The light of the cheerful fire shone on the rug and carpet of a coseyparlor, and glittered on the sides of the tea-cups and well-brightenedtea-pot, as Senator Bird was drawing off his boots, preparatory toinserting his feet in a pair of new handsome slippers, which his wifehad been working for him while away on his senatorial tour. Mrs. Bird,looking the very picture of delight, was superintending the arrangementsof the table, ever and anon mingling admonitory remarks to a number offrolicsome juveniles, who were effervescing in all those modes of untoldgambol and mischief that have astonished mothers ever since the flood.

"Tom, let the door-knob alone,--there's a man! Mary! Mary! don't pullthe cat's tail,--poor pussy! Jim, you mustn't climb on that table,--no,no!--You don't know, my dear, what a surprise it is to us all, to seeyou here tonight!" said she, at last, when she found a space to saysomething to her husband.

"Yes, yes, I thought I'd just make a run down, spend the night, and havea little comfort at home. I'm tired to death, and my head aches!"

Mrs. Bird cast a glance at a camphor-bottle, which stood in thehalf-open closet, and appeared to meditate an approach to it, but herhusband interposed.

"No, no, Mary, no doctoring! a cup of your good hot tea, and some ofour good home living, is what I want. It's a tiresome business, thislegislating!"

And the senator smiled, as if he rather liked the idea of consideringhimself a sacrifice to his country.

"Well," said his wife, after the business of the tea-table was gettingrather slack, "and what have they been doing in the Senate?"

Now, it was a very unusual thing for gentle little Mrs. Bird ever totrouble her head with what was going on in the house of the state, verywisely considering that she had enough to do to mind her own. Mr. Bird,therefore, opened his eyes in surprise, and said,

"Not very much of importance."

"Well; but is it true that they have been passing a law forbiddingpeople to give meat and drink to those poor colored folks that comealong? I heard they were talking of some such law, but I didn't thinkany Christian legislature would pass it!"

"Why, Mary, you are getting to be a politician, all at once."

"No, nonsense! I wouldn't give a fig for all your politics, generally,but I think this is something downright cruel and unchristian. I hope,my dear, no such law has been passed."

"There has been a law passed forbidding people to help off the slavesthat come over from Kentucky, my dear; so much of that thing has beendone by these reckless Abolitionists, that our brethren in Kentuckyare very strongly excited, and it seems necessary, and no more thanChristian and kind, that something should be done by our state to quietthe excitement."

"And what is the law? It don't forbid us to shelter those poor creaturesa night, does it, and to give 'em something comfortable to eat, and afew old clothes, and send them quietly about their business?"

"Why, yes, my dear; that would be aiding and abetting, you know."

Mrs. Bird was a timid, blushing little woman, of about four feet inheight, and with mild blue eyes, and a peach-blow complexion, and thegentlest, sweetest voice in the world;--as for courage, a moderate-sizedcock-turkey had been known to put her to rout at the very first gobble,and a stout house-dog, of moderate capacity, would bring her intosubjection merely by a show of his teeth. Her husband and children wereher entire world, and in these she ruled more by entreaty and persuasionthan by command or argument. There was only one thing that was capableof arousing her, and that provocation came in on the side of herunusually gentle and sympathetic nature;--anything in the shape ofcruelty would throw her into a passion, which was the more alarmingand inexplicable in proportion to the general softness of her nature.Generally the most indulgent and easy to be entreated of all mothers,still her boys had a very reverent remembrance of a most vehementchastisement she once bestowed on them, because she found them leaguedwith several graceless boys of the neighborhood, stoning a defencelesskitten.

"I'll tell you what," Master Bill used to say, "I was scared that time.Mother came at me so that I thought she was crazy, and I was whippedand tumbled off to bed, without any supper, before I could get overwondering what had come about; and, after that, I heard mother cryingoutside the door, which made me feel worse than all the rest. I'll tellyou what," he'd say, "we boys never stoned another kitten!"

