The bishop's wife is an agreeable lady, lively and intellectual, and truly musical, playing on the piano as the bird sings, and who seems to have inherited from her Indian foster-mother an unusual degree of acuteness and perfection of organisation. Her husband often jokes her on this subject. The family consists of several pretty children, among which “the outlaw,” the youngest son, a lovely, good, little lad, who leapt about unrestrained without shoes and stockings, was my especial favourite.
The family state of mind was not at this moment cheerful, from various causes, and the good bishop was evidently depressed. How agreeable he was, nevertheless, during the few hours which he was able to devote to social intercourse and conversation! In him I found much of the Emersonian truth and beauty of mind, both in expression and manner, without any of his critical severity, and permeated by the spirit of Christian love as by a delicious summer air. He is one of those rare men of the south who can see, with a clear and unprejudiced glance, the institution of slavery on its dark aspect. He believes in its ultimate eradication within the United States, and considers that this will be effected by Christianity.
“Already,” said he, “is Christianity labouring to elevate the being of the negro population, and from year to year their condition improves, both spiritually and physically; they will soon be our equals as regards morals, and when they become our equals, they can no longer be our slaves. The next step will be for them to receive wages as servants; and I know several persons who are already treating their slaves as such.”
This conversation delighted me, for I am convinced that Eliott's views on this subject are correct.
The school examination was already nearly over, and a great number of the young girls, the flowers of the Southern States, had left. Still I saw a part of them, and
