When young Laura Prescott married gay Dick Randolph, Abe, the son of Mr Prescott’s body-servant, was one of numerous presents of like kind. Abe was an excellent carpenter; and when dark days came to the Prescotts and Randolphs, it was Abe himself who persuaded ‘Marse Dick’ to sell him to a man from the north named Hartley, who from being a slave-driver had risen to be a slave-owner, and who had the reputation of being a very demon. Again and again Hartley offered a tempting price, and again and again Dick Randolph refused it; nor would he have yielded at last, hard pressed as he was, had he not felt that Abe, being about to be hired to a builder in the neighbourhood, would be really out of Hartley’s power. And when, some months after the sale, Abe walked over to Prescott Place to tell that his new master was going to allow him to purchase his freedom by working over-hours, Mr Randolph felt quite at ease about the faithful fellow. A price being set by Hartley, Abe set himself cheerfully to earn it—for years commencing his day’s work with the dawn, and carrying it far into the night. But the general opinion of Hartley had not, it was soon seen, done him injustice. Twice, thrice, was the price of Abe’s freedom raised just as he seemed on the eve of gaining it; and after the third disappointment, the slave became utterly hopeless, and, abandoning all extra labour, spent his spare hours in the darkest corner of his wretched cabin, brooding over his wrongs. This was by no means what Hartley intended; so, to encourage Abe, he was led to promise, in the presence of Mr Randolph, that he would abide by the sum last named. In law, of course, the promise was good for nothing; but the _ci-devant_ slave-driver was supposed to have some regard for public opinion. In vain Mr Randolph offered a higher price than was demanded for the slave himself. Abe should buy himself, Hartley said, or he should not be bought at all. Three years had passed, when Abe, getting a half-holiday from the builder who hired him, set off for Hartley’s with the stipulated sum. On his way there he stopped at Prescott Place to tell the good news. This was just at the beginning of the war; and Mr Randolph, being about to join the army, had promised to take Abe with him as his servant. Next morning, while breakfast was being served at Prescott Place, a loud scuffle was heard at the dining-room door, and Hartley, using his whip freely on the servant who tried to stop him, strode into the room livid with passion, and flourishing his whip in Mr Randolph’s face, yelled, with an oath: ‘Where is that nigger?’ Dick Randolph’s blood was up in a moment, but he was first of all a gentleman. ‘Do you see my wife?’ he asked sternly.