On the present occasion, Mrs. Bird rose quickly, with very red cheeks,which quite improved her general appearance, and walked up to herhusband, with quite a resolute air, and said, in a determined tone,

"Now, John, I want to know if you think such a law as that is right andChristian?"

"You won't shoot me, now, Mary, if I say I do!"

"I never could have thought it of you, John; you didn't vote for it?"

"Even so, my fair politician."

"You ought to be ashamed, John! Poor, homeless, houseless creatures!It's a shameful, wicked, abominable law, and I'll break it, for one,the first time I get a chance; and I hope I _shall_ have a chance, I do!Things have got to a pretty pass, if a woman can't give a warm supperand a bed to poor, starving creatures, just because they are slaves, andhave been abused and oppressed all their lives, poor things!"

"But, Mary, just listen to me. Your feelings are all quite right, dear,and interesting, and I love you for them; but, then, dear, we mustn'tsuffer our feelings to run away with our judgment; you must considerit's a matter of private feeling,--there are great public interestsinvolved,--there is such a state of public agitation rising, that wemust put aside our private feelings."

"Now, John, I don't know anything about politics, but I can read myBible; and there I see that I must feed the hungry, clothe the naked,and comfort the desolate; and that Bible I mean to follow."

"But in cases where your doing so would involve a great public evil--"

"Obeying God never brings on public evils. I know it can't. It's alwayssafest, all round, to _do as He_ bids us.

"Now, listen to me, Mary, and I can state to you a very clear argument,to show--"

"O, nonsense, John! you can talk all night, but you wouldn't do it.I put it to you, John,--would _you_ now turn away a poor, shivering,hungry creature from your door, because he was a runaway? _Would_ you,now?"

Now, if the truth must be told, our senator had the misfortune to bea man who had a particularly humane and accessible nature, and turningaway anybody that was in trouble never had been his forte; and what wasworse for him in this particular pinch of the argument was, thathis wife knew it, and, of course was making an assault on rather anindefensible point. So he had recourse to the usual means of gainingtime for such cases made and provided; he said "ahem," and coughedseveral times, took out his pocket-handkerchief, and began to wipe hisglasses. Mrs. Bird, seeing the defenceless condition of the enemy'sterritory, had no more conscience than to push her advantage.

"I should like to see you doing that, John--I really should! Turning awoman out of doors in a snowstorm, for instance; or may be you'd takeher up and put her in jail, wouldn't you? You would make a great hand atthat!"

"Of course, it would be a very painful duty," began Mr. Bird, in amoderate tone.

"Duty, John! don't use that word! You know it isn't a duty--it can't bea duty! If folks want to keep their slaves from running away, let 'emtreat 'em well,--that's my doctrine. If I had slaves (as I hope I nevershall have), I'd risk their wanting to run away from me, or you either,John. I tell you folks don't run away when they are happy; and whenthey do run, poor creatures! they suffer enough with cold and hunger andfear, without everybody's turning against them; and, law or no law, Inever will, so help me God!"

"Mary! Mary! My dear, let me reason with you."

"I hate reasoning, John,--especially reasoning on such subjects. There'sa way you political folks have of coming round and round a plainright thing; and you don't believe in it yourselves, when it comes topractice. I know _you_ well enough, John. You don't believe it's rightany more than I do; and you wouldn't do it any sooner than I."

At this critical juncture, old Cudjoe, the black man-of-all-work,put his head in at the door, and wished "Missis would come into thekitchen;" and our senator, tolerably relieved, looked after his littlewife with a whimsical mixture of amusement and vexation, and, seatinghimself in the arm-chair, began to read the papers.

After a moment, his wife's voice was heard at the door, in a quick,earnest tone,--"John! John! I do wish you'd come here, a moment."

