“Oh, yes!” interrupts the deacon, “she takes it all out of my hands; I’m going to give her the reins altogether one of these days.  She has got a nice way of touching a negro’s feelings so that anything can be done with him:  it tells largely at times.”  Mr. Scranton’s face becomes more serious; he doesn’t seem to understand this new “nigger philosophy.”  “Poor creatures!” the deacon continues, “how wonderful is the power of encouragement;-how much may be done if proper means are applied-”

“The trouble is in the means,” Mr. Scranton interposes, scratching his head, as if ideas were scarce, and valuable for the distance they had to be transported.

Our good lady smiles.  “I cannot help smiling, Mr. Scranton.”  She speaks softly.  “There are two things I want done-done quickly:  I want southern philosophers to consider, and I want southern ladies to act-to put on energy-to take less care of themselves and more of the poor negro!” She lays her hand gently upon Mr. Scranton’s arm, her soft blue eyes staring him in the face.  “When they do this,” she continues, “all will be well.  We can soon show the north how much can be done without their assistance.  I don’t believe in women’s rights meetings,—­not I; but I hold there should be some combination of southern ladies, to take the moral elevation of the slave into consideration,—­to set about the work in good earnest, to see what can be done.  It’s a monster work; but monster evils can be removed if females will give their hands and hearts to the task.  This separating families to serve the interests of traders in human beings must be stopped:  females know the pains it inflicts on suffering wretches; they are best suited to stop that heinous offence in the sight of God and man.  They must rise to the work; they must devise means to stay the waste of fortune now progressing through dissipation; and, above all other things, they must rise up and drive these frightful slave-dealers from their doors.”

Mr. Scranton admits there is something in all this, but suggests that it were better to let the future take care of itself; there’s no knowing what the future may do; and to let those who come in it enjoy our labours “aint just the policy.”  He contends-willing to admit how much the ladies could do if they would-it would not be consistent with the times to put forth such experiments, especially when there is so much opposition.  “It wouldn’t do!” he whispers.

The deacon here interrupts Mr. Scranton, by stepping to the door and ordering one of the servants to prepare refreshments.

“‘It must do!  It won’t do!’ keeps us where we are, and where we are always complaining that we never have done.  You know I speak frankly, Mr. Scranton-women may say what they please;-and let me tell you, that when you do your duty it will do.  Hard times never were harder than when everybody thought them hard.  We must infuse principle into our poor people; we must make them earnest in agricultural