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The Sabbath proved a rainy day, and the sudden dissolving
of the snow made the walking so very bad, that
Mr. Frankford excused himself from attending church.

He passed the day in his own apartment, engaged, as
it was thought, in making notes on Northwood and its
people—but his volume has never been published. Perhaps
he slept.

In the evening, however, he appeared eager for information
about the settlement and history of the old Granite
State, and seemed much gratified to find its people
were descended, chiefly, from English parentage.

“Your family name is similar with that of our late
distinguished philanthropist and statesman, Sir Samuel
Romilly,” said he to the Squire. “Are you from the
same stock!”

“According to our traditions, we are—but the relationship
is now rather remote. We are descended from
the younger brother—there were two, Pierre and Jacques
Romilly, who fled from France on the revocation of the
edict of Nantes. The elder settled in London; the
younger came to America and settled first in Boston,

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but afterwards removed to New Hampshire, where his
descendants, or most of them, remain.”

“Then you claim fraternity with the French?”

“Yes—but a stock engrafted on several other nations.
My children inherit, on my side, the blood of France
and Britain—my great grandmother was an English-woman:
on the side of my wife there is Irish and Spanish
blood; but it is now all united in one patriotic current—
the American.”

“I have heard it asserted that from such an intermixture
of races, the most perfect and beautiful one would be
derived;” remarked the Englishman, reflectively.

His gaze was fixed on Sophia Romilly, who sat by
the table reading. He saw her en profile and to great
advantage, as she had put her curls behind her ear, and
thus revealed not only the exquisite perfection of that
little member, but also the delicate outline of her cheek
and her beautiful throat. Her skin was of that pure,
clear, lily white which seems as though it would never
be sullied. She had very dark hair, eyebrows and eyelashes,
while her eyes were the soft blue of summer skies.
In truth, she seemed as fair a specimen of the mingled
beauty of the races as one could hope to look upon, and
it was not strange if Mr. Frankford so regarded her.

He was aroused from his reverie, which an æsthetic
philosopher can only understand, by a remark of Sidney
Romilly's.

“That emigrants from Europe were now flocking to
our land in such numbers he feared the old Puritan stock
would be blotted out.”

“No fear of that, my son,” said the Squire, cheerfully.
“Let them come. We have room for all, and food, too;
besides, we want their work, and they want our teaching.
We shall do each other mutual good.”

“Is there no danger to your peculiar institutions from
this influx of foreigners?” inquired Frankford. “These
people are not accustomed to your liberty.”

“I don't think they will try to destroy it though;

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they have suffered too much from oppression in the old
world to wish it introduced here,” returned the Squire.

“They may destroy it by their ignorance,” observed
Sidney; “at least such is the fear of our Southern statesmen.”

“We must enlighten them—the emigrants, I mean,”
said the Squire. “The destiny of America is to instruct
the world, which we shall do, with the aid of our Anglo
Saxon brothers over the water,” he added with a smile,
as he turned to Mr. Frankford.

“We shall be much obliged for such a permission,”
said Mr. Frankford. “Where shall we begin?”

“At home. Let both nations be faithful there. Great
Britain has enough to do at home and in the East Indies
to last her another century. We have this continent and
Africa to settle and civilize, besides keeping open school
for people of all nations, tongues and sects that choose to
come here and enjoy its privileges.”

Mr. Frankford looked a little amazed, but after a
moment's reflection he said, pleasantly—“I thought
Great Britain held a small portion of this continent?”

“Over which the stars will yet wave.”

“Why? what reason have you to believe this?”

“Because in the first place our title covers it. `The
United States of North America' is the title given our
Republic by the wise framers of our Constitution, and
will be fulfilled. In the second place, we have already
more than doubled our original territory. We shall gain
other additions as we have gained Louisiana and Florida.”

“Oh! you are intending to buy the world. That
alters the case. I thought you were anticipating Roman
triumphs,” said Frankford.

