"Mr. Wilson, I know all this," said George. "I _do_ run a risk, but--" he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife. "There!" he said, "I'm ready for 'em! Down south I never _will_ go.
No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of free soil,--the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!"
"Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it's getting really desperate George. I'm concerned. Going to break the laws of your country!"
"My country again! Mr. Wilson, _you_ have a country; but what country have _I_, or any one like me, born of slave mothers?
What laws are there for us? We don't make them,--we don't consent to them,--we have nothing to do with them; all they do for us is to crush us, and keep us down. Haven't I heard your Fourth-of-July speeches? Don't you tell us all, once a year, that governments derive their just power from the consent of the governed? Can't a fellow _think_, that hears such things? Can't he put this and that together, and see what it comes to?"
Mr. Wilson's mind was one of those that may not unaptly be represented by a bale of cotton,--downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy and confused. He really pitied George with all his heart, and had a sort of dim and cloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him; but he deemed it his duty to go on talking _good_ to him, with infinite pertinacity.
"George, this is bad. I must tell you, you know, as a friend, you'd better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, very bad, for boys in your condition,--very;" and Mr. Wilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrella.
"See here, now, Mr. Wilson," said George, coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; "look at me, now.
Don't I sit before you, every way, just as much a man as you are?
Look at my face,--look at my hands,--look at my body," and the young man drew himself up proudly; "why am I _not_ a man, as much as anybody? Well, Mr. Wilson, hear what I can tell you.
I had a father--one of your Kentucky gentlemen--who didn't think enough of me to keep me from being sold with his dogs and horses, to satisfy the estate, when he died. I saw my mother put up at sheriff's sale, with her seven children. They were sold before her eyes, one by one, all to different masters; and I was the youngest.
She came and kneeled down before old Mas'r, and begged him to buy her with me, that she might have at least one child with her; and he kicked her away with his heavy boot. I saw him do it; and the last that I heard was her moans and screams, when I was tied to his horse's neck, to be carried off to his place."
"Well, then?"
"My master traded with one of the men, and bought my oldest sister.
She was a pious, good girl,--a member of the Baptist church,--and as handsome as my poor mother had been. She was well brought up, and had good manners. At first, I was glad she was bought, for I had one friend near me. I was soon sorry for it. Sir, I have stood at the door and heard her whipped, when it seemed as if every blow cut into my naked heart, and I couldn't do anything to help her; and she was whipped, sir, for wanting to live a decent Christian life, such as your laws give no slave girl a right to live; and at last I saw her chained with a trader's gang, to be sent to market in Orleans,--sent there for nothing else but that,--and that's the last I know of her. Well, I grew up,--long years and years,--no father, no mother, no sister, not a living soul that cared for me more than a dog; nothing but whipping, scolding, starving. Why, sir, I've been so hungry that I have been glad to take the bones they threw to their dogs; and yet, when I was a little fellow, and laid awake whole nights and cried, it wasn't the hunger, it wasn't the whipping, I cried for. No, sir, it was for _my mother_ and _my sisters_,--it was because I hadn't a friend to love me on earth. I never knew what peace or comfort was. I never had a kind word spoken to me till I came to work in your factory.
Mr. Wilson, you treated me well; you encouraged me to do well, and to learn to read and write, and to try to make something of myself; and God knows how grateful I am for it. Then, sir, I found my wife; you've seen her,--you know how beautiful she is.
When I found she loved me, when I married her, I scarcely could believe I was alive, I was so happy; and, sir, she is as good as she is beautiful. But now what? Why, now comes my master, takes me right away from my work, and my friends, and all I like, and grinds me down into the very dirt! And why? Because, he says, I forgot who I was; he says, to teach me that I am only a nigger!
After all, and last of all, he comes between me and my wife, and says I shall give her up, and live with another woman. And all this your laws give him power to do, in spite of God or man.
Mr. Wilson, look at it! There isn't _one_ of all these things, that have broken the hearts of my mother and my sister, and my wife and myself, but your laws allow, and give every man power to do, in Kentucky, and none can say to him nay! Do you call these the laws of _my_ country? Sir, I haven't any country, anymore than I have any father. But I'm going to have one. I don't want anything of _your_ country, except to be let alone,--to go peaceably out of it; and when I get to Canada, where the laws will own me and protect me, _that_ shall be my country, and its laws I will obey. But if any man tries to stop me, let him take care, for I am desperate.
I'll fight for my liberty to the last breath I breathe. You say your fathers did it; if it was right for them, it is right for me!"
This speech, delivered partly while sitting at the table, and partly walking up and down the room,--delivered with tears, and flashing eyes, and despairing gestures,--was altogether too much for the good-natured old body to whom it was addressed, who had pulled out a great yellow silk pocket-handkerchief, and was mopping up his face with great energy.
"Blast 'em all!" he suddenly broke out. "Haven't I always said so--the infernal old cusses! I hope I an't swearing, now.
