CLOTELLE; OR, THE COLORED HEROINE. 

A TALE OF THE SOUTHERN STATES. 

By William Wells Brown

CLOTELLE

CHAPTER I. THE SOUTHERN SOCIAL CIRCLE

FOR many years the South has been noted for its beautiful Quadroonwomen. Bottles of ink, and reams of paper, have been used to portray the"finely-cut and well-moulded features, " the "silken curls, " the "darkand brilliant eyes, " the "splendid forms, " the "fascinating smiles, " and"accomplished manners" of these impassioned and voluptuous daughters ofthe two races, --the unlawful product of the crime of human bondage. Whenwe take into consideration the fact that no safeguard was ever thrownaround virtue, and no inducement held out to slave-women to be pure andchaste, we will not be surprised when told that immorality pervadesthe domestic circle in the cities and towns of the South to an extentunknown in the Northern States. Many a planter's wife has dragged outa miserable existence, with an aching heart, at seeing her place in thehusband's affections usurped by the unadorned beauty and captivatingsmiles of her waiting-maid. Indeed, the greater portion of the coloredwomen, in the days of slavery, had no greater aspiration than that ofbecoming the finely-dressed mistress of some white man. At the negroballs and parties, that used to be so frequently given, this class ofwomen generally made the most splendid appearance. 

A few years ago, among the many slave-women of Richmond, Va. , who hiredtheir time of their masters, was Agnes, a mulatto owned by John Graves, Esq. , and who might be heard boasting that she was the daughter of anAmerican Senator. Although nearly forty years of age at the time ofwhich we write, Agnes was still exceedingly handsome. More than halfwhite, with long black hair and deep blue eyes, no one felt likedisputing with her when she urged her claim to her relationship withthe Anglo-Saxon. In her younger days, Agnes had been a housekeeper fora young slave-holder, and in sustaining this relation had become themother of two daughters. After being cast aside by this young man, the slave-woman betook herself to the business of a laundress, and wasconsidered to be the most tasteful woman in Richmond at her vocation. 

Isabella and Marion, the two daughters of Agnes, resided with theirmother, and gave her what aid they could in her business. The mother, however, was very choice of her daughters, and would allow them toperform no labor that would militate against their lady-like appearance. Agnes early resolved to bring up her daughters as ladies, as she termedit. 

As the girls grew older, the mother had to pay a stipulated price forthem per month. Her notoriety as a laundress of the first class enabledher to put an extra charge upon the linen that passed through her hands;and although she imposed little or no work upon her daughters, she wasenabled to live in comparative luxury and have her daughters dressed toattract attention, especially at the negro balls and parties. 

Although the term "negro ball" is applied to these gatherings, yet alarge portion of the men who attend them are whites. Negro balls andparties in the Southern States, especially in the cities and towns, areusually made up of quadroon women, a few negro men, and any number ofwhite gentlemen. These are gatherings of the most democratic character. Bankers, merchants, lawyers, doctors, and their clerks and students, alltake part in these social assemblies upon terms of perfect equality. Thefather and son not unfrequently meet and dance _vis a vis_ at a negroball. 

It was at one of these parties that Henry Linwood, the son of a wealthyand retired gentleman of Richmond, was first introduced to Isabella, theoldest daughter of Agnes. The young man had just returned from HarvardCollege, where he had spent the previous five years. Isabella was inher eighteenth year, and was admitted by all who knew her to be thehandsomest girl, colored or white, in the city. On this occasion, shewas attired in a sky-blue silk dress, with deep black lace flounces, and bertha of the same. On her well-moulded arms she wore massive goldbracelets, while her rich black hair was arranged at the back in broadbasket plaits, ornamented with pearls, and the front in the French style(_a la Imperatrice_), which suited her classic face to perfection. 

Marion was scarcely less richly dressed than her sister. 

Henry Linwood paid great attention to Isabella, which was lookedupon with gratification by her mother, and became a matter of generalconversation with all present. Of course, the young man escorted thebeautiful quadroon home that evening, and became the favorite visitor atthe house of Agnes. 

It was on a beautiful moonlight night in the month of August, when allwho reside in tropical climates are eagerly gasping for a breath offresh air, that Henry Linwood was in the garden which surrounded Agnes'cottage, with the young quadroon at his side. He drew from his pocket anewspaper wet from the press, and read the following advertisement:--

 NOTICE. --Seventy-nine negroes will be offered for sale on Monday, September 10, at 12 o'clock, being the entire stock of the late John Graves. The negroes are in excellent condition, and all warranted against the common vices. Among them are several mechanics, able-bodied field-hands, plough-boys, and women with children, some of them very prolific, affording a rare opportunity for any one who wishes to raise a strong and healthy lot of servants for their own use. Also several mulatto girls of rare personal qualities, -- two of these very superior. 

Among the above slaves advertised for sale were Agnes and her twodaughters. Ere young Linwood left the quadroon that evening, he promisedher that he would become her purchaser, and make her free and her ownmistress. 

Mr. Graves had long been considered not only an excellent and uprightcitizen of the first standing among the whites, but even the slavesregarded him as one of the kindest of masters. Having inherited hisslaves with the rest of his property, he became possessed of themwithout any consultation or wish of his own. He would neither buy norsell slaves, and was exceedingly careful, in letting them out, that theydid not find oppressive and tyrannical masters. No slave speculator everdared to cross the threshold of this planter of the Old Dominion. Hewas a constant attendant upon religious worship, and was noted for hisgeneral benevolence. The American Bible Society, the American TractSociety, and the cause of the Foreign Missions, found in him a liberalfriend. He was always anxious that his slaves should appear well on theSabbath, and have an opportunity of hearing the word of God. 

CHAPTER II. THE NEGRO SALE

AS might have been expected, the day of sale brought an unusually largenumber together to compete for the property to be sold. Farmers, whomake a business of raising slaves for the market, were there, andslave-traders, who make a business of buying human beings in theslave-raising States and taking them to the far South, were also inattendance. Men and women, too, who wished to purchase for their ownuse, had found their way to the slave sale. 

In the midst of the throng was one who felt a deeper interest in theresult of the sale than any other of the bystanders. This was youngLinwood. True to his promise, he was there with a blank bank-check inhis pocket, awaiting with impatience to enter the list as a bidder forthe beautiful slave. 

It was indeed a heart-rending scene to witness the lamentations of theseslaves, all of whom had grown up together on the old homestead of Mr. Graves, and who had been treated with great kindness by that gentleman, during his life. Now they were to be separated, and form new relationsand companions. Such is the precarious condition of the slave. Evenwhen with a good master, there is not certainty of his happiness in thefuture. 

The less valuable slaves were first placed upon the auction-block, oneafter another, and sold to the highest bidder. Husbands and wives wereseparated with a degree of indifference that is unknown in any otherrelation in life. Brothers and sisters were torn from each other, andmothers saw their children for the last time on earth. 

It was late in the day, and when the greatest number of persons werethought to be present, when Agnes and her daughters were brought out tothe place of sale. The mother was first put upon the auction-block, andsold to a noted negro trader named Jennings. Marion was next ordered toascend the stand, which she did with a trembling step, and was sold for$1200. 

All eyes were now turned on Isabella, as she was led forward by theauctioneer. The appearance of the handsome quadroon caused a deepsensation among the crowd. There she stood, with a skin as fair as mostwhite women, her features as beautifully regular as any of her sexof pure Anglo-Saxon blood, her long black hair done up in the neatestmanner, her form tall and graceful, and her whole appearance indicatingone superior to her condition. 

The auctioneer commenced by saying that Miss Isabella was fit to deckthe drawing-room of the finest mansion in Virginia. 

"How much, gentlemen, for this real Albino!--fit fancy-girl for any one!She enjoys good health, and has a sweet temper. How much do you say?"

"Five hundred dollars. "

"Only five hundred for such a girl as this? Gentlemen, she is wortha deal more than that sum. You certainly do not know the value of thearticle you are bidding on. Here, gentlemen, I hold in my hand a papercertifying that she has a good moral character. "

"Seven hundred. "

"Ah, gentlemen, that is something life. This paper also states that sheis very intelligent. "

"Eight hundred. "

"She was first sprinkled, then immersed, and is now warranted to be adevoted Christian, and perfectly trustworthy. "

"Nine hundred dollars. "

"Nine hundred and fifty. "

"One thousand. "

"Eleven hundred. "

Here the bidding came to a dead stand. The auctioneer stopped, lookedaround, and began in a rough manner to relate some anecdote connectedwith the sale of slaves, which he said had come under his ownobservation. 

At this juncture the scene was indeed a most striking one. The laughing, joking, swearing, smoking, spitting, and talking, kept up a continualhum and confusion among the crowd, while the slave-girl stood withtearful eyes, looking alternately at her mother and sister and towardthe young man whom she hoped would become her purchaser. 

"The chastity of this girl, " now continued the auctioneer, "is pure. She has never been from under her mother's care. She is virtuous, and asgentle as a dove. "

The bids here took a fresh start, and went on until $1800 was reached. The auctioneer once more resorted to his jokes, and concluded byassuring the company that Isabella was not only pious, but that shecould make an excellent prayer. 

"Nineteen hundred dollars. "

"Two thousand. "

This was the last bid, and the quadroon girl was struck off, and becamethe property of Henry Linwood. 

This was a Virginia slave-auction, at which the bones, sinews, blood, and nerves of a young girl of eighteen were sold for $500; her moralcharacter for $200; her superior intellect for $100; the benefitssupposed to accrue from her having been sprinkled and immersed, togetherwith a warranty of her devoted Christianity, for $300; her ability tomake a good prayer for $200; and her chastity for $700 more. This, too, in a city thronged with churches, whose tall spires look like so manysignals pointing to heaven, but whose ministers preach that slavery is aGod-ordained institution!

The slaves were speedily separated, and taken along by their respectivemasters. Jennings, the slave-speculator, who had purchased Agnes andher daughter Marion, with several of the other slaves, took them to thecounty prison, where he usually kept his human cattle after purchasingthem, previous to starting for the New Orleans market. 

Linwood had already provided a place for Isabella, to which she wastaken. The most trying moment for her was when she took leave of hermother and sister. The "Good-by" of the slave is unlike that of anyother class in the community. It is indeed a farewell forever. Withtears streaming down their cheeks, they embraced and commended eachother to God, who is no respecter of persons, and before whom master andslave must one day appear. 

CHAPTER III. THE SLAVE-SPECULATOR

DICK JENNINGS the slave-speculator, was one of the few Northern men, whogo to the South and throw aside their honest mode of obtaining a livingand resort to trading in human beings. A more repulsive-looking personcould scarcely be found in any community of bad looking men. Tall, leanand lank, with high cheek-bones, face much pitted with the small-pox, gray eyes with red eyebrows, and sandy whiskers, he indeed stood alonewithout mate or fellow in looks. Jennings prided himself upon what hecalled his goodness of heat, and was always speaking of his humanity. Asmany of the slaves whom he intended taking to the New Orleans market hadbeen raised in Richmond, and had relations there, he determined to leavethe city early in the morning, so as not to witness any of the scenesso common on the departure of a slave-gang to the far South. In this, hewas most successful; for not even Isabella, who had called at the prisonseveral times to see her mother and sister, was aware of the time thatthey were to leave. 

The slave-trader started at early dawn, and was beyond the confines ofthe city long before the citizens were out of their beds. As a slaveregards a life on the sugar, cotton, or rice plantation as even worsethan death, they are ever on the watch for an opportunity to escape. Thetrader, aware of this, secures his victims in chains before he sets outon his journey. On this occasion, Jennings had the men chained in pairs, while the women were allowed to go unfastened, but were closely watched. 

After a march of eight days, the company arrived on the banks ofthe Ohio River, where they took a steamer for the place of theirdestination. Jennings had already advertised in the New Orleans papers, that he would be there with a prime lot of able-bodied slaves, menand women, fit for field-service, with a few extra ones calculated forhouse-servants, --all between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five years;but like most men who make a business of speculating in human beings, heoften bought many who were far advanced in years, and would try to passthem off for five or six years younger than they were. Few personscan arrive at anything approaching the real age of the negro, by mereobservation, unless they are well acquainted with the race. Therefore, the slave-trader frequently carried out the deception with perfectimpunity. 

After the steamer had left the wharf and was fairly out on the bosom ofthe broad Mississippi, the speculator called his servant Pompey to him;and instructed him as to getting the negroes ready for market. Amongthe forty slaves that the trader had on this occasion, were some whoseappearance indicated that they had seen some years and had gone throughconsiderable service. Their gray hair and whiskers at once pronouncedthem to be above the ages set down in the trader's advertisement. Pompeyhad long been with Jennings, and understood his business well, and ifhe did not take delight in the discharge of his duty, he did it at leastwith a degree of alacrity, so that he might receive the approbation ofhis master. 

Pomp, as he was usually called by the trader, was of real negro blood, and would often say, when alluding to himself, "Dis nigger am nocounterfeit, he is de ginuine artikle. Dis chile is none of yourhaf-and-haf, dere is no bogus about him. "

Pompey was of low stature, round face, and, like most of his race, hada set of teeth, which, for whiteness and beauty, could not be surpassed;his eyes were large, lips thick, and hair short and woolly. Pompey hadbeen with Jennings so long, and had seen so much of buying and sellingof his fellow-creatures, that he appeared perfectly indifferent to theheart-rending scenes which daily occurred in his presence. Such is theforce of habit:--

 "Vice is a monster of such frightful mien, That to be hated, needs but to be seen; But seen too oft, familiar with its face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace. "

It was on the second day of the steamer's voyage, that Pompey selectedfive of the oldest slaves, took them into a room by themselves, andcommenced preparing them for the market. 

"Now, " said he, addressing himself to the company, "I is de chap dat isto get you ready for de Orleans market, so dat you will bring marser agood price. How old is you?" addressing himself to a man not less thanforty. 

"If I live to see next sweet-potato-digging time, I shall be eitherforty or forty-five, I don't know which. "

"Dat may be, " replied Pompey; "but now you is only thirty yearsold, --dat's what marser says you is to be. "

"I know I is more den dat, " responded the man. 

"I can't help nuffin' about dat, " returned Pompey; "but when you getinto de market and any one ax you how old you is, and you tell um you isforty or forty-five, marser will tie you up and cut you all to pieces. But if you tell um dat you is only thirty, den he won't. Now rememberdat you is thirty years old and no more. "

"Well den, I guess I will only be thirty when dey ax me. "

"What's your name?" said Pompey, addressing himself to another. 

"Jeems. "

"Oh! Uncle Jim, is it?" "Yes. "

"Den you must have all them gray whiskers shaved off, and all dem grayhairs plucked out of your head. " This was all said by Pompey in a mannerwhich showed that he knew what he was about. 

"How old is you?" asked Pompey of a tall, strong-looking man. "What'syour name?"

"I am twenty-nine years old, and my name is Tobias, but they calls meToby. "

"Well, Toby, or Mr. Tobias, if dat will suit you better, you are nowtwenty-three years old; dat's all, --do you understand dat?"

"Yes, " replied Toby. 

Pompey now gave them all to understand how old they were to be whenasked by persons who were likely to purchase, and then went and reportedto his master that the old boys were all right. 

"Be sure, " said Jennings, "that the niggers don't forget what you havetaught them, for our luck this time in the market depends upon theirappearance. If any of them have so many gray hairs that you cannot pluckthem out, take the blacking and brush, and go at them. "

CHAPTER IV. THE BOAT-RACE

AT eight o'clock, on the evening of the third day of the passage, thelights of another steamer were seen in the distance, and apparentlycoming up very fast. This was the signal for a general commotion onboard the Patriot, and everything indicated that a steamboat-race wasat hand. Nothing can exceed the excitement attendant upon the racing ofsteamers on the Mississippi. 

By the time the boats had reached Memphis they were side by side, andeach exerting itself to get in advance of the other. The night wasclear, the moon shining brightly, and the boats so near to each otherthat the passengers were within speaking distance. On board the Patriotthe firemen were using oil, lard, butter, and even bacon, with wood, forthe purpose of raising the steam to its highest pitch. The blaze mingledwith the black smoke that issued from the pipes of the other boat, whichshowed that she also was burning something more combustible than wood. 

The firemen of both boats, who were slaves, were singing songs suchas can only be heard on board a Southern steamer. The boats now cameabreast of each other, and nearer and nearer, until they were lockedso that men could pass from one to the other. The wildest excitementprevailed among the men employed on the steamers, in which thepassengers freely participated. 

The Patriot now stopped to take in passengers, but still no steam waspermitted to escape. On the starting of the boat again, cold waterwas forced into the boilers by the feed-pumps, and, as might have beenexpected, one of the boilers exploded with terrific force, carrying awaythe boiler-deck and tearing to pieces much of the machinery. One densefog of steam filled every part of the vessel, while shrieks, groans, and cries were heard on every side. Men were running hither and thitherlooking for their wives, and women were flying about in the wildestconfusion seeking for their husbands. Dismay appeared on everycountenance. 

The saloons and cabins soon looked more like hospitals than anythingelse; but by this time the Patriot had drifted to the shore, and theother steamer had come alongside to render assistance to the disabledboat. The killed and wounded (nineteen in number) were put on shore, and the Patriot, taken in tow by the Washington, was once more on herjourney. 

It was half-past twelve, and the passengers, instead of retiring totheir berths, once more assembled at the gambling-tables. The practiceof gambling on the western waters has long been a source of annoyanceto the more moral persons who travel on our great rivers. Thousandsof dollars often change owners during a passage from St. Louis orLouisville to New Orleans, on a Mississippi steamer. Many menare completely ruined on such occasions, and duels are often theconsequence. 

"Go call my boy, steward, " said Mr. Jones, as he took his cards one byone from the table. 

In a few minutes a fine-looking, bright-eyed mulatto boy, apparentlyabout sixteen years of age, was standing by his master's side at thetable. 

"I am broke, all but my boy, " said Jones, as he ran his fingers throughhis cards; "but he is worth a thousand dollars, and I will bet the halfof him. "

"I will call you, " said Thompson, as he laid five hundred dollars atthe feet of the boy, who was standing on the table, and at the same timethrowing down his cards before his adversary. 

"You have beaten me, " said Jones; and a roar of laughter followed fromthe other gentleman as poor Joe stepped down from the table. 

"Well, I suppose I owe you half the nigger, " said Thompson, as he tookhold of Joe and began examining his limbs. 

"Yes, " replied Jones, "he is half yours. Let me have five hundreddollars, and I will give you a bill of sale of the boy. "

"Go back to your bed, " said Thompson to his chattel, "and remember thatyou now belong to me. "

The poor slave wiped the tears from his eyes, as, in obedience, heturned to leave the table. 

"My father gave me that boy, " said Jones, as he took the money, "and Ihope, Mr. Thompson, that you will allow me to redeem him. "

"Most certainly, sir, " replied Thompson. "Whenever you hand over thecool thousand the negro is yours. "

Next morning, as the passengers were assembling in the cabin and ondeck, and while the slaves were running about waiting on or looking fortheir masters, poor Joe was seen entering his new master's stateroom, boots in hand. 

"Who do you belong to?" inquired a gentleman of an old negro, who passedalong leading a fine Newfoundland dog which he had been feeding. 

"When I went to sleep las' night, " replied the slave, "I 'longed toMassa Carr; but he bin gamblin' all night, an' I don't know who I 'longsto dis mornin'. "

Such is the uncertainty of a slave's life. He goes to bed at nightthe pampered servant of his young master, with whom he has playedin childhood, and who would not see his slave abused under anyconsideration, and gets up in the morning the property of a man whom hehas never before seen. 

To behold five or six tables in the saloon of a steamer, with half adozen men playing cards at each, with money, pistols, and bowie-knivesspread in splendid confusion before them, is an ordinary thing on theMississippi River. 

CHAPTER V. THE YOUNG MOTHER

ON the fourth morning, the Patriot landed at Grand Gulf, a beautifultown on the left bank of the Mississippi. Among the numerous passengerswho came on board at Rodney was another slave-trader, with nine humanchattels which he was conveying to the Southern market. The passengers, both ladies and gentlemen, were startled at seeing among the new lotof slaves a woman so white as not to be distinguishable from the otherwhite women on board. She had in her arms a child so white that no onewould suppose a drop of African blood flowed through its blue veins. 

No one could behold that mother with her helpless babe, without feelingthat God would punish the oppressor. There she sat, with an expressiveand intellectual forehead, and a countenance full of dignity andheroism, her dark golden locks rolled back from her almost snow-whiteforehead and floating over her swelling bosom. The tears that stood inher mild blue eyes showed that she was brooding over sorrows and wrongsthat filled her bleeding heart. 

The hearts of the passers-by grew softer, while gazing upon that youngmother as she pressed sweet kisses on the sad, smiling lips of theinfant that lay in her lap. The small, dimpled hands of the innocentcreature were slyly hid in the warm bosom on which the little onenestled. The blood of some proud Southerner, no doubt, flowed throughthe veins of that child. 