He laid down his paper, and went into the kitchen, and started, quiteamazed at the sight that presented itself:--A young and slender woman,with garments torn and frozen, with one shoe gone, and the stocking tornaway from the cut and bleeding foot, was laid back in a deadly swoonupon two chairs. There was the impress of the despised race on her face,yet none could help feeling its mournful and pathetic beauty, while itsstony sharpness, its cold, fixed, deathly aspect, struck a solemn chillover him. He drew his breath short, and stood in silence. His wife,and their only colored domestic, old Aunt Dinah, were busily engaged inrestorative measures; while old Cudjoe had got the boy on his knee, andwas busy pulling off his shoes and stockings, and chafing his littlecold feet.

"Sure, now, if she an't a sight to behold!" said old Dinah,compassionately; "'pears like 't was the heat that made her faint.She was tol'able peart when she cum in, and asked if she couldn't warmherself here a spell; and I was just a-askin' her where she cum from,and she fainted right down. Never done much hard work, guess, by thelooks of her hands."

"Poor creature!" said Mrs. Bird, compassionately, as the woman slowlyunclosed her large, dark eyes, and looked vacantly at her. Suddenly anexpression of agony crossed her face, and she sprang up, saying, "O, myHarry! Have they got him?"

The boy, at this, jumped from Cudjoe's knee, and running to her side putup his arms. "O, he's here! he's here!" she exclaimed.

"O, ma'am!" said she, wildly, to Mrs. Bird, "do protect us! don't letthem get him!"

"Nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman," said Mrs. Bird, encouragingly."You are safe; don't be afraid."

"God bless you!" said the woman, covering her face and sobbing; whilethe little boy, seeing her crying, tried to get into her lap.

With many gentle and womanly offices, which none knew better how torender than Mrs. Bird, the poor woman was, in time, rendered more calm.A temporary bed was provided for her on the settle, near the fire; and,after a short time, she fell into a heavy slumber, with the child,who seemed no less weary, soundly sleeping on her arm; for the motherresisted, with nervous anxiety, the kindest attempts to take him fromher; and, even in sleep, her arm encircled him with an unrelaxing clasp,as if she could not even then be beguiled of her vigilant hold.

Mr. and Mrs. Bird had gone back to the parlor, where, strange as itmay appear, no reference was made, on either side, to the precedingconversation; but Mrs. Bird busied herself with her knitting-work, andMr. Bird pretended to be reading the paper.

"I wonder who and what she is!" said Mr. Bird, at last, as he laid itdown.

"When she wakes up and feels a little rested, we will see," said Mrs.Bird.

"I say, wife!" said Mr. Bird after musing in silence over his newspaper.

"Well, dear!"

"She couldn't wear one of your gowns, could she, by any letting down, orsuch matter? She seems to be rather larger than you are."

A quite perceptible smile glimmered on Mrs. Bird's face, as sheanswered, "We'll see."

Another pause, and Mr. Bird again broke out,

"I say, wife!"

"Well! What now?"

"Why, there's that old bombazin cloak, that you keep on purpose toput over me when I take my afternoon's nap; you might as well give herthat,--she needs clothes."

At this instant, Dinah looked in to say that the woman was awake, andwanted to see Missis.

Mr. and Mrs. Bird went into the kitchen, followed by the two eldestboys, the smaller fry having, by this time, been safely disposed of inbed.

The woman was now sitting up on the settle, by the fire. She was lookingsteadily into the blaze, with a calm, heart-broken expression, verydifferent from her former agitated wildness.

"Did you want me?" said Mrs. Bird, in gentle tones. "I hope you feelbetter now, poor woman!"

A long-drawn, shivering sigh was the only answer; but she lifted herdark eyes, and fixed them on her with such a forlorn and imploringexpression, that the tears came into the little woman's eyes.

"You needn't be afraid of anything; we are friends here, poor woman!Tell me where you came from, and what you want," said she.

"I came from Kentucky," said the woman.

"When?" said Mr. Bird, taking up the interogatory.

"Tonight."

"How did you come?"

"I crossed on the ice."

"Crossed on the ice!" said every one present.

"Yes," said the woman, slowly, "I did. God helping me, I crossed on theice; for they were behind me--right behind--and there was no other way!"

"Law, Missis," said Cudjoe, "the ice is all in broken-up blocks, aswinging and a tetering up and down in the water!"

