“Indeed! Then you must have sent it North long before these troubles began.” “Yes, more than four years ago,—soon after the Nashville Convention.” “What’s the amount in your hands?” “Half a million; probably it will be seven hundred thousand, if gold should rise, as I think it will.” “And how much, Mr. Winslow, of the property, my father left me has gone to Mr. Ratcliff?” “More than three millions.” “Very well. I wish to revoke all previous requests I may have made as to the disposition of the property in your hands. Now take your pen and write as I shall dictate.” “Let me first explain, Mrs. Ratcliff, that any conveyance of personalty you might make would be null without your husband’s consent. But in this case forms are of no account, and even witnesses are unnecessary. Everything is left to my individual honor and discretion.” “I’m aware of that, Mr. Winslow. It is not so much a will as a series of requests I’ve to make.” “I see you understand it, madam. The memoranda you give me I will embody in the form of a will of my own. Proceed!” “Put down,” said the invalid, “a hundred thousand for the Orphan Asylum.” “Excellent; but as the Secessionists are using that sacred fund for war purposes, I shall take the liberty of withholding the bequest for the present. Go on.” “A hundred thousand to the Lying-in Hospital.” “Nothing could be more proper. Proceed.” “A hundred thousand to the fund for the Sisters of Charity.” “Ah! those dear sisters! Bless you for remembering them, madam.” “A hundred thousand to be distributed in sums of five thousand severally to the persons whose names I have here written down.” She handed him a sheet of paper containing the names, and he transcribed them carefully. “And now,” resumed the invalid, “the remainder of the fund in your possession I wish paid over, when you can safely do it, one half to the slave Josephine, the other half to the white slave, Ellen Murray, of whom Josephine will tell you, and whom you must rescue from slavery. Both must be free before the money can be of any service to them.” “Of course. Their owner could at once appropriate any sum you might leave to them, even though it were a million of dollars.” “You have now heard all I have to say, Mr. Winslow.” “Then, madam, you will please write under these memoranda with your own hand something to this effect, and sign your name, with date, place, et cetera: ‘_This I declare to be my own spontaneous, unbiassed request to Mr. Winslow, to dispose of the property in his possession, in the manner hereinabove stated._’ The autograph will have no legal force, but it may serve to satisfy your husband.” The lady wrote, and handed back the paper. “Good!” said Winslow. “Before taking another meal, I will draw up and sign a will by which your requests can be made effectual.” “Your hand, Mr. Winslow! My father trusted you as he did no other man, and I thank you for your loyalty to what you knew to be his wishes.”