When the boat arrived at Natches, a rather good-looking, genteel-appearing man came on board to purchase a servant. Thisindividual introduced himself to Jennings as the Rev. James Wilson. Theslave-trader conducted the preacher to the deck-cabin, where he kepthis slaves, and the man of God, after having some questions answered, selected Agnes as the one best suited to his service. 

It seemed as if poor Marion's heart would break when she found that shewas to be separated from her mother. The preacher, however, appeared tobe but little moved by their sorrow, and took his newly-purchased victimon shore. Agnes begged him to buy her daughter, but he refused, on theground that he had no use for her. 

During the remainder of the passage, Marion wept bitterly. 

After a run of a few hours, the boat stopped at Baton Rouge, where anadditional number of passengers were taken on board, among whom werea number of persons who had been attending the races at that place. Gambling and drinking were now the order of the day. 

The next morning, at ten o'clock, the boat arrived at new Orleans, wherethe passengers went to their hotels and homes, and the negroes to theslave-pens. 

Lizzie, the white slave-mother, of whom we have already spoken, createdas much of a sensation by the fairness of her complexion and thealabaster whiteness of her child, when being conveyed on shore at NewOrleans, as she had done when brought on board at Grand Gulf. Every onethat saw her felt that slavery in the Southern States was not confinedto the negro. Many had been taught to think that slavery was a benefitrather than an injury, and those who were not opposed to the institutionbefore, now felt that if whites were to become its victims, it was timeat least that some security should be thrown around the Anglo-Saxon tosave him from this servile and degraded position. 

CHAPTER VI. THE SLAVE-MARKET. 

NOT far from Canal Street, in the city of New Orleans, stands a largetwo-story, flat building, surrounded by a stone wall some twelve feethigh, the top of which is covered with bits of glass, and so constructedas to prevent even the possibility of any one's passing over it withoutsustaining great injury. Many of the rooms in this building resemble thecells of a prison, and in a small apartment near the "office" are tobe seen any number of iron collars, hobbles, handcuffs, thumbscrews, cowhides, chains, gags, and yokes. 

A back-yard, enclosed by a high wall, looks something like theplayground attached to one of our large New England schools, in whichare rows of benches and swings. Attached to the back premises is agood-sized kitchen, where, at the time of which we write, two oldnegresses were at work, stewing, boiling, and baking, and occasionallywiping the perspiration from their furrowed and swarthy brows. 

The slave-trader, Jennings, on his arrival at New Orleans, took up hisquarters here with his gang of human cattle, and the morning after, at 10 o'clock, they were exhibited for sale. First of all came thebeautiful Marion, whose pale countenance and dejected look told howmany sad hours she had passed since parting with her mother at Natchez. There, too, was a poor woman who had been separated from her husband;and another woman, whose looks and manners were expressive of deepanguish, sat by her side. There was "Uncle Jeems, " with his whiskersoff, his face shaven clean, and the gray hairs plucked out, ready to besold for ten years younger than he was. Toby was also there, with hisface shaven and greased, ready for inspection. 

The examination commenced, and was carried on in such a manner as toshock the feelings of any one not entirely devoid of the milk of humankindness. 

"What are you wiping your eyes for?" inquired a far, red-faced man, witha white hat set on one side of his head and a cigar in his mouth, of awoman who sat on one of the benches. 

"Because I left my man behind. "

"Oh, if I buy you, I will furnish you with a better man than you left. I've got lots of young bucks on my farm. "

"I don't want and never will have another man, " replied the woman. 

"What's you name?" asked a man in a straw hat of a tall negro who stoodwith his arms folded across his breast, leaning against the wall. 

"My name is Aaron, sar. "

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-five. "

"Where were you raised?"

"In old Virginny, sar. "

"How many men have owned you?"

"Four. "

"Do you enjoy good health?"

"Yes, sar. "

"How long did you live with your first owner?"

"Twenty years. "

"Did you ever run away?"

"No, sar. "

"Did you ever strike your master?"

"No, sar. "

"Were you ever whipped much?"

"No, sar; I s'pose I didn't desarve it, sar. "

"How long did you live with your second master?"

"Ten years, sar. "

"Have you a good appetite?"

"Yes, sar. "

"Can you eat your allowance?"

"Yes, sar, --when I can get it. "

"Where were you employed in Virginia?"

"I worked de tobacker fiel'. "

"In the tobacco field, eh?"

"Yes, sar. "

"How old did you say you was?"

"Twenty-five, sar, nex' sweet-'tater-diggin' time. "

"I am a cotton-planter, and if I buy you, you will have to work in thecotton-field. My men pick one hundred and fifty pounds a day, and thewomen one hundred and forty pounds; and those who fail to perform theirtask receive five stripes for each pound that is wanting. Now, do youthink you could keep up with the rest of the hands?"

"I don't know, sar, but I 'specs I'd have to. "

"How long did you live with your third master?"

"Three years, sar. "

"Why, that makes you thirty-three. I thought you told me you were onlytwenty-five?"

Aaron now looked first at the planter, then at the trader, and seemedperfectly bewildered. He had forgotten the lesson given him by Pompeyrelative to his age; and the planter's circuitous questions--doubtlessto find out the slave's real age--had thrown the negro off his guard. 

"I must see you back, so as to know how much you have been whipped, before I think of buying. "

Pompey, who had been standing by during the examination, thought thathis services were now required, and, stepping forth with a degree ofofficiousness, said to Aaron, --

"Don't you hear de gemman tell you he wants to 'zamin you. Cum, unharness yo'seff, ole boy, and don't be standin' dar. "

Aaron was soon examined, and pronounced "sound;" yet the conflictingstatement about his age was not satisfactory. 

Fortunately for Marion, she was spared the pain of undergoing such anexamination. Mr. Cardney, a teller in one of the banks, had just beenmarried, and wanted a maid-servant for his wife, and, passing throughthe market in the early part of the day, was pleased with the youngslave's appearance, and his dwelling the quadroon found a much betterhome than often falls to the lot of a slave sold in the New Orleansmarket. 

CHAPTER VII. THE SLAVE-HOLDING PARSON

THE Rev. James Wilson was a native of the State of Connecticut, wherehe was educated for the ministry in the Methodist persuasion. His fatherwas a strict follower of John Wesley, and spared no pains in his son'seducation, with the hope that he would one day be as renowned as theleader of his sect. James had scarcely finished his education at NewHaven, when he was invited by an uncle, then on a visit to his father, to spend a few months at Natchez in Mississippi. Young Wilson acceptedhis uncle's invitation, and accompanied him to the South. Few young men, and especially clergymen, going fresh from college to the South, but arelooked upon as geniuses in a small way, and who are not invited to allthe parties in the neighborhood. Mr. Wilson was not an exception to thisrule. The society into which he was thrown, on his arrival at Natchez, was too brilliant for him not to be captivated by it, and, as might havebeen expected, he succeeded in captivating a plantation with seventyslaves if not the heart of the lady to whom it belonged. 

Added to this, he became a popular preacher, and had a largecongregation with a snug salary. Like other planters, Mr. Wilsonconfided the care of his farm to Ned Huckelby, an overseer of highreputation in his way. 

The Poplar Farm, as it was called, was situated in a beautiful valley, nine miles from Natchez, and near the Mississippi River. The onceunshorn face of nature had given way, and the farm now blossomed witha splendid harvest. The neat cottage stood in a grove, where Lombardypoplars lift their tops almost to prop the skies, where the willow, locust, and horse-chestnut trees spread forth their branches, andflowers never ceased to blossom. 

This was the parson's country residence, where the family spent only twomonths during the year. His town residence was a fine villa, seated onthe brow of a hill, at the edge of the city. 

It was in the kitchen of this house that Agnes found her new home. Mr. Wilson was every inch a democrat, and early resolved that "his people, "as he called his slaves, should be well-fed and not over-worked, andtherefore laid down the law and gospel to the overseer as well as to theslaves. "It is my wish, " said he to Mr. Carlingham, an old school-fellowwho was spending a few days with him, --"It is my wish that a new systembe adopted on the plantations in this State. I believe that the sons ofHam should have the gospel, and I intend that mine shall have it. Thegospel is calculated to make mankind better and none should be withoutit. "

"What say you, " said Carlingham, "about the right of man to hisliberty?"

"Now, Carlingham, you have begun to harp again about men's rights. Ireally wish that you could see this matter as I do. "

"I regret that I cannot see eye to eye with you, " said Carlingham. "Iam a disciple of Rousseau, and have for years made the rights of man mystudy, and I must confess to you that I see no difference between whiteand black, as it regards liberty. "

"Now, my dear Carlingham, would you really have the negroes enjoy thesame rights as ourselves?"

"I would most certainly. Look at our great Declaration of Independence!look even at the Constitution of our own Connecticut, and see what issaid in these about liberty. " "I regard all this talk about rights asmere humbug. The Bible is older than the Declaration of Independence, and there I take my stand. "

A long discussion followed, in which both gentlemen put forth theirpeculiar ideas with much warmth of feeling. 

During this conversation, there was another person in the room, seatedby the window, who, although at work, embroidering a fine collar, paidminute attention to what was said. This was Georgiana, the only daughterof the parson, who had but just returned from Connecticut, where she hadfinished her education. She had had the opportunity of contrasting thespirit of Christianity and liberty in New England with that of slaveryin her native State, and had learned to feel deeply for the injurednegro. 

Georgiana was in her nineteenth year, and had been much benefited by herresidence of five years at the North. Her form was tall and graceful, her features regular and well-defined, and her complexion wasilluminated by the freshness of youth, beauty, and health. 

The daughter differed from both the father and visitor upon the subjectwhich they had been discussing; and as soon as an opportunity offered, she gave it as her opinion that the Bible was both the bulwark ofChristianity and of liberty. With a smile she said, --

"Of course, papa will overlook my difference with him, for although I ama native of the South, I am by education and sympathy a Northerner. "

Mr. Wilson laughed, appearing rather pleased than otherwise at themanner in which his daughter had expressed herself. From this Georgianatook courage and continued, --

"'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. ' This single passage ofScripture should cause us to have respect for the rights of the slave. True Christian love is of an enlarged and disinterested nature. It lovesall who love the Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, without regard to coloror condition. "

"Georgiana, my dear, you are an abolitionist, --your talk is fanaticism!"said Mr. Wilson, in rather a sharp tone; but the subdued look of thegirl and the presence of Carlingham caused him to soften his language. 

Mr. Wilson having lost his wife by consumption, and Georgiana beinghis only child, he loved her too dearly to say more, even if he feltdisposed. A silence followed this exhortation from the young Christian, but her remarks had done a noble work. The father's heart was touched, and the sceptic, for the first time, was viewing Christianity in itstrue light. 

CHAPTER VIII. A NIGHT IN THE PARSON'S KITCHEN

BESIDES Agnes, whom Mr. Wilson had purchased from the slave-trader, Jennings, he kept a number of house-servants. The chief one of thesewas Sam, who must be regarded as second only to the parson himself. Ifa dinner-party was in contemplation, or any company was to be invited, after all the arrangements had been talked over by the minister and hisdaughter, Sam was sure to be consulted on the subject by "Miss Georgy, "as Miss Wilson was called by all the servants. If furniture, crockery, or anything was to be purchased, Sam felt that he had been slighted ifhis opinion was not asked. As to the marketing, he did it all. He satat the head of the servants' table in the kitchen, and was master ofthe ceremonies. A single look from him was enough to silence anyconversation or noise among the servants in the kitchen or in any otherpart of the premises. 

There is in the Southern States a great amount of prejudice in regardto color, even among the negroes themselves. The nearer the negroor mulatto approaches to the white, the more he seems to feel hissuperiority over those of a darker hue. This is no doubt the result ofthe prejudice that exists on the part of the whites against both themulattoes and the blacks. 

Sam was originally from Kentucky, and through the instrumentality of oneof his young masters, whom he had to take to school, he had learnedto read so as to be well understood, and, owing to that fact, wasconsidered a prodigy, not only among his own master's slaves, but alsoamong those of the town who knew him. Sam had a great wish to follow inthe footsteps of his master and be a poet, and was therefore often heardsinging doggerels of his own composition. 

But there was one drawback to Sam, and that was his color. He was oneof the blackest of his race. This he evidently regarded as a greatmisfortune; but he endeavored to make up for it in dress. Mr. Wilsonkept his house-servants well dressed, and as for Sam, he was seldom seenexcept in a ruffled shirt. Indeed, the washerwoman feared him more thanany one else in the house. 

Agnes had been inaugurated chief of the kitchen department, and hada general supervision of the household affairs. Alfred, the coachman, Peter, and Hetty made up the remainder of the house-servants. Besidesthese, Mr. Wilson owned eight slaves who were masons. These worked inthe city. Being mechanics, they were let out to greater advantage thanto keep them on the farm. 

Every Sunday evening, Mr. Wilson's servants, including the brick-layers, assembled in the kitchen, where the events of the week were fullydiscussed and commented upon. It was on a Sunday evening, in the monthof June, that there was a party at Mr. Wilson's house, and, according tocustom in the Southern States, the ladies had their maid-servants withthem. Tea had been served in "the house, " and the servants, includingthe strangers, had taken their seats at the table in the kitchen. Sam, being a "single gentleman, " was unusually attentive to the "ladies" onthis occasion. He seldom let a day pass without spending an hour or twoin combing and brushing his "har. " He had an idea that fresh butterwas better for his hair than any other kind of grease, and therefore onchurning days half a pound of butter had always to be taken out beforeit was salted. When he wished to appear to great advantage, he wouldgrease his face to make it "shiny. " Therefore, on the evening of theparty, when all the servants were at the table, Sam cut a big figure. There he sat, with his wool well combed and buttered, face nicelygreased, and his ruffles extending five or six inches from his bosom. The parson in his drawing-room did not make a more imposing appearancethan did his servant on this occasion. 

"I jis bin had my fortune tole last Sunday night, " said Sam, whilehelping one of the girls. 

"Indeed!" cried half a dozen voices. 

"Yes, " continued he; "Aunt Winny tole me I's to hab de prettiest yallahgal in de town, and dat I's to be free!"

All eyes were immediately turned toward Sally Johnson, who was seatednear Sam. 

"I 'specs I see somebody blush at dat remark, " said Alfred. 

"Pass dem pancakes an' 'lasses up dis way, Mr. Alf. , and none ob your'sinuwashuns here, " rejoined Sam. 

"Dat reminds me, " said Agnes, "dat Dorcas Simpson is gwine to gitmarried. "

"Who to, I want to know?" inquired Peter. 

"To one of Mr. Darby's field-hands, " answered Agnes. 

"I should tink dat gal wouldn't frow herseff away in dat ar way, " saidSally. "She's good lookin' 'nough to git a house-servant, and not hab toput up wid a field-nigger. 

"Yes, " said Sam, "dat's a werry unsensible remark ob yourn, Miss Sally. I admires your judgment werry much, I 'sures you. Dar's plenty obsusceptible an' well-dressed house-serbants dat a gal ob her looks cangit widout takin' up wid dem common darkies. "

The evening's entertainment concluded by Sam's relating a little of hisown experience while with his first master, in old Kentucky. This masterwas a doctor, and had a large practice among his neighbors, doctoringboth masters and slaves. When Sam was about fifteen years old, hismaster set him to grinding up ointment and making pills. As the youngstudent grew older and became more practised in his profession, hisservices were of more importance to the doctor. The physician havinga good business, and a large number of his patients being slaves, --themost of whom had to call on the doctor when ill, --he put Sam tobleeding, pulling teeth, and administering medicine to the slaves. Samsoon acquired the name among the slaves of the "Black Doctor. " With thisappellation he was delighted; and no regular physician could have put onmore airs than did the black doctor when his services were required. Inbleeding, he must have more bandages, and would rub and smack the armmore than the doctor would have thought of. 

Sam was once seen taking out a tooth for one of his patients, andnothing appeared more amusing. He got the poor fellow down on his back, and then getting astride of his chest, he applied the turnkeys andpulled away for dear life. Unfortunately, he had got hold of the wrongtooth, and the poor man screamed as loud as he could; but it was to nopurpose, for Sam had him fast, and after a pretty severe tussle out camethe sound grinder. The young doctor now saw his mistake, but consoledhimself with the thought that as the wrong tooth was out of the way, there was more room to get at the right one. 

Bleeding and a dose of calomel were always considered indispensableby the "old boss, " and as a matter of course, Sam followed in hisfootsteps. 

On one occasion the old doctor was ill himself, so as to be unable toattend to his patients. A slave, with pass in hand, called to receivemedical advice, and the master told Sam to examine him and see whathe wanted. This delighted him beyond measure, for although he had beenacting his part in the way of giving out medicine as the master orderedit, he had never been called upon by the latter to examine a patient, and this seemed to convince him after all that he was no sham doctor. Asmight have been expected, he cut a rare figure in his first examination. Placing himself directly opposite his patient, and folding his armsacross his breast, looking very knowingly, he began, --

"What's de matter wid you?"

"I is sick. "

"Where is you sick?"

"Here, " replied the man, putting his hand upon his stomach. 

"Put out your tongue, " continued the doctor. 

The man ran out his tongue at full length. 

"Let me feel your pulse;" at the same time taking his patient's hand inhis, and placing his fingers upon his pulse, he said, --

"Ah! your case is a bad one; ef I don't do something for you, and datpretty quick, you'll be a gone coon, and dat's sartin. " At this theman appeared frightened, and inquired what was the matter with him, inanswer to which Sam said, --

"I done told dat your case is a bad one, and dat's enuff. "

On Sam's returning to his master's bedside, the latter said, --

"Well, Sam, what do you think is the matter with him?"

"His stomach is out ob order, sar, " he replied. 

"What do you think had better be done for him?"

"I tink I'd better bleed him and gib him a dose ob calomel, " returnedSam. 

So, to the latter's gratification, the master let him have his own way. 

On one occasion, when making pills and ointment, Sam made a greatmistake. He got the preparations for both mixed together, so that hecould not legitimately make either. But fearing that if he threw thestuff away, his master would flog him, and being afraid to inform hissuperior of the mistake, he resolved to make the whole batch of pill andointment stuff into pills. He well knew that the powder over the pillswould hide the inside, and the fact that most persons shut their eyeswhen taking such medicine led the young doctor to feel that all wouldbe right in the end. Therefore Sam made his pills, boxed them up, puton the labels, and placed them in a conspicuous position on one of theshelves. 

Sam felt a degree of anxiety about his pills, however. It was a strangemixture, and he was not certain whether it would kill or cure; but hewas willing that it should be tried. At last the young doctor had hisvanity gratified. Col. Tallen, one of Dr. Saxondale's patients, drove upone morning, and Sam as usual ran out to the gate to hold the colonel'shorse. 

"Call your master, " said the colonel; "I will not get out. "

The doctor was soon beside the carriage, and inquired about the healthof his patient. After a little consultation, the doctor returned tohis office, took down a box of Sam's new pills, and returned to thecarriage. 

"Take two of these every morning and night, " said the doctor, "and ifyou don't feel relieved, double the dose. "

"Good gracious, " exclaimed Sam in an undertone, when he heard his mastertell the colonel how to take the pills. 

It was several days before Sam could learn the result of his newmedicine. One afternoon, about a fortnight after the colonel's visit, Sam saw his master's patient riding up to the gate on horseback. Thedoctor happened to be in the yard, and met the colonel and said, --

"How are you now?"

"I am entirely recovered, " replied the patient. "Those pills of yoursput me on my feet the next day. "

"I knew they would, " rejoined the doctor. 

Sam was near enough to hear the conversation, and was delighted beyonddescription. The negro immediately ran into the kitchen, amongst hiscompanions, and commenced dancing. 

"What de matter wid you?" inquired the cook. 

"I is de greatest doctor in his country, " replied Sam. "Ef you ever getsick, call on me. No matter what ails you, I is de man dat can cure youin no time. If you do hab de backache, de rheumatics, de headache, decoller morbus, fits, er any ting else, Sam is de gentleman dat can putyou on your feet wid his pills. "

For a long time after, Sam did little else than boast of his skill as adoctor. 

We have said that the "black doctor" was full of wit and good sense. Indeed, in that respect, he had scarcely an equal in the neighborhood. Although his master resided some little distance out of the city, Samwas always the first man in all the negro balls and parties in town. When his master could give him a pass, he went, and when he did not givehim one, he would steal away after his master had retired, and run therisk of being taken up by the night-watch. Of course, the master neverknew anything of the absence of the servant at night without permission. As the negroes at these parties tried to excel each other in the way ofdress, Sam was often at a loss to make that appearance that his heartdesired, but his ready wit ever helped him in this. When his master hadretired to bed at night, it was the duty of Sam to put out the lights, and take out with him his master's clothes and boots, and leave them inthe office until morning, and then black the boots, brush the clothes, and return them to his master's room. 

Having resolved to attend a dress-ball one night, without his master'spermission, and being perplexed for suitable garments, Sam determined totake his master's. So, dressing himself in the doctor's clothes, evento his boots and hat, off the negro started for the city. Being wellacquainted with the usual walk of the patrols he found no difficulty inkeeping out of their way. As might have been expected, Sam was the greatgun with the ladies that night. 

