I found that I was getting deeper into the subject than I intended, and, besides, it was time to rise.  As I left the room, she said, “You will change those papers, won’t you? then we will have some more pleasant talks about this subject.”  She called to me from the door, “Please don’t send back the lady’s letter; I wish to copy it.”  This is my reason for not sending the letter with my reply to it.  You will certainly give me credit for candor in telling you all that my wife said.  However, it is so easily answered that I need not fear to intrust you with it.

Yours, for the slave,
A. Freeman north.

P.S.  After all, I concluded to retain this, and wait till my wife had made what use she desired of the letter, that I might be sure and return it to you safely.  In the mean time, I have changed the papers.  How irresistible a pleading woman is, especially a wife.  Her very want of logic makes her more so, when we are good-natured.  She came upon me with just such another supplication a few mornings since.  As soon as she awoke, she said, “Husband, do please have our parlor window-sashes let down from the top.”  “For ventilation?” said I.  “Yes,” said she, “partly;” but I saw that she smiled.  “What has made you think of it so suddenly?” said I.  “Do you not want to catch some more canaries?” said she.  “I suspect,” said I, “that you would like to have ours escape.”  “Perhaps,” said she, “that would be a relief to you from your present embarrassment.”  Then I saw that all this was banter.  She wished to teaze me a little.  The truth is, I have two fine singing canaries and a mocking-bird.  Some of my pro-slavery friends delight to pester me about them.  They say that they mean to issue a habeas corpus, and take them before Justice Bird, (who, you know, queerly enough, happens to be United States Commissioner,) and inquire if they be not restrained of their freedom.  I tell them that man has dominion over all the fowls of the air.  But they say, “Then might makes right!  Is it not a fine thing that such a lover of liberty and friend of freedom and enemy of oppression should keep those little prisoners for his selfish gratification.  Come, be a practical emancipationist to the extent of your ability; set the South an example; break every yoke.”  “They are better off with me,” said I; “the hawks or cats would catch them, or they would die from exposure.”  “Expediency!” said one of them; “do justice, if the heavens fall.”  “Fye at justitia!” said one, who pretended to take my part. “Ruat coelum, Let them rush to heaven,” replied the other.  “Parse coelum, please, sir,” said my boy in the Academy.  “Yes, past the ceiling,” said the lawyer, pretending to misunderstand him; “that’s right, my son;”—­and more wretched punning of the same sort.  Hence Mrs. North’s pretended supplication about the window-sashes.  She has been in excellent spirits ever since I stopped the papers.  She says that