The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National PolicyVarious
History
The Continental Monthly, Vol. 2, No. 2, August, 1862: Devoted to Literature and National Policy
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; United States -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Periodicals
'A day or two afterward, B---- passed here on his way to Georgetown. I
had been riding out, and happened to be at the head of my avenue when
he was going by. He stopped, and asked if I knew you. Not knowing then
the circumstances, I said that I had met you casually at Bucksville, but
had no particular acquaintance with you. He rode on, saying nothing
further. The next morning I had occasion to go to Georgetown, and at Mr.
Fraser's office accidentally heard that Scip--who is well known and
universally liked there--was to have a public whipping that evening.
Something prompted me to inquire into it, and I was told that he had
been charged by B---- with shielding a well-known abolitionist at
Conwayboro--a man who was going through the up-country distributing such
damnable publications as the New-York _Independent_ and _Tribune_. I
knew, of course, it referred to you, and that it wasn't true. I went to
Scip and got the facts, and by stretching the truth a little, finally
got him off. There was a slight discrepancy between my two accounts of
you,' (and here he laughed heartily,) 'and B----, when we were before
the Justice, remarked on it, and came d----d near calling me a liar. It
was lucky he didn't, for if he had he'd gone to h----l before the place
was hot enough for him.'
'I can not tell you, my dear sir, how grateful I am to you for this. It
would have pained me more than I can express, if Scip had suffered for
doing a disinterested kindness to me.'
Early in the morning we were again on our way, and twelve o'clock found
us seated at a dinner of bacon, corn-bread, and waffles, in the 'first
hotel' of Georgetown. The Charleston boat was to leave at three o'clock;
and, as soon as dinner was over, I sallied out to find Scip. After a
half-hour's search I found him on 'Shackelford's wharf,' engaged in
loading a schooner bound for New-York with a cargo of cotton and
turpentine.
He was delighted to see me, and after I told him I was going home, and
might never see him again, I took his hand warmly in mine, and said:
'Scip, I have heard of the disgrace that was near being put upon you on
my account, and I feel deeply the disinterested service you did to me;
now, I _can not_ go away without doing _something_ for you--showing you
in _some_ way that I appreciate and _like_ you.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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