"I know it was--I know it!" said she, wildly; "but I did it! I wouldn'thave thought I could,--I didn't think I should get over, but I didn'tcare! I could but die, if I didn't. The Lord helped me; nobody knowshow much the Lord can help 'em, till they try," said the woman, with aflashing eye.

"Were you a slave?" said Mr. Bird.

"Yes, sir; I belonged to a man in Kentucky."

"Was he unkind to you?"

"No, sir; he was a good master."

"And was your mistress unkind to you?"

"No, sir--no! my mistress was always good to me."

"What could induce you to leave a good home, then, and run away, and gothrough such dangers?"

The woman looked up at Mrs. Bird, with a keen, scrutinizing glance, andit did not escape her that she was dressed in deep mourning.

"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a child?"

The question was unexpected, and it was thrust on a new wound; for itwas only a month since a darling child of the family had been laid inthe grave.

Mr. Bird turned around and walked to the window, and Mrs. Bird burstinto tears; but, recovering her voice, she said,

"Why do you ask that? I have lost a little one."

"Then you will feel for me. I have lost two, one after another,--left'em buried there when I came away; and I had only this one left. Inever slept a night without him; he was all I had. He was my comfort andpride, day and night; and, ma'am, they were going to take him away fromme,--to _sell_ him,--sell him down south, ma'am, to go all alone,--ababy that had never been away from his mother in his life! I couldn'tstand it, ma'am. I knew I never should be good for anything, if theydid; and when I knew the papers the papers were signed, and he was sold,I took him and came off in the night; and they chased me,--the man thatbought him, and some of Mas'r's folks,--and they were coming down rightbehind me, and I heard 'em. I jumped right on to the ice; and how I gotacross, I don't know,--but, first I knew, a man was helping me up thebank."

The woman did not sob nor weep. She had gone to a place where tearsare dry; but every one around her was, in some way characteristic ofthemselves, showing signs of hearty sympathy.

The two little boys, after a desperate rummaging in their pockets, insearch of those pocket-handkerchiefs which mothers know are never tobe found there, had thrown themselves disconsolately into the skirts oftheir mother's gown, where they were sobbing, and wiping their eyes andnoses, to their hearts' content;--Mrs. Bird had her face fairly hiddenin her pocket-handkerchief; and old Dinah, with tears streaming down herblack, honest face, was ejaculating, "Lord have mercy on us!" with allthe fervor of a camp-meeting;--while old Cudjoe, rubbing his eyes veryhard with his cuffs, and making a most uncommon variety of wry faces,occasionally responded in the same key, with great fervor. Our senatorwas a statesman, and of course could not be expected to cry, like othermortals; and so he turned his back to the company, and looked out of thewindow, and seemed particularly busy in clearing his throat and wipinghis spectacle-glasses, occasionally blowing his nose in a manner thatwas calculated to excite suspicion, had any one been in a state toobserve critically.

"How came you to tell me you had a kind master?" he suddenly exclaimed,gulping down very resolutely some kind of rising in his throat, andturning suddenly round upon the woman.

"Because he _was_ a kind master; I'll say that of him, any way;--and mymistress was kind; but they couldn't help themselves. They were owingmoney; and there was some way, I can't tell how, that a man had a holdon them, and they were obliged to give him his will. I listened, andheard him telling mistress that, and she begging and pleading forme,--and he told her he couldn't help himself, and that the papers wereall drawn;--and then it was I took him and left my home, and came away.I knew 't was no use of my trying to live, if they did it; for 't 'pearslike this child is all I have."

"Have you no husband?"

"Yes, but he belongs to another man. His master is real hard to him,and won't let him come to see me, hardly ever; and he's grown harder andharder upon us, and he threatens to sell him down south;--it's like I'llnever see _him_ again!"

The quiet tone in which the woman pronounced these words might have leda superficial observer to think that she was entirely apathetic; butthere was a calm, settled depth of anguish in her large, dark eye, thatspoke of something far otherwise.

"And where do you mean to go, my poor woman?" said Mrs. Bird.

