"'Tis that fear that is killing me, father."
"What could I, now, do to be saved?"
"Believe in the Lord Jesus, and be baptized."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, that is all; but it embraces a good deal, dear father; a good deal more than most persons deserve. In order to a perfect belief in the Lord Jesus, you must act consistently with that belief. You must deal justly. Abundantly give to the poor, and, above all, you must love mercy, and do mercifully to all. Now I approach the great subject upon which I fear you will stumble. You must," and he pronounced the words very slowly, "liberate your slaves." There was a fair gleam from his eyes when he said this.
Mr. Peterkin turned uneasily in his chair. He did not wish to encourage a conversation upon this subject.
One evening, when it had been raining for two or three days, and the damp condition of the atmosphere had greatly increased young master's complaint, he called me to his bedside.
"Ann," he said, in that deep, sepulchral tone, "I wish to ask you a question, and I urge you not to deceive me. Remember I am dying, and it will be a great crime to tell me a falsehood."
I assured him that I would answer him with a faithful regard to truth.
"Then tell me what occasioned Amy's death? Did she come to it by violence?"