Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue: A Tale of the Mississippi and the South-westOptic, Oliver
General
Hatchie, the Guardian Slave; or, The Heiress of Bellevue: A Tale of the Mississippi and the South-west
Optic, Oliver
African Americans -- Fiction; Enslaved persons -- United States -- Fiction
"MY DEAR CHILD:--When you read this letter, your father will be no
more. The last act of affection will have been performed, and the
ground closed over your only earthly protector. I am aware that you
will be exposed to many trials and temptations. The latter you are,
I trust, prepared to resist; the former must come to all. I feel
that I have done my duty to you, not only in bestowing an abundance
of this world's goods, but that I have not entirely failed to
implant in your mind the treasure 'which neither moth nor rust can
corrupt.' I have done all that I could do, and in a short time I
must lay my body in the grave, and leave you an orphan. But you are
in the hands, and under the protection, of a Father who is
infinitely more able to take care of you than I have been. Into His
hands, with my ransomed spirit, I undoubtingly commit you.
"As I write this letter, I feel the hand of death upon me. In a few
short days, it may be only hours, I must go. I am the less ready to
bid you the everlasting adieu when I think of the dangers that may
surround you. In my last hours I am doomed to the torments of
suspicion. I pray God they may be groundless. Perhaps they are only
idle fancies, the dotings of an over-anxious father. I feel, as the
sands of life are fast ebbing out, that some great calamity is
lowering over you. I know not that a remark I accidentally
overheard should thus haunt me; but it has roused my suspicions,
and the presage of calamity will not depart from me. I cannot, with
the warning voice ever ringing in my mind, help taking steps to
guard you against the worst that may befall you.
"My dear child, if I should disclose my suspicions, and they should
prove unreasonable, I shall have done a grievous wrong to him I
suspect. Although you cannot save me from the misery of doubting in
my last hour, you can save me from injuring another in your good
opinion. If I have wronged him, let the injury die with me. If my
suspicions are not groundless, I offer you the means of saving
yourself from the calamity that impends.
"Should any event occur after my death which deprives you of any of
your inheritance, follow the directions I now give you.
"In the back of the lower drawer of the secretary you will find a
secret aperture. The back of the drawer is a thick board, upon
which is screwed, on the lower side, a thin slat. Take out the
screws and remove the piece they secure, and the aperture will be
seen. It contains a sealed packet, the contents of which require no
explanation.
"If nothing happens after my decease, and you peaceably obtain all
your rights, burn the packet without opening it. My unjust
suspicions, then, cannot influence you, or injure the person to
whom they refer.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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