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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 17, March, 1859"

"
This remark, made without the slightest personal intention, called a
curious smile into Mrs. Scudder's face, which was reflected in a
slight blush from Mary's, when the crack of a whip and the rattling of
wagon-wheels disturbed the conversation and drew all eyes to the door.
There appeared the vision of Mr. Zebedee Marvyn's farm-wagon, stored
with barrels, boxes, and baskets, over which Candace sat throned
triumphant, her black face and yellow-striped turban glowing in the
fresh morning with a hearty, joyous light, as she pulled up the reins,
and shouted to the horse to stop with a voice that might have done
credit to any man living.
"Dear me, if there isn't Candace!" said Mary.
"Queen of Ethiopia," said the Doctor, who sometimes adventured a very
placid joke.
The Doctor was universally known in all the neighborhood as a sort of
friend and patron-saint of the negro race; he had devoted himself to
their interests with a zeal unusual in those days. His church numbered
more of them than any in Newport; and his hours of leisure from study
were often spent in lowliest visitations among them, hearing their
stories, consoling their sorrows, advising, and directing their plans,
teaching them reading and writing, and he often drew hard on his slender
salary to assist them in their emergencies and distresses.


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