The next morning, Sam was back home long before his master's time forrising, and the clothes were put in their accustomed place. For a longtime Sam had no difficulty in attiring himself for parties; but the oldproverb that "It is a long lane that has no turning, " was verified inthe negro's case. One stormy night, when the rain was descending intorrents, the doctor heard a rap at his door. It was customary with him, when called up at night to visit a patient, to ring for Sam. But thistime, the servant was nowhere to be found. The doctor struck a light andlooked for clothes; they, too, were gone. It was twelve o'clock, andthe doctor's clothes, hat, boots, and even his watch, were nowhere to befound. Here was a pretty dilemma for a doctor to be in. It was some timebefore the physician could fit himself out so as to make the visit. Atlast, however, he started with one of the farm-horses, for Sam had takenthe doctor's best saddle-horse. The doctor felt sure that the negro hadrobbed him, and was on his way to Canada; but in this he was mistaken. Sam had gone to the city to attend a ball, and had decked himself out inhis master's best suit. The physician returned before morning, and againretired to bed but with little hope of sleep, for his thoughts were withhis servant and horse. At six o'clock, in walked Sam with his master'sclothes, and the boots neatly blacked. The watch was placed on theshelf, and the hat in its place. Sam had not met any of the servants, and was therefore entirely ignorant of what had occurred during hisabsence. 

"What have you been about, sir, and where was you last night when I wascalled?" asked the doctor. 

"I don't know, sir. I 'spose I was asleep, " replied Sam. 

But the doctor was not to be so easily satisfied, after having been putto so much trouble in hunting up another suit without the aid of Sam. After breakfast, Sam was taken into the barn, tied up, and severelyflogged with the cat, which brought from him the truth concerninghis absence the previous night. This forever put an end to his fineappearance at the negro parties. Had not the doctor been one of the mostindulgent of masters, he would not have escaped with merely a severewhipping. 

As a matter of course, Sam had to relate to his companions that eveningin Mr. Wilson's kitchen all his adventures as a physician while with hisold master. 

CHAPTER IX. THE MAN OF HONOR

AUGUSTINE CARDINAY, the purchaser of Marion, was from the GreenMountains of Vermont, and his feelings were opposed to the holding ofslaves; but his young wife persuaded him into the idea that it was noworse to own a slave than to hire one and pay the money to another. Hence it was that he had been induced to purchase Marion. 

Adolphus Morton, a young physician from the same State, and who had justcommenced the practice of his profession in New Orleans, was boardingwith Cardinay when Marion was brought home. The young physician had beenin New Orleans but a very few weeks, and had seen but little of slavery. In his own mountain-home, he had been taught that the slaves of theSouthern States were negroes, and if not from the coast of Africa, thedescendants of those who had been imported. He was unprepared tobehold with composure a beautiful white girl of sixteen in the degradedposition of a chattel slave. 

The blood chilled in his young heart as he heard Cardinay tell how, bybantering with the trader, he had bought her two hundred dollars lessthan he first asked. His very looks showed that she had the deepestsympathies of his heart. 

Marion had been brought up by her mother to look after the domesticconcerns of her cottage in Virginia, and well knew how to perform theduties imposed upon her. Mrs. Cardinay was much pleased with her newservant, and often mentioned her good qualities in the presence of Mr. Morton. 

After eight months acquaintance with Marion, Morton's sympathies ripenedinto love, which was most cordially reciprocated by the friendless andinjured child of sorrow. There was but one course which the young mancould honorably pursue, and that was to purchase Marion and make herhis lawful wife; and this he did immediately, for he found Mr. And Mrs. Cardinay willing to second his liberal intentions. 

The young man, after purchasing Marion from Cardinay, and marrying her, took lodgings in another part of the city. A private teacher was calledin, and the young wife was taught some of those accomplishments sonecessary for one taking a high position in good society. 

Dr. Morton soon obtained a large and influential practice in hisprofession, and with it increased in wealth; but with all his wealth henever owned a slave. Probably the fact that he had raised his wife fromthat condition kept the hydra-headed system continually before him. To the credit of Marion be it said, she used every means to obtain thefreedom of her mother, who had been sold to Parson Wilson, at Natchez. Her efforts, however, had come too late; for Agnes had died of a feverbefore the arrival of Dr. Morton's agent. 

Marion found in Adolphus Morton a kind and affectionate husband; and hiswish to purchase her mother, although unsuccessful, had doubly endearedhim to her. Ere a year had elapsed from the time of their marriage, Mrs. Morton presented her husband with a lovely daughter, who seemed to knittheir hearts still closer together. This child they named Jane; andbefore the expiration of the second year, they were blessed with anotherdaughter, whom they named Adrika. 

These children grew up to the ages of ten and eleven, and were thensent to the North to finish their education, and receive that refinementwhich young ladies cannot obtain in the Slave States. 

CHAPTER X. THE QUADROON'S HOME

A FEW miles out of Richmond is a pleasant place, with here and there abeautiful cottage surrounded by trees so as scarcely to be seen. Amongthese was one far retired from the public roads, and almost hiddenamong the trees. This was the spot that Henry Linwood had selected forIsabella, the eldest daughter of Agnes. The young man hired the house, furnished it, and placed his mistress there, and for many months no onein his father's family knew where he spent his leisure hours. 

When Henry was not with her, Isabella employed herself in looking afterher little garden and the flowers that grew in front of her cottage. Thepassion-flower, peony, dahlia, laburnum, and other plants, so abundantin warm climates, under the tasteful hand of Isabella, lavished theirbeauty upon this retired spot, and miniature paradise. 

Although Isabella had been assured by Henry that she should be free andthat he would always consider her as his wife, she nevertheless feltthat she ought to be married and acknowledged by him. But this was animpossibility under the State laws, even had the young man been disposedto do what was right in the matter. Related as he was, however, to oneof the first families in Virginia, he would not have dared to marry awoman of so low an origin, even had the laws been favorable. 

Here, in this secluded grove, unvisited by any other except herlover, Isabella lived for years. She had become the mother of a lovelydaughter, which its father named Clotelle. The complexion of the childwas still fairer than that of its mother. Indeed, she was not darkerthan other white children, and as she grew older she more and moreresembled her father. 

As time passed away, Henry became negligent of Isabella and his child, so much so, that days and even weeks passed without their seeing him, or knowing where he was. Becoming more acquainted with the world, andmoving continually in the society of young women of his own station, the young man felt that Isabella was a burden to him, and having assome would say, "outgrown his love, " he longed to free himself of theresponsibility; yet every time he saw the child, he felt that he owed ithis fatherly care. 

Henry had now entered into political life, and been elected to a seatin the legislature of his native State; and in his intercourse with hisfriends had become acquainted with Gertrude Miller, the daughter of awealthy gentleman living near Richmond. Both Henry and Gertrude werevery good-looking, and a mutual attachment sprang up between them. 

Instead of finding fault with the unfrequent visits of Henry, Isabellaalways met him with a smile, and tried to make both him and herselfbelieve that business was the cause of his negligence. When he was withher, she devoted every moment of her time to him, and never failed tospeak of the growth and increasing intelligence of Clotelle. 

The child had grown so large as to be able to follow its father on hisdeparture out to the road. But the impression made on Henry's feelingsby the devoted woman and her child was momentary. His heart had grownhard, and his acts were guided by no fixed principle. Henry and Gertrudehad been married nearly two years before Isabella knew anything of theevent, and it was merely by accident that she became acquainted with thefacts. 

One beautiful afternoon, when Isabella and Clotelle were picking wildstrawberries some two miles from their home, and near the road-side, they observed a one-horse chaise driving past. The mother turned herface from the carriage not wishing to be seen by strangers, littledreaming that the chaise contained Henry and his wife. The child, however, watched the chaise, and startled her mother by screaming outat the top of her voice, "Papa! papa!" and clapped her little hands forjoy. The mother turned in haste to look at the strangers, and her eyesencountered those of Henry's pale and dejected countenance. Gertrude'seyes were on the child. The swiftness with which Henry drove by couldnot hide from his wife the striking resemblance of the child to himself. The young wife had heard the child exclaim "Papa! papa!" and sheimmediately saw by the quivering of his lips and the agitation depictedin his countenance, that all was not right. 

"Who is that woman? and why did that child call you papa?" she inquired, with a trembling voice. 

Henry was silent; he knew not what to say, and without another wordpassing between them, they drove home. 

On reaching her room, Gertrude buried her face in her handkerchiefand wept. She loved Henry, and when she had heard from the lips of hercompanions how their husbands had proved false, she felt that he was anexception, and fervently thanked God that she had been so blessed. 

When Gertrude retired to her bed that night, the sad scene of the dayfollowed her. The beauty of Isabella, with her flowing curls, and thelook of the child, so much resembling the man whom she so dearly loved, could not be forgotten; and little Clotelle's exclamation of "Papa!papa!" rang in her ears during the whole night. 

The return of Henry at twelve o'clock did not increase her happiness. Feeling his guilt, he had absented himself from the house since hisreturn from the ride. 

CHAPTER XI. TO-DAY A MISTRESS, TO-MORROW A SLAVE

THE night was dark, the rain descended in torrents from the black andoverhanging clouds, and the thunder, accompanied with vivid flashes oflightning, resounded fearfully, as Henry Linwood stepped from his chaiseand entered Isabella's cottage. 

More than a fortnight had elapsed since the accidental meeting, andIsabella was in doubt as to who the lady was that Henry was with in thecarriage. Little, however, did she think that it was his wife. With asmile, Isabella met the young man as he entered her little dwelling. Clotelle had already gone to bed, but her father's voice aroused herfrom her sleep, and she was soon sitting on his knee. 

The pale and agitated countenance of Henry betrayed his uneasiness, butIsabella's mild and laughing allusion to the incident of their meetinghim on the day of his pleasure-drive, and her saying, "I presume, dearHenry, that the lady was one of your relatives, " led him to believe thatshe was still in ignorance of his marriage. She was, in fact, ignorantwho the lady was who accompanied the man she loved on that eventful day. He, aware of this, now acted more like himself, and passed the thing offas a joke. At heart, however, Isabella felt uneasy, and this uneasinesswould at times show itself to the young man. At last, and with a greateffort, she said, --

"Now, hear Henry, if I am in the way of your future happiness, say so, and I will release you from any promises that you have made me. I knowthere is no law by which I can hold you, and if there was, I wouldnot resort to it. You are as dear to me as ever, and my thoughts shallalways be devoted to you. It would be a great sacrifice for me to giveyou up to another, but if it be your desire, as great as the sacrificeis, I will make it. Send me and your child into a Free State if we arein your way. "

Again and again Linwood assured her that no woman possessed his lovebut her. Oh, what falsehood and deceit man can put on when dealing withwoman's love!

The unabated storm kept Henry from returning home until after theclock had struck two, and as he drew near his residence he saw his wifestanding at the window. Giving his horse in charge of the servant whowas waiting, he entered the house, and found his wife in tears. Althoughhe had never satisfied Gertrude as to who the quadroon woman and childwere, he had kept her comparatively easy by his close attention toher, and by telling her that she was mistaken in regard to the child'scalling him "papa. " His absence that night, however, without anyapparent cause, had again aroused the jealousy of Gertrude; but Henrytold her that he had been caught in the rain while out, which preventedhis sooner returning, and she, anxious to believe him, received thestory as satisfactory. 

Somewhat heated with brandy, and wearied with much loss of sleep, Linwood fell into a sound slumber as soon as he retired. Not so withGertrude. That faithfulness which has ever distinguished her sex, andthe anxiety with which she watched all his movements, kept the wifeawake while the husband slept. His sleep, though apparently sound, wasnevertheless uneasy. Again and again she heard him pronounce the nameof Isabella, and more than once she heard him say, "I am not married;I will never marry while you live. " Then he would speak the name ofClotelle and say, "My dear child, how I love you!"

After a sleepless night, Gertrude arose from her couch, resolved thatshe would reveal the whole matter to her mother. Mrs. Miller was a womanof little or no feeling, proud, peevish, and passionate, thus makingeverybody miserable that came near her; and when she disliked anyone, her hatred knew no bounds. This Gertrude knew; and had she notconsidered it her duty, she would have kept the secret locked in her ownheart. 

During the day, Mrs. Linwood visited her mother and told her all thathad happened. The mother scolded the daughter for not having informedher sooner, and immediately determined to find out who the woman andchild were that Gertrude had met on the day of her ride. Three days werespent by Mrs. Miller in this endeavor, but without success. 

Four weeks had elapsed, and the storm of the old lady's temper hadsomewhat subsided, when, one evening, as she was approaching herdaughter's residence, she saw Henry walking in the direction of wherethe quadroon was supposed to reside. Being satisfied that the youngman had not seen her, the old woman at once resolved to follow him. Linwood's boots squeaked so loudly that Mrs. Miller had no difficulty infollowing him without being herself observed. 

After a walk of about two miles, the young man turned into a narrow andunfrequented road, and soon entered the cottage occupied by Isabella. Itwas a fine starlight night, and the moon was just rising when they gotto their journey's end. As usual, Isabella met Henry with a smile, andexpressed her fears regarding his health. 

Hours passed, and still old Mrs. Miller remained near the house, determined to know who lived there. When she undertook to ferret outanything, she bent her whole energies to it. As Michael Angelo, whosubjected all things to his pursuit and the idea he had formed of it, painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave and would havebroken up the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have enteredthe sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object shewished to find. 

The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon surroundingobjects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door, and looking at his watch, said, --

"I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten. "

Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door. AsHenry walked to the gate, Isabella followed with her left hand locked inhis. Again he looked at his watch, and said, --

"I must go. "

"It is more than a year since you staid all night, " murmured Isabella, as he folded her convulsively in his arms, and pressed upon herbeautiful lips a parting kiss. 

He was nearly out of sight when, with bitter sobs, the quadroon retracedher steps to the door of the cottage. Clotelle had in the mean timeawoke, and now inquired of her mother how long her father had been gone. At that instant, a knock was heard at the door, and supposing that itwas Henry returning for something he had forgotten, as he frequentlydid, Isabella flew to let him in. To her amazement, however, a strangewoman stood in the door. 

"Who are you that comes here at this late hour?" demanded thehalf-frightened Isabella. 

Without making any reply, Mrs. Miller pushed the quadroon aside, andentered the house. 

"What do you want here?" again demanded Isabella. 

"I am in search of you, " thundered the maddened Mrs. Miller; butthinking that her object would be better served by seeming to be kind, she assumed a different tone of voice, and began talking in a pleasingmanner. 

In this way, she succeeded in finding out that connection existingbetween Linwood and Isabella, and after getting all she could out of theunsuspecting woman, she informed her that the man she so fondly lovedhad been married for more than two years. Seized with dizziness, thepoor, heart-broken woman fainted and fell upon the floor. How longshe remained there she could not tell; but when she returned toconsciousness, the strange woman was gone, and her child was standing byher side. When she was so far recovered as to regain her feet, Isabellawent to the door, and even into the yard, to see if the old woman was nosomewhere about. 

As she stood there, the full moon cast its bright rays over her wholeperson, giving her an angelic appearance and imparting to her flowinghair a still more golden hue. Suddenly another change came over herfeatures, and her full red kips trembled as with suppressed emotion. The muscles around her faultless mouth became convulsed, she gasped forbreath, and exclaiming, "Is it possible that man can be so false!" againfainted. 

Clotelle stood and bathed her mother's temples with cold water until sheonce more revived. 

Although the laws of Virginia forbid the education of slaves, Agnes hadnevertheless employed an old free negro to teach her two daughtersto read and write. After being separated from her mother and sister, Isabella turned her attention to the subject of Christianity, andreceived that consolation from the Bible which is never denied to thechildren of God. This was now her last hope, for her heart was torn withgrief and filled with all the bitterness of disappointment. 

The night passed away, but without sleep to poor Isabella. At the dawnof day, she tried to make herself believe that the whole of the pastnight was a dream, and determined to be satisfied with the explanationwhich Henry should give on his next visit. 

CHAPTER XII. THE MOTHER-IN-LAW

WHEN Harry returned home, he found his wife seated at the window, awaiting his approach. Secret grief was gnawing at her heart. Her sad, pale cheeks and swollen eyes showed too well that agony, far deeper thanher speech portrayed, filled her heart. A dull and death-like silenceprevailed on his entrance. His pale face and brow, dishevelled hair, andthe feeling that he manifested on finding Gertrude still up, told Henryin plainer words than she could have used that his wife was aware thather love had never been held sacred by him. The window-blinds were stillunclosed, and the full-orbed moon shed her soft refulgence over theunrivalled scene, and gave it a silvery lustre which sweetly harmonizedwith the silence of the night. The clock's iron tongue, in a neighboringbelfry, proclaimed the hour of twelve, as the truant and unfaithfulhusband seated himself by the side of his devoted and loving wife, andinquired if she was not well. 

"I am, dear Henry, " replied Gertrude; "but I feat _you_ are not. If wellin body, I fear you are not at peace in mind. "

"Why?" inquired he. 

"Because, " she replied, "you are so pale and have such a wild look inyour eyes. "

Again he protested his innocence, and vowed she was the only womanwho had any claim upon his heart. To behold one thus playing upon thefeelings of two lovely women is enough to make us feel that evil must atlast bring its own punishment. 

Henry and Gertrude had scarcely risen from the breakfast-table nextmorning ere old Mrs. Miller made her appearance. She immediately tookher daughter aside, and informed her of her previous night's experience, telling her how she had followed Henry to Isabella's cottage, detailingthe interview with the quadroon, and her late return home alone. The oldwoman urged her daughter to demand that the quadroon and her child be atonce sold to the negro speculators and taken out of the State, or thatGertrude herself should separate from Henry. 

"Assert your rights, my dear. Let no one share a heart that justlybelongs to you, " said Mrs. Miller, with her eyes flashing fire. "Don'tsleep this night, my child, until that wench has been removed from thatcottage; and as for the child, hand that over to me, --I saw at once thatit was Henry's. "

During these remarks, the old lady was walking up and down the roomlike a caged lioness. She had learned from Isabella that she had beenpurchased by Henry, and the innocence of the injured quadroon caused herto acknowledge that he was the father of her child. Few women couldhave taken such a matter in hand and carried it through with moredetermination and success than old Mrs. Miller. Completely inured in allthe crimes and atrocities connected with the institution of slavery, shewas also aware that, to a greater or less extent, the slave women sharedwith their mistress the affections of their master. This caused her tolook with a suspicious eye on every good-looking negro woman that shesaw. 

While the old woman was thus lecturing her daughter upon her rights andduties, Henry, unaware of what was transpiring, had left the house andgone to his office. As soon as the old woman found that he was gone, shesaid, --

"I will venture anything that he is on his way to see that wench again. I'll lay my life on it. "

The entrance, however, of little Marcus, or Mark, as he was familiarlycalled, asking for Massa Linwood's blue bag, satisfied her that herson-in-law was at his office. Before the old lady returned home, it wasagreed that Gertrude should come to her mother's to tea that evening, and Henry with her, and that Mrs. Miller should there charge the younghusband with inconstancy to her daughter, and demand the removal ofIsabella. 

With this understanding, the old woman retraced her steps to her owndwelling. 

Had Mrs. Miller been of a different character and not surrounded byslavery, she could scarcely have been unhappy in such a home as hers. Just at the edge of the city, and sheltered by large poplar-trees wasthe old homestead in which she resided. There was a splendid orchardin the rear of the house, and the old weather-beaten sweep, with "themoss-covered bucket" at its end, swung majestically over the deep well. The garden was scarcely to be equalled. Its grounds were laid out inexcellent taste, and rare exotics in the greenhouse made it still morelovely. 

It was a sweet autumn evening, when the air breathed through thefragrant sheaves of grain, and the setting sun, with his golden kisses, burnished the rich clusters of purple grapes, that Henry and Gertrudewere seen approaching the house on foot; it was nothing more than apleasant walk. Oh, how Gertrude's heart beat as she seated herself, ontheir arrival!

The beautiful parlor, surrounded on all sides with luxury and taste, with the sun creeping through the damask curtains, added a charm to thescene. It was in this room that Gertrude had been introduced to Henry, and the pleasant hours that she had spent there with him rushedunbidden on her memory. It was here that, in former days, her beautifulcountenance had made her appearance as fascinating and as lovely as thatof Cleopatra's. Her sweet, musical voice might have been heard in everypart of the house, occasionally thrilling you with an unexpected touch. How changed the scene! Her pale and wasted features could not be lightedup by any thoughts of the past, and she was sorrowful at heart. 

As usual, the servants in the kitchen were in ecstasies at theannouncement that "Miss Gerty, " as they called their young mistress, wasin the house, for they loved her sincerely. Gertrude had saved them frommany a flogging, by interceding for them, when her mother was in one ofher uncontrollable passions. Dinah, the cook, always expected MissGerty to visit the kitchen as soon as she came, and was not a littledispleased, on this occasion, at what she considered her youngmistress's neglect. Uncle Tony, too, looked regularly for Miss Gertyto visit the green house, and congratulate him on his superiority as agardener. 