"To Canada, if I only knew where that was. Is it very far off, isCanada?" said she, looking up, with a simple, confiding air, to Mrs.Bird's face.

"Poor thing!" said Mrs. Bird, involuntarily.

"Is 't a very great way off, think?" said the woman, earnestly.

"Much further than you think, poor child!" said Mrs. Bird; "but we willtry to think what can be done for you. Here, Dinah, make her up a bed inyour own room, close by the kitchen, and I'll think what to do for herin the morning. Meanwhile, never fear, poor woman; put your trust inGod; he will protect you."

Mrs. Bird and her husband reentered the parlor. She sat down in herlittle rocking-chair before the fire, swaying thoughtfully to and fro.Mr. Bird strode up and down the room, grumbling to himself, "Pish!pshaw! confounded awkward business!" At length, striding up to his wife,he said,

"I say, wife, she'll have to get away from here, this very night. Thatfellow will be down on the scent bright and early tomorrow morning: if't was only the woman, she could lie quiet till it was over; but thatlittle chap can't be kept still by a troop of horse and foot, I'llwarrant me; he'll bring it all out, popping his head out of some windowor door. A pretty kettle of fish it would be for me, too, to be caughtwith them both here, just now! No; they'll have to be got off tonight."

"Tonight! How is it possible?--where to?"

"Well, I know pretty well where to," said the senator, beginning to puton his boots, with a reflective air; and, stopping when his leg was halfin, he embraced his knee with both hands, and seemed to go off in deepmeditation.

"It's a confounded awkward, ugly business," said he, at last, beginningto tug at his boot-straps again, "and that's a fact!" After one bootwas fairly on, the senator sat with the other in his hand, profoundlystudying the figure of the carpet. "It will have to be done, though, foraught I see,--hang it all!" and he drew the other boot anxiously on, andlooked out of the window.

Now, little Mrs. Bird was a discreet woman,--a woman who never in herlife said, "I told you so!" and, on the present occasion, though prettywell aware of the shape her husband's meditations were taking, she veryprudently forbore to meddle with them, only sat very quietly in herchair, and looked quite ready to hear her liege lord's intentions, whenhe should think proper to utter them.

"You see," he said, "there's my old client, Van Trompe, has come overfrom Kentucky, and set all his slaves free; and he has bought a placeseven miles up the creek, here, back in the woods, where nobody goes,unless they go on purpose; and it's a place that isn't found in a hurry.There she'd be safe enough; but the plague of the thing is, nobody coulddrive a carriage there tonight, but _me_."

"Why not? Cudjoe is an excellent driver."

"Ay, ay, but here it is. The creek has to be crossed twice; and thesecond crossing is quite dangerous, unless one knows it as I do. I havecrossed it a hundred times on horseback, and know exactly the turns totake. And so, you see, there's no help for it. Cudjoe must put in thehorses, as quietly as may be, about twelve o'clock, and I'll take herover; and then, to give color to the matter, he must carry me on to thenext tavern to take the stage for Columbus, that comes by about three orfour, and so it will look as if I had had the carriage only for that.I shall get into business bright and early in the morning. But I'mthinking I shall feel rather cheap there, after all that's been said anddone; but, hang it, I can't help it!"

"Your heart is better than your head, in this case, John," said thewife, laying her little white hand on his. "Could I ever have loved you,had I not known you better than you know yourself?" And the littlewoman looked so handsome, with the tears sparkling in her eyes, thatthe senator thought he must be a decidedly clever fellow, to get such apretty creature into such a passionate admiration of him; and so, whatcould he do but walk off soberly, to see about the carriage. At thedoor, however, he stopped a moment, and then coming back, he said, withsome hesitation.

"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's that drawerfull of things--of--of--poor little Henry's." So saying, he turnedquickly on his heel, and shut the door after him.

