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Various

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

"
"That's right, Candace," said the Doctor, "keep on; your prayers stand
as much chance with God as if you were a crowned queen. The Lord is no
respecter of persons."
"Dat's what he a'n't, Doctor,--an' dere's where I 'gree wid him," said
Candace, as she gathered her baskets vigorously together, and, after
a sweeping curtsy, went sailing down to her wagon, full laden with
content, shouting a hearty "Good mornin', Missus," with the full power
of her cheerful lungs, as she rode off.
As the Doctor looked after her, the simple, pleased expression with
which he had watched her gradually faded, and there passed over his
broad, good face a shadow, as of a cloud on a mountain-side.
"What a shame it is," he said, "what a scandal and disgrace to the
Protestant religion, that Christians of America should openly practise
and countenance this enslaving of the Africans! I have for a long time
holden my peace,--may the Lord forgive me!--but I believe the time is
coming when I must utter my voice. I cannot go down to the wharves or
among the shipping, without these poor dumb creatures look at me so that
I am ashamed,--as if they asked me what I, a Christian minister, was
doing, that I did not come to their help.


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