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fortune to afford them assistance in the confusion and fright that prevailed; when by some mishap we were precipitated into the river. I holdly struck out with desperate strength towards the shore, the worthy old gentleman maintained a firm hold of me on one side, while I endeavored to keep his daughter secure on the other; and, thus burthened, I found myself no longer a single man without incumbrances, but with all the cares of a heavy family clinging to me for support. In this trim we were all rescued, they suffered from the fright only, while, in addition, I was nearly pulled to pieces, tolerably parboiled by the steam, and a perfect mummy of mud; the recollection is a never failing source of pure unmixed delight;' and Dick chuckled over the reminiscence, to his friend's great joy and astonishment.
Then,' said Somers, 'if I mistake not, you fell into the river and afterwards in love!
Something of the sort, I believe,' replied Dick.-_'The following day we proceeded towards London and I was terribly low spirited at the idea of the coming separation, when just at the thirteenth mile-stone, the coach upset.'
"That was unfortunate,' replied Jack. *Not at all! I never enjoyed any thing so much in my life! Don't you see, my dear Jack we were thrown together again.
Quite by accident,' added Jack.
Just so! The most delightful adventure as it has since proved. I was bruised from head to foot, but they received no injury; again had I become their protector, for in my descent I managed to sprawl upon some gravel, and they found me a tolerable efficient screen to guard them from the flints. Neither of them had a scratch, though the blood flowed pretty freely from different wounds about my person, and they acknowledged how they must have suffered had I not interposed so effectually. Quite romantic, was it not? You cannot imagine how they laughed when the danger was all over.'
‘Amiable creatures! ejaculated Somers, and so easily pleased too! I suppose you set aside all ceremony, and became most intimate acquaintances?”.
•Not exactly! said Dick; “we had hardly time to cultivate reciprocal interchange of sentiment, for they had urgent business in another part of the country, so they took a chaise, and I took physic, they went to London, and I to bed.
•Rather ungrateful conduct,' remarked Somers,' considering the uses they had made of you. Even I should have grumbled at such treatment.
I was terribly battered, I must own,' said Dick.'
The waiter at the inn where I was confined for a week, assured me that the old gentleman placed his card in my hand before he .started; but between my pain and the confusion it was lost."
"Well! prithee proceed, without another break down.'
“In a few days I discharged the doctor, and on reaching home found my cottage a heap of cinders.'
“My dear Dick!' said Somers, 'why recall that shocking catastrophe!”
Catastrophe! fiddle faddle! cried Briggs: the most unparalleled piece of good luck! Having no dwelling, I took lodgings at Priory Farm. Here Dick smiled till it almost amounted to an incipient giggle •You know that Topps and Lopp's bank suspended payment?'
And you experienced a loss of three hundred pounds, said Som
*No such thing, my dear Jack! that stoppage was only a continuation of luck. I may truly congratulate myself on that event. Their breaking was my making, in common parlance, their loss was my gain.'
*Astonishing!' exclaimed Somers.
“Mr. Rutherford had a considerable balance, in the hands of Topp and Lopps', said Dick very knowingly; .so he came down to look after matters and, as Fate would have it, took apartments for himself and daughter at Priory Farm. Now you see-eh?' *Can't say that I do,' replied Somers.
Dear Jack, how dull you are!
"Well, we were under the same roof. Young love lived once in humble shed,' and all that sort of thing: it was natural to renew our acquaintance, when the scars on my face reminded them of my sufferings and their debt of gratitude.
•What!' said Somers; you don't mean
“Yes, but I do though! •In Mr. Rutherford and his daughter I discovered my companions who had shared my perils in 'flood and field:-Not exactly shared-but you know what I mean. In a word, I am the happiest fellow alive, and the luckiest dog in the universe.'
•Let me hear that word again,' said Jack; did you say lucky?' 'Not lucky,—the luckiest mortal breathing.' •That is, you are beyond all comparison superlatively happy.'
