Part 4 (2/2)

St. C. I 'm not going to have any of your horrid New England directness, cousin. If I answer that question, I know you 'll be at me with half a dozen others, each one harder than the last; and I'm not a-going to define my position. I am one of that sort that lives by throwing stones at other people's gla.s.s-houses; but I never mean to put up one for them to stone.

Mar. That 's just the way he 's always talking; you can't get any satisfaction out of him. I believe it 's just because he don't like religion that he 's always running out in this way he 's been doing.

St. C. Religion! Religion! Is what you have been hearing at church, religion? Is that which can bend and turn, and descend and ascend, to fit every crooked phase of selfish, worldly society, religion? Is that religion which is less scrupulous, less generous, less just, less considerate for man, than even my own unG.o.dly, worldly, blinded nature? No! When I look for a religion, I must look for something above me, and not something beneath.

Oph. Then you don't believe that the Bible justifies slavery?

St. C. The Bible was my mother's book. By it she lived and died, and I would be very sorry to think it did. I 'd as soon desire to have it proved that my mother could drink brandy, chew tobacco, and swear, by way of satisfying me that I did right in doing the same. It would n't make me at all more satisfied with these things in myself, and it would take from me the comfort of respecting her; and it really is a comfort, in this world, to have anything one can respect. In short, you see [gayly], all I want is that different things be kept in different boxes. The whole frame-work of society, both in Europe and America, is made up of various things which will not stand the scrutiny of any very ideal standard of morality. It 's pretty generally understood that men don't aspire after the absolute right, but only to do about as well as the rest of the world. Now, when any one speaks up, like a man, and says slavery is necessary to us, we can't get along without it, we should be beggared if we give it up, and, of course, we mean to hold on to it--this is strong, clear, well-defined language; it has the respectability of truth to it; and, if we may judge by their practice, the majority of the world will bear us out in it. But when he begins to put on a long face, and snuffle, and quote Scripture, I incline to think he isn't much better than he should be.

Mar. You are very uncharitable.

St. C. Well, suppose that something should bring down the price of cotton once and forever, and make the whole slave property a drug in the market; don't you think we should soon have another version of the Scripture doctrine? What a flood of light would pour into the church, all at once, and how immediately it would be discovered that everything in the Bible and reason went the other way!

Mar. Well, at any rate, I 'm thankful I 'm born where slavery exists; and I believe it 's right--indeed, I feel it must be; and, at any rate, I 'm sure I could n't get along with it.

Enter EVA. St. C. [To EVA.] I say, what do you think, p.u.s.s.y?

Eva. What about, papa?

St. C. Why, which do you like the best; to live as they do at your uncle's, up in Vermont, or to have a house-full of servants, as we do?

Eva. O, of course, our way is the pleasantest!

St. C. Why so?

Eva. Why, it makes so many more round you to love, you know.

Mar. Now, that 's just like Eva; just one of her odd speeches.

Eva. Is it an odd speech, papa?

St. C. Rather, as this world goes, p.u.s.s.y. But where has my little Eva been, all dinner-time?

Eva. O, I 've been up in Tom's room, hearing him sing, and Aunt Dinah gave me my dinner.

St. C. Hearing Tom sing, eh?

Eva. O, yes! He sings such beautiful things about the New Jerusalem, and bright angels, and the land of Canaan.

St. C. I dare say; it 's better than the opera, is n't it?

Eva. Yes; and he 's going to teach them to me.

St. C. Singing-lessons, eh?--you are coming on.

Eva. Yes, he sings for me, and I read to him in my Bible; and he explains what it means, you know.

Mar. On my word, that is the latest joke of the season.

St. C. Tom is n't a bad hand, now, at explaining Scripture, I 'll dare swear. Tom has a natural genius for religion. I wanted the horses out early, this morning, and I stole up to Tom's cubiculum there, over the s tables, and there I heard him holding a meeting by himself; and, in fact, I have n't heard anything quite so savory as Tom's prayer this some time. He put in for me with a zeal that was quite apostolic.

Mar. Perhaps he guessed you were listening. I 've heard of that trick before.

St. C. If he did, he was n't very polite; for he gave the Lord his opinion of me pretty feely. Tom seemed to think there was decidedly room for improvement in me, and seemed very earnest that I should be converted.

Oph. Ihope you 'll lay it to heart.

St. C. [Gayly.] I suppose you are much of the same opinion. Well, we shall see-shan't we, Eva?

SCENE V.--The Kitchen.

DINAH (smoking). Negro children playing about. Dinah. 'Still there, ye young uns, 'sturbin' me, while I 's takin' my smoke!

Enter JANE and ROSA. Rosa. Well, such a time as there 's been in the house to-day, I never saw! Such a rummagin' and frummagin' in bandboxes and closets!--everything dragged out! Hate these yer northen misses!

Jane. Laws! ye orter seen her to the sheet trunk! Wan't it as good as a play to see her turn 'em out!

Bob. [From floor.] Tell ye, ef she don't sail round the house, coat-tail standin' out ahind her! Bound if she don't clar every one on us off the verandys minnit we shows our faces!

Dinah. An't gwine to have her in my diggin's, sturbin' my idees! Never let Miss Marie interfere, and she sartin shan't, her! Allus telled Miss Marie the kitchen wan't no place for ladies; Miss Marie got sense--she know'd it; but these yer northen misses--Good Lor! who is she, anyhow?

Rosa. Why, she 's Mas'r St. Clare's cousin.

Dinah. 'Lation, is she? Poor, too, an't she?--hearn tell they done their own work up thar. Anything I hate, it 's these yer poor 'lations!

Rosa. Hus.h.!.+ here she comes!

Enter MISS OPHELIA. Oph. [Advances and opens a drawer.] What 's this drawer for, Dinah?

Dinah. Handy for most anything, missis.

Oph. [Rummaging--draws out a table-cloth.] What 's this? A beautiful French damask table-cloth, all stained and b.l.o.o.d.y! Why, Dinah, you don't wrap up meat in your mistress' best damask table-cloths?

Dinah. O Lor, missis, no! the towels was all a missin'--so I jest did it. I laid out to wash that are--that 's why I put it thar.

Oph. [Disgusted--still rummaging.] s.h.i.+ftless! What 's here?--nutmeg-grater--Methodist hymn-book--knitting-work! Faugh!--filthy old pipe! Faugh! what a sight! Where do you keep your nutmegs, Dinah?

Dinah. Most anywhar, missis; there 's some in that cracked tea-cup up there, and there 's some over in that ar cuboard.

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