His wife opened the little bed-room door adjoining her room and, takingthe candle, set it down on the top of a bureau there; then from a smallrecess she took a key, and put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer,and made a sudden pause, while two boys, who, boy like, had followedclose on her heels, stood looking, with silent, significant glances, attheir mother. And oh! mother that reads this, has there never been inyour house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to youlike the opening again of a little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are,if it has not been so.

Mrs. Bird slowly opened the drawer. There were little coats of many aform and pattern, piles of aprons, and rows of small stockings; and evena pair of little shoes, worn and rubbed at the toes, were peepingfrom the folds of a paper. There was a toy horse and wagon, a top, aball,--memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heart-break! Shesat down by the drawer, and, leaning her head on her hands over it, wepttill the tears fell through her fingers into the drawer; then suddenlyraising her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainestand most substantial articles, and gathering them into a bundle.

"Mamma," said one of the boys, gently touching her arm, "you going togive away _those_ things?"

"My dear boys," she said, softly and earnestly, "if our dear, lovinglittle Henry looks down from heaven, he would be glad to have us dothis. I could not find it in my heart to give them away to any commonperson--to anybody that was happy; but I give them to a mother moreheart-broken and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will send hisblessings with them!"

There are in this world blessed souls, whose sorrows all spring up intojoys for others; whose earthly hopes, laid in the grave with many tears,are the seed from which spring healing flowers and balm for the desolateand the distressed. Among such was the delicate woman who sits there bythe lamp, dropping slow tears, while she prepares the memorials of herown lost one for the outcast wanderer.

After a while, Mrs. Bird opened a wardrobe, and, taking from thence aplain, serviceable dress or two, she sat down busily to her work-table,and, with needle, scissors, and thimble, at hand, quietly commenced the"letting down" process which her husband had recommended, and continuedbusily at it till the old clock in the corner struck twelve, and sheheard the low rattling of wheels at the door.

"Mary," said her husband, coming in, with his overcoat in his hand, "youmust wake her up now; we must be off."

Mrs. Bird hastily deposited the various articles she had collected in asmall plain trunk, and locking it, desired her husband to see it inthe carriage, and then proceeded to call the woman. Soon, arrayed ina cloak, bonnet, and shawl, that had belonged to her benefactress, sheappeared at the door with her child in her arms. Mr. Bird hurried herinto the carriage, and Mrs. Bird pressed on after her to the carriagesteps. Eliza leaned out of the carriage, and put out her hand,--a handas soft and beautiful as was given in return. She fixed her large, darkeyes, full of earnest meaning, on Mrs. Bird's face, and seemed goingto speak. Her lips moved,--she tried once or twice, but there was nosound,--and pointing upward, with a look never to be forgotten, shefell back in the seat, and covered her face. The door was shut, and thecarriage drove on.

What a situation, now, for a patriotic senator, that had been all theweek before spurring up the legislature of his native state to pass morestringent resolutions against escaping fugitives, their harborers andabettors!

Our good senator in his native state had not been exceeded by any of hisbrethren at Washington, in the sort of eloquence which has won for themimmortal renown! How sublimely he had sat with his hands in his pockets,and scouted all sentimental weakness of those who would put the welfareof a few miserable fugitives before great state interests!

He was as bold as a lion about it, and "mightily convinced" not onlyhimself, but everybody that heard him;--but then his idea of a fugitivewas only an idea of the letters that spell the word,--or at the most,the image of a little newspaper picture of a man with a stick and bundlewith "Ran away from the subscriber" under it. The magic of the realpresence of distress,--the imploring human eye, the frail, tremblinghuman hand, the despairing appeal of helpless agony,--these he had nevertried. He had never thought that a fugitive might be a hapless mother,a defenceless child,--like that one which was now wearing his lost boy'slittle well-known cap; and so, as our poor senator was not stone orsteel,--as he was a man, and a downright noble-hearted one, too,--hewas, as everybody must see, in a sad case for his patriotism. And youneed not exult over him, good brother of the Southern States; for wehave some inklings that many of you, under similar circumstances,would not do much better. We have reason to know, in Kentucky, as inMississippi, are noble and generous hearts, to whom never was tale ofsuffering told in vain. Ah, good brother! is it fair for you to expectof us services which your own brave, honorable heart would not allow youto render, were you in our place?

