University of Virginia Library

II. — THE ALTAR OF —, OR 1850.

The setting sun of chill December lighted up the solitary front
window of a small tenement on — street, which we now have
occasion to visit. As we push gently aside the open door, we gain
sight of a small room, clean as busy hands can make it, where a
neat, cheerful young mulatto woman is busy at an ironing-table. A
basket full of glossy-bosomed shirts, and faultless collars and wristbands,
is beside her, into which she is placing the last few items
with evident pride and satisfaction. A bright, black-eyed boy, just
come in from school, with his satchel of books over his shoulder,
stands, cap in hand, relating to his mother how he has been at the
head of his class, and showing his school-tickets, which his mother,
with untiring admiration, deposits in the little real china tea-pot, —
which, as being their most reliable article of gentility, is made the
deposit of all the money and most especial valuables of the family.

“Now, Henry,” says the mother, “look out and see if father is
coming along the street;” and she begins filling the little black tea-kettle,
which is soon set singing on the stove.

From the inner room now daughter Mary, a well-grown girl of
thirteen, brings the baby, just roused from a nap, and very impatient
to renew his acquaintance with his mamma.

“Bless his bright eyes! — mother will take him,” ejaculates the
busy little woman, whose hands are by this time in a very floury
condition, in the incipient stages of wetting up biscuit, — “in a
minute;” and she quickly frees herself from the flour and paste,
and, deputing Mary to roll out her biscuit, proceeds to the consolation
and succor of young master.

“Now, Henry,” says the mother, “you 'll have time, before supper,
to take that basket of clothes up to Mr. Sheldin's; — put in that

nice bill, that you made out last night. I shall give you a cent for
every bill you write out for me. What a comfort it is, now, for
one's children to be gettin' learnin' so!”

Henry shouldered the basket, and passed out the door, just as a
neatly-dressed colored man walked up, with his pail and white-wash
brushes.

“O, you 've come, father, have you? — Mary, are the biscuits in?
— you may as well set the table, now. Well, George, what 's the
news?”

“Nothing, only a pretty smart day's work. I 've brought home five
dollars, and shall have as much as I can do, these two weeks;” and
the man, having washed his hands, proceeded to count out his change
on the ironing-table.

“Well, it takes you to bring in the money,” said the delighted
wife; “nobody but you could turn off that much in a day!”

“Well, they do say — those that 's had me once — that they
never want any other hand to take hold in their rooms. I s'pose
its a kinder practice I 've got, and kinder natural!”

“Tell ye what,” said the little woman, taking down the family
strong box, — to wit, the china tea-pot, aforenamed, — and pouring
the contents on the table, “we 're getting mighty rich, now! We
can afford to get Henry his new Sunday-cap, and Mary her muslin-de-laine
dress; — take care, baby, you rogue!” she hastily
interposed, as young master made a dive at a dollar bill, for his
share in the proceeds.

“He wants something, too, I suppose,” said the father; “let him
get his hand in while he 's young.”

The baby gazed, with round, astonished eyes, while mother, with
some difficulty, rescued the bill from his grasp; but, before any one
could at all anticipate his purpose, he dashed in among the
small change with such zeal as to send it flying all over the table.

“Hurra! — Bub 's a smasher!” said the father, delighted;
“he 'll make it fly, he thinks;” and, taking the baby on his knee,
he laughed merrily, as Mary and her mother pursued the rolling coin
all over the room.

“He knows now, as well as can be, that he 's been doing mischief,”
said the delighted mother, as the baby kicked and crowed
uproariously; — “he 's such a forward child, now, to be only six
months old! — O, you 've no idea, father, how mischievous he
grows,” and therewith the little woman began to roll and tumble
the little mischief-maker about, uttering divers frightful threats,

which appeared to contribute, in no small degree, to the general
hilarity.

“Come, come, Mary,” said the mother, at last, with a sudden
burst of recollection; “you must n't be always on your knees
fooling with this child! — Look in the oven at them biscuits.”

“They 're done exactly, mother, — just the brown!” — and,
with the word, the mother dumped baby on to his father's knee,
where he sat contentedly munching a very ancient crust of bread,
occasionally improving the flavor thereof by rubbing it on his
father's coat-sleeve.

“What have you got in that blue dish, there?” said George,
when the whole little circle were seated around the table.

“Well, now, what do you suppose?” said the little woman, delighted;
— “a quart of nice oysters, — just for a treat, you know.
I would n't tell you till this minute,” said she, raising the cover.

“Well,” said George, “we both work hard for our money, and
we don't owe anybody a cent; and why should n't we have our treats,
now and then, as well as rich folks?”

And gayly passed the supper hour; the tea-kettle sung, the baby
crowed, and all chatted and laughed abundantly.

