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PATSEY'S IDEA OF GOD, &C. 259

times would start up in her sleep, and with raised hands, plead for mercy. She became more silent than she was, toiling all day in our midst, not uttering a word. A care-worn, pitiful expression settled on her face, and it was her humor now to weep, rather than rejoice. If ever there was a broken heart--one crushed and blighted by the rude grasp of suffering and misfortune--it was Patsey's.

She had been reared no better than her master's beast--looked upon merely as a valuable and handsome animal--and consequently possessed but a limited amount of knowledge. And yet a faint light cast its rays over her intellect, so that it was not wholly dark. She had a dim perception of God and of eternity, and a still more dim perception of a Saviour who had died even for such as her. She entertained but confused notions of a future life--not comprehending the distinction between the corporeal and spiritual existence. Happiness, in her mind, was exemption from stripes--from labor--from the cruelty of masters and overseers. Her idea of the joy of heaven was simply rest, and is fully expressed in these lines of a melancholy bard:

"I ask no paradise on high,
With cares on earth oppresed,
The only heaven for which I sigh,
Is rest, eternal rest."

It is a mistaken opinion that prevails in some quarters, that the slave does not understand the term--does not comprehend the idea of freedom. Even on