The stoppage of the mail was of no consequence, for my uncle left me minus merely to bestow his property on my future wife, the only child of his old friend Rutherford.''
Then your intended wife is the same ‘artful specious hussy who gained his affections-is it so?
The same,' said Dick. Henceforth I renounce grumbling, and believe that “all is for the best.'-Had I not been on board the steamboat, nearly drowned and afterwards stoned to death, my suit might have been pressed in vain-for gratitude is an extensive feeling and opens the heart, Jack. But for the burning of my cotiage, I should have wanted the opportunities that Priory Farm afforded; and Topp's business crowned all, by bringing the Rutherfords hither.'
And you have become a convert?'
•Most decidedly,' said Dick; your words have been realized; matters have mended. Time has brought things round. Even my garden flourishes, for I can exhibit a pot of sweet peas of my own setting, and, among my other cures, ) also cure my own bacon; pigs thrive wonderfully.
"Bravo!' exclaimed Somers; "I congratulate you on your moral victory achieved, and the important lesson that you have learned. Yet there is one thing
•What can that possibly be? said Dick, impatiently.
"Why the circulating medium' for those ‘indefinite articles which were to have illuminated and astonished mankind through the pages of the County Magazine.'
A fig for the County Magazine!' said Dick, “it was only supported, like other refuges for the poor and destitute, by 'voluntary contributions. I am enrolled among the elect in Bently's Miscellany."
Famous! then your misfortunes are really at an end? said Jack Somers.
'I trust, forever,' replied Richard Briggs; ‘and I have arrived at the conclusion,
"Whatever is-is right.'
ABOLITION—THE QUAKERS. The following article from the United States Gazette was written by a member of the society of Friends, lately a citizen of our State, and now of the city of Philadelphia. We republish it in the Register at the request of the author and several other gentlemen, as furnishing an exposition of the feelings and views of that society on the subject upon which it treats, without comment.
"From what I have recently witnessed, a disposition appears in many esteemed citizens to entertain feelings of, shall I say affectionate regret towards the two denominations of friends in regard to their supposed views on the subject of abolition. It's time, I think, that both North and South were correctly informed and put right on this subject; it's true that all Quakers are abolitionists their religion and their discipline require them to be so, and so far: as they can by the influence of love gain upon the minds of others, to see as they do, they rejoice in the advancement of good; persevering in this spirit, under the guidance of Divine wisdom, they entertain a patient faith that the wise Creator, will in His own time, through the influence of His own good spirit, working on the minds of the children of men, accomplish the great work of universal emancipation. But the body of the society, I embrace both parts, have no part or lot in the modern excitement that has appeared in fevered discussions, in what is called the Anti-Slavery society. Friends abide, or the great body of them say 99 out of 100, in their primitive original view on this interesting subject, wherein the mas
ter is as much the object of their tender sympathy and love, as the slave is of their affectionate concern; and in justice to the society, this ought to be generally known, for under present impressions it would be at some risk to appear in a Quaker costume in some places, because it would be taken to appertain to the Garrison sect, than which nothing could be more incorrect-for Quaker abolition is founded in love; love and good will to master and slave, as practised by John Woolman and Warner Mifflin; the former travelled on foot through the slave States under a concern of love, in which he preached the Gospel of Christ to both master and slave, and by the former was received with the kindest hospitality, and by all as a messenger of peace and good will. Warner Mifflin was a Virginian by birth; when about 22 or 23 years of age he settled in Kent county, Delaware, but always retained a sincere love for Virginia; he was well known to Washington, and between them a mutual esteem existed; as also with many other distinguished Virginians.
During the severe trials of our revolutionary war, Warner had free access to, and through both armies--and when at the battle of Germantown, many Virginia officers and men were taken prison. ers-on hearing of the event, Warner, or his brother Daniel or both, repaired to Virginia for the special purpose of visiting the several families of the prisoners, procuring money, linen, blankets, &c. as well as cheering news. Both officers and men were astounded when the two brothers arrived in Philadelphia with so many comforts for them. I mention this only as a trait of the genuine Quaker character, whether applied to the warrior or the slave-holderfor all these officers were slave holders. And yet the Quaker, as every true one will, administered to them most affectionately when in adversity.
