The Garies and Their Friends | Page 7

Moyese's instructions.
"I think, sir," said he, modestly, "that we had better reply at once to Ditson, and send him the advance he requires, as he will not otherwise be able to fill these;" and as he concluded he laid the papers on the table, and stood waiting orders respecting them.
Mr. Moyese laid down the packet, and after looking over the papers George had brought in, replied: "I think we had. Write to him to draw upon us for the amount he requires.--And, George," he continued, looking at him benevolently, "what would you like for a New-year's present?"
"Anything you please, sir," was the respectful reply.
"Well, George," resumed Mr. Moyese, "I have made up my mind to make you a present of----" here he paused and looked steadily at him for a few seconds; and then gravely handing him the papers, concluded, "of yourself, George! Now mind and don't throw my present away, my boy." George stood for some moments looking in a bewildered manner, first at his master, then at the papers. At last the reality of his good fortune broke fully upon him, and he sank into a chair, and unable to say more than: "God bless you, Mr. Moyese!" burst into tears.
"Now you are a pretty fellow," said the old man, sobbing himself, "it's nothing to cry about--get home as fast as you can, you stupid cry-baby, and mind you are here early in the morning, sir, for I intend to pay you five hundred dollars a-year, and I mean you to earn it," and thus speaking he bustled out of the room, followed by George's repeated "God bless you!" That "God bless you" played about his ears at night, and soothed him to sleep; in dreams he saw it written in diamond letters on a golden crown, held towards him by a hand outstretched from the azure above. He fancied the birds sang it to him in his morning walk, and that he heard it in the ripple of the little stream that flowed at the foot of his garden. So he could afford to smile when his relatives talked about his mistaken generosity, and could take refuge in that fervent "God bless you!"
Six years after this event Mr. Moyese died, leaving George a sufficient legacy to enable him to commence business on his own account. As soon as he had arranged his affairs, he started for his old home, to endeavour to gain by personal exertions what he had been unable to learn through the agency of others--a knowledge of the fate of his mother. He ascertained that she had been sold and re-sold, and had finally died in New Orleans, not more than three miles from where he had been living. He had not even the melancholy satisfaction of finding her grave. During his search for his mother he had become acquainted with Emily, the wife of Mr. Garie, and discovered that she was his cousin; and to this was owing the familiar footing on which we find him in the household where we first introduced him to our readers.
Mr. Winston had just returned from a tour through the Northern States, where he had been in search of a place in which to establish himself in business.
The introductions with which Mr. Garie had kindly favoured him, had enabled him to see enough of Northern society to convince him, that, amongst the whites, he could not form either social or business connections, should his identity with, the African race be discovered; and whilst, on the other hand, he would have found sufficiently refined associations amongst the people of colour to satisfy his social wants, he felt that he could not bear the isolation and contumely to which they were subjected. He, therefore, decided on leaving the United States, and on going to some country where, if he must struggle for success in life, he might do it without the additional embarrassments that would be thrown in his way in his native land, solely because he belonged to an oppressed race.

CHAPTER II
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A Glance at the Ellis Family.
"I wish Charlie would come with that tea," exclaimed Mrs. Ellis, who sat finishing off some work, which had to go home that evening. "I wonder what can keep him so long away. He has been gone over an hour; it surely cannot take him that time to go to Watson's."
"It is a great distance, mother," said Esther Ellis, who was busily plying her needle; "and I don't think he has been quite so long as you suppose."
"Yes; he has been gone a good hour," repeated Mrs. Ellis. "It is now six o'clock, and it wanted three minutes to five when he left. I do hope he won't forget that I told him half black and half green--he is so forgetful!" And