“The triumphs of peace are greater than Roman; they
are Christian. We may have to draw the sword, but I
hope not.”

“Well,” said the Englishman, after reflecting a little,
“you have laid out work enough at home for your citizens
during another century, I think; and you spoke of
having something to do in Africa. Perhaps you are

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intending to free all your slaves and send them there to
accomplish their destiny.”

“Yes, that is the greatest mission of our Republic, to
train here the black man for his duties as a Christian,
then free him and send him to Africa, there to plant
Free States and organize Christian civilization.”

“Degraded as he is by slavery,” said Frankford.

“Elevated as he is by American slavery,” returned
the Squire, “the most miserable slave you can find at
the South is an enlightened and civilized man compared
with his heathen brothers in Africa, who have never
heard of a Saviour. The evils of the system bear heavily
on our land—but the negro race have been and will be,
eventually, greatly benefited from their contact with
American institutions. And this point should never be
forgotten. The white race here endures the heaviest
burden of the evils of slavery. Look at Virginia! Absolutely
a century behind Massachusetts in agriculture,
arts and manufactures. Yet the former has every advantage
of soil, climate and mineral wealth, and the latter
nothing indigenous except granite and ice! Slave labor
keeps Virginia poor: free labor makes Massachusetts
rich. So it is throughout our whole land. Everywhere
the free states are the most prosperous.”

“Why then do the southern states keep their slaves,
if they are injured by them?”

“What shall be done with them?”

“Why, give them freedom! Your Constitution declares
all men are entitled to that.”

“And have equal right to life, liberty, and the pursuit
of happiness”—put in Harvey, who was sitting on a
stool by his father's knee, and looking earnestly at each
speaker in his turn.

They all smiled, and Frankford said inquiringly, laying
his hand on the boy's head—“You will never be a
slaveholder?”

Harvey was quite abashed, for he had heard Deacon
Jones speak contemptuously of Sidney—as a “southern
slaveholder”—and the little boy, looking on his eldest

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brother, would not believe it was so very wicked—yet it
seemed that Mr. Frankford thought it was bad too. He
was puzzled. Before he had settled his doubts, his mother
changed the subject. She had, for some time, been
looking, alternately, at the clock and little Lydia, who
seemed in a very sleepy condition. Touching her husband's
arm, Mrs. Romilly whispered something in his
ear: he nodded, and turning to his guest—

“I must beg your indulgence, Mr. Frankford, we hold
our family devotions early on Sunday evening, so that
the little ones may be with us. We have singing, too,
and that, I fear, may annoy you.”

“Oh! not at all. I shall be happy to listen and heartily
wish I could join; but psalmody is not one of my accomplishments.”

“It is the only musical accomplishment of my children,”
returned the Squire; “at least, the only one in
which they have been instructed. Nature gives the
voice.”

By this time the arrangements mere made. The big
Bible and several hymn books were laid on the table—
the candles set in order, and the family circle waiting in
silent attention. The father, glancing his eye around
and finding all prepared, opened reverentially The Book,
and selecting the twentieth chapter of that sublime and
mysterious “Revelation,” yet to be revealed, read in a
very impressive manner:

“And I saw an angel come down from heaven, having
the key of the bottomless pit and a great chain in his
hand.

“And he laid hold on the dragon, that old serpent,
which is the Devil and Satan, and bound him a thousand
years.

“And cast him into the bottomless pit, and shut him
up, and set a seal upon him, that he should deceive the
nations no more till the thousand years should be fulfilled,”
&c.

The whole chapter was read, and listened to with devout
seriousness. Mr. Frankford was struck with the

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scene. He seemed to hear the strange passages for the
first time. Hitherto he had considered the whole as a
myth—but it appeared that this family believed in the
actual coming of the events foretold. “Will they come?”
was his thought.