When tea was over, Mrs. Miller dismissed the servants from the room, then told her son-in-law what she had witnessed the previous night, anddemanded for her daughter that Isabella should be immediately sent outof the State, and to be sure that the thing would be done, she wantedhim to give her the power to make such disposition of the woman andchild as she should think best. Gertrude was Mrs. Miller's only child, and Henry felt little like displeasing a family upon whose friendshiphe so much depended, and, no doubt, long wishing to free himself fromIsabella, he at once yielded to the demands of his mother-in-law. Mr. Miller was a mere cipher about his premises. If any one came on businessconnected with the farm, he would invariably say, "Wait till I see mywife, " and the wife's opinion was sure to be law in every case. Bankruptin character, and debauched in body and mind, with seven mulattochildren who claimed him as their father, he was badly prepared to findfault with his son-in-law. It was settled that Mrs. Miller should useher own discretion in removing Isabella from her little cottage, and herfuture disposition. With this understanding Henry and Gertrude returnedhome. In the deep recesses of his heart the young man felt that he wouldlike to see his child and its mother once more; but fearing the wrathof his mother-in-law, he did not dare to gratify his inclination. He hadnot the slightest idea of what would become of them; but he well knewthat the old woman would have no mercy on them. 

CHAPTER XIII. A HARD-HEARTED WOMAN

WITH no one but her dear little Clotelle, Isabella passed her wearyhours without partaking of either food or drink, hoping that Henry wouldsoon return, and that the strange meeting with the old woman would becleared up. 

While seated in her neat little bedroom with her fevered face buried inher handkerchief, the child ran in and told its mother that a carriagehad stopped in front of the house. With a palpitating heart she arosefrom her seat and went to the door, hoping that it was Henry; but, to her great consternation, the old lady who had paid her such anunceremonious visit on the evening that she had last seen Henry, steppedout of the carriage, accompanied by the slave-trader, Jennings. 

Isabella had seen the trader when he purchased her mother and sister, and immediately recognized him. What could these persons want there?thought she. Without any parleying or word of explanation, the twoentered the house, leaving the carriage in charge of a servant. 

Clotelle ran to her mother, and clung to her dress as if frightened bythe strangers. 

"She's a fine-looking wench, " said the speculator, as he seated himself, unasked, in the rocking-chair; "yet I don't think she is worth the moneyyou ask for her. "

"What do you want here?" inquired Isabella, with a quivering voice. 

"None of your insolence to me, " bawled out the old woman, at the topof her voice; "if you do, I will give you what you deserve so much, mylady, --a good whipping. "

In an agony of grief, pale, trembling, and ready to sink to the floor, Isabella was only sustained by the hope that she would be able to saveher child. At last, regaining her self-possession, she ordered them bothto leave the house. Feeling herself insulted, the old woman seizedthe tongs that stood by the fire-place, and raised them to strike thequadroon down; but the slave-trader immediately jumped between thewomen, exclaiming, --

"I won't buy her, Mrs. Miller, if you injure her. "

Poor little Clotelle screamed as she saw the strange woman raise thetongs at her mother. With the exception of old Aunt Nancy, a freecolored woman, whom Isabella sometimes employed to work for her, thechild had never before seen a strange face in her mother's dwelling. Fearing that Isabella would offer some resistance, Mrs. Miller hadordered the overseer of her own farm to follow her; and, just asJennings had stepped between the two women, Mull, the negro-driver, walked into the room. 

"Seize that impudent hussy, " said Mrs. Miller to the overseer, "and tieher up this minute, that I may teach her a lesson she won't forget in ahurry. "

As she spoke, the old woman's eyes rolled, her lips quivered, and shelooked like a very fury. 

"I will have nothing to do with her, if you whip her, Mrs. Miller, " saidthe slave-trader. "Niggers ain't worth half so much in the market withtheir backs newly scarred, " continued he, as the overseer commenced hispreparations for executing Mrs. Miller's orders. 

Clotelle here took her father's walking-stick, which was lying on theback of the sofa where he had left it, and, raising it, said, --

"If you bad people touch my mother, I will strike you. "

They looked at the child with astonishment; and her extreme you, wonderful beauty, and uncommon courage, seemed for a moment to shaketheir purpose. The manner and language of this child were alike beyondher years, and under other circumstances would have gained for her theapprobation of those present. 

"Oh, Henry, Henry!" exclaimed Isabella, wringing her hands. 

"You need not call on him, hussy; you will never see him again, " saidMrs. Miller. 

"What! is he dead?" inquired the heart-stricken woman. 

It was then that she forgot her own situation, thinking only of theman she loved. Never having been called to endure any kind of abusivetreatment, Isabella was not fitted to sustain herself against thebrutality of Mrs. Miller, much less the combined ferociousness of theold woman and the overseer too. Suffice it to say, that instead ofwhipping Isabella, Mrs. Miller transferred her to the negro-speculator, who took her immediately to his slave-pen. The unfeeling old woman wouldnot permit Isabella to take more than a single change of her clothing, remarking to Jennings, --

"I sold you the wench, you know, --not her clothes. "

The injured, friendless, and unprotected Isabella fainted as she saw herchild struggling to release herself from the arms of old Mrs. Miller, and as the wretch boxed the poor child's ears. 

After leaving directions as to how Isabella's furniture and othereffects should be disposed of, Mrs. Miller took Clotelle into hercarriage and drove home. There was not even color enough about the childto make it appear that a single drop of African blood flowed through itsblue veins. 

Considerable sensation was created in the kitchen among the servantswhen the carriage drove up, and Clotelle entered the house. 

"Jes' like Massa Henry fur all de worl', " said Dinah, as she caught aglimpse of the child through the window. 

"Wondah whose brat dat ar' dat missis bringin' home wid her?" said Jane, as she put the ice in the pitchers for dinner. "I warrant it's some poorwhite nigger somebody bin givin' her. "

The child was white. What should be done to make it look like othernegroes, was the question which Mrs. Miller asked herself. Thecallous-hearted old woman bit her nether lip, as she viewed that child, standing before her, with her long, dark ringlets clustering over heralabaster brow and neck. 

"Take this little nigger and cut her hair close to her head, " said themistress to Jane, as the latter answered the bell. 

Clotelle screamed, as she felt the scissors grating over her head, andsaw those curls that her mother thought so much of falling upon thefloor. 

A roar of laughter burst from the servants, as Jane led the childthrough the kitchen, with the hair cut so short that the naked scalpcould be plainly seen. 

"'Gins to look like nigger, now, " said Dinah, with her mouth upon agrin. 

The mistress smiled, as the shorn child reentered the room; but therewas something more needed. The child was white, and that was a greatobjection. However, she hit upon a plan to remedy this which seemedfeasible. The day was excessively warm. Not a single cloud floated overthe blue vault of heaven; not a breath of wind seemed moving, andthe earth was parched by the broiling sun. Even the bees had stoppedhumming, and the butterflies had hid themselves under the broad leavesof the burdock. Without a morsel of dinner, the poor child was put inthe garden, and set to weeding it, her arms, neck, and head completelybare. Unaccustomed to toil, Clotelle wept as she exerted herself inpulling up the weeds. Old Dinah, the cook, was a unfeeling as hermistress, and she was pleased to see the child made to work in the hotsun. 

"Dat white nigger'll soon be brack enuff if missis keeps her workin' outdar, " she said, as she wiped the perspiration from her sooty brow. 

Dinah was the mother of thirteen children, all of whom bad beentaken from her when young; and this, no doubt, did much to harden herfeelings, and make her hate all white persons. 

The burning sun poured its rays on the face of the friendless childuntil she sank down in the corner of the garden, and was actuallybroiled to sleep. 

"Dat little nigger ain't workin' a bit, missus, " said Dinah to Mrs. Miller, as the latter entered the kitchen. 

"She's lying in the sun seasoning; she will work the better by and by, "replied the mistress. 

"Dese white niggers always tink dey seff good as white folks, " said thecook. 

"Yes; but we will teach them better, won't we, Dinah?" rejoined Mrs. Miller. 

"Yes, missus, " replied Dinah; "I don't like dese merlatter niggers, no how. Dey always want to set dey seff up for sumfin' big. " Withthis remark the old cook gave one of her coarse laughs, and continued:"Missis understands human nature, don't she? Ah! if she ain't a wholeteam and de ole gray mare to boot, den Dinah don't know nuffin'. "

Of course, the mistress was out of the kitchen before these last remarkswere made. 

It was with the deepest humiliation that Henry learned from one of hisown slaves the treatment which his child was receiving at the hands ofhis relentless mother-in-law. 

The scorching sun had the desired effect; for in less than a fortnight, Clotelle could scarcely have been recognized as the same child. Oftenwas she seen to weep, and heard to call on her mother. 

Mrs. Miller, when at church on Sabbath, usually, on warm days, tookNancy, one of her servants, in her pew, and this girl had to fan hermistress during service. Unaccustomed to such a soft and pleasant seat, the servant would very soon become sleepy and begin to nod. Sometimesshe would go fast asleep, which annoyed the mistress exceedingly. ButMrs. Miller had nimble fingers, and on them sharp nails, and, with anenergetic pinch upon the bare arms of the poor girl, she would arousethe daughter of Africa from her pleasant dreams. But there was no oneof Mrs. Miller's servants who received so much punishment as old UncleTony. 

Fond of her greenhouse, and often in the garden, she was ever at theold gardener's heels. Uncle Tony was very religious, and, whenever hismistress flogged him, he invariably gave her a religious exhortation. Although unable to read, he, nevertheless, had on his tongue's endportions of Scripture which he could use at any moment. In one end ofthe greenhouse was Uncle Tony's sleeping room, and those who happenedin that vicinity, between nine and ten at night, could hear the old manoffering up his thanksgiving to God for his protection during the day. Uncle Tony, however, took great pride, when he thought that any of thewhites were within hearing, to dwell, in his prayer, on his own goodnessand the unfitness of others to die. Often was he heard to say, "O Lord, thou knowest that the white folks are not Christians, but the blackpeople are God's own children. " But if Tony thought that his oldmistress was within the sound of his voice, he launched out into deeperwater. 

It was, therefore, on a sweet night, when the bright stars were lookingout with a joyous sheen, that Mark and two of the other boys passed thegreenhouse, and heard Uncle Tony in his devotions. 

"Let's have a little fun, " said the mischievous Marcus to his youngcompanions. "I will make Uncle Tony believe that I am old mistress, andhe'll give us an extra touch in his prayer. " Mark immediately commencedtalking in a strain of voice resembling, as well as he could, Mrs. Miller, and at once Tony was heard to say in a loud voice, "O Lord, thouknowest that the white people are not fit to die; but, as for old Tony, whenever the angel of the Lord comes, he's ready. " At that moment, Marktapped lightly on the door. "Who's dar?" thundered old Tony. Mark madeno reply. The old man commenced and went through with the same remarksaddressed to the Lord, when Mark again knocked at the door. "Whodat dar?" asked Uncle Tony, with a somewhat agitated countenance andtrembling voice. Still Mark would not reply. Again Tony took up thethread of his discourse, and said, "O Lord, thou knowest as well as Ido that dese white folks are not prepared to die, but here is old Tony, when de angel of de Lord comes, he's ready to go to heaven. " Mark oncemore knocked on the door. "Who dat dar?" thundered Tony at the top ofhis voice. 

"De angel of de Lord, " replied Mark, in a somewhat suppressed andsepulchral voice. 

"What de angel of de Lord want here?" inquired Tony, as if muchfrightened. 

"He's come for poor old Tony, to take him out of the world, " repliedMark, in the same strange voice. 

"Dat nigger ain't here; he die tree weeks ago, " responded Tony, in astill more agitated and frightened tone. Mark and his companions madethe welkin ring with their shouts at the old man's answer. Uncle Tonyhearing them, and finding that he had been imposed upon, opened hisdoor, came out with stick in hand, and said, "Is dat you, Mr. Mark?you imp, if I can get to you I'll larn you how to come here wid yournonsense. "

Mark and his companions left the garden, feeling satisfied that UncleTony was not as ready to go with "de angel of de Lord" as he would haveothers believe. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE PRISON

WHILE poor little Clotelle was being kicked about by Mrs. Miller, onaccount of her relationship to her son-in-law, Isabella was passinglonely hours in the county jail, the place to which Jennings hadremoved her for safe-keeping, after purchasing her from Mrs. Miller. Incarcerated in one of the iron-barred rooms of that dismal place, thosedark, glowing eyes, lofty brow, and graceful form wilted down like aplucked rose under a noonday sun, while deep in her heart's ambrosialcells was the most anguishing distress. 

Vulgar curiosity is always in search of its victims, and Jennings'boast that he had such a ladylike and beautiful woman in his possessionbrought numbers to the prison who begged of the jailer the privilege ofseeing the slave-trader's prize. Many who saw her were melted totears at the pitiful sight, and were struck with admiration at herintelligence; and, when she spoke of her child, they must have beenconvinced that a mother's sorrow can be conceived by none but a mother'sheart. The warbling of birds in the green bowers of bliss, which sheoccasionally heard, brought no tidings of gladness to her. Their joyfell cold upon her heart, and seemed like bitter mockery. They remindedher of her own cottage, where, with her beloved child, she had spent somany happy days. 

The speculator had kept close watch over his valuable piece of property, for fear that it might damage itself. This, however, there was no dangerof, for Isabella still hoped and believed that Henry would come to herrescue. She could not bring herself to believe that he would allow herto be sent away without at least seeing her, and the trader did all hecould to keep this idea alive in her. 

While Isabella, with a weary heart, was passing sleepless nightsthinking only of her daughter and Henry, the latter was seeking reliefin that insidious enemy of the human race, the intoxicating cup. Hiswife did all in her power to make his life a pleasant and a happy one, for Gertrude was devotedly attached to him; but a weary heart gets nogladness out of sunshine. The secret remorse that rankled in his bosomcaused him to see all the world blood-shot. He had not visited hismother-in-law since the evening he had given her liberty to use her owndiscretion as to how Isabella and her child should be disposed of. Hefeared even to go near the house, for he did not wish to see his child. Gertrude felt this every time he declined accompanying her to hermother's. Possessed of a tender and confiding heart, entirely unlike hermother, she sympathized deeply with her husband. She well knew that allyoung men in the South, to a greater or less extent, became enamored ofthe slave-women, and she fancied that his case was only one of the many, and if he had now forsaken all others for her she did not wish to bepunished; but she dared not let her mother know that such were herfeelings. Again and again had she noticed the great resemblance betweenClotelle and Henry, and she wished the child in better hands than thoseof her cruel mother. 

At last Gertrude determined to mention the matter to her husband. Consequently, the next morning, when they were seated on the backpiazza, and the sun was pouring its splendid rays upon everythingaround, changing the red tints on the lofty hills in the distance intostreaks of purest gold, and nature seeming by her smiles to favor theobject, she said, --

"What, dear Henry, do you intend to do with Clotelle?" A paleness thatoverspread his countenance, the tears that trickled down his cheeks, the deep emotion that was visible in his face, and the trembling of hisvoice, showed at once that she had touched a tender chord. Without asingle word, he buried his face in his handkerchief, and burst intotears. 

This made Gertrude still more unhappy, for she feared that he hadmisunderstood her; and she immediately expressed her regret that shehad mentioned the subject. Becoming satisfied from this that his wifesympathized with him in his unhappy situation, Henry told her of theagony that filled his soul, and Gertrude agreed to intercede for himwith her mother for the removal of the child to a boarding-school in oneof the Free States. 

In the afternoon, when Henry returned from his office, his wife met himwith tearful eyes, and informed him that her mother was filled with rageat the mention of the removal of Clotelle from her premises. 

In the mean time, the slave-trader, Jennings, had started for the Southwith his gang of human cattle, of whom Isabella was one. Most quadroonwomen who are taken to the South are either sold to gentlemen for theirown use or disposed of as house-servants or waiting-maids. Fortunatelyfor Isabella, she was sold for the latter purpose. Jennings found apurchaser for her in the person of Mr. James French. 

Mrs. French was a severe mistress. All who lived with her, thoughwell-dressed, were scantily fed and over-worked. Isabella found hernew situation far different from her Virginia cottage-life. She hadfrequently heard Vicksburg spoken of as a cruel place for slaves, andnow she was in a position to test the truthfulness of the assertion. 

A few weeks after her arrival, Mrs. French began to show to Isabellathat she was anything but a pleasant and agreeable mistress. Whatsocial virtues are possible in a society of which injustice is a primarycharacteristic, --in a society which is divided into two classes, mastersand slaves? Every married woman at the South looks upon her husband asunfaithful, and regards every negro woman as a rival. 

Isabella had been with her new mistress but a short time when she wasordered to cut off her long and beautiful hair. The negro is naturallyfond of dress and outward display. He who has short woolly hair combsand oils it to death; he who has long hair would sooner have his teethdrawn than to part with it. But, however painful it was to Isabella, she was soon seen with her hair cut short, and the sleeves of her dressaltered to fit tight to her arms. Even with her hair short and withher ill-looking dress, Isabella was still handsome. Her life had been asecluded one, and though now twenty-eight years of age, her beautyhad only assumed a quieter tone. The other servants only laughed atIsabella's misfortune in losing her beautiful hair. 

"Miss 'Bell needn't strut so big; she got short nappy har's well's I, "said Nell, with a broad grin that showed her teeth. 

"She tink she white when she cum here, wid dat long har ob hers, "replied Mill. 

"Yes, " continued Nell, "missus make her take down her wool, so she noput it up to-day. "

The fairness of Isabella's complexion was regarded with envy by theservants as well as by the mistress herself. This is one of the hardfeatures of slavery. To-day a woman is mistress of her own cottage;tomorrow she is sold to one who aims to make her life as intolerable aspossible. And let it be remembered that the house-servant has the bestsituation a slave can occupy. 

But the degradation and harsh treatment Isabella experienced in her newhome was nothing compared to the grief she underwent at being separatedfrom her dear child. Taken from her with scarcely a moment's warning, she knew not what had become of her. 

This deep and heartfelt grief of Isabella was soon perceived by herowners, and fearing that her refusal to take proper food would causeher death, they resolved to sell her. Mr. French found no difficulty insecuring a purchaser for the quadroon woman, for such are usually themost marketable kind of property. Isabella was sold at private sale to ayoung man for a housekeeper; but even he had missed his aim. 

Mr. Gordon, the new master, was a man of pleasure. He was the owner ofa large sugar plantation, which he had left under the charge of anoverseer, and was now giving himself up to the pleasures of a citylife. At first Mr. Gordon sought to win Isabella's favor by flatteryand presents, knowing that whatever he gave her he could take from heragain. The poor innocent creature dreaded every moment lest the sceneshould change. At every interview with Gordon she stoutly maintainedthat she had left a husband in Virginia, and could never think of takinganother. In this she considered that she was truthful, for she hadever regarded Henry as her husband. The gold watch and chain and otherglittering presents which Gordon gave to her were all kept unused. 

In the same house with Isabella was a man-servant who had from time totime hired himself from his master. His name was William. He could feelfor Isabella, for he, like her, had been separated from near anddear relatives, and he often tried to console the poor woman. One dayIsabella observed to him that her hair was growing out again. 

"Yes, " replied William; "you look a good deal like a man with your shorthair. "

"Oh, " rejoined she, "I have often been told that I would make a betterlooking man than woman, and if I had the money I might avail myself ofit to big farewell to this place. "

In a moment afterwards, Isabella feared that she had said too much, andlaughingly observed, "I am always talking some nonsense; you must notheed me. "

William was a tall, full-blooded African, whose countenance beamed withintelligence. Being a mechanic, he had by industry earned more moneythan he had paid to his owner for his time, and this he had laid aside, with the hope that he might some day get enough to purchase his freedom. He had in his chest about a hundred and fifty dollars. His was a heartthat felt for others, and he had again and again wiped the tears fromhis eyes while listening to Isabella's story. 

"If she can get free with a little money, why not give her what I have?"thought he, and then resolved to do it. 

An hour after, he entered the quadroon's room, and, laying the money inher lap, said, --

"There, Miss Isabella, you said just now that if you had the means youwould leave this place. There is money enough to take you to England, where you will be free. You are much fairer than many of the white womenof the South, and can easily pass for a free white woman. "

At first Isabella thought it was a plan by which the negro wished to tryher fidelity to her owner; but she was soon convinced, by his earnestmanner and the deep feeling he manifested, that he was entirely sincere. 

"I will take the money, " said she, "only on one condition, and that isthat I effect your escape, as well as my own. "

"How can that be done?" he inquired, eagerly. 

"I will assume the disguise of a gentleman, and you that of a servant, and we will thus take passage in a steamer to Cincinnati, and fromthence to Canada. "

With full confidence in Isabella's judgment, William consented at onceto the proposition. The clothes were purchased; everything was arranged, and the next night, while Mr. Gordon was on one of his sprees, Isabella, under the assumed name of Mr. Smith, with William in attendance as aservant, took passage for Cincinnati in the steamer Heroine. 

With a pair of green glasses over her eyes, in addition to her otherdisguise, Isabella made quite a gentlemanly appearance. To avoidconversation, however, she kept closely to her state-room, under theplea of illness. 

