So, have good courage, friend George; this isn't the first ugly scrape that I've been in with thy people," said Phineas, as he closed the door.
"Phineas is pretty shrewd," said Simeon.

"He will do the best that can be done for thee, George." "All I am sorry for," said George, "is the risk to you." "Thee'll much oblige us, friend George, to say no more about that.

What we do we are conscience bound to do; we can do no other way.

And now, mother," said he, turning to Rachel, "hurry thy preparations for these friends, for we must not send them away fasting." And while Rachel and her children were busy making corn-cake, and cooking ham and chicken, and hurrying on the _et ceteras_ of the evening meal, George and his wife sat in their little room, with their arms folded about each other, in such talk as husband and wife have when they know that a few hours may part them forever.
"Eliza," said George, "people that have friends, and houses, and lands, and money, and all those things _can't_ love as we do, who have nothing but each other.

Till I knew you, Eliza, no creature had loved me, but my poor, heart-broken mother and sister.