"I don't know what you mean by an eclipse," answered the man, gloomily; "but I know there _was_ a sign, and a terrible sign too. However," he continued, in a more cheerful tone, "every one must read such things by the lights he has got, and the Lord will not suffer those whom he favours to mistake. He will direct us," he added, with a sigh, and then seemed inclined to change the conversation. I tried to keep it in the same course, for I wanted to hear more of his views on such subjects; but, with a great deal of skill--I might almost say, cunning--he avoided it; and I purposely brought up the subject of freedom and slavery. The old preacher spoke upon it frankly and freely enough, and with a degree of liberality towards the masters, which greatly surprised me. He said that the great majority were excellent, good, and kind-hearted people, and that, if they were all such, his race would be much more happy under their management than they could be under their own. "The great evil of slavery, sir," he continued, "is the possibility of any extent of ill-treatment. Where such a possibility exists, the thing will occur. It is true, I have no opportunity of comparing any other state of society with this; and for aught I know, there may be evils as great, or greater, in all others. I cannot remember my own country at all distinctly. Some vague, general notions I have about it; and, if they be correct, I was a great deal worse off there than I am here; but I cannot be sure whether these notions come from my own recollections, or from what I have read or heard. One thing, however, is certain, slavery has existed in all ages. The Hebrews had their bond servants, and they themselves were hewers of wood and drawers of water to the king of Egypt." "Ay, but they rose and delivered themselves, and God helped and directed them," said Nat Turner, with a peculiar flash in his dark eye. "He is a God of justice and strong to deliver," said a voice at the door, speaking in a very nasal tone; and turning round, to my surprise, I saw the lanky and extraordinary figure of the Rev. Mr. McGrubber. Nat Turner started forward, and shook him by the hand, and uncle Jack made him a formal, and, I thought, somewhat stiff bow. Bessy Davenport gave me a rueful and yet a merry glance; and, judging that we should not profit much by what was likely to follow, I prepared to take my departure. Nat Turner, however, instantly began the conversation with his visitor, who was evidently an old acquaintance and friend, by calling upon him to tell uncle Jack all that he had been telling him the day before. "_You_ will convince him, but I can't," cried the man; not heeding a cloud that came over Mr. McGrubber's brow, and a quick sign that he made to him to be silent. "His heart seems as hard as the nether millstone towards his own people."