After the Bible was laid down, the Squire took the
hymn book offered by his wife, saying—“Well, Mary,
you have chosen the song, I see. Children, sing the 282d
hymn of the collection;” and he read it—

“We have lost our best bass voice, now Silas is gone,”
said Mrs. Romilly, softly, “unless Sidney will join. I
hope you sing, my son; you had a fine voice.”

“I do sing a little, mother, and I will try now,” answered
Sidney, tenderly.

The strain was raised; the Squire led the household
choir, and every one, even little Lydia, joined.

Mr. Frankford had listened at operas and concerts,
where the first musical geniuses of the age had displayed
their powers; but no one, not even Malibran herself, had
so moved his soul as did the voice of Sophia, a soprano
of great clearness, naturally, and now, by her feelings,
modified to a softness touchingly sweet. She paused at
the close of the third verse, and did not resume. As she

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sat, still as a statue, the long dark eyelashes drooping till
they entirely shaded the downcast eye, and no sign of
emotion visible, except the ebb and flow of color on her
fair young cheek, he thought, “Oh, that I could read her
heart! Fool that I am—it beats for her brother! She
thinks only of the parting with him!”

And so—perhaps—she did.

Then they all knelt, the Englishman beside Mrs. Romilly—
who often, afterwards, mentioned it as a proof that
he was a real good man,—and the prayer of faith, hope,
and love ascended to Him who blesses the family altar.
It was a touching petition, and so appropriately as well
as fervently worded, that the Englishman quite forgot,
while listening to its earnest breathings for his own safety
and happiness, his prejudices against extempore prayers
in general.

After the children had retired, Mrs. Romilly asked
Sidney what church he attended in Charleston.

“The Episcopal.”

“Ah, well; I am glad you go there, and not with your
uncle.”

“He goes often to the Episcopal church.”

“Indeed! How long has he gone there?”

“Since the death of my aunt. My Uncle Brainard is
quite a different man from what he was when I first went
to the South,” added Sidney.

“There is something to me quite inexplicable in this
strife of sects in America,” said Mr. Frankford. “Where
all religions are exactly on the same footing in the state,
I don't see the use of trying to make proselytes. Besides,
your religious people spend so much strength and
time in controversies, they can have very little for Christian
duties.”

“You are right,” returned the Squire. “And these
dissentions about points that all concede are not material
to our salvation, are doubtless the `tares sown by the
enemy'—the temptations of that Evil One who would,
if possible, deceive the very elect. It is cheering to reflect
that his power will end when the millennium begins.”

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“Do you really, sir, believe such a time of peace and
happiness is coming on this earth?” inquired Frankford,
earnestly.

“I do, because God has promised it.”

“I should like to believe it; but is there any reason
for such hope? Men have changed very little since the
time of Cain, of Nimrod, or of Solomon. Hatred—
power—pleasure—these move the master minds, and selfishness
governs the multitude. Christianity seems to
have caused some improvement; but when we examine
closely, we find selfish motives apparent among those
styled the most pious men. It has taken eighteen hundred
years, almost, to make a few real Christians; the
great mass, nearly the whole world in fact, is still heathen,
or little better. It seems, therefore, hopeless to look for
any great improvement in the future.”

“Reasoning from the past, entirely, you are, perhaps,
right in your conclusions,” returned the Squire. “But
you leave out of account the two great elements of human
progress which the millennium will introduce.”

“I don't understand.”

“You have shown, Mr. Frankford, that men have not
improved much; morally speaking, this is true. And
you conclude, therefore, they never will improve, forgetting
that God has promised to do for man what he cannot
do for himself. Now, to bring about the `good time
coming,' God has promised to do two things.”

“What are they?”

“To change man's heart, and to chain the devil!”

“God must certainly do the last, if it is ever done.
But do you believe what you read this evening about
chaining the devil, is to become a literal fact?”

