?My country!? said George, with a strong and bitter emphasis; ?what country have I, but the grave,?and I wish to God that I was laid there!? ?Why, George, no?no?it won?t do; this way of talking is wicked?unscripturalGeorge, you?ve got a hard master?in fact, he is?well he conducts himself reprehensibly?I can?t pretend to defend himBut you know how the angel commanded Hagar to return to her mistress, and submit herself under the hand;1 and the apostle sent back Onesimus to his master2 ?Don?t quote Bible at me that way, MrWilson,? said George, with a flashing eye, ?don?t! for my wife is a Christian, and I mean to be, if ever I get to where I can; but to quote Bible to a fellow in my circumstances, is enough to make him give it up altogetherI appeal to God Almighty;?I?m willing to go with the case to Him, and ask Him if I do wrong to seek my freedom ?These feelings are quite natural, George,? said the good-natured man, blowing his nose?Yes, they?re natural, but it is my duty not to encourage ?em in youYes, my boy, I?m sorry for you, now; it?s a bad case?very bad; but the apostle says, ?Let everyone abide in the condition in which he is called We must all submit to the indications of Providence, George,?don?t you see?? George stood with his head drawn back, his arms folded tightly over his broad breast, and a bitter smile curling his lipsWilson, if the Indians should come and take you a prisoner away from your wife and children, and want to keep you all your life hoeing corn for them, if you?d think it your duty to abide in the condition in which you were calledI rather think that you?d think the first stray horse you could find an indication of Providence?shouldn?t you?? The little old gentleman stared with both eyes at this illustration of the case; but, though not much of a reasoner, he had the sense in which some logicians on this particular subject do not excel,?that of saying nothing, where nothing could be saidSo, as he stood carefully stroking his umbrella, and folding and patting down all the creases in it, he proceeded on with his exhortations in a general way ?You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend; and whatever I?ve said, I?ve said for your goodNow, here, it seems to me, you?re running an awful riskYou can?t hope to carry it outIf you?re taken, it will be worse with you than ever; they?ll only abuse you, and half kill you, and sell you down the riverWilson, I know all this,? said George?I do run a risk, but?? he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and a bowie-knife?There!? he said, ?I?m ready for ?em! Down south I never will go No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of free soil,?the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!? ?Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it?s getting really desperate GeorgeGoing to break the laws of your country!? ?My country again! MrWilson, you have a country; but what country have I, or any one like me, born of slave mothers? What laws are there for us? We don?t make them,?we don?t consent to them,?we have nothing to do with them; all they do for us is to crush us, and keep us downHaven?t I heard your Fourth-of-July speeches? Don?t you tell us all, once a year, that governments derive their just power from the consent of the governed? Can?t a fellow think, that hears such things? Can?t he put this and that together, and see what it comes to?? MrWilson?s mind was one of those that may not unaptly be represented by a bale of cotton,?downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy and confusedHe really pitied George with all his heart, and had a sort of dim and cloudy perception of the style of feeling that agitated him; but he deemed it his duty to go on talking good to him, with infinite pertinacity ?George, this is badI must tell you, you know, as a friend, you?d better not be meddling with such notions; they are bad, George, very bad, for boys in your condition,?very;? and MrWilson sat down to a table, and began nervously chewing the handle of his umbrellaWilson,? said George, coming up and sitting himself determinately down in front of him; ?look at me, nowDon?t I sit before you, every way, just as much a man as you are? Look at my face,?look at my hands,?look at my body,? and the young man drew himself up proudly; ?why am I not a man, as much as anybody? Well, MrWilson, hear what I can tell youI had a father?one of your Kentucky gentlemen?who didn?t think enough of me to keep me from being sold with his dogs and horses, to satisfy the estate, when he diedI saw my mother put up at sheriff?s sale, with her seven childrenThey were sold before her eyes, one by one, all to different masters; and I was the youngestShe came and kneeled down before old Mas?r, and begged him to buy her with me, that she might have at least one child with her; and he kicked her away with his heavy bootI saw him do it; and the last that I heard was her moans and screams, when I was tied to his horse?s neck, to be carried off to his place ?Well, then?? ?My master traded with one of the men, and bought my oldest sisterShe was a pious, good girl,?a member of the Baptist church,?and as handsome as my poor mother had beenShe was well brought up, and had good shop manners

That is not like JonathanI do not understand it, and it makes me uneasy Then, too, Lucy, although she is so well, has lately taken to her old habit of walking in her sleepHer mother has spoken to me about it, and we have decided that I am to lock the door of our room every nightWestenra has got an idea that sleep-walkers always go out on roofs of houses and along the edges of cliffs and then get suddenly wakened and fall over with a despairing cry that echoes all over the place Poor dear, she is naturally anxious about Lucy, and she tells me that her husband, Lucy's father, had the same habit, that he would get up in the night and dress himself and go out, if he were not stopped Lucy is to be married in the autumn, and she is already planning out her dresses and how her house is to be arrangedI sympathise with her, for I do the same, only Jonathan and I will start in life in a very simple way, and shall have to try to make both ends meetHolmwood, he is the HonArthur Holmwood, only son of Lord Godalming, is coming up here very shortly, as soon as he can leave town, for his father is not very well, and I think dear Lucy is counting the moments till he comes She wants to take him up in the seat on the churchyard cliff and show him the beauty of WhitbyI daresay it is the waiting which disturbs herShe will be all right when he arrives-No news from JonathanI am getting