Meanwhile, William was playing his part well with the servants. He wasloudly talking of his master's wealth, and nothing on the boat appearedso good as in his master's fine mansion. 

"I don't like dese steamboats, no how, " said he; "I hope when massa goeson anoder journey, he take de carriage and de hosses. "

After a nine-days' passage, the Heroine landed at Cincinnati, and Mr. Smith and his servant walked on shore. 

"William, you are now a free man, and can go on to Canada, " saidIsabella; "I shall go to Virginia, in search of my daughter. "

This sudden announcement fell heavily upon William's ears, and withtears he besought her not to jeopardize her liberty in such a manner;but Isabella had made up her mind to rescue her child if possible. 

Taking a boat for Wheeling, Isabella was soon on her way to her nativeState. Several months had elapsed since she left Richmond, and all herthoughts were centred on the fate of her dear Clotelle. It was with apalpitating heart that this injured woman entered the stage-coach atWheeling and set out for Richmond. 

CHAPTER XV. THE ARREST

IT was late in the evening when the coach arrived at Richmond, andIsabella once more alighted in her native city. She had intended to seeklodgings somewhere in the outskirts of the town, but the lateness of thehour compelled her to stop at one of the principal hotels for thenight. She had scarcely entered the inn before she recognized among thenumerous black servants one to whom she was well known, and her onlyhope was that her disguise would keep her from being discovered. Theimperturbable calm and entire forgetfulness of self which inducedIsabella to visit a place from which she could scarcely hope toescape, to attempt the rescue of a beloved child, demonstrate thatover-willingness of woman to carry out the promptings of the finerfeelings of the heart. True to woman's nature, she had risked her ownliberty for another's. She remained in the hotel during the night, andthe next morning, under the plea of illness, took her breakfast alone. 

That day the fugitive slave paid a visit to the suburbs of the town, andonce more beheld the cottage in which she had spent so many happy hours. It was winter, and the clematis and passion-flower were not there; butthere were the same walks her feet had so often pressed, and the sametrees which had so often shaded her as she passed through the gardenat the back of the house. Old remembrances rushed upon her memory andcaused her to shed tears freely. Isabella was now in her native town, and near her daughter; but how could she communicate with her? how couldshe see her? To have made herself known would have been a suicidal act;betrayal would have followed, and she arrested. Three days passed away, and still she remained in the hotel at which she had first put up, andyet she got no tidings of her child. 

Unfortunately for Isabella, a disturbance had just broken out amongthe slave population in the State of Virginia, and all strangers weretreated with suspicion. 

The insurrection to which we now refer was headed by a full-bloodednegro, who had been born and brought up a slave. He had heard the crackof the driver's whip, and seen the warm blood streaming from the negro'sbody. He had witnessed the separation of parents from children, and wasmade aware, by too many proofs, that the slave could expect no justicefrom the hands of the slave-owner. The name of this man was Nat Turner. He was a preacher amongst the negroes, distinguished for his eloquence, respected by the whites, loved and venerated by the negroes. On thediscovery of the plan for the outbreak, Turner fled to the swamps, followed by those who had joined in the insurrection. 

Here the revolted negroes numbered some hundreds, and for a time badedefiance to their oppressors. The Dismal Swamps cover many thousandacres of wild land, and a dense forest, with wild animals and insectssuch as are unknown in any other part of Virginia. Here runaway negroesusually seek a hiding-place, and some have been known to reside here foryears. The revolters were joined by one of these. He was a large, tall, full-blooded negro, with a stern and savage countenance; the marks onhis face showed that he was from one of the barbarous tribes in Africa, and claimed that country as his native land. His only covering wasa girdle around his loins, made of skins of wild beasts which he hadkilled. His only token of authority among those that he led was a pairof epaulettes, made of the tail of a fox, and tied to his shoulder by acord. Brought from the coast of Africa, when only fifteen years of age, to the island of Cuba, he was smuggled from thence into Virginia. He hadbeen two years in the swamps, and considered it his future home. He hadmet a negro woman, who was also a runaway, and, after the fashion of hisnative land, had gone through the process of oiling her, as the marriageceremony. They had built a cave on a rising mound in the swamp, andthis was their home. This man's name was Picquilo. His only weapon wasa sword made from a scythe which he had stolen from a neighboringplantation. His dress, his character, his manners, and his mode offighting were all in keeping with the early training he had received inthe land of his birth. He moved about with the activity of a cat, andneither the thickness of the trees nor the depth of the water could stophim. He was a bold, turbulent spirit; and, from motives of revenge, heimbrued his hands in the blood of all the whites he could meet. Hunger, thirst, and loss of sleep, he seemed made to endure, as if bypeculiarity of constitution. His air was fierce, his step oblique, hislook sanguinary. 

Such was the character of one of the negroes in the SouthamptonInsurrection. All negroes were arrested who were found beyond theirmaster's threshold, and all white strangers were looked upon withsuspicion. 

Such was the position in which Isabella found affairs when she returnedto Virginia in search of her child. Had not the slave-owners beenwatchful of strangers, owing to the outbreak, the fugitive could nothave escaped the vigilance of the police; for advertisements announcingher escape, and offering a large reward for her arrest, had beenreceived in the city previous to her arrival, and officers weretherefore on the lookout for her. 

It was on the third day after her arrival in Richmond, as the quadroonwas seated in her room at the hotel, still in the disguise of agentleman, that two of the city officers entered the apartment andinformed her that they were authorized to examine all strangers, toassure the authorities that they were not in league with the revoltednegroes. 

With trembling heart the fugitive handed the key of her trunk to theofficers. To their surprise they found nothing but female apparel in thetrunk, which raised their curiosity, and caused a further investigationthat resulted in the arrest of Isabella as a fugitive slave. She wasimmediately conveyed to prison, there to await the orders of her master. 

For many days, uncheered by the voice of kindness, alone, hopeless, desolate, she waited for the time to arrive when the chains shouldbe placed on her limbs, and she returned to her inhuman and unfeelingowner. 

The arrest of the fugitive was announced in all the newspapers, butcreated little or no sensation. The inhabitants were too much engagedin putting down the revolt among the slaves; and, although all the oddswere against the insurgents, the whites found it no easy matter, withall their caution. Every day brought news of fresh outbreaks. Withoutscruple and without pity, the whites massacred all blacks found beyondthe limits of their owners' plantations. The negroes, in return, setfire to houses, and put to death those who attempted to escape from theflames. Thus carnage was added to carnage, and the blood of the whitesflowed to avenge the blood of the blacks. 

These were the ravages of slavery. No graves were dug for the negroes, but their bodies became food for dogs and vultures; and their bones, partly calcined by the sun, remained scattered about, as if to markthe mournful fury of servitude and lust of power. When the slaves weresubdued, except a few in the swamps, bloodhounds were employed to huntout the remaining revolters. 

CHAPTER XVI. DEATH IS FREEDOM

ON receiving intelligence of the arrest of Isabella, Mr. Gordonauthorized the sheriff to sell her to the highest bidder. She was, therefore, sold; the purchaser being the noted negro-trader, Hope H. Slater, who at once placed her in prison. Here the fugitive saw none butslaves like herself, brought in and taken out to be placed in ships, andsent away to some part of the country to which she herself would soon becompelled to go. She had seen or heard nothing of her daughter while inRichmond, and all hopes of seeing her had now fled. 

At the dusk of the evening previous to the day when she was to be sentoff, as the old prison was being closed for the night, Isabella suddenlydated past the keeper, and ran for her life. It was not a great distancefrom the prison to the long bridge which passes from the lower part ofthe city across the Potomac to the extensive forests and woodlands ofthe celebrated Arlington Heights, then occupied by that distinguishedrelative and descendant of the immortal Washington, Mr. Geo. W. Custis. Thither the poor fugitive directed her flight. So unexpected was herescape that she had gained several rods the start before the keeper hadsecured the other prisoners, and rallied his assistants to aid in thepursuit. It was at an hour, and in a part of the city where horses couldnot easily be obtained for the chase; no bloodhounds were at hand to rundown the flying woman, and for once it seemed as if there was to bea fair trial of speed and endurance between the slave and theslave-catchers. 

The keeper and his force raised the hue-and-cry on her path as theyfollowed close behind; but so rapid was the flight along the wide avenuethat the astonished citizens, as they poured forth from their dwellingsto learn the cause of alarm, were only able to comprehend the nature ofthe case in time to fall in with the motley throng in pursuit, or raisean anxious prayer to heaven as they refused to join in the chase (asmany a one did that night) that the panting fugitive might escape, andthe merciless soul-dealer for once be disappointed of his prey. And now, with the speed of an arrow, having passed the avenue, with the distancebetween her and her pursuers constantly increasing, this poor, huntedfemale gained the "Long Bridge, " as it is called, where interruptionseemed improbably. Already her heart began to beat high with the hopeof success. She had only to pass three-quarters of a mile across thebridge, when she could bury herself in a vast forest, just as the timewhen the curtain of night would close around her, and protect her fromthe pursuit of her enemies. 

But God, by his providence, had otherwise determined. He had ordainedthat an appalling tragedy should be enacted that night within plainsight of the President's house, and the Capitol of the Union, whichwould be an evidence wherever it should be known of the unconquerablelove of liberty which the human heart may inherit, as well as a freshadmonition to the slave-dealer of the cruelty and enormity of hiscrimes. 

Just as the pursuers passed the high draw, soon after entering upon thebridge, they beheld three men slowly approaching from the Virginia side. They immediately called to them to arrest the fugitive, proclaiming hera runaway slave. True to their Virginia instincts, as she came near, they formed a line across the narrow bridge to intercept her. Seeing theescape was impossible in that quarter, she stopped suddenly, and turnedupon her pursuers. 

On came the profane and ribald crew faster than ever, already exultingin her capture, and threatening punishment for her flight. For a momentshe looked wildly and anxiously around to see if there was no hope ofescape. On either hand, far down below, rolled the deep, foaming watersof the Potomac, and before and behind were the rapidly approaching stepsand noisy voices of her pursuers. Seeing how vain would be any furthereffort to escape, her resolution was instantly taken. She clasped herhands convulsively together, raised her tearful and imploring eyestoward heaven, and begged for the mercy and compassion there which wasunjustly denied her on earth; then, exclaiming, "Henry, Clotelle, I diefor thee!" with a single bound, vaulted over the railing of the bridge, and sank forever beneath the angry and foaming waters of the river!

Such was the life, and such the death, of a woman whose virtues andgoodness of heart would have done honor to one in a higher station oflife, and who, had she been born in any other land but that of slavery, would have been respected and beloved. What would have been herfeelings if she could have known that the child for whose rescue she hadsacrificed herself would one day be free, honored, and loved in anotherland?

CHAPTER XVII. CLOTELLE

THE curtain rises seven years after the death of Isabella. During thatinterval, Henry, finding that nothing could induce his mother-in-law torelinquish her hold on poor little Clotelle, and not liking to contendwith one on whom a future fortune depended, gradually lost all interestin the child, and left her to her fate. 

Although Mrs. Miller treated Clotelle with a degree of harshnessscarcely equalled, when applied to one so tender in years, still thechild grew every day more beautiful, and her hair, though kept closelycut, seemed to have improved in its soft, silk-like appearance. Nowtwelve years of age, and more than usually well-developed, her harsh oldmistress began to view her with a jealous eye. 

Henry and Gertrude had just returned from Washington, where the husbandhad been on his duties as a member of Congress, and where he hadremained during the preceding three years without returning home. Itwas on a beautiful evening, just at twilight, while seated at his parlorwindow, that Henry saw a young woman pass by and go into the kitchen. Not aware of ever having seen the person before, he made an errand intothe cook's department to see who the girl was. He, however, met her inthe hall, as she was about going out. 

"Whom did you wish to see?" he inquired. 

"Miss Gertrude, " was the reply. 

"What did you want to see her for?" he again asked. 

"My mistress told me to give her and Master Henry her compliments, andask them to come over and spend the evening. "

"Who is your mistress?" he eagerly inquired. 

"Mrs. Miller, sir, " responded the girl. 

"And what's your name?" asked Henry, with a trembling voice. 

"Clotelle, sir, " was the reply. 

The astonished father stood completely amazed, looking at the nowwomanly form of her who, in his happier days, he had taken on his kneewith so much fondness and alacrity. It was then that he saw his ownand Isabella's features combined in the beautiful face that he was thenbeholding. It was then that he was carried back to the days when witha woman's devotion, poor Isabella hung about his neck and told him howlonely were the hours in his absence. He could stand it no longer. Tearsrushed to his eyes, and turning upon his heel, he went back to his ownroom. It was then that Isabella was revenged; and she no doubt lookedsmilingly down from her home in the spirit-land on the scene below. 

On Gertrude's return from her shopping tour, she found Henry in amelancholy mood, and soon learned its cause. As Gertrude had bornehim no children, it was but natural, that he should now feel hislove centering in Clotelle, and he now intimated to his wifehis determination to remove his daughter from the hands of hismother-in-law. 

When this news reached Mrs. Miller, through her daughter, she becamefurious with rage, and calling Clotelle into her room, stripped hershoulders bare and flogged her in the presence of Gertrude. 

It was nearly a week after the poor girl had been so severely whippedand for no cause whatever, that her father learned on the circumstancethrough one of the servants. With a degree of boldness unusual for him, he immediately went to his mother-in-law and demanded his child. Butit was too late, --she was gone. To what place she had been sent no onecould tell, and Mrs. Miller refused to give any information whateverrelative to the girl. 

It was then that Linwood felt deepest the evil of the institution underwhich he was living; for he knew that his daughter would be exposed toall the vices prevalent in that part of the country where marriage isnot recognized in connection with that class. 

CHAPTER XVIII. A SLAVE-HUNTING PARSON

IT was a delightful evening after a cloudless day, with the setting sunreflecting his golden rays on the surrounding hills which were coveredwith a beautiful greensward, and the luxuriant verdure that forms theconstant garb of the tropics, that the steamer Columbia ran into thedock at Natchez, and began unloading the cargo, taking in passengersand making ready to proceed on her voyage to New Orleans. The plankconnecting the boat with the shore had scarcely been secured in itsplace, when a good-looking man about fifty years of age, with a whiteneck-tie, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on, was seen hurrying onboard the vessel. Just at that moment could be seen a stout man with hisface fitted with the small-pox, making his way up to the above-mentionedgentleman. 

"How do you do, my dear sir? this is Mr. Wilson, I believe, " saidthe short man, at the same time taking from his mouth a large chew oftobacco, and throwing it down on the ship's deck. 

"You have the advantage of me, sir, " replied the tall man. 

"Why, don't you know me? My name is Jennings; I sold you a splendidnegro woman some years ago. "

"Yes, yes, " answered the Natchez man. "I remember you now, for the womandied in a few months, and I never got the worth of my money out of her. "

"I could not help that, " returned the slave-trader; "she was as sound asa roach when I sold her to you. "

"Oh, yes, " replied the parson, "I know she was; but now I want a younggirl, fit for house use, --one that will do to wait on a lady. "

"I am your man, " said Jennings, "just follow me, " continued he, "andI will show you the fairest little critter you ever saw. " And the twopassed to the stern of the boat to where the trader had between fiftyand sixty slaves, the greater portion being women. 

"There, " said Jennings, as a beautiful young woman shrunk back withmodesty. "There, sir, is the very gal that was made for you. If she hadbeen made to your order, she could not have suited you better. "

"Indeed, sir, is not that young woman white?" inquired the parson. 

"Oh, no, sir; she is no whiter than you see!"

"But is she a slave?" asked the preacher. 

"Yes, " said the trader, "I bought her in Richmond, and she comes from anexcellent family. She was raised by Squire Miller, and her mistress wasone of the most pious ladies in that city, I may say; she was the saltof the earth, as the ministers say. "

"But she resembles in some respect Agnes, the woman I bought from you, "said Mr. Wilson. As he said the name of Agnes, the young woman startedas if she had been struck. Her pulse seemed to quicken, but her facealternately flushed and turned pale, and tears trembled upon hereyelids. It was a name she had heard her mother mention, and it broughtto her memory those days, --those happy days, when she was so loved andcaressed. This young woman was Clotelle, the granddaughter of Agnes. The preacher, on learning the fact, purchased her, and took her home, feeling that his daughter Georgiana would prize her very highly. Clotelle found in Georgiana more a sister than a mistress, who, unknownto her father, taught the slave-girl how to read, and did much towardimproving and refining Clotelle's manners, for her own sake. Likeher mother fond of flowers, the "Virginia Maid, " as she was sometimescalled, spent many of her leisure hours in the garden. Beside theflowers which sprang up from the fertility of soil unplanted andunattended, there was the heliotrope, sweet-pea, and cup-rose, transplanted from the island of Cuba. In her new home Clotelle foundherself saluted on all sides by the fragrance of the magnolia. When shewent with her young mistress to the Poplar Farm, as she sometimes did, nature's wild luxuriance greeted her, wherever she cast her eyes. 

The rustling citron, lime, and orange, shady mango with its fruits ofgold, and the palmetto's umbrageous beauty, all welcomed the childof sorrow. When at the farm, Huckelby, the overseer, kept his eye onClotelle if within sight of her, for he knew she was a slave, and nodoubt hoped that she might some day fall into his hands. But she shrankfrom his looks as she would have done from the charm of the rattlesnake. The negro-driver always tried to insinuate himself into the good opinionof Georgiana and the company that she brought. Knowing that Miss Wilsonat heart hated slavery, he was ever trying to show that the slaves underhis charge were happy and contented. One day, when Georgiana and some ofher Connecticut friends were there, the overseer called all the slavesup to the "great house, " and set some of the young ones to dancing. After awhile whiskey was brought in and a dram given to each slave, inreturn for which they were expected to give a toast, or sing a shortpiece of his own composition; when it came to Jack's turn he said, --

"The big bee flies high, the little bee makes the honey: the black folksmake the cotton, and the white folks gets the money. "

Of course, the overseer was not at all elated with the sentimentcontained in Jack's toast. Mr. Wilson had lately purchased a young manto assist about the house and to act as coachman. This slave, whosename was Jerome, was of pure African origin, was perfectly black, veryfine-looking, tall, slim, and erect as any one could possibly be. Hisfeatures were not bad, lips thin, nose prominent, hands and feet small. His brilliant black eyes lighted up his whole countenance. His hair, which was nearly straight, hung in curls upon his lofty brow. GeorgeCombe or Fowler would have selected his head for a model. He was braveand daring, strong in person, fiery in spirit, yet kind and true in hisaffections, earnest in his doctrines. Clotelle had been at the parson'sbut a few weeks when it was observed that a mutual feeling had grownup between her and Jerome. As time rolled on, they became more and moreattached to each other. After satisfying herself that these two reallyloved, Georgiana advised their marriage. But Jerome contemplated hisescape at some future day, and therefore feared that if married it mightmilitate against it. He hoped, also, to be able to get Clotelle awaytoo, and it was this hope that kept him from trying to escape byhimself. Dante did not more love his Beatrice, Swift his Stella, Wallerhis Saccharissa, Goldsmith his Jessamy bride, or Burns his Mary, thandid Jerome his Clotelle. Unknown to her father, Miss Wilson couldpermit these two slaves to enjoy more privileges than any of the otherservants. The young mistress taught Clotelle, and the latter impartedher instructions to her lover, until both could read so as to be wellunderstood. Jerome felt his superiority, and always declared that nomaster should ever flog him. Aware of his high spirit and determination, Clotelle was in constant fear lest some difficulty might arise betweenher lover and his master. 

One day Mr. Wilson, being somewhat out of temper and irritated at whathe was pleased to call Jerome's insolence, ordered him to follow him tothe barn to be flogged. The young slave obeyed his master, but those whosaw him at the moment felt that he would not submit to be whipped. 

"No, sir, " replied Jerome, as his master told him to take off his coat:"I will serve you, Master Wilson, I will labor for you day and night, ifyou demand it, but I will not be whipped. "

This was too much for a white man to stand from a negro, and thepreacher seized his slave by the throat, intending to choke him. Butfor once he found his match. Jerome knocked him down, and then escapedthrough the back-yard to the street, and from thence to the woods. 

Recovering somewhat from the effect of his fall, the parson regained hisfeet and started in pursuit of the fugitive. Finding, however, that theslave was beyond his reach, he at once resolved to put the dogs on histrack. Tabor, the negro-catcher, was sent for, and in less than an hour, eight or ten men, including the parson, were in the woods with hounds, trying the trails. These dogs will attack a negro at their master'sbidding; and cling to him as the bull-dog will cling to a beast. Manyare the speculations as to whether the negro will be secured alive ordead, when these dogs once get on his track. Whenever there is to be anegro hunt, there is no lack of participants. Many go to enjoy the funwhich it is said they derive from these scenes. 

The company had been in the woods but a short time ere they go on thetrack of two fugitives, once of whom was Jerome. The slaves immediatelybent their steps toward the swamp, with the hope that the dogs, when putupon their scent would be unable to follow them through the water. 

The slaves then took a straight course for the Baton Rouge and BayouSara road, about four miles distant. Nearer and nearer the whimperingpack pressed; their delusion begins to dispel. All at once the truthflashes upon the minds of the fugitives like a glare of light, --'tisTabor with his dogs!