Be that as it may, if our good senator was a political sinner, he was ina fair way to expiate it by his night's penance. There had been a longcontinuous period of rainy weather, and the soft, rich earth of Ohio, asevery one knows, is admirably suited to the manufacture of mud--and theroad was an Ohio railroad of the good old times.

"And pray, what sort of a road may that be?" says some easterntraveller, who has been accustomed to connect no ideas with a railroad,but those of smoothness or speed.

Know, then, innocent eastern friend, that in benighted regions of thewest, where the mud is of unfathomable and sublime depth, roads are madeof round rough logs, arranged transversely side by side, and coated overin their pristine freshness with earth, turf, and whatsoever may come tohand, and then the rejoicing native calleth it a road, and straightwayessayeth to ride thereupon. In process of time, the rains wash offall the turf and grass aforesaid, move the logs hither and thither, inpicturesque positions, up, down and crosswise, with divers chasms andruts of black mud intervening.

Over such a road as this our senator went stumbling along, makingmoral reflections as continuously as under the circumstances could beexpected,--the carriage proceeding along much as follows,--bump! bump!bump! slush! down in the mud!--the senator, woman and child, reversingtheir positions so suddenly as to come, without any very accurateadjustment, against the windows of the down-hill side. Carriage sticksfast, while Cudjoe on the outside is heard making a great muster amongthe horses. After various ineffectual pullings and twitchings, just asthe senator is losing all patience, the carriage suddenly rightsitself with a bounce,--two front wheels go down into another abyss,and senator, woman, and child, all tumble promiscuously on to thefront seat,--senator's hat is jammed over his eyes and nose quiteunceremoniously, and he considers himself fairly extinguished;--childcries, and Cudjoe on the outside delivers animated addresses to thehorses, who are kicking, and floundering, and straining under repeatedcracks of the whip. Carriage springs up, with another bounce,--down gothe hind wheels,--senator, woman, and child, fly over on to the backseat, his elbows encountering her bonnet, and both her feet being jammedinto his hat, which flies off in the concussion. After a few moments the"slough" is passed, and the horses stop, panting;--the senator findshis hat, the woman straightens her bonnet and hushes her child, and theybrace themselves for what is yet to come.

For a while only the continuous bump! bump! intermingled, just by way ofvariety, with divers side plunges and compound shakes; and they begin toflatter themselves that they are not so badly off, after all. At last,with a square plunge, which puts all on to their feet and then down intotheir seats with incredible quickness, the carriage stops,--and, aftermuch outside commotion, Cudjoe appears at the door.

"Please, sir, it's powerful bad spot, this' yer. I don't know how we'sto get clar out. I'm a thinkin' we'll have to be a gettin' rails."

The senator despairingly steps out, picking gingerly for some firmfoothold; down goes one foot an immeasurable depth,--he tries to pull itup, loses his balance, and tumbles over into the mud, and is fished out,in a very despairing condition, by Cudjoe.

But we forbear, out of sympathy to our readers' bones. Westerntravellers, who have beguiled the midnight hour in the interestingprocess of pulling down rail fences, to pry their carriages out of mudholes, will have a respectful and mournful sympathy with our unfortunatehero. We beg them to drop a silent tear, and pass on.

It was full late in the night when the carriage emerged, drippingand bespattered, out of the creek, and stood at the door of a largefarmhouse.

It took no inconsiderable perseverance to arouse the inmates; but atlast the respectable proprietor appeared, and undid the door. He was agreat, tall, bristling Orson of a fellow, full six feet and some inchesin his stockings, and arrayed in a red flannel hunting-shirt. A veryheavy mat of sandy hair, in a decidedly tousled condition, and a beardof some days' growth, gave the worthy man an appearance, to say theleast, not particularly prepossessing. He stood for a few minutesholding the candle aloft, and blinking on our travellers with a dismaland mystified expression that was truly ludicrous. It cost some effortof our senator to induce him to comprehend the case fully; and while heis doing his best at that, we shall give him a little introduction toour readers.