quite uneasy about him, though why I should I do not know, but I do wish that he would write, if it were only a single line Lucy walks more than ever, and each night I am awakened by her moving about the roomFortunately, the weather is so hot that she cannot get coldBut still, the anxiety and the perpetually being awakened is beginning to tell on me, and I am getting nervous and wakeful myselfThank God, Lucy's health keeps upHolmwood has been suddenly called to Ring to see his father, who has been taken seriously illLucy frets at the postponement of seeing him, but it does not touch her looksShe is a trifle stouter, and her cheeks are a lovely rose-pinkShe has lost the anemic look which she hadI pray it will all last-Another week gone by, and no news from Jonathan, not even to MrHawkins, from whom I have heardOh, I do hope he is not illHe surely would have writtenI look at that last letter of his, but somehow it does not satisfy meIt does not read like him, and yet it is his writingThere is no mistake of that Lucy has not walked much in her sleep the last week, but there is an odd concentration about her which I do not understand, even in her sleep she seems to be watching meShe tries the door, and finding it locked, goes about the room searching for the key-Another three days, and no newsThis suspense is getting dreadfulIf I only knew where to write to or where to go to, I should feel easierBut no one has heard a word of Jonathan since that last letterI must only pray to God for patience Lucy is more excitable than ever, but is otherwise wellLast night was very threatening, and the fishermen say that we are in for a shop storm

It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trainsWhat ought they to be in China? All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kindSometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floodsIt takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attireSome of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waistThey had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nailsThey wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustachesThey are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessingOn the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigandsThey are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old placeBeing practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of itFifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasionsAt the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modestyWhen I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?" "Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirtsleeves, who had followed her to the door He went, but immediately returned with a letter: "My friend-Welcome to the CarpathiansI am anxiously expecting youAt three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for youAt the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to meI trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land-Your friend, Dracula 4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of wayHe mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knewWhen I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak furtherIt was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at allI was just able to follow her by asking many questionsWhen I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again: "Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of MayShe shook her head as she said again: "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: "It is the eve of StDo you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effectFinally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before shop starting

It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trainsWhat ought they to be in China? All day long we seemed to dawdle through a country which was full of beauty of every kindSometimes we saw little towns or castles on the top of steep hills such as we see in old missals; sometimes we ran by rivers and streams which seemed from the wide stony margin on each side of them to be subject to great floodsIt takes a lot of water, and running strong, to sweep the outside edge of a river clear At every station there were groups of people, sometimes crowds, and in all sorts of attireSome of them were just like the peasants at home or those I saw coming through France and Germany, with short jackets, and round hats, and home-made trousers; but others were very picturesque The women looked pretty, except when you got near them, but they were very clumsy about the waistThey had all full white sleeves of some kind or other, and most of them had big belts with a lot of strips of something fluttering from them like the dresses in a ballet, but of course there were petticoats under them The strangest figures we saw were the Slovaks, who were more barbarian than the rest, with their big cow-boy hats, great baggy dirty-white trousers, white linen shirts, and enormous heavy leather belts, nearly a foot wide, all studded over with brass nailsThey wore high boots, with their trousers tucked into them, and had long black hair and heavy black moustachesThey are very picturesque, but do not look prepossessingOn the stage they would be set down at once as some old Oriental band of brigandsThey are, however, I am told, very harmless and rather wanting in natural self-assertion It was on the dark side of twilight when we got to Bistritz, which is a very interesting old placeBeing practically on the frontier--for the Borgo Pass leads from it into Bukovina--it has had a very stormy existence, and it certainly shows marks of itFifty years ago a series of great fires took place, which made terrible havoc on five separate occasionsAt the very beginning of the seventeenth century it underwent a siege of three weeks and lost 13,000 people, the casualties of war proper being assisted by famine and disease Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modestyWhen I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?" "Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirtsleeves, who had followed her to the door He went, but immediately returned with a letter: "My friend-Welcome to the CarpathiansI am anxiously expecting youAt three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for youAt the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to meI trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land-Your friend, Dracula 4 May--I found that my landlord had got a letter from the Count, directing him to secure the best place on the coach for me; but on making inquiries as to details