The scent becomes warmer and warmer, and what was at first an irregularcry now deepens into one ceaseless roar, as the relentless pack presseson after its human prey. 

They at last reach the river, and in the negroes plunge, followed by thecatch-dog. Jerome is caught and is once more in the hands of his master, while the other poor fellow finds a watery grave. They return, and thepreacher sends his slave to jail. 

CHAPTER XIX. THE TRUE HEROINE

IN vain did Georgiana try to console Clotelle, when the latter heard, through one of the other slaves, that Mr. Wilson had started with thedogs in pursuit of Jerome. The poor girl well knew that he would becaught, and that severe punishment, if not death, would be the result ofhis capture. It was therefore with a heart filled with the deepest griefthat the slave-girl heard the footsteps of her master on his return fromthe chase. The dogged and stern manner of the preacher forbade even hisdaughter inquiring as to the success of his pursuit. Georgiana secretlyhoped that the fugitive had not bee caught; she wished it for thesake of the slave, and more especially for her maid-servant, whom sheregarded more as a companion than a menial. But the news of the captureof Jerome soon spread through the parson's household, and found its wayto the ears of the weeping and heart-stricken Clotelle. 

The reverend gentleman had not been home more than an hour ere some ofhis parishioners called to know if they should not take the negro fromthe prison and execute _Lynch law_ upon him. 

"No negro should be permitted to live after striking a white man; let ustake him and hang him at once, " remarked an elderly-looking man, whosegray hairs thinly covered the crown of his head. 

"I think the deacon is right, " said another of the company; "if ourslaves are allowed to set the will of their masters at defiance, therewill be no getting along with them, --an insurrection will be the nextthing we hear of. "

"No, no, " said the preacher; "I am willing to let the law take itscourse, as it provides for the punishment of a slave with death if hestrikes his master. We had better let the court decide the question. Moreover, as a Christian and God-fearing people, we ought to submit tothe dictates of justice. Should we take this man's life by force, anAllwise Providence would hold us responsible for the act. "

The company then quietly withdrew, showing that the preacher had someinfluence with his people. 

"This, " said Mr. Wilson, when left alone with his daughter, --"this, mydear Georgiana, is the result of your kindness to the negroes. You havespoiled every one about the house. I can't whip one of them, withoutbeing in danger of having my life taken. "

"I am sure, papa, " replied the young lady, --"I am sure I never didany thing intentionally to induce any of the servants to disobey yourorders. "

"No, my dear, " said Mr. Wilson, "but you are too kind to them. Now, there is Clotelle, --that girl is completely spoiled. She walks about thehouse with as dignified an air as if she was mistress of the premises. By and by you will be sorry for this foolishness of yours. "

"But, " answered Georgiana, "Clotelle has a superior mind, and Godintended her to hold a higher position in life than that of a servant. "

"Yes, my dear, and it was your letting her know that she was intendedfor a better station in society that is spoiling her. Always keep anegro in ignorance of what you conceive to be his abilities, " returnedthe parson. 

It was late on the Saturday afternoon, following the capture of Jeromethat, while Mr. Wilson was seated in his study preparing his sermon forthe next day, Georgiana entered the room and asked in an excited tone ifit were true that Jerome was to hanged on the following Thursday. 

The minister informed her that such was the decision of the court. 

"Then, " said she, "Clotelle will die of grief. "

"What business has she to die of grief?" returned the father, his eyesat the moment flashing fire. 

"She has neither eaten nor slept since he was captured, " repliedGeorgiana; "and I am certain that she will not live through this. "

"I cannot be disturbed now, " said the parson; "I must get my sermonready for to-morrow. I expect to have some strangers to preach to, andmust, therefore, prepare a sermon that will do me credit. "

While the man of God spoke, he seemed to say to himself, --

 "With devotion's visage, and pious actions, We do sugar over the devil himself. "

Georgiana did all in her power to soothe the feelings of Clotelle, and to induce her to put her trust in God. Unknown to her father, sheallowed the poor girl to go every evening to the jail to see Jerome, and during these visits, despite her own grief, Clotelle would try tocomfort her lover with the hope that justice would be meted out to himin the spirit-land. 

Thus the time passed on, and the day was fast approaching when the slavewas to die. Having heard that some secret meeting had been held by thenegroes, previous to the attempt of Mr. Wilson to flog his slave, it occurred to a magistrate that Jerome might know something of theintended revolt. He accordingly visited the prison to see if he couldlearn anything from him, but all to no purpose. Having given up allhopes of escape, Jerome had resolved to die like a brave man. Whenquestioned as to whether he knew anything of a conspiracy among theslaves against their masters, he replied, --

"Do you suppose that I would tell you if I did?"

"But if you know anything, " remarked the magistrate, "and will tell us, you may possibly have your life spared. "

"Life, " answered the doomed man, "is worth nought to a slave. Whatright has a slave to himself, his wife, or his children? We are kept inheathenish darkness, by laws especially enacted to make our instructiona criminal offence; and our bones, sinews, blood, and nerves are exposedin the market for sale. 

"My liberty is of as much consequence to me as Mr. Wilson's is to him. I am as sensitive to feeling as he. If I mistake not, the day will comewhen the negro will learn that he can get his freedom by fighting forit; and should that time arrive, the whites will be sorry that they havehated us so shamefully. I am free to say that, could I live my life overagain, I would use all the energies which God has given me to get up aninsurrection. "

Every one present seemed startled and amazed at the intelligence withwhich this descendant of Africa spoke. 

"He's a very dangerous man, " remarked one. 

"Yes, " said another, "he got some book-learning somewhere, and that hasspoiled him. "

An effort was then made to learn from Jerome where he had learned toread, but the black refused to give any information on the subject. 

The sun was just going down behind the trees as Clotelle entered theprison to see Jerome for the last time. He was to die on the next day. Her face was bent upon her hands, and the gushing tears were forcingtheir way through her fingers. With beating heart and trembling hands, evincing the deepest emotion, she threw her arms around her lover's neckand embraced him. But, prompted by her heart's unchanging love, she hadin her own mind a plan by which she hoped to effect the escape of himto whom she had pledged her heart and hand. While the overcharged cloudswhich had hung over the city during the day broke, and the rain fellin torrents, amid the most terrific thunder and lightning, Clotellerevealed to Jerome her plan for his escape. 

"Dress yourself in my clothes, " said she, "and you can easily pass thejailer. "

This Jerome at first declined doing. He did not wish to place aconfiding girl in a position where, in all probability, she would haveto suffer; but being assured by the young girl that her life would notbe in danger, he resolved to make the attempt. Clotelle being very tall, it was not probably that the jailer would discover any difference inthem. 

At this moment, she took from her pocket a bunch of keys and unfastenedthe padlock, and freed him from the floor. 

"Come, girl, it is time for you to go, " said the jailer, as Jerome washolding the almost fainting girl by the hand. 

Being already attired in Clotelle's clothes, the disguised man embracedthe weeping girl, put his handkerchief to his face, and passed out ofthe jail, without the keeper's knowing that his prisoner was escaping ina disguise and under cover of the night. 

CHAPTER XX. THE HERO OF MANY ADVENTURES

JEROME had scarcely passed the prison-gates, ere he reproached himselffor having taken such a step. There seemed to him no hope of escape outof the State, and what was a few hours or days at most, of life to him, when, by obtaining it, another had been sacrificed. He was on the eveof returning, when he thought of the last words uttered by Clotelle. "Be brave and determined, and you will still be free. " The words soundedlike a charm in his ears and he went boldly forward. 

Clotelle had provided a suit of men's clothes and had placed them whereher lover could get them, if he should succeed in getting out. 

Returning to Mr. Wilson's barn, the fugitive changed his apparel, andagain retraced his steps into the street. To reach the Free States bytravelling by night and lying by during the day, from a State so farsouth as Mississippi, no one would think for a moment of attempting toescape. To remain in the city would be a suicidal step. The deep soundof the escape of steam from a boat, which was at that moment ascendingthe river, broke upon the ears of the slave. "If that boat is goingup the river, " said he, "why not I conceal myself on board, and try toescape?" He went at once to the steamboat landing, where the boat wasjust coming in. "Bound for Louisville, " said the captain, to one whowas making inquiries. As the passengers were rushing on board, Jeromefollowed them, and proceeding to where some of the hands were stowingaway bales of goods, he took hold and aided them. 

"Jump down into the hold, there, and help the men, " said the mate to thefugitive, supposing that, like many persons, he was working his wayup the river. Once in the hull among the boxes, the slave concealedhimself. Weary hours, and at last days, passed without either water orfood with the hidden slave. More than once did he resolve to let hiscase be known; but the knowledge that he would be sent back to Natchezkept him from doing so. At last, with lips parched and fevered toa crisp, the poor man crawled out into the freight-room, and beganwandering about. The hatches were on, and the room dark. There happenedto be on board a wedding party, and a box, containing some of the bridalcake, with several bottles of port wine, was near Jerome. He found thebox, opened it, and helped himself. In eight days, the boat tied up atthe wharf at the place of her destination. It was late at night; theboat's crew, with the single exception of the man on watch, were onshore. The hatches were off, and the fugitive quietly made his way ondeck and jumped on shore. The man saw the fugitive, but too late toseize him. 

Still in a Slave State, Jerome was at a loss to know how he shouldproceed. He had with him a few dollars, enough to pay his way to Canada, if he could find a conveyance. The fugitive procured such food as hewanted from one of the many eating-houses, and then, following thedirection of the North Star, he passed out of the city, and took theroad leading to Covington. Keeping near the Ohio River, Jerome soonfound an opportunity to cross over into the State of Indiana. Butliberty was a mere name in the latter State, and the fugitive learned, from some colored persons that he met, that it was not safe to travel bydaylight. While making his way one night, with nothing to cheer him butthe prospect of freedom in the future, he was pounced upon by three menwho were lying in wait for another fugitive, an advertisement of whomthey had received through the mail. In vain did Jerome tell them that hewas not a slave. True, they had not caught the man they expected; but, if they could make this slave tell from what place he had escaped, theyknew that a good price would be paid them for the negro's arrest. 

Tortured by the slave-catchers, to make him reveal the name of hismaster and the place from whence he had escaped, Jerome gave them afictitious name in Virginia, and said that his master would give a largereward, and manifested a willingness to return to his "old boss. " Bythis misrepresentation, the fugitive hoped to have another chance ofgetting away. Allured with the prospect of a large sum of the needful, the slave-catchers started back with their victim. Stopping on thesecond night at an inn, on the banks of the Ohio River, the kidnappers, in lieu of a suitable place in which to confine their prize during thenight, chained him to the bed-post of their sleeping-chamber. The whitemen were late in retiring to rest, after an evening spent in drinking. At dead of night, when all was still, the slave arose from the floor, upon which he had been lying, looked around and saw that Morpheus hadpossession of his captors. For once, thought he, the brandy bottle hasdone a noble work. With palpitating heart and trembling limbs, he viewedhis position. The door was fast, but the warm weather had compelled themto leave the window open. If he could but get his chains off, he mightescape through the window to the piazza. The sleepers' clothes hung uponchairs by the bedside. The slave thought of the padlock-key, examinedthe pockets, and found it. The chains were soon off, and the negrostealthily making his way to the window. He stopped, and said tohimself, "These men are villains; they are enemies to all who, likeme, are trying to be free. Then why not I teach them a lesson?" He thendressed himself in the best suit, hung his own worn-out and tatteredgarments on the same chair, and silently passed through the window tothe piazza, and let himself down by one of the pillars, and started oncemore for the North. 

Daylight came upon the fugitive before he had selected a hiding-placefor the day, and he was walking at a rapid rate, in hopes of soonreaching some woodland or forest. The sun had just begun to show itself, when the fugitive was astounded at seeing behind him, in the distance, two men upon horseback. Taking a road to the right, the slave saw beforehim a farmhouse, and so near was he to it that he observed two men infront of it looking at him. It was too late to turn back. The kidnapperswere behind him--strange men before him. Those in the rear he knew to beenemies, while he had no idea of what principles were the farmers. Thelatter also saw the white men coming, and called to the fugitive to comethat way. The broad-brimmed hats that the farmers wore told the slavethat they were Quakers. 

Jerome had seen some of these people passing up and down the river, whenemployed on a steamer between Natchez and New Orleans, and hadheard that they disliked slavery. He, therefore, hastened toward thedrab-coated men, who, on his approach, opened the barn-door, and toldhim to "run in. "

When Jerome entered the barn, the two farmers closed the door, remainingoutside themselves, to confront the slave-catchers, who now came up anddemanded admission, feeling that they had their prey secure. 

"The can't enter my premises, " said one of the Friends, in rather amusical voice. 

The negro-catchers urged their claim to the slave, and intimated that, unless they were allowed to secure him, they would force their way in. By this time, several other Quakers had gathered around the barn-door. Unfortunately for the kidnappers, and most fortunately for thefugitive, the Friends had just been holding a quarterly meeting in theneighborhood, and a number of them had not yet returned to their homes. After some talk, the men in drab promised to admit the hunters, providedthey procured an officer and a search-warrant from a justice of thepeace. One of the slave-catchers was left to see that the fugitive didnot get away, while the others went in pursuit of an officer. In themean time, the owner of the barn sent for a hammer and nails, and begannailing up the barn-door. 

After an hour in search of the man of the law, they returned with anofficer and a warrant. The Quaker demanded to see the paper, and, afterlooking at it for some time, called to his son to go into the house forhis glasses. It was a long time before Aunt Ruth found the leather case, and when she did, the glasses wanted wiping before they could be used. After comfortably adjusting them on his nose, he read the warrant overleisurely. 

"Come, Mr. Dugdale, we can't wait all day, " said the officer. 

"Well, will thee read it for me?" returned the Quaker. 

The officer complied, and the man in drab said, --

"Yes, thee may go in, now. I am inclined to throw no obstacles in theway of the execution of the law of the land. "

On approaching the door, the men found some forty or fifty nails in it, in the way of their progress. 

"Lend me your hammer and a chisel, if you please, Mr. Dugdale, " said theofficer. 

"Please read that paper over again, will thee?" asked the Quaker. 

The officer once more read the warrant. 

"I see nothing there which says I must furnish thee with tools to openmy door. If thee wants a hammer, thee must go elsewhere for it; I tellthee plainly, thee can't have mine. "

The implements for opening the door are at length obtained, and, afteranother half-hour, the slave-catchers are in the barn. Three hours is along time for a slave to be in the hands of Quakers. The hay is turnedover, and the barn is visited in every part; but still the runaway isnot found. Uncle Joseph has a glow upon his countenance; Ephraim shakeshis head knowingly; little Elijah is a perfect know-nothing, and, if youlook toward the house, you will see Aunt Ruth's smiling face, ready toannounce that breakfast is ready. 

"The nigger is not in this barn, " said the officer. 

"I know he is not, " quietly answered the Quaker. 

"What were you nailing up your door for, then, as if you were afraid wewould enter?" inquired one of the kidnappers. 

"I can do what I please with my own door, can't I, " said the Quaker. 

The secret was out; the fugitive had gone in at the front door and outat the back; and the reading of the warrant, nailing up of the door, and other preliminaries of the Quaker, was to give the fugitive time andopportunity to escape. 

It was now late in the morning, and the slave-catchers were a long wayfrom home, and the horses were jaded by the rapid manner in which theyhad travelled. The Friends, in high glee, returned to the house forbreakfast; the man of the law, after taking his fee, went home, and thekidnappers turned back, muttering, "Better luck next time. "

CHAPTER XXI. SELF-SACRIFICE

NOW in her seventeenth year, Clotelle's personal appearance presented agreat contrast to the time when she lived with old Mrs. Miller. Her talland well-developed figure; her long, silky black hair, falling incurls down her swan-like neck; her bright, black eyes lighting up herolive-tinted face, and a set of teeth that a Tuscarora might envy, shewas a picture of tropical-ripened beauty. At times, there was a heavenlysmile upon her countenance, which would have warmed the heart of ananchorite. Such was the personal appearance of the girl who was now inprison by her own act to save the life of another. Would she be hangedin his stead, or would she receive a different kind of punishment? Thesequestions Clotelle did not ask herself. Open, frank, free, and generousto a fault, she always thought of others, never of her own welfare. 

The long stay of Clotelle caused some uneasiness to Miss Wilson; yet shedared not tell her father, for he had forbidden the slave-girl's goingto the prison to see her lover. While the clock on the church near bywas striking eleven, Georgiana called Sam, and sent him to the prison insearch of Clotelle. 

"The girl went away from here at eight o'clock, " was the jailer's answerto the servant's inquiries. 

The return of Sam without having found the girl saddened the heart ofthe young mistress. "Sure, then, " said she, "the poor, heartbroken thinghas made way with herself. "

Still, she waited till morning before breaking the news of Clotelle'sabsence to her father. 

The jailer discovered, the next morning, to his utter astonishment, thathis prisoner was white instead of black, and his first impression wasthat the change of complexion had taken place during the night, throughfear of death. But this conjecture was soon dissipated; for the dark, glowing eyes, the sable curls upon the lofty brow, and the mild, sweetvoice that answered his questions, informed him that the prisoner beforehim was another being. 

On learning, in the morning, that Clotelle was in jail dressed in maleattire, Miss Wilson immediately sent clothes to her to make a change inher attire. News of the heroic and daring act of the slave-girl spreadthrough the city with electric speed. 

"I will sell every nigger on the place, " said the parson, at thebreakfast-table, --"I will sell them all, and get a new lot, and whipthem every day. "

Poor Georgiana wept for the safety of Clotelle, while she felt glad thatJerome had escaped. In vain did they try to extort from the girl thewhereabouts of the man whose escape she had effected. She was not awarethat he had fled on a steamer, and when questioned, she replied, --

"I don't know; and if I did I would not tell you. I care not what you dowith me, if Jerome but escapes. "

The smile with which she uttered these words finely illustrated thepoet's meaning, when he says, --

 "A fearful gift upon they heart is laid, Woman--the power to suffer and to love. "

Her sweet simplicity seemed to dare them to lay their rough hands amidher trembling curls. 

Three days did the heroic young woman remain in prison, to be gazed atby an unfeeling crowd, drawn there out of curiosity. The intelligencecame to her at last that the court had decided to spare her life, oncondition that she should be whipped, sold, and sent out of the Statewithin twenty-four hours. 

This order of the court she would have cared but little for, had she notbeen sincerely attached to her young mistress. 

"Do try and sell her to some one who will use her well, " said Georgianato her father, as he was about taking his hat to leave the house. 

"I shall not trouble myself to do any such thing, " replied thehard-hearted parson. "I leave the finding of a master for her with theslave-dealer. "

Bathed in tears, Miss Wilson paced her room in the absence of herfather. For many months Georgiana had been in a decline, and any littletrouble would lay her on a sick bed for days. She was, therefore, poorlyable to bear the loss of this companion, whom she so dearly loved. 

Mr. Wilson had informed his daughter that Clotelle was to be flogged;and when Felice came in and informed her mistress that the poor girl hadjust received fifty lashes on her bare person, the young lady faintedand fell on the floor. The servants placed their mistress on the sofa, and went in pursuit of their master. Little did the preacher think, onreturning to his daughter, that he should soon be bereft of her; yetsuch was to be his lot. A blood-vessel had been ruptured, and the threephysicians who were called in told the father that he must prepare tolose his child. That moral courage and calmness, which was her greatcharacteristic, did not forsake Georgiana in her hour of death. Shehad ever been kind to the slaves under her charge, and they loved andrespected her. At her request, the servants were all brought into herroom, and took a last farewell of their mistress. Seldom, if ever, wasthere witnessed a more touching scene than this. There lay the youngwoman, pale and feeble, with death stamped upon her countenance, surrounded by the sons and daughters of Africa, some of whom had beenseparated from every earthly tie, and the most of whose persons had beentorn and gashed by the negro-whip. Some were upon their knees at thebedside, others standing around, and all weeping. 

Death is a leveler; and neither age, sex, wealth, nor condition, canavert when he is permitted to strike. The most beautiful flowersmust soon fade and droop and die. So, also, with man; his days are asuncertain as the passing breeze. This hour he glows in the blush ofhealth and vigor, but the next, he may be counted with the number nomore known on earth. Oh, what a silence pervaded the house when thisyoung flower was gone! In the midst of the buoyancy of youth, thischerished one had dropped and died. Deep were the sounds of grief andmourning heard in that stately dwelling when the stricken friends, whoseoffice it had been to nurse and soothe the weary sufferer, beheld herpale and motionless in the sleep of death. 

Who can imagine the feeling with which poor Clotelle received theintelligence of her kind friend's death? The deep gashes of the cruelwhip had prostrated the lovely form of the quadroon, and she lay uponher bed of straw in the dark cell. The speculator had brought her, buthad postponed her removal till she should recover. Her benefactress wasdead, and--

 "Hope withering fled, and mercy sighed farewell. "

"Is Jerome safe?" she would ask herself continually. If her lover couldhave but known of the sufferings of that sweet flower, --that polyanthusover which he had so often been in his dreams, --he would then havelearned that she was worthy of his love. 