Now friend Editor, to give an illustration of the primitive, and also present the true character of a Quaker abolitionist: permit me to relate an anecdote of Warner Mifflin several years before the society of Friends adopted a rule of discipline, "That it would be a breach of unity to longer hold men in slavery.” Daniel Mifflin of Accomac county, Va., the father of Warner, manumitted 100 slaves. Well so it happened, at some day or two previous to date of the manumission, an officer levied an Execution on one of them named Thomas, about 14 years of age, a fine promising lad, for recovery of a military fine of 12 or £15, (which Quakers pay not,) and being prior to manumission, poor Tom had to abide the law, and was sold and bought by Col. C., one of the officers taken at the battle of Germantown, and administered to by Warner as before stated. This of course was a severe trial to Thomas, to be, thus separated from his brethren; but Col. C. was a kind master and Thomas was a faithful and favorite servant. Warner Mifflin visited his father at least yearly, and when there, being but a few hours ride from Col. C's., he seldom failed to make at least a friendly call, in which he always more or less remembered Thomas-he would say to the Col., “well now my friend, how about poor Thomas, he has served
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thee faithfully for some six or seven years, he is now of age, all his brethren are free, as my dear father intended he should be; he cost thee but some £15—now my friend, don't thee think he has well paid thee £15, and like his brethren set at liberty by my father, ought to be free.' "Well! well! Mr. Mifflin,' the Col. would say, Tom is a good boy, he appears well satisfied, and really, I don't know how I could well spare him;' and so much in this manner did the Col. answer Warner, year after year, for some five or six years after Thomas was of age. At length when Thomas was some twenty-six or twenty-seven years of age, Warner Mifflin having spent a day or two with his kind and hospitable friend Col. C., and family, renewed his old concern about poor Thomas •Well, my friend,' says Warner, 'I have heretofore at times taken the liberty to speak to thee, I hope always in christian love, concerning Thomas; thee understands the merits of the case, that it was my father's religious concern he should be free. Now my friend, has he not amply paid thee all the purchase money—and if so, why not let him fare as his brethren; may I not appeal to thy own judgment and again solicit for his freedom? This was expressed by Warner in close, loving earnestness, so much so as to awaken a little ire perhaps in the Col., who replied, “Well! well! Mr. Mifflin, you know how myself and family esteem you, and how very happy we always are to see you, but really sir, I should be pleased if you would in future waive any mention of Tom; he is a good, faithful servant, appears content, and really I don't know how we could do well without him, and in future I do trust sir, you will be so kind as to waive any mention of concern about him.' •Well, very well, says Warner to Col. C., as thou requests so it shall be; I will never mention the name of poor Thomas to thee; provided, that before I go, thou will permit me to once more see him and converse with him in private. Col. C. of course politely acquiesced. Tom was called in and left alone with his young master Warner. Well,' says Warner, Thomas I have often spoken to thy master since thou wast of age in regard to thy freedom, but in vain; he seemeth disposed to retain thee as a slave; this being the case, I asked him for this liberty to see thee once more, that as I could not accomplish thy freedom, I might impart such council and advice to thee as would be of use to thee in thy future walking through life, not knowing that I may ever see thee more. And now Thomas, this my council is, that thou be honest and faithful in all things to thy master, dutiful and obliging to thy mistress, and kind to their children; and above all Thomas, love and serve thy Maker, daily pray to Him for strength to perform all thy duty; and ever keep in mind, that thou must die, and if thou art good while here, thou will be as happy hereafter as thy master can be, for our Heavenly Father is no respecter of persons. And now Thomas, at our parting let me take thee by the hand. An affectionate shake of the hands took place; Warner says, Farewell Thomas, farewell; but poor Thomas could not articulate a word, he retired in a flood of