he seemed somewhat reticent, and pretended that he could not understand my German This could not be true, because up to then he had understood it perfectly; at least, he answered my questions exactly as if he did He and his wife, the old lady who had received me, looked at each other in a frightened sort of wayHe mumbled out that the money had been sent in a letter, and that was all he knewWhen I asked him if he knew Count Dracula, and could tell me anything of his castle, both he and his wife crossed themselves, and, saying that they knew nothing at all, simply refused to speak furtherIt was so near the time of starting that I had no time to ask anyone else, for it was all very mysterious and not by any means comforting Just before I was leaving, the old lady came up to my room and said in a hysterical way: "Must you go? Oh! Young Herr, must you go?" She was in such an excited state that she seemed to have lost her grip of what German she knew, and mixed it all up with some other language which I did not know at allI was just able to follow her by asking many questionsWhen I told her that I must go at once, and that I was engaged on important business, she asked again: "Do you know what day it is?" I answered that it was the fourth of MayShe shook her head as she said again: "Oh, yes! I know that! I know that, but do you know what day it is?" On my saying that I did not understand, she went on: "It is the eve of StDo you not know that tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, all the evil things in the world will have full sway? Do you know where you are going, and what you are going to?" She was in such evident distress that I tried to comfort her, but without effectFinally, she went down on her knees and implored me not to go; at least to wait a day or two before shop starting

?We does for the Lord when we does for his critturs,? said Tom ?Good theology, Tom; better than Drpreaches, I dare swear,? said St The conversation was here interrupted by the announcement of some visitorsClare felt the loss of Eva as deeply as she could feel anything; and, as she was a woman that had a great faculty of making everybody unhappy when she was, her immediate attendants had still stronger reason to regret the loss of their young mistress, whose winning ways and gentle intercessions had so often been a shield to them from the tyrannical and selfish exactions of her motherPoor old Mammy, in particular, whose heart, severed from all natural domestic ties, had consoled itself with this one beautiful being, was almost heart-brokenShe cried day and night, and was, from excess of sorrow, less skilful and alert in her ministrations of her mistress than usual, which drew down a constant storm of invectives on her defenceless head Miss Ophelia felt the loss; but, in her good and honest heart, it bore fruit unto everlasting lifeShe was more softened, more gentle; and, though equally assiduous in every duty, it was with a chastened and quiet air, as one who communed with her own heart not in vainShe was more diligent in teaching Topsy,?taught her mainly from the Bible,?did not any longer shrink from her touch, or manifest an ill-repressed disgust, because she felt noneShe viewed her now through the softened medium that Eva?s hand had first held before her eyes, and saw in her only an immortal creature, whom God had sent to be led by her to glory and virtueTopsy did not become at once a saint; but the life and death of Eva did work a marked change in herThe callous indifference was gone; there was now sensibility, hope, desire, and the striving for good,?a strife irregular, interrupted, suspended oft, but yet renewed again One day, when Topsy had been sent for by Miss Ophelia, she came, hastily thrusting something into her bosom ?What are you doing there, you limb? You?ve been stealing something, I?ll be bound,? said the imperious little Rosa, who had been sent to call her, seizing her, at the same time, roughly by the arm ?You go ?long, Miss Rosa!? said Topsy, pulling from her; ??tan?t none o? your business!? ?None o? your sa?ce!? said Rosa, ?I saw you hiding something,?I know yer tricks,? and Rosa seized her arm, and tried to force her hand into her bosom, while Topsy, enraged, kicked and fought valiantly for what she considered her rightsThe clamor and confusion of the battle drew Miss Ophelia and StClare both to the spot ?She?s been stealing!? said Rosa ?I han?t, neither!? vociferated Topsy, sobbing with passion ?Give me that, whatever it is!? said Miss Ophelia, firmly Topsy hesitated; but, on a second order, pulled out of her bosom a little parcel done up in the foot of one of her own old stockings Miss Ophelia turned it outThere was a small book, which had been given to Topsy by Eva, containing a single verse of Scripture, arranged for every day in the year, and in a paper the curl of hair that she had given her on that memorable day when she had taken her last farewellClare was a good deal affected at the sight of it; the little book had been rolled in a long strip of black crape, torn from the funeral weeds ?What did you wrap this round the book for?? said StClare, holding up the crape ?Cause,?cause,?cause ?t was Miss EvaO, don?t take ?em away, please!? she said; and, sitting flat down on the floor, and putting her apron over her head, she began to sob vehemently It was a curious mixture of the pathetic and the ludicrous,?the little old stockings,?black crape,?text-book,?fair, soft curl,?and Topsy?s utter distressClare smiled; but there were tears in his eyes, as he said, ?Come, come,?don?t cry; you shall have them!? and, putting them together, he threw them into her lap, and drew Miss Ophelia with him into the parlor ?I really think you can make something of that concern,? he said, pointing with his thumb backward over his shoulder?Any mind that is capable of a real sorrow is capable of goodYou must try and do something with her ?The child has improved greatly,? said Miss Ophelia?I have great hopes of her; but, Augustine,? she said, laying her hand on his arm, ?one thing I want to ask; whose is this child to be??yours or mine?? ?Why, I gave her to you, ? said Augustine ?But not legally;?I want her to be mine legally,? said Miss Ophelia ?Whew! cousin,? said Augustine?What will the Abolition Society think? They?ll have a day of fasting appointed for this backsliding, if you become a slaveholder!? ?O, nonsense! I want her mine, that I may have a right to take her to the free States, and give her her liberty, that all I am trying to do be not undone ?O, cousin, what an awful ?doing evil that good may come?! I can?t encourage shop it