"Well, Major Broad, I agree with you," said my grandmother, heartily, "and I honor you for the stand you took. Slavery is a sin and a shame; and I say, with Jacob, 'O my soul, come not thou into their secret,unto their assembly, mine honor, be not thou united.' I wish we may keep clear on't. I don't want anything that we can't ask God's blessing on heartily, and we certainly can't on this. Why, anybody that sees that great scar on Cæsar's forehead sees what slavery comes to."
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My grandmother always pointed her anti-slavery arguments with an appeal to this mark of ill-usage which old Cæsar had received at the hands of a brutal master years before, and the appeal never failed to convince the domestic circle.
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"Well," said my grandfather, after some moments of silence, in which he sat gazing fixedly at the great red coals of a hickory log, "you see, Major, it's done, and can't be helped."
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"It's done," said the Major, "but in my opinion mischief will come of it as sure as there is a God in heaven."
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"Let's hope not," said my grandfather, placidly.
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Outside the weather was windy and foul, the wind rattling doors, shaking and rumbling down the chimney, and causing the great glowing circle lighted by the fire to seem warmer and brighter. The Indian women and Sam Lawson, having finished their meal and thoroughly cleaned out the dishes, grouped themselves about the end of the ingle already occupied by black Cæsar, and began a little private gossip among themselves.
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"I say," says Sam, raising his voice to call my grandfather's attention, "do you know, Deacon Badger, whether anybody is living in the Dench house now?"
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"There was n't, the last I knew about it," said my grandfather.
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"Wal, you won't make some folks believe but what that 'ere house is haunted."
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"Haunted!" said Miss Mehitable; "nothing more likely. What old house is n't?if one only knew it; and that certainly ought to be if ever a house was."
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"But this 'ere's a regular
haunt,"
said Sam. "I was a talkin'
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