
fifths.”
“Well I’ll bet Jrba is right,” said
Frank, “although I have never seen
the corn.”
“I think he is right too,” said Mr.
Bentley. “He has seen more corn
measured than you and Jones both
together, Howard.”
“And that cotton over the creek,”
resumed Howard, “is just good enough.
Juba says it was the best prospect he
ever saw before old Mr. Ramsey’ssfceers
broke in it.”
“Wkatl” exclaimed Mr. Bentley,
“have those infernal steers been in my
best cotton again ?”
“Yes sir; but I don’t think they
will go in there again, if Juba tells
the truth.”
“Why the old fool hasn’t killed
them has he ?”
“No sir.”
“What then? I gave strict orders
when I was there last, that if the
neighbors’ stock broke into my fields,
they should be carried home and the
owner or overseer informed of it.”
“Well they did do that the first
time they broke in. That was Satur
day. The next day one of the boys
was fishing, and saw the very same
steers they had carried home to Mr.
Ramsey, the day before, trampling the
cotton and eating it. Mr. Jones wasn’t
at home, so he went and told Juba
about it. Juba took the dogs, and
two or three of the boys and went
over, and dogged the steers till he was
tired, and then he got one hemmed up
in a corner of the fence, knocked him
down with a rock, and made the boys
hold him by the horns, while he cut
him a good sized sapling and beat him
with it till he could hardly breathe.
Then he served the other one the same
way, and when he turned them loose,
they ran clear home-before they stop
ped, and hav’nt been back since.”
“Juba served them perfectly right
then,” said Mr. Bentley.
“Yea sir,” answered,-Howard, “but
I’m af raid Juba has got himself into a
scrape about it.”
“How?”
“Why Mr. Ramsey ..came over to the
plantation next day, and wanted to
whip Juba; bUft when Mr. Jones found
out all about it, he'told Mr. Ramsey he
didn’t think Juba had done anything
to be whipped for, and he shouldn’t
whip him, unless he' got your leave to
do it. Then Mr. .-Ramsey got mad
enough, and raved ahd cursed mightily,
until at last Mr. Jones told him he’d
better remember the frolic his sons
had with you last year. At%his he
went oft', and hallooed to Juba as he
went, and told him, if he ever
him outside of his master’s plantatiof||
he’d skin him.” ' jjj*
During this recital, Mr. * Bentley’s
eye blazed, and he seemed on-the point
of giving way to a furious outburst.
Mastering his anger, he merely said,
in a stern, cool voice :
“I will investigate this mailer fully;
and if .it is as you have stgjed it, let
old Ramsey dare to lay thejweight of
his finger on my slave, afed he yUfe
wish he. had never
