it, he proceeded on with his
exhortations in a general way.

"You see, George, you know, now, I always have stood your friend;
and whatever I've said, I've said for your good.  Now, here,
it seems to me, you're running an awful risk.  You can't hope
to carry it out.  If you're taken, it will be worse with you than
ever; they'll only abuse you, and half kill you, and sell you down
the river."

"Mr. Wilson, I know all this," said George.  "I _do_ run a risk,
but--" he threw open his overcoat, and showed two pistols and
a bowie-knife.  "There!" he said, "I'm ready for 'em!  Down south
I never _will_ go.

No! if it comes to that, I can earn myself at least six feet of
free soil,--the first and last I shall ever own in Kentucky!"

"Why, George, this state of mind is awful; it's getting really
desperate George.  I'm concerned.  Going to break the laws
of your country!"

"My country again!  Mr. Wilson, _you_ have a country; but what
country have _I_, or any one like me, born of slave mothers? 
What laws are there for us?  We don't make them,--we don't consent
to them,--we have nothing to do with them; all they do for us is
to crush us, and keep us down.  Haven't I heard your Fourth-of-July
speeches?  Don't you tell us all, once a year, that governments
derive their just power from the consent of the governed?  Can't a
fellow _think_, that hears such things?  Can't he put this and that
together, and see what it comes to?"

Mr. Wilson's mind was one of those that may not unaptly be
represented by a bale of cotton,--downy, soft, benevolently fuzzy
and confused.  He really pitied George with all his heart, and had
a sort of dim and cloudy perception of