This was indeed a rare occasion. I was to have an unfettered say--was to talk as a man. The image of the doctor arose before me; I saw his hateful grin, his eyes full of evil and deceit--and the insults that he had put upon me freshened in my mind. Something in my manner must have foretold the temper of my speech, for they looked at me with an interest that never before had I beheld in an eye bent upon me. "Speak out!" Bob cried, and I found my tongue and found it hot: "I hate him deeper than any man was ever hated!" I almost shouted, for my first free speech rose high. "He has done all he could to make my life miserable. It burnt his skin to see that I was not sent to the corn-field--bled him to know that I could be fitted for something better; and his enmity passes through me and touches my master. If I could choke his tongue out and see it covered with the vilest dust--if I could see his eyes mashed into the ground--" I hesitated. The flight of freedom held a threat to be too wild, and love for the man who sat staring at me told me to drive it back to mean and humble earth. "Go ahead," Mr. Clem cried, but master was silent, looking down. "Gentlemen, I am a slave and you are American citizens," said I. "For me, there are no privileges except those granted by individual kindness. The law which I have studied page by page with my Master, scarcely touches me, except so far as I am a piece of property. If I run away, the law that I have studied will follow me and bring me back with handcuffs on my wrists. If my master chooses, he can put me on the auctioneer's block and sell me. I--" "Don't, Dan," Master pleaded, lifting his hand. "Don't draw such a picture as that. You are better off than many a white man; you can think, you have been taught to reason; and you know that I would rather starve than to sell you. I am not responsible for the melancholy fact that you are a slave. You--" "Who is?" I broke in. "God," he answered. "Oh, H--!" Mr. Clem shouted, leaping off the floor. "Bob, I think a great deal of you, would do anything for you--fight for you--but let me beg of you never again to give echo to that sounding rot. The greedcant of a pandering pulpit gives us enough of such answers to flatter the soul. Bob," he said, stepping forward and laying a hand on Master's shoulder, "look at me. You have a heart," he went on, looking into the young man's eyes. "The God you say made this boy a slave, made you an uncommon man. Even as young as you are, you have the brains almost of a philosopher--surely the power and the expression of an orator. You are going to make a deep mark on the page of your country's history. I believe it, I swear I do. Then, why do you care to own a man? Bob, set this boy free."