I am human, and shall
soon die, or live on till time hardens my nature, or sordid pursuits
plough from my heart all its sympathies, and old age finds me gloating
over the gains of laborious care and penurious meanness.
"'To such vile uses we must come at last.'"
"You draw a sad picture, miss, for old age. Do not the gentler virtues
of our nature ever ripen with time? Is it the alchemist who always
turns the sweets of youth to the sours of age? There are many examples
in every community to refute your position. I would instance the
venerable negro we visited to-day. He wept as he placed his trembling
hand upon your head. There was surely nothing ascetic or sordid in his
feelings."
"Uncle Toney is an exception, sir. The affectionate memories he has of
our family, and especially of my mother and father, redeems him from
the obloquy of his race. His heart is as tender as his conduct is void
of offense. He was a slave. God had ordained him for his situation. He
had not the capacity to aspire beyond his lot, or to contrast it with
his master's. Contented to render his service, and satisfied with the
supply of his wants from the hands of him he served--he had a home, and
all the comforts his nature required.
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