"Almost a providence," said Mrs. North.
"How would you feel, Mr. North?" said I.
"Why, feel? How should I feel?" said he. "You will answer for me, perhaps, and say, 'Read Philemon; pray; and then say, Come, Nesimus, I am going to send you back to Professor A.B. I will write a letter to him, and pay your passage.'"
"What objection would you make to this?" said I.
He thought a moment, and in the meanwhile his shrewd wife said,—
"Why, husband, do you hesitate? Say this: 'What! I? and Bunker Hill within a day's march of my house, and grandfather's old sword over my library door?'"
"I am sick of hearing about Bunker Hill in this connection," said he.
"Any one would think that it is one of the 'sacred mountains' in Holy
Writ."
"But," said his wife, "If some of Paul's ancestors had had Bunker Hill privileges and influences, do you think Paul would have written the Epistle to Philemon? Unfortunate Apostle! Say," said his wife again, before he spoke, "that you believe in progress, that that epistle might have been right enough in its day, but that now 'we need an anti-slavery Bible and an anti-slavery God.'"
She made up a very expressive smile as she said it and stretched her work across her knee.
"Yes," said I, "the Bible is antiquated! God never gave a written revelation to be a perpetual guide to the end of time! I can supersede the Epistle to Philemon: Mrs. North, Hebrews; you, James; and another the whole of the Old Testament."