Hound Insurance Quotes

About the time that I reentered the Bruce family, an event occurred of disastrous import to the colored people. The slave Hamlin, the first fugitive that came under the new law, was given up by the blood-hounds of the north to the bloodhounds of the south. It was the beginning of a reign of terror to the colored population. The great city rushed on its whirl of excitement, taking no note of the "short and simple annals of the Poor." But while fashionables were listening to the thrilling voice of Jenny Lind in Metropolitan Hall, the thrilling voices of poor hunted colored people went up, in an agony of supplication, to the Lord, from Zion's church. Many families, who had lived in the city for twenty years, fled from it now. Many a poor washerwoman, who, by hard labor, had made herself a comfortable home, was obliged to sacrifice her furniture, bid a hurried farewell to friends, and seek her fortune among strangers in Canada. Many a wife discovered a secret she had never known before—that her husband was a fugitive, and must leave her to insure his own safety. Worse still, many a husband discovered that his wife had fled from slavery years ago, and as "the child follows the condition of its mother," the children of his love were liable to be seized and carried into slavery. Every where, in those humble homes, there was consternation and anguish. But what cared the legislators of the "dominant race" for the blood they were crushing out of trampled hearts?

You have your traditions, and are welcome to them. They have shaped the world I’ve inherited but, by all that is holy, they will not determine the world I pass on to the next generation. And insuring the future is yet one more reason to fight, and one I gladly embrace.

Reaching the barnyard, we decided that an assault en masse was the proper maneuver. The dogs were to be the shock troops, and we were to follow up the advantage that they had obtained over the common enemy. We had sundry cudgels and ropes with which to belabor the victim. The seven dogs went through the gate in a body; and the wild boar accommodated them by not permitting them to hesitate for a moment as to which hog they were after. Incontinently he rushed them. With great valor we watched the fray from the farther side of the fence, waiting until our chance seemed secure enough to enable us to cross the obstruction that protected us. Suddenly, hurled high over the fence, the bulldog rejoined us; all the zest seemed gone out of him. Then the two hounds fled across the yard and skulked into the stable; their attitude indicated that they carried no tornado insurance. The collie stood off and barked with hollow ferocity. The two plain dogs went manfully to work, as if the matter of laying in a supply of Christmas bacon interested them personally. But one dog was trampled by the boar. The other seized the monster’s ear and hung on grimly. Yet the beast would rip him open, I knew. Just then, Sarsaparilla, who had calmly and aloofly watched the proceedings, stepped niftily in. He approached rather fastidiously, not from dismay but from a certain curious regard for finesse. Stationed behind the hog, he looked thoughtfully at the shaggy brute; then he quietly bowed his lunatic, dolesome head, mouthed the boar’s upper haunch until he had a deliberate hold, sunk his teeth, set his legs, and began grimly to shake his head. The boar, I think, got one glimpse of what had him; he probably imagined it a saber-toothed tiger. Savagely shaking off the dog from his head, he squealed shrilly and turned to run. Sarsaparilla said quite firmly, “Not so fast.” The bewildered boar could not get loose. The other dogs came back. We jumped the fence, and soon we had the old marauder from the swamps securely roped. Sarsaparilla then stalked sedately off; he had condescended to help us; but he was not going to join in any of our puerile excitement. “What kind of dog is that?” I asked his owner. “God in he’ben knows,” replied he, meaning no irreverence; “but he got all de sense. Sometime I gwine change his name to Solomon.