"Now the idea," said Hattie, after we had listened awhile, "that they
can forget that they are slaves long enough to meet and practise
psalm-tunes!"
"You evidently think," said your Uncle, "that they would not sing the
Lord's songs, if this were to them a strange land."
"They certainly have not hung their harps upon the willows by these
rivers of Babylon," said Hattie.
"Why, some of our people at the North are to-day writhing in anguish,
because of these slaves, and are imprecating God's vengeance, and
praying that the slaves may get their liberty, even by violence, while
the slaves themselves are practising psalm-tunes!"--
"And getting married," said your Uncle.
"Yes, Sir," said Hattie, "and this week our ---- paper will come to us
from New York loaded with articles about 'bondage' and 'sum of all
villanies,' and 'poor, toil-worn slaves.' Toil-worn! I never saw such a
lively set of people. Do see that little mite of a round black child, in
black jacket and pants; he looks like a drop of ink; Oh, isn't he
cunning! Little boy! what is your"--
"Come, come!" said your Uncle, "you are getting too much excited; you
will pay for all this to-morrow with one of your headaches.
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