“So far as this—the temptations of the enemy of God
and goodness will cease. The devil will not have power
to deceive. Revenge, ambition, selfishness, will appear
as they really are—foul, mean, monstrous. Men will see
the truth, their hearts will be changed to love the truth,
and the truth will make them free!”

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“And then American slavery will cease, I suppose,”
said Frankford, shrugging his shoulders.

“It will; and slavery will cease in India also. Asia
is now a den of oppressions of all kinds, to which American
slavery is freedom. The greater portion of Europe
is under despotic power;—the people are slaves. Our
country has made the greatest progress in the true principles
of liberty; our government was the first to prohibit
the slave trade; our nation will be the first to find
out the right way—the Christian way is good and peaceable—
of converting slaves into free men.”

“Should the States continue united, your people will,
doubtless, prosper; but the Union may be dissolved.”

“Heaven forbid! The evil would be so disastrous to
the world, so crushing to the cause of humanity and religion,
that God, surely, will never permit the enemies
of truth and freedom such a triumph.”

“You believe the devil will be chained?” said Frankford.

“Yes; and I also believe that `the knowledge of the
Lord will cover the earth, as the waters doth the sea,'
and that peace and brotherhood will be universal,” said
the Squire.

Early on Monday morning the chaise was in readiness,
and Sidney prepared to accompany Mr. Frankford to
landlord Holmes', where the stage to Boston was taken.

There were warm wishes breathed, and warm tears
shed at the parting, though the acquaintance had been
but for a few days. Confidence is soon established and
esteem won, where all are deserving and all sedulous to
appear agreeable.

Mr. Frankford kissed the younger members of the
family; to the elder ones he proffered his hand, and the
blush that crimsoned Sophia's cheek was, by her brother
James, always attributed to a very tender pressure, and
with many a sly jest he afterwards reminded her of the
circumstance.

Mrs. Romilly said, as she wiped the tears from her

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eyes, after the carriage was fairly out of sight,—“Well,
I never thought I should cry at parting with an Englishman;
but there, he don't seem like a stranger; he talks,
and thinks, and feels, just as we do. I wonder he don't
stay here in America—I'm sure it must seem just like
his own country; but I shall always remember him, because
he's our Sidney's friend.”

The stage was drawn up at the door of the tavern, and
the baggage of the Englishman being soon transferred,
all was ready for his departure. He came up to Sidney
and took both his hands in his. There was evidently a
struggle in his bosom, and the dignified stateliness of his
manner seemed assumed to conceal the weakness of feelings
he was ashamed to indulge.

Tears started in the eyes of Sidney. “You will write
soon, Mr. Frankford. I shall wait anxiously to hear of
your safe arrival in England.”

“With not more anxiety than I shall wait your promised
visit there,” replied the Englishman. “I shall
never feel at peace till I can have an opportunity of repaying
some of the obligations with which you have
loaded me. It was to you I owed my favorable reception
at Charleston; it is to your care at Montreal I owe
my life. Now give me an opportunity of proving how
highly I esteem your generous character. You have often
heard the English people were proud: you shall find we
are grateful. Farewell!”

Sidney returned home very low spirited, and all the
exertions of his family were insufficient to dispel his sadness.
He had, for the last ten or twelve months, passed
most of his time in the society of Frankford, and felt,
on parting with him, perhaps forever, that vacuity of
heart which all feel on the first separation from favorite
and familiar friends.

The day appeared long, and soon as tea was over he
retired to his chamber, notwithstanding Deacon Jones
had called with the avowed design of having “a talk
with Mr. Sidney, and learning something about how he
had spent his time away there to Carolina.”

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The deacon, indeed, attempted to indemnify himself
for his disappointment by closely questioning the Squire
and Mrs. Romilly, but all the particulars he gathered did
not satisfy his mind; and as I hope some of my readers
will feel a like anxiety, though from different motives,
we will go back to the period when Sidney Romilly first
left the home of his childhood for the house of strangers.

p561-180

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