Thus are the beauties of this our democratic system illustrated in two innocent children being consigned to the miseries of slave life because a mother is supposed a slave: a father has acknowledged them, and yet they are sold before his eyes. It is the majesty of slave law, before which good men prostrate their love of independence. Democracy says the majesty of that law must be carried out; creditors must be satisfied, even though all that is generous and noble in man should be crushed out, and the rights of free men consigned to oblivion. A stout arm may yet rise up in a good cause; democrats may stand ashamed of the inhuman traffic, and seek to cover its poisoning head with artifices and pretences; but they write only an obituary for the curse. "A quaint-faced, good-looking country deacon has bought them. Very good; I can now go home, and relieve Mrs. Rosebrook's very generous feelings," says the very distinguished Mr. Seabrook, shrugging his shoulders, lighting a fresh cigar, and turning toward home with a deliberate step, full of good tidings. CHAPTER XXX. THE VISION OF DEATH HAS PAST. MR. SEABROOK returns to the mansion, and consoles the anxious lady by assuring her the children have been saved from the hands of obnoxious traders-sold to a good, country deacon. He was so delighted with their appearance that he could not keep from admiring them, and does not wonder the good lady took so great an interest in their welfare. He knows the ministerial-looking gentleman who bought them is a kind master; he has an acute knowledge of human nature, and judges from his looks. And he will further assure the good lady that the auctioneer proved himself a gentleman-every inch of him! He wouldn't take a single bid from a trader, not even from old Graspum (he dreads to come in contact with such a brute as he is, when he gets his eye on a good piece o' nigger property), with all his money. As soon as he heard the name of a deacon among the bidders, something in his heart forbade his bidding against him. "You were not as good as your word, Mr. Seabrook," says the good lady, still holding Mr. Seabrook by the hand. "But, are you sure there was no disguise about the sale?" "Not the least, madam!" interrupts Mr. Seabrook, emphatically. "Bless me, madam, our people are too sensitive not to detect anything of that kind; and too generous to allow it if they did discover it. The children-my heart feels for them-are in the very best hands; will be brought up just as pious and morally. Can't go astray in the hands of a deacon-that's certain!" Mr. Seabrook rubs his hands, twists his fingers in various ways, and gives utterance to words of consolation, most blandly. The anxious lady seems disappointed, but is forced to accept the assurance.