Honest old John Van Trompe was once quite a considerable land-owner andslave-owner in the State of Kentucky. Having "nothing of the bear abouthim but the skin," and being gifted by nature with a great, honest, justheart, quite equal to his gigantic frame, he had been for some yearswitnessing with repressed uneasiness the workings of a system equallybad for oppressor and oppressed. At last, one day, John's great hearthad swelled altogether too big to wear his bonds any longer; so hejust took his pocket-book out of his desk, and went over into Ohio, andbought a quarter of a township of good, rich land, made out free papersfor all his people,--men, women, and children,--packed them up inwagons, and sent them off to settle down; and then honest John turnedhis face up the creek, and sat quietly down on a snug, retired farm, toenjoy his conscience and his reflections.

"Are you the man that will shelter a poor woman and child fromslave-catchers?" said the senator, explicitly.

"I rather think I am," said honest John, with some considerableemphasis.

"I thought so," said the senator.

"If there's anybody comes," said the good man, stretching his tall,muscular form upward, "why here I'm ready for him: and I've got sevensons, each six foot high, and they'll be ready for 'em. Give ourrespects to 'em," said John; "tell 'em it's no matter how soon theycall,--make no kinder difference to us," said John, running his fingersthrough the shock of hair that thatched his head, and bursting out intoa great laugh.

Weary, jaded, and spiritless, Eliza dragged herself up to the door,with her child lying in a heavy sleep on her arm. The rough man held thecandle to her face, and uttering a kind of compassionate grunt, openedthe door of a small bed-room adjoining to the large kitchen where theywere standing, and motioned her to go in. He took down a candle, andlighting it, set it upon the table, and then addressed himself to Eliza.

"Now, I say, gal, you needn't be a bit afeard, let who will come here.I'm up to all that sort o' thing," said he, pointing to two or threegoodly rifles over the mantel-piece; "and most people that know me knowthat 't wouldn't be healthy to try to get anybody out o' my house whenI'm agin it. So _now_ you jist go to sleep now, as quiet as if yermother was a rockin' ye," said he, as he shut the door.

"Why, this is an uncommon handsome un," he said to the senator. "Ah,well; handsome uns has the greatest cause to run, sometimes, if they hasany kind o' feelin, such as decent women should. I know all about that."

The senator, in a few words, briefly explained Eliza's history.

"O! ou! aw! now, I want to know?" said the good man, pitifully;"sho! now sho! That's natur now, poor crittur! hunted down now like adeer,--hunted down, jest for havin' natural feelin's, and doin' what nokind o' mother could help a doin'! I tell ye what, these yer things makeme come the nighest to swearin', now, o' most anything," said honestJohn, as he wiped his eyes with the back of a great, freckled, yellowhand. "I tell yer what, stranger, it was years and years before I'd jinethe church, 'cause the ministers round in our parts used to preach thatthe Bible went in for these ere cuttings up,--and I couldn't be up to'em with their Greek and Hebrew, and so I took up agin 'em, Bible andall. I never jined the church till I found a minister that was up to 'emall in Greek and all that, and he said right the contrary; and then Itook right hold, and jined the church,--I did now, fact," said John, whohad been all this time uncorking some very frisky bottled cider, whichat this juncture he presented.

"Ye'd better jest put up here, now, till daylight," said he, heartily,"and I'll call up the old woman, and have a bed got ready for you in notime."

"Thank you, my good friend," said the senator, "I must be along, to takethe night stage for Columbus."

"Ah! well, then, if you must, I'll go a piece with you, and show you across road that will take you there better than the road you came on.That road's mighty bad."

John equipped himself, and, with a lantern in hand, was soon seenguiding the senator's carriage towards a road that ran down in a hollow,back of his dwelling. When they parted, the senator put into his hand aten-dollar bill.

"It's for her," he said, briefly.

"Ay, ay," said John, with equal conciseness.

They shook hands, and parted.