CHAPTER XIII.

Mrs. Swiggs comes to the Rescue of the house of the foreign missions.

“An excellent society-excellent, I assure you, Madame—­”

“Truly, Mr. Hadger,” interrupted Mrs. Swiggs, “your labors on behalf of this Tract Society will be rewarded in heaven—­”

“Dear—­a—­me,” Mr. Hadger returns, ere Mrs. Swiggs can finish her sentence, “don’t mention such a thing.  I assure you it is a labor of love.”

“Their tracts are so carefully got up.  If my poor old negro property could only read—­(Mrs. Swiggs pauses.) I was going to say-if it wasn’t for the law (again she pauses), we couldn’t prejudice our cause by letting our negroes read them—­”

“Excuse the interruption,” Mr. Hadger says, “but it wouldn’t do, notwithstanding (no one can be more liberal than myself on the subject of enlightening our negro property!) the Tract Society exhibits such an unexceptionable regard to the requirements of our cherished institution.”

This conversation passes between Mrs. Swiggs and Mr. Hadger, who, as he says with great urbanity of manner, just dropped in to announce joyous tidings.  He has a letter from Sister Abijah Slocum, which came to hand this morning, enclosing one delicately enveloped for Sister Swiggs.  “The Lord is our guide,” says Mrs. Swiggs, hastily reaching out her hand and receiving the letter.  “Heaven will reward her for the interest she takes in the heathen world.”

“Truly, if she hath not now, she will have there a monument of gold,” Mr. Hadger piously pursues, adding a sigh.

“There! there!—­my neuralgy; it’s all down my left side.  I’m not long for this world, you see!” Mrs. Swiggs breaks out suddenly, then twitches her head and oscillates her chin.  And as if some electric current had changed the train of her thoughts, she testily seizes hold of her Milton, and says:  “I have got my Tom up again-yes I have, Mr. Hadger.”

Mr. Hadger discovers the sudden flight her thoughts have taken:  “I am sure,” he interposes, “that so long as Sister Slocum remains a member of the Tract Society we may continue our patronage.”

Mrs. Swiggs is pleased to remind Mr. Hadger, that although her means have been exceedingly narrowed down, she has not, for the last ten years, failed to give her mite, which she divides between the house of the “Foreign Missions,” and the “Tract Society.”

A nice, smooth-faced man, somewhat clerically dressed, straight and portly of person, and most unexceptionable in his morals, is Mr. Hadger.  A smile of Christian resignation and brotherly love happily ornaments his countenance; and then, there is something venerable about his nicely-combed gray whiskers, his white cravat, his snowy hair, his mild brown eyes, and his pleasing voice.  One is almost constrained to receive him as the ideal of virtue absolved in sackcloth and ashes.  As an evidence of our generosity, we regard him an excellent Christian, whose life hath been purified with an immense traffic in human—­(perhaps some good friend will crack our skull for saying it).