It was more than a fortnight before the slave-trader could take hisprize to more comfortable quarters. Like Alcibiades, who defacedthe images of the gods and expected to be pardoned on the ground ofeccentricity, so men who abuse God's image hope to escape the vengeanceof his wrath under the plea that the law sanctions their atrociousdeeds. 

CHAPTER XXII. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT AND WHAT FOLLOWED

IT was a beautiful Sunday in September, with a cloudless sky, and therays of the sun parching the already thirsty earth, that Clotelle stoodat an upper window in Slater's slave-pen in New Orleans, gasping fora breath of fresh air. The bells of thirty churches were calling thepeople to the different places of worship. Crowds were seen wendingtheir way to the houses of God; one followed by a negro boy carryinghis master's Bible; another followed by her maid-servant holding themistress' fan; a third supporting an umbrella over his master's headto shield him from the burning sun. Baptists immersed, Presbyterianssprinkled, Methodists shouted, and Episcopalians read their prayers, while ministers of the various sects preached that Christ died for all. The chiming of the bells seemed to mock the sighs and deep groans of theforty human beings then incarcerated in the slave-pen. These imprisonedchildren of God were many of them Methodists, some Baptists, and othersclaiming to believe in the faith of the Presbyterians and Episcopalians. 

Oh, with what anxiety did these creatures await the close of thatSabbath, and the dawn of another day, that should deliver them fromthose dismal and close cells. Slowly the day passed away, and oncemore the evening breeze found its way through the barred windows of theprison that contained these injured sons and daughters of America. 

The clock on the calaboose had just struck nine on Monday morning, when hundreds of persons were seen threading the gates and doors of thenegro-pen. It was the same gang that had the day previous been steppingto the tune and keeping time with the musical church bells. Their Bibleswere not with them, their prayer-books were left at home, and even theirlong and solemn faces had been laid aside for the week. They had cometo the man-market to make their purchases. Methodists were in search oftheir brethren. Baptists were looking for those that had been immersed, while Presbyterians were willing to buy fellow-Christians, whethersprinkled or not. The crowd was soon gazing at and feasting their eyesupon the lovely features of Clotelle. 

"She is handsomer, " muttered one to himself, "than the lady that sat inthe pew next to me yesterday. "

"I would that my daughter was half so pretty, " thinks a second. 

Groups are seen talking in every part of the vast building, and thetopic on 'Change, is the "beautiful quadroon. " By and by, a tall youngman with a foreign face, the curling mustache protruding from under afinely-chiseled nose, and having the air of a gentleman, passes by. Hisdark hazel eye is fastened on the maid, and he stops for a moment; thestranger walks away, but soon returns--he looks, he sees the young womanwipe away the silent tear that steals down her alabaster cheek; hefeels ashamed that he should gaze so unmanly on the blushing face of thewoman. As he turns upon his heel he takes out his white handkerchief andwipes his eyes. It may be that he has lost a sister, a mother, or somedear one to whom he was betrothed. Again he comes, and the quadroonhides her face. She has heard that foreigners make bad masters, and sheshuns his piercing gaze. Again he goes away and then returns. He takes alast look and then walks hurriedly off. 

The day wears away, but long before the time of closing the salethe tall young man once more enters the slave-pen. He looks in everydirection for the beautiful slave, but she is not there--she has beensold! He goes to the trader and inquires, but he is too late, and hetherefore returns to his hotel. 

Having entered a military school in Paris when quite young, and soonafter been sent with the French army to India, Antoine Devenant hadnever dabbled in matters of love. He viewed all women from the samestand-point--respected them for their virtues, and often spoke of thegoodness of heart of the sex, but never dreamed of taking to himself awife. The unequalled beauty of Clotelle had dazzled his eyes, andevery look that she gave was a dagger that went to his heart. He felt ashortness of breath, his heart palpitated, his head grew dizzy, and hislimbs trembled; but he knew not its cause. This was the first stage of"love at first sight. "

He who bows to the shrine of beauty when beckoned by this mysteriousagent seldom regrets it. Devenant reproached himself for not having madeinquiries concerning the girl before he left the market in the morning. His stay in the city was to be short, and the yellow fever was raging, which caused him to feel like making a still earlier departure. Thedisease appeared in a form unusually severe and repulsive. It seizedits victims from amongst the most healthy of the citizens. The disorderbegan in the brain by oppressive pain accompanied or followed by fever. Fiery veins streaked the eye, the face was inflamed and dyed of a darkdull red color; the ears from time to time rang painfully. Now mucoussecretions surcharged the tongue and took away the power of speech; nowthe sick one spoke, but in speaking had foresight of death. When theviolence of the disease approached the heart, the gums were blackened. The sleep broken, troubled by convulsions, or by frightful visions, wasworse than the waking hours; and when the reason sank under a deliriumwhich had its seat in the brain, repose utterly forsook the patient'scouch. The progress of the fever within was marked by yellowish spots, which spread over the surface of the body. If then, a happy crisis camenot, all hope was gone. Soon the breath infected the air with a fetidodor, the lips were glazed, despair painted itself in the eyes, andsobs, with long intervals of silence, formed the only language. Fromeach side of the mouth, spread foam tinged with black and burnt blood. Blue streaks mingled with the yellow all over the frame. All remedieswere useless. This was the yellow fever. The disorder spread alarm andconfusion throughout the city. On an average more than four hundred dieddaily. In the midst of disorder and confusion, death heaped victimson victims. Friend followed friend in quick succession. The sick wereavoided from the fear of contagion, and for the same reason the deadwere left unburied. Nearly two thousand dead bodies lay uncovered in theburial-ground, with only here and there a little lime thrown over them, to prevent the air becoming infected. The negro, whose home is in ahot climate, was not proof against the disease. Many plantations had tosuspend their work for want of slaves to take the places of those whohad been taken off by the fever. 

CHAPTER XXIII. MEETING OF THE COUSINS

THE clock in the hall had scarcely finished striking three when Mr. Taylor entered his own dwelling, a fine residence in Camp Street, NewOrleans, followed by the slave-girl whom he had just purchased at thenegro-pen. Clotelle looked around wildly as she passed through the hallinto the presence of her new mistress. Mrs. Taylor was much pleased withher servant's appearance, and congratulated her husband on his judiciouschoice. 

"But, " said Mrs. Taylor, after Clotelle had gone into the kitchen, "howmuch she looks like Miss Jane Morton. "

"Indeed, " replied the husband, "I thought, the moment I saw her that shelooked like the Mortons. "

"I am sure I never saw two faces more alike in my life, than that girl'sand Jane Morton's, " continued Mrs. Taylor. 

Dr. Morton, the purchaser of Marion, the youngest daughter of Agnes, andsister to Isabella, had resided in Camp Street, near the Taylors, formore than eight years, and the families were on very intimate terms, and visited each other frequently. Every one spoke of Clotelle's closeresemblance to the Mortons, and especially to the eldest daughter. Indeed, two sisters could hardly have been more alike. The large, darkeyes, black, silk-like hair, tall, graceful figure, and mould of theface, were the same. 

The morning following Clotelle's arrival in her new home, Mrs. Taylorwas conversing in a low tone with her husband, and both with their eyesfollowing Clotelle as she passed through the room. 

"She is far above the station of a slave, " remarked the lady. "I sawher, last night, when removing some books, open on and stand over it amoment as if she was reading; and she is as white as I am. I am almostsorry you bought her. "

At this juncture the front door-bell rang, and Clotelle hurried throughthe room to answer it. 

"Miss Morton, " said the servant as she returned to the mistress' room. 

"Ask her to walk in, " responded the mistress. 

"Now, my dear, " said Mrs. Taylor to her husband, "just look and see ifyou do not notice a marked resemblance between the countenances of Janeand Clotelle. "

Miss Morton entered the room just as Mrs. Taylor ceased speaking. 

"Have you heard that the Jamisons are down with the fever?" inquired theyoung lady, after asking about the health of the Taylors. 

"No, I had not; I was in hopes it would not get into our street, "replied Mrs. Taylor. 

 All this while Mr. And Mrs. Taylor were keenly scrutinizingtheir visitor and Clotelle and even the two young women seemed to beconscious that they were in some way the objects of more than usualattention. 

Miss Morton had scarcely departed before Mrs. Taylor began questioningClotelle concerning her early childhood, and became more than eversatisfied that the slave-girl was in some way connected with theMortons. 

Every hour brought fresh news of the ravages of the fever, and theTaylors commenced preparing to leave town. As Mr. Taylor could not goat once, it was determined that his wife should leave without him, accompanied by her new maid-servant. Just as Mrs. Taylor and Clotellewere stepping into the carriage, they were informed that Dr. Morton wasdown with the epidemic. 

It was a beautiful day, with a fine breeze for the time of year, that Mrs. Taylor and her servant found themselves in the cabin of thesplendid new steamer "Walk-in-the-Water, " bound from New Orleans toMobile. Every berth in the boat was occupied by persons fleeing from thefearful contagion that was carrying off its hundreds daily. 

Late in the day, as Clotelle was standing at one of the windows of theladies' saloon, she was astonished to see near her, and with eyes fixedintently upon her, the tall young stranger whom she had observed in theslave-market a few days before. She turned hastily away, but the heatedcabin and the want of fresh air soon drove her again to the window. Theyoung gentleman again appeared, and coming to the end of the saloon, spoke to the slave-girl in broken English. This confirmed her in herprevious opinion that he was a foreigner, and she rejoiced that she hadnot fallen into his hands. 

"I want to talk with you, " said the stranger. 

"What do you want with me?" she inquired. "I am your friend, " heanswered. "I saw you in the slave-market last week, and regretted that Idid not speak to you then. I returned in the evening, but you was gone. "

Clotelle looked indignantly at the stranger, and was about leaving thewindow again when the quivering of his lips and the trembling of hisvoice struck her attention and caused her to remain. 

"I intended to buy you and make you free and happy, but I was too late, "continued he. 

"Why do you wish to make me free?" inquired the girl. 

"Because I once had an only and lovely sister, who died three yearsago in France, and you are so much like her that had I not known of herdeath I should certainly have taken you for her. "

"However much I may resemble your sister, you are aware that I am notshe; why, then, take so much interest in one whom you have never seenbefore and may never see again?"

"The love, " said he, "which I had for my sister is transferred to you. "

Clotelle had all along suspected that the man was a knave, and thisprofession of love at once confirmed her in that belief. She thereforeimmediately turned away and left him. 

Hours elapsed. Twilight was just "letting down her curtain and pinningit with a star, " as the slave-girl seated herself on a sofa by thewindow, and began meditating upon her eventful history, meanwhilewatching the white waves as they seemed to sport with each other in thewake of the noble vessel, with the rising moon reflecting its silverrays upon the splendid scene, when the foreigner once more appearednear the window. Although agitated for fear her mistress would see hertalking to a stranger, and be angry, Clotelle still thought she sawsomething in the countenance of the young man that told her he wassincere, and she did not wish to hurt his feelings. 

"Why persist in your wish to talk with me?" she said, as he againadvanced and spoke to her. 

"I wish to purchase you and make you happy, " returned he. 

"But I am not for sale now, " she replied. "My present mistress will notsell me, and if you wished to do so ever so much you could not. "

"Then, " said he, "if I cannot buy you, when the steamer reaches Mobile, fly with me, and you shall be free. "

"I cannot do it, " said Clotelle; and she was just leaving the strangerwhen he took from his pocket a piece of paper and thrust it into herhand. 

After returning to her room, she unfolded the paper, and found, to herutter astonishment that it contained a one hundred dollar note on theBank of the United States. The first impulse of the girl was to returnthe paper and its contents immediately to the giver, but examining thepaper more closely, she saw in faint pencil-marks, "Remember this isfrom one who loves you. " Another thought was to give it to her mistress, and she returned to the saloon for that purpose; but on finding Mrs. Taylor engaged in conversation with some ladies, she did not deem itproper to interrupt her. 

Again, therefore, Clotelle seated herself by the window, and again thestranger presented himself. She immediately took the paper from herpocket, and handed it to him; but he declined taking it, saying, --

"No, keep it; it may be of some service to you when I am far away. "

"Would that I could understand you, " said the slave. 

"Believe that I am sincere, and then you will understand me, " returnedthe young man. "Would you rather be a slave than be free?" inquired he, with tears that glistened in the rays of the moon. 

"No, " said she, "I want my freedom, but I must live a virtuous life. "

"Then, if you would be free and happy, go with me. We shall be in Mobilein two hours, and when the passengers are going on shore, you take myarm. Have your face covered with a veil, and you will not be observed. We will take passage immediately for France; you can pass as my sister, and I pledge you my honor that I will marry you as soon as we arrive inFrance. "

This solemn promise, coupled with what had previously been said, gaveClotelle confidence in the man, and she instantly determined to go withhim. "But then, " thought she, "what if I should be detected? I would beforever ruined, for I would be sold, and in all probability have to endmy days on a cotton, rice, or sugar plantation. " However, the thought offreedom in the future outweighed this danger, and her resolve was taken. 

Dressing herself in some of her best clothes, and placing her veiledbonnet where she could get it without the knowledge of her mistress, Clotelle awaited with a heart filled with the deepest emotions andanxiety the moment when she was to take a step which seemed so rash, andwhich would either make or ruin her forever. 

The ships which Mobile for Europe lie about thirty miles down thebay, and passengers are taken down from the city in small vessels. The"Walk-in-the-Water" had just made her lines fast, and the passengerswere hurrying on shore, when a tall gentleman with a lady at his sidedescended the stage-plank, and stepped on the wharf. This was AntoineDevenant and Clotelle. 

CHAPTER XXIV. THE LAW AND ITS VICTIM

THE death of Dr. Morton, on the third day of his illness, came likea shock upon his wife and daughters. The corpse had scarcely beencommitted to its mother earth before new and unforeseen difficultiesappeared to them. By the laws of the Slave States, the children followthe condition of their mother. If the mother is free, the children arefree; if a slave, the children are slaves. Being unacquainted with theSouthern code, and no one presuming that Marion had any negro blood inher veins, Dr. Morton had not given the subject a single thought. Thewoman whom he loved and regarded as his wife was, after all, nothingmore than a slave by the laws of the State. What would have been hisfeelings had he known that at his death his wife and children wouldbe considered as his property? Yet such was the case. Like most men ofmeans at that time, Dr. Morton was deeply engaged in speculation, andthough generally considered wealthy, was very much involved in hisbusiness affairs. 

After the disease with which Dr. Morton had so suddenly died had to someextent subsided, Mr. James Morton, a brother of the deceased, wentto New Orleans to settle up the estate. On his arrival there, he waspleased with and felt proud of his nieces, and invited them to returnwith him to Vermont, little dreaming that his brother had married aslave, and that his widow and daughters would be claimed as such. Thegirls themselves had never heard that their mother had been a slave, andtherefore knew nothing of the danger hanging over their heads. 

An inventory of the property of the deceased was made out by Mr. Morton, and placed in the hands of the creditors. These preliminaries beingarranged, the ladies, with their relative, concluded to leave the cityand reside for a few days on the banks of Lake Ponchartrain, where theycould enjoy a fresh air that the city did not afford. As they wereabout taking the cars, however, an officer arrested the whole party--theladies as slaves, and the gentleman upon the charge of attempting toconceal the property of his deceased brother. Mr. Morton was overwhelmedwith horror at the idea of his nieces being claimed as slaves, and askedfor time, that he might save them from such a fate. He even offeredto mortgage his little farm in Vermont for the amount which youngslave-women of their ages would fetch. But the creditors pleaded thatthey were an "extra article, " and would sell for more than commonslaves, and must therefore be sold at auction. 

The uncle was therefore compelled to give them up to the officers of thelaw, and they were separated from him. Jane, the oldest of the girls, aswe have before mentioned, was very handsome, bearing a close resemblanceto her cousin Clotelle. Alreka, though not as handsome as her sister, was nevertheless a beautiful girl, and both had all the accomplishmentsthat wealth and station could procure. 

Though only in her fifteen year, Alreka had become strongly attached toVolney Lapie, a young Frenchman, a student in her father's office. Thisattachment was reciprocated, although the poverty of the young man andthe extreme youth of the girl had caused their feelings to be kept fromthe young lady's parents. 

The day of sale came, and Mr. Morton attended, with the hope that eitherthe magnanimity of the creditors or his own little farm in Vermont mightsave his nieces from the fate that awaited them. His hope, however, wasin vain. The feelings of all present seemed to be lost in the generalwish to become the possessor of the young ladies, who stood trembling, blushing, and weeping as the numerous throng gazed at them, or as theintended purchaser examined the graceful proportions of their fair andbeautiful frames. Neither the presence of the uncle nor young Lapiecould at all lessen the gross language of the officers, or stay the rudehands of those who wishes to examine the property thus offered for sale. After a fierce contest between the bidders, the girls were sold, one fortwo thousand three hundred, and the other for two thousand three hundredand fifty dollars. Had these girls been bought for servants only, theywould in all probability have brought not more than nine hundred or athousand dollars each. Here were two beautiful young girls, accustomedto the fondest indulgence, surrounded by all the refinements of life, and with the timidity and gentleness which such a life would naturallyproduce, bartered away like cattle in the markets of Smithfield or NewYork. 

The mother, who was also to have been sold, happily followed her husbandto the grave, and was spared the pangs of a broken heart. 

The purchaser of the young ladies left the market in triumph, and theuncle, with a heavy heart, started for his New England home, with noearthly prospect of ever beholding his nieces again. 

The seizure of the young ladies as slaves was the result of theadministrator's having found among Dr. Morton's papers the bill-of-saleof Marion which he had taken when he purchased her. He had doubtlessintended to liberate her when he married her, but had neglected fromtime to time to have the proper papers made out. Sad was the result ofthis negligence. 

CHAPTER XXV. THE FLIGHT

ON once gaining the wharf, Devenant and Clotelle found no difficulty insecuring an immediate passage to France. The fine packet-ship Utica laydown the bay, and only awaited the return of the lighter that night tocomplete her cargo and list of passengers, ere she departed. The youngFrenchman therefore took his prize on board, and started for the ship. 

Daylight was just making its appearance the next morning when the Uticaweighed anchor and turned her prow toward the sea. In the course ofthree hours, the vessel, with outspread sails, was rapidly flying fromland. Everything appeared to be auspicious. The skies were beautifullyclear, and the sea calm, with a sun that dazzled the whole scene. Butclouds soon began to chase each other through the heavens, and the seabecame rough. It was then that Clotelle felt that there was hoped ofescaping. She had hitherto kept in the cabin, but now she expressed awish to come on deck. The hanging clouds were narrowing the horizon toa span, and gloomily mingling with the rising surges. The old andgrave-looking seamen shook their weather-wise heads as if foretelling astorm. 

As Clotelle came on deck, she strained her eyes in vain to catch afarewell view of her native land. With a smile on her countenance, butwith her eyes filled with tears, she said, --

"Farewell, farewell to the land of my birth, and welcome, welcome, yedark blue waves. I care not where I go, so it is

 'Where a tyrant never trod, Where a slave was never known, But where nature worships God, If in the wilderness alone. '"

Devenant stood by her side, seeming proud of his future wife, with hisface in a glow at his success, while over his noble brow clusteringlocks of glossy black hair were hanging in careless ringlets. Hisfinely-cut, classic features wore the aspect of one possessed with alarge and noble heart. 

Once more the beautiful Clotelle whispered in the ear of her lover, --

 "Away, away, o'er land and sea, America is now no home for me. "

The winds increased with nightfall, and impenetrable gloom surroundedthe ship. The prospect was too uncheering, even to persons in love. The attention which Devenant paid to Clotelle, although she had beenregistered on the ship's passenger list as his sister, caused more thanone to look upon his as an agreeable travelling companion. His tall, slender figure and fine countenance bespoke for him at first sight one'sconfidence. That he was sincerely and deeply enamored of Clotelle allcould see. 

The weather became still more squally. The wind rushed through thewhite, foaming waves, and the ship groaned with its own wild andungovernable labors, while nothing could be seen but the wild waste ofwaters. The scene was indeed one of fearful sublimity. 

Day came and went without any abatement of the storm. Despair was now onevery countenance. Occasionally a vivid flash of lightning would breakforth and illuminate the black and boiling surges that surrounded thevessel, which was now scudding before the blast under bare poles. 

After five days of most intensely stormy weather, the sea settled downinto a dead calm, and the passengers flocked on deck. During the lastthree days of the storm, Clotelle had been so unwell as to be unable toraise her head. Her pale face and quivering lips and languid appearancemade her look as if every pulsation had ceased. Her magnificent largeand soft eyes, fringed with lashes as dark as night, gave her an angelicappearance. The unreserved attention of Devenant, even when sea-sickhimself, did much to increase the little love that the at firstdistrustful girl had placed in him. The heart must always have someobject on which to centre its affections, and Clotelle having lost allhope of ever again seeing Jerome, it was but natural that she should nowtransfer her love to one who was so greatly befriending her. At firstshe respected Devenant for the love he manifested for her, and for hisapparent willingness to make any sacrifice for her welfare. True, thiswas an adventure upon which she had risked her all, and should her heartbe foiled in this search for hidden treasures, her affections would beshipwrecked forever. She felt under great obligations to the man who hadthus effected her escape, and that noble act alone would entitle him toher love. 