“I 'll tell you,” said George, wiping his mouth, “wife, these
times are quite another thing from what it used to be down
in Georgia. I remember then old Mas'r used to hire me out by
the year; and one time, I remember, I came and paid him in two
hundred dollars, — every cent I 'd taken. He just looked it over,
counted it, and put it in his pocket-book, and said, `You are a
good boy, George,' — and he gave me half-a-dollar!”

“I want to know, now!” said his wife.

“Yes, he did, and that was every cent I ever got of it; and,
I tell you, I was mighty bad off for clothes, them times.”

“Well, well, the Lord be praised, they 're over, and you are in
a free country now!” said the wife, as she rose thoughtfully from
the table, and brought her husband the great Bible. The little
circle were ranged around the stove for evening prayers.

“Henry, my boy, you must read, — you are a better reader than
your father, — thank God, that let you learn early!”

The boy, with a cheerful readiness, read, “The Lord is my shepherd,”
and the mother gently stilled the noisy baby, to listen to the
holy words. Then all kneeled, while the father, with simple earnestness,
poured out his soul to God.

They had but just risen, — the words of Christian hope and trust
scarce died on their lips, — when lo! the door was burst open, and

two men entered; and one of them, advancing, laid his hand on
the father's shoulder. “This is the fellow,” said he.

“You are arrested in the name of the United States!” said the
other.

“Gentlemen, what is this?” said the poor man, trembling.

“Are you not the property of Mr. B., of Georgia?” said the
officer.

“Gentlemen, I 've been a free, hard-working man, these ten
years.”

“Yes, but you are arrested, on suit of Mr. B., as his slave.”

Shall we describe the leave-taking? — the sorrowing wife, the
dismayed children, the tears, the anguish, — that simple, honest,
kindly home, in a moment so desolated! Ah, ye who defend
this because it is law, think, for one hour, what if this that happens
to your poor brother should happen to you! * * * * *

It was a crowded court-room, and the man stood there to be
tried — for life? — no; but for the life of life — for liberty!

Lawyers hurried to and fro, buzzing, consulting, bringing authorities,
— all anxious, zealous, engaged, — for what? — to save a
fellow-man from bondage? — no: anxious and zealous lest he might
escape, — full of zeal to deliver him over to slavery. The poor man's
anxious eyes follow vainly the busy course of affairs, from which he
dimly learns that he is to be sacrificed — on the altar of the Union;
and that his heart-break and anguish, and the tears of his wife, and
the desolation of his children, are, in the eyes of these well-informed
men, only the bleat of a sacrifice, bound to the horns of the glorious
American altar!

Again it is a bright day, and business walks brisk in this market.
Senator and statesman, the learned and patriotic, are out, this day,
to give their countenance to an edifying and impressive, and truly
American spectacle, — the sale of a man! All the preliminaries
of the scene are there: dusky-browed mothers, looking with sad eyes
while speculators are turning round their children, — looking at
their teeth, and feeling of their arms; a poor, old, trembling
woman, helpless, half-blind, whose last child is to be sold, holds on
to her bright boy with trembling hands. Husbands and wives,
sisters and friends, all soon to be scattered like the chaff of the
threshing-floor, look sadly on each other with poor nature's last
tears; and among them walk briskly glib, oily politicians, and thriving
men of law, letters and religion, exceedingly sprightly and in
good spirits, — for why? — it is n't they that are going to be sold; it 's
only somebody else. And so they are very comfortable, and look

on the whole thing as quite a matter-of-course affair; and, as it is to
be conducted to-day, a decidedly valuable and judicious exhibition.

And now, after so many hearts and souls have been knocked and
thumped this way and that way by the auctioneer's hammer, comes
the instructive part of the whole; and the husband and father,
whom we saw in his simple home, reading and praying with his
children, and rejoicing, in the joy of his poor ignorant heart, that he
lived in a free country, is now set up to be admonished of his mistake.

Now there is great excitement, and pressing to see, and exultation
and approbation; for it is important and interesting to see a
man put down that has tried to be a free man.

“That 's he, is it? — Could n't come it, could he?” says one.

“No, and he will never come it, that 's more,” says another,
triumphantly.

“I don't generally take much interest in scenes of this nature,”
says a grave representative; — “but I came here to-day for the
sake of the principle!”

“Gentlemen,” says the auctioneer, “we 've got a specimen here
that some of your northern abolitionists would give any price for;
but they shan't have him! — no! we 've looked out for that. The
man that buys him must give bonds never to sell him to go north
again!”

“Go it!” shout the crowd, “good! — good! — hurra!” “An
impressive idea!” says a senator; “a noble maintaining of principle!”
and the man is bid off, and the hammer falls with a last
crash on his hearth, and hopes, and manhood, and he lies a bleeding
wreck on the altar of Liberty!

Such was the altar in 1776; — such is the altar in 1850!