St.Clare stepped out, and lifting up the curtain, laughed too.
"What is it ?" said Miss Ophelia, coming to the railing.
There sat Tom, on a little mossy seat in the court, every one of his button-holes stuck full of cape jessamines, and Eva, gayly laughing, was hanging a wreath of roses round his neck; and then she sat down on his knee, like a chip-sparrow, still laughing.
"O, Tom, you look so funny!" Tom had a sober, benevolent smile, and seemed, in his quiet way, to be enjoying the fun quite as much as his little mistress.

He lifted his eyes, when he saw his master, with a half-deprecating, apologetic air.
"How can you let her ?" said Miss Ophelia.
"Why not ?" said St.Clare.
"Why, I don't know, it seems so dreadful!" "You would think no harm in a child's caressing a large dog, even if he was black; but a creature that can think, and reason, and feel, and is immortal, you shudder at; confess it, cousin.

I know the feeling among some of you northerners well enough.

Not that there is a particle of virtue in our not having it; but custom with us does what Christianity ought to do,--obliterates the feeling of personal prejudice.

I have often noticed, in my travels north, how much stronger this was with you than with us.