92 SHEPHEKDSTOWX, ON THE POTOMAC. 



out being followed by a train of admiring brothers and sisters. So 

 they were all with us, and a fine disturbance they were making through 

 the streets. As I finished speaking we met Mr. Devon, the Episco- 

 pal clergyman, coming out of his shabb}- little parsonage. Shabby 

 it certainly was, externally, but I had long ago found that it was also 

 uncommonly bright and comfortable inside. Mr. Devon was just 

 starting on his constitutional, and his offered society was received 

 with vociferous thanks and delight, so we continued on our way to 

 the cliffs. 



"And now about this childish nonsense, Miss Helen," said the 

 clergyman, "who has been talking childish nonsense?" 



"WJiy, Mr. Devon, Charley says that Cousin Helen has turnip 

 juice for blood, because she's a Yankee," cried Bob. This was too 

 much for poor Charley. "Oh, Bob! what a big lie. I said she had 

 blood, for I saw it yesterday when she cut her thumb." "Oh, Char- 

 ley, Charley!" exclaimed Mr. Devon, "what will your cousin think 

 of us? I am sure she never heard the Yankees say anything so mean 

 about us." Mr. Devon was a Massachusetts Yankee, like myself, but 

 hs had apparently forgotten that, and could talk of Yankees with the 

 ease and contempt of a born Southerner. 



"We don't say anything about you, Mr. Devon," said I; "I don't 

 understand how it is with you Southerners; you seem to think that 

 you are always being talked about; whereas except among very rabid 

 people you are seldom spoken or even thought of. I certainly don't 

 remember hearing Southerners spoken ill of; I think when one of 

 them came among us he was generally admired rather than other- 

 wise, But Ave don't talk about North and South as you do here ; 

 that is, in comparison with each other. I've heard more of it since 

 I came here than I ever heard in my whole life before." 



"Well, I don't suppose you love us very much," said Harry. 



"We don't love you or hate you," I said, "we don't think about 

 3 r ou at all." "What," said Mr. Devon, slyly, "nor about slaveiy 

 either?" 



" No, nor about slavery. We don't speak about it — at least we at 

 home very seldom spoke about it, and I think it is only among the 

 Abolitionists that it is generally talked about. I know they talk very 

 noisily and I think they are generally sincere, too, but there are not 

 so many of them, after all. When my Father and Mother did talk 



