| NEGRO LIFE IN AMERICA. 295

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then, moved by the utter weariness of two women, whom he saw
trying to grind their corn there, he ground for them, put together
the decaying brands of the fire, where many had baked cakes
before him, and then went about getting his own supper. It was
a new kind of work there—a deed of charity, small as it was ; but
it woke an answering touch in their hearts—an expression of
womanly kindness came over their hard faces. They mixed his
cake for him, and tended its baking; and Tom sat down by the.
light of the fire, and drew out his Bible—for he had need of
comfort.

** What's that ?” said one of the women.

** A Bible,” said Tom.

“Good Lord! han’t seen un since I was in Kentuck.”

‘Was you raised in Kentuck ?”.said Tom with interest.

“ Yes, and well raised, too; never ’spected to come to dis yer !”’
said the woman sighing.

‘What's dat ar book, any way ?” said the other woman.

“‘ Why, the: Bible.”

‘‘Laws a me! what's dat?” said the woman.

‘Do tell! you never hearn on’t?”’ said the other woman. ‘I
used to har missis a readin’ on’t, sometimes, in Kentuck; but,
laws o’ me! we don’t har nothin’ here but crackin’ and swarin’.”

‘Read a piece, anyways!” said the first woman curiously, see-
ing Tom attentively poring over it.

Tom read, ‘‘ Come unto Mz, all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and [ will give you rest.”

‘“‘Them’s good words enough,” said the woman, ‘ who says
"em ? ”

‘The Lord,” said Tom.

‘‘T jest wish I knowd whar to find Him,” said the woman,
“T would go. ’Pears like I should never get rested agin. My
flesh is fairly sore, and I tremble all over, every day ; and Sambo’s
allers a jawin’ at me, ‘cause I doesn’t pick faster; and nights it’s

- most midnight ‘fore I can get my supper; and den ‘pears like I

don’t turn over and shut my eyes fore I hear de horn blow to get
up, and at it agin in de mornin’. If I knew whar de Lord was,
I'd tell him.”

‘* He’s here, he’s everywhere,” said Tom.

‘Lor! you an’t gwine to make me believe dat ar! I know
de Lord an’t here,” said the woman. ‘“’Tan’t no use in talking,
though. I's just gwine to camp down, and sleep while I ken.”

The women went off to their cabins, and Tom sat alone, by the
smouldering fire, that flickered up redly in his face. ;

The silver, fair-browed moon rose in the purple sky, and looked
down, calm and silent, as God looks on the scene of misery and
oppression—looked calmly on the lone black man, as he sat, with
his arms folded, and his Bible on his knee.

“Is God HERE ?” Ah, how is it possible for the untaught heart