The Crisis | Page 4

pulled his goatee.
"He was standing right where yon are, sir," he replied (Captain Lige
moved), "and he proposed that I should buy his influence."
"What did you do?"
Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection
"Shucks," said he, "I just pushed him into the streets gave him a little
start, and put a bullet past his ear, just to let the trash know the sound of
it. Then Russell went down and bailed me out."

The Captain shook with laughter. But Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's eyes were
glued to the mild-mannered man who told the story, and his hair rose
under his hat.
"By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Somehow after I let you have
him on the 'Louisiana', I thought I'd made a mistake to let him run the
river. Easter's afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him."
It was the Captain's turn to be grave.
"I tell you what, Colonel," said he; "we have to have hands, of course.
But somehow I wish this business of slavery had never been started!"
"Sir," said the Colonel, with some force, "God made the sons of Ham
the servants of Japheth's sons forever and forever."
"Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir," said Brent, quickly. "If
they all treated slaves as you do, there wouldn't be any cry from
Boston-way. And as for me, I need hands. I shall see you again,
Colonel."
"Take supper with me to-night, Lige," said Mr. Carvel. "I reckon you'll
find it rather lonesome without Jinny."
"Awful lonesome," said the Captain. "But you'll show me her letters,
won't you?"
He started out, and ran against Eliphalet.
"Hello!" he cried. "Who's this?"
"A young Yankee you landed here this morning, Lige," said the
Colonel. "What do you think of him?"
"Humph!" exclaimed the Captain.
"He has no friends in town, and he is looking for employment. Isn't that
so, sonny?" asked the Colonels kindly.

"Yes."
"Come, Lige, would you take him?" said Mr. Carvel.
The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face. The dart that shot from
his eyes was of an aggressive honesty; and Mr. Hopper's, after an
attempt at defiance, were dropped.
"No," said the Captain.
"Why not, Lige?"
"Well, for one thing, he's been listening," said Captair Lige, as he
departed.
Colonel Carvel began to hum softly to himself:--
"'One said it was an owl, and the other he said. nay, One said it was a
church with the steeple torn away, Look a' there now!'
"I reckon you're a rank abolitionist," said he to Eliphalet, abruptly.
"I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves," Mr. Hopper replied,
shifting to the other foot.
Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized his goatee,
pulled his head down, and gazed at him for some time from under his
eyebrows, so searchingly that the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshy
face. He mopped it with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everything
in the place save the gentleman in front of him, and wondered whether
he had ever in his life been so uncomfortable. Then he smiled
sheepishly, hated himself, and began to hate the Colonel.
"Ever hear of the Liberator?"
"No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.
"Where do you come from?" This was downright directness, from
which there was no escape.

"Willesden, Massachusetts."
"Umph! And never heard of Mr. Garrison?"
"I've had to work all my life."
"What can you do, sonny?"
"I cal'late to sweep out a store. I have kept books," Mr. Hopper
vouchsafed.
"Would you like work here?" asked the Colonel, kindly. The green eyes
looked up swiftly, and down again.
"What'll you give me?"
The good man was surprised. "Well," said he, "seven dollars a week."
Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think over this scene.
He was a man the singleness of whose motives could not be questioned.
The one and sufficient reason for giving work to a homeless boy, from
the hated state of the Liberator, was charity. The Colonel had his
moods, like many another worthy man.
The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into the hugest of
thunder clouds. And an act of charity, out of the wisdom of God, may
produce on this earth either good or evil.
Eliphalet closed with the bargain. Ephum was called and told to lead
the recruit to the presence of Mr. Hood, the manager. And he spent the
remainder of a hot day checking invoices in the shipping entrance on
Second Street.
It is not our place here to chronicle Eliphalet's faults. Whatever he may
have been, he was not lazy. But he was an anomaly to the rest of the
young men in the store, for those were days when political sentiments
decided fervent loves or hatreds. In two days was Eliphalet's reputation