“Precisely where I put him—where he won’t disgrace the family; yes, where he ought to be, and where he shall rot, for all me. Now, go your way, young man; and read your Bible at home, and keep out of prisons; and don’t be trying to make Jesuits of hardened scamps like that Tom of mine.” “I am a Christian: I would like to extend a Christian’s hand to your son. I may replace him on the holy pedestal he has fallen from—” “You are very aggravating, young man. Do you live in South Carolina?” The young man says he does. He is proud of the State that can boast so many excellent families. “I am glad of that,” she says, looking querulously over her spectacles, as she twitches her chin, and increases the velocity of her rocking. “I wonder how folks can live out of it.” “As to that, Madam, permit me to say, I am happy to see and appreciate your patriotism; but if you will grant me an order of release—” “I won’t hear a word now! You’re very aggravating, young man—very! He has disgraced the family; I have put him where he is seven times; he shall rot were he is! He never shall disgrace the family again. Think of Sir Sunderland Swiggs, and then think of him, and see what a pretty level the family has come to! That’s the place for him. I have told him a dozen times how I wished him gone. The quicker he is out of the way, the better for the name of the family.” The young man waits the end of this colloquy with a smile on his countenance. “I have no doubt I can work your son’s reform—perhaps make him an honor to the family—” “He honor the family!” she interrupts, twitches the shawl about her shoulders, and permits herself to get into a state of general excitement. “I should like to see one who has disgraced the family as much as he has think of honoring it—” “Through kindness and forbearance, Madam, a great deal may be done,” the young man replies. Now, you are very provoking, young man—very. Let other people alone; go your way home, and study your Bible.” And with this the old lady calls Rebecca, the decrepit slave who opened the door, and directs her to show the young man out. “There now!” she says testily, turning to the marked page of her Milton. The young man contemplates her for a few moments, but, having no alternative, leaves reluctantly. On reaching the stoop he encounters the tall, handsome figure of a man, whose face is radiant with smiles, and his features ornamented with neatly-combed Saxon hair and beard, and who taps the old negress under the chin playfully, as she says, “Missus will be right glad to see you, Mr. Snivel—that she will.” And he bustles his way laughing into the presence of the old lady, as if he had news of great importance for her. CHAPTER IV. A FEW REFLECTIONS ON THE CURE OF VICE.