Each day became more pleasant as the noble ship sped onward amid therippled spray. The whistling of the breeze through the rigging was musicto the ear, and brought gladness to the heart of every one on board. Atlast, the long suspense was broken by the appearance of land, at whichall hearts leaped for joy. It was a beautiful morning in October. Thesun had just risen, and sky and earth were still bathed in his soft, rosy glow, when the Utica hauled into the dock at Bordeaux. Thesplendid streets, beautiful bridges, glittering equipages, and smilingcountenances of the people, gave everything a happy appearance, after avoyage of twenty-nine days on the deep, deep sea. 

After getting their baggage cleared from the custom-house and going to ahotel, Devenant made immediate arrangements for the marriage. Clotelle, on arriving at the church where the ceremony was to take place, wascompletely overwhelmed at the spectacle. She had never beheld a scene sogorgeous as this. The magnificent dresses of the priests and choristers, the deep and solemn voices, the elevated crucifix, the burning tapers, the splendidly decorated altar, the sweet-smelling incense, made theoccasion truly an imposing one. At the conclusion of the ceremony, theloud and solemn peals of the organ's swelling anthem were lost to all inthe contemplation of the interesting scene. 

The happy couple set out at once for Dunkirk, the residence of thebridegroom's parents. But their stay there was short, for they hadscarcely commenced visiting the numerous friends of the husband ereorders came for him to proceed to India to join that portion of theFrench army then stationed there. 

In due course of time they left for India, passing through Paris andLyons, taking ship at Marseilles. In the metropolis of France, theyspent a week, where the husband took delight in introducing his wifeto his brother officers in the French army, and where the newly-marriedcouple were introduced to Louis Philippe, then King of France. In all ofthese positions, Clotelle sustained herself in a most ladylike manner. 

At Lyons, they visited the vast factories and other public works, andall was pleasure with them. The voyage from Marseilles to Calcuttawas very pleasant, as the weather was exceedingly fine. On arriving inIndia, Captain Devenant and lady were received with honors--the formerfor his heroic bravery in more than one battle, and the latter forher fascinating beauty and pleasing manners, and the fact that shewas connected with one who was a general favorite with all who had hisacquaintance. This was indeed a great change for Clotelle. Six monthshad not elapsed since her exposure in the slave-market of New Orleans. This life is a stage, and we are indeed all actors. 

CHAPTER XXVI. THE HERO OF A NIGHT

MOUNTED on a fast horse, with the Quaker's son for a guide, Jeromepressed forward while Uncle Joseph was detaining the slave-catchers atthe barn-door, through which the fugitive had just escaped. When out ofpresent danger, fearing that suspicion might be aroused if he continuedon the road in open day, Jerome buried himself in a thick, dark forestuntil nightfall. With a yearning heart, he saw the splendor of thesetting sun lingering on the hills, as if loath to fade away and be lostin the more sombre hues of twilight, which, rising from the east, wasslowly stealing over the expanse of heaven, bearing silence and repose, which should cover his flight from a neighborhood to him so full ofdangers. 

Wearily and alone, with nothing but the hope of safety before him tocheer him on his way, the poor fugitive urged his tired and tremblinglimbs forward for several nights. The new suit of clothes with which hehad provided himself when he made his escape from his captors, and thetwenty dollars which the young Quaker had slipped into his hand, whenbidding him "Fare thee well, " would enable him to appear genteelly assoon as he dared to travel by daylight, and would thus facilitate hisprogress toward freedom. 

It was late in the evening when the fugitive slave arrived at a smalltown on the banks of Lake Erie, where he was to remain over night. Howstrange were his feelings! While his heart throbbed for that freedom andsafety which Canada alone could furnish to the whip-scarred slave, onthe American continent, his thoughts were with Clotelle. Was she stillin prison, and if so, what would be her punishment for aiding him toescape from prison? Would he ever behold her again? These were thethoughts that followed him to his pillow, haunted him in his dreams, andawakened him from his slumbers. 

The alarm of fire aroused the inmates of the hotel in which Jerome hadsought shelter for the night from the deep sleep into which they hadfallen. The whole village was buried in slumber, and the building washalf consumed before the frightened inhabitants had reached the scene ofthe conflagration. The wind was high, and the burning embers were waftedlike so many rockets through the sky. The whole town was lighted up, andthe cries of women and children in the streets made the scene a terrificone. Jerome heard the alarm, and hastily dressing himself, he went forthand hastened toward the burning building. 

"There, --there in that room in the second story, is my child!" exclaimeda woman, wringing her hands, and imploring some one to go to the rescueof her little one. 

The broad sheets of fire were flying in the direction of the chamberin which the child was sleeping, and all hope of its being saved seemedgone. Occasionally the wind would life the pall of smoke, and show thatthe work of destruction was not yet complete. At last a long ladder wasbrought, and one end placed under the window of the room. A moment moreand a bystander mounted the ladder and ascended in haste to the window. The smoke met him as he raised the sash, and he cried out, "All islost!" and returned to the ground without entering the room. 

Another sweep of the wind showed that the destroying element had not yetmade its final visit to that part of the doomed building. The mother, seeing that all hope of again meeting her child in this world was gone, wrung her hands and seemed inconsolable with grief. 

At this juncture, a man was seen to mount the ladder, and ascend withgreat rapidity. All eyes were instantly turned to the figure of thisunknown individual as it disappeared in the cloud of smoke escaping fromthe window. Those who a moment before had been removing furniture, aswell as the idlers who had congregated at the ringing of the bells, assembled at the foot of the ladder, and awaited with breathless silencethe reappearance of the stranger, who, regardless of his own safety, hadthus risked his life to save another's. Three cheers broke the stillnessthat had fallen on the company, as the brave man was seen coming throughthe window and slowly descending to the ground holding under one arm theinanimate form of the child. Another cheer and then another, made thewelkin ring, as the stranger, with hair burned and eyebrows closelysinged, fainted at the foot of the ladder. But the child was saved. 

The stranger was Jerome. As soon as he revived, he shrunk from everyeye, as if he feared they would take from him the freedom which he hadgone through so much to obtain. 

The next day, the fugitive took a vessel, and the following morningfound himself standing on the free soil of Canada. As his foot pressedthe shore, he threw himself upon his face, kissed the earth, andexclaimed, "O God! I thank thee that I am a free man. "

CHAPTER XXVII. TRUE FREEDOM

THE history of the African race is God's illuminated clock, set in thedark steeple of time. The negro has been made the hewer of wood and thedrawer of water for nearly all other nations. The people of the UnitedStates, however, will have an account to settle with God, owing to theirtreatment of the negro, which will far surpass the rest of mankind. 

Jerome, on reaching Canada, felt for the first time that personalfreedom which God intended that all who bore his image should enjoy. That same forgetfulness of self which had always characterized him nowcaused him to think of others. The thoughts of dear ones in slavery werecontinually in his mind, and above all others, Clotelle occupied histhoughts. Now that he was free, he could better appreciate her conditionas a slave. Although Jerome met, on his arrival in Canada, numbers whohad escaped from the Southern States, he nevertheless shrank from allsociety, particularly that of females. The soft, silver-gray tints onthe leaves of the trees, with their snow-spotted trunks, and a bitingair, warned the new-born freeman that he was in another climate. Jeromesought work, and soon found it; and arranged with his employer that thelatter should go to Natchez in search of Clotelle. The good Scotchman, for whom the fugitive was laboring, freely offered to go down andpurchase the girl, if she could be bought, and let Jerome pay him inwork. With such a prospect of future happiness in view, this injureddescendent of outraged and bleeding Africa went daily to his toil withan energy hitherto unknown to him. But oh, how vain are the hopes ofman!

CHAPTER XXVIII. FAREWELL TO AMERICA

THREE months had elapsed, from the time the fugitive commenced work forMr. Streeter, when that gentleman returned from his Southern research, and informed Jerome that Parson Wilson had sold Clotelle, and that shehad been sent to the New Orleans slave-market. 

This intelligence fell with crushing weight upon the heart of Jerome, and he now felt that the last chain which bound him to his native landwas severed. He therefore determined to leave America forever. Hisnearest and dearest friends had often been flogged in his very presence, and he had seen his mother sold to the negro-trader. An only sisterhad been torn from him by the soul-driver; he had himself been soldand resold, and been compelled to submit to the most degrading andhumiliating insults; and now that the woman upon whom his heart doted, and without whom life was a burden, had been taken away forever, he feltit a duty to hate all mankind. 

If there is one thing more than another calculated to make one hate anddetest American slavery, it is to witness the meetings between fugitivesand their friends in Canada. Jerome had beheld some of these scenes. Thewife who, after years of separation, had escaped from her prison-houseand followed her husband had told her story to him. He had seen thenewly-arrived wife rush into the arms of the husband, whose dark faceshe had not looked upon for long, weary years. Some told of how a sisterhad been ill-used by the overseer; others of a husband's being whippedto death for having attempted to protect his wife. He had sat in thelittle log-hut, by the fireside, and heard tales that caused his heartto bleed; and his bosom swelled with just indignation when he thoughthat there was no remedy for such atrocious acts. It was with suchfeelings that he informed his employer that he should leave him at theexpiration of a month. 

In vain did Mr. Streeter try to persuade Jerome to remain with him; andlate in the month of February, the latter found himself on board a smallvessel loaded with pine-lumber, descending the St. Lawrence, bound forLiverpool. The bark, though an old one, was, nevertheless, consideredseaworthy, and the fugitive was working his way out. As the vessel leftthe river and gained the open sea, the black man appeared to rejoice atthe prospect of leaving a country in which his right to manhood had beendenied him, and his happiness destroyed. 

The wind was proudly swelling the white sails, and the little craftplunging into the foaming waves, with the land fast receding in thedistance, when Jerome mounted a pile of lumber to take a last farewellof his native land. With tears glistening in his eyes, and withquivering lips, he turned his gaze toward the shores that were fastfading in the dim distance, and said, --

"Though forced from my native land by the tyrants of the South, I hope Ishall some day be able to return. With all her faults, I love my countrystill. "

CHAPTER XXIX. A STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

THE rain was falling on the dirty pavements of Liverpool as Jerome leftthe vessel after her arrival. Passing the custom-house, he took a cab, and proceeded to Brown's Hotel, Clayton Square. 

Finding no employment in Liverpool, Jerome determined to go into theinterior and seek for work. He, therefore, called for his bill, and madeready for his departure. Although but four days at the Albion, he foundthe hotel charges larger than he expected; but a stranger generallycounts on being "fleeced" in travelling through the Old World, andespecially in Great Britain. After paying his bill, he was about leavingthe room, when one of the servants presented himself with a low bow, andsaid, --

"Something for the waiter, sir?"

"I thought I had paid my bill, " replied the man, somewhat surprised atthis polite dun. 

"I am the waiter, sir, and gets only what strangers see fit to give me. "

Taking from his pocket his nearly empty purse, Jerome handed the man ahalf-crown; but he had hardly restored it to his pocket, before his eyefell on another man in the waiting costume. 

"What do you want?" he asked. 

"Whatever your honor sees fit to give me, sir. I am the tother waiter. "

The purse was again taken from the pocket, and another half-crown handedout. Stepping out into the hall, he saw standing there a good-lookingwoman, in a white apron, who made a very pretty courtesy. 

"What's your business?" he inquired. 

"I am the chambermaid, sir, and looks after the gentlemen's beds. "

Out came the purse again, and was relieved of another half-crown;whereupon another girl, with a fascinating smile, took the place of theone who had just received her fee. 

"What do you want?" demanded the now half-angry Jerome. 

"Please, sir, I am the tother chambermaid. "

Finding it easier to give shillings than half-crowns, Jerome handed thewoman a shilling, and again restored his purse to his pocket, glad thatanother woman was not to be seen. 

Scarcely had he commenced congratulating himself, however, before threemen made their appearance, one after another. 

"What have _you_ done for me?" he asked of the first. 

"I am the boots, sir. "

The purse came out once more, and a shilling was deposited in theservant's hand. 

"What do I owe you?" he inquired of the second. 

"I took your honor's letter to the post, yesterday, sir. "

Another shilling left the purse. 

"In the name of the Lord, what am I indebted to you for?" demandedJerome, now entirely out of patience, turning to the last of the trio. 

"I told yer vership vot time it vas, this morning. "

"Well!" exclaimed the indignant man, "ask here who o'clock it is, andyou have got to pay for it. "

He paid this last demand with a sixpence, regretting that he had notcommenced with sixpences instead of half-crowns. 

Having cleared off all demands in the house, he started for the railwaystation; but had scarcely reached the street, before he was accosted byan old man with a broom in his hand, who, with an exceedingly low bow, said, --

"I is here, yer lordship. "

"I did not send for you; what is your business?" demanded Jerome. 

"I is the man what opened your lordship's cab-door, when your lordshipcame to the house on Monday last, and I know your honor won't allow apoor man to starve. "

Putting a sixpence in the old man's hand, Jerome once more startedfor the depot. Having obtained letters of introduction to persons inManchester, he found no difficulty in getting a situation in a largemanufacturing house there. Although the salary was small, yet thesituation was a much better one than he had hoped to obtain. Hiscompensation as out-door clerk enabled him to employ a man to teach himat night, and, by continued study and attention to business, he was soonpromoted. 

After three years in his new home, Jerome was placed in a still higherposition, where his salary amounted to fifteen hundred dollars a year. The drinking, smoking, and other expensive habits, which the clerksusually indulged in, he carefully avoided. 

Being fond of poetry, he turned his attention to literature. Johnson's"Lives of the Poets, " the writings of Dryden, Addison, Pope, Clarendon, and other authors of celebrity, he read with attention. The knowledgewhich he thus picked up during his leisure hours gave him a greatadvantage over the other clerks, and caused his employers to respecthim far more than any other in their establishment. So eager was he toimprove the time that he determined to see how much he could read duringthe unemployed time of night and morning, and his success was beyond hisexpectations. 

CHAPTER XXX. NEW FRIENDS

BROKEN down in health, after ten years of close confinement in hissituation, Jerome resolved to give it up, and thereby release himselffrom an employment which seemed calculated to send him to a prematuregrave. 

It was on a beautiful morning in summer that he started for Scotland, having made up his mind to travel for his health. After visitingEdinburgh and Glasgow, he concluded to spend a few days in the old townof Perth, with a friend whose acquaintance he had made in Manchester. During the second day of his stay in Perth, while crossing the mainstreet, Jerome saw a pony-chaise coming toward him with great speed. Alady, who appeared to be the only occupant of the vehicle, was usingher utmost strength to stop the frightened horses. The footman, in hisfright, had leaped from behind the carriage, and was following withthe crowd. With that self-forgetfulness which was one of his chiefcharacteristics, Jerome threw himself before the horses to stop them;and, seizing the high-spirited animals by the bit, as they dashed byhim, he was dragged several rods before their speed was checked, whichwas not accomplished until one of the horses had fallen to the ground, with the heroic man struggling beneath him. 

All present were satisfied that this daring act alone had saved thelady's life, for the chaise must inevitably have been dashed in pieces, had the horses not been thus suddenly checked in their mad career. 

On the morning following this perilous adventure, Col. G--called atJerome's temporary residence, and, after expressing his admiration forhis noble daring, and thanking him for having saved his daughter's life, invited him to visit him at his country residence. This invitation waspromptly accepted in the spirit in which it was given; and three daysafter, Jerome found himself at the princely residence of the fatherof the lady for whose safety he had risked his own life. The house wassurrounded by fine trees, and a sweet little stream ran murmuring at thefoot, while beds of flowers on every hand shed their odors on the summerair. It was, indeed, a pleasant place to spend the warm weather, andthe colonel and his family gave Jerome a most cordial welcome. Miss G. Showed especial attention to the stranger. He had not intended remaininglonger than the following day: but the family insisted on his takingpart in a fox-hunt that was to come off on the morning of the third day. Wishing to witness a scene as interesting as the chase usually proves tobe, he decided to remain. 

Fifteen persons, five of whom were ladies, were on the ground at theappointed hour. Miss G. Was, of course, one of the party. In vain Jeromeendeavored to excuse himself from joining in the chase. His plea ofill-health was only met by smiles from the young ladies, and the replythat a ride would effect a cure. 

Dressed in a scarlet coat and high boots, with the low, round cap wornin the chase, Jerome mounted a high-spirited horse, whip in hand, andmade himself one of the party. In America, riding is a necessity; inEngland, it is a pleasure. Young men and women attend riding-school inour fatherland, and consider that they are studying a science. Jeromewas no rider. He had not been on horseback for more than ten years, andas soon as he mounted, every one saw that he was a novice, and a smilewas on the countenance of each member of the company. 

The blowing of the horn, and assembling of the hounds, and finally therelease of the fox from his close prison, were the signals for the chaseto commence. The first half-mile the little animal took his course overa beautiful field where there was neither hedge nor ditch. Thus far thechase was enjoyed by all, even by the American rider, who was betterfitted to witness the scene than to take part in it. 

We left Jerome in our last reluctantly engaged in the chase; and thoughthe first mile or so of the pursuit, which was over smooth meadow-land, had had an exhilarating effect upon his mind, and tended somewhatto relieve him of the embarrassment consequent upon his position, he nevertheless still felt that he was far from being in his properelement. Besides, the fox had now made for a dense forest which laybefore, and he saw difficulties in that direction which to him appearedinsurmountable. 

Away went the huntsmen, over stone walls, high fences, and deep ditches. Jerome saw the ladies even leading the gentlemen, but this could notinspire him. They cleared the fences, four and five feet high withperfect ease, showing they were quite at home in the saddle. But alasfor the poor American! As his fine steed came up to the first fence, andwas about to make the leap, Jerome pulled at the bridle, and cried atthe top of his voice, "Whoa! whoa! whoa!" the horse at the same timecapering about, and appearing determined to keep up with the otheranimals. 

Away dashed the huntsmen, following the hounds, and all were soon lostto the view of their colored companion. Jerome rode up and down thefield looking for a gate or bars, that he might get through withoutrisking his neck. Finding, however, that all hope of again catching upwith the party was out of the question, he determined to return to thehouse, under a plea of sudden illness, and back he accordingly went. 

"I hope no accident has happened to your honor, " said the groom, as hemet our hero at the gate. 

"A slight dizziness, " was the answer. 

One of the servants, without being ordered, went at once for the familyphysician. Ashamed to own that his return was owing to his inabilityto ride, Jerome resolved to feign sickness. The doctor came, felthis pulse, examined his tongue, and pronounced him a sick man. Heimmediately ordered a tepid bath, and sent for a couple of leeches. 

Seeing things taking such a serious turn, the American began to regretthe part he was playing; for there was no fun in being rubbed andleeched when one was in perfect health. He had gone too far to recede, however, and so submitted quietly to the directions of the doctor; and, after following the injunctions given by that learned Esculapius, wasput to bed. 

Shortly after, the sound of the horns and the yelp of the houndsannounced that the poor fox had taken the back track, and was repassingnear the house. Even the pleasure of witnessing the beautiful sight fromthe window was denied our hero; for the physician had ordered that hemust be kept in perfect quiet. 

The chase was at last over, and the huntsmen all in, sympathizing withtheir lost companion. After nine days of sweating, blistering, andleeching, Jerome left his bed convalescent, but much reduced in fleshand strength. This was his first and last attempt to follow the fox andhounds. 

During his fortnight's stay at Colonel G. ', Jerome spent most of histime in the magnificent library. Claude did not watch with more interestevery color of the skies, the trees, the grass, and the water, to learnfrom nature, than did this son of a despised race search books to obtainthat knowledge which his early life as a slave had denied him. 

CHAPTER XXXI. THE MYSTERIOUS MEETING

AFTER more than a fortnight spent in the highlands of Scotland, Jeromepassed hastily through London on his way to the continent. 

It was toward sunset, on a warm day in October, shortly after hisarrival in France, that, after strolling some distance from the Hotelde Leon, in the old and picturesque town of Dunkirk, he entered aburial-ground--such places being always favorite walks with him--andwandered around among the silent dead. All nature around was hushed insilence, and seemed to partake of the general melancholy that hung overthe quiet resting-place of the departed. Even the birds seemed imbuedwith the spirit of the place, for they were silent, either flyingnoiselessly over the graves, or jumping about in the tall grass. Aftertracing the various inscriptions that told the characters and conditionsof the deceased, and viewing the mounds beneath which the dust ofmortality slumbered, he arrived at a secluded spot near where an agedweeping willow bowed its thick foliage to the ground, as though anxiousto hide from the scrutinizing gaze of curiosity the grave beneath it. Jerome seated himself on a marble tombstone, and commenced reading froma book which he had carried under his arm. It was now twilight, andhe had read but a few minutes when he observed a lady, attired in deepblack, and leading a boy, apparently some five or six years old, comingup one of the beautiful, winding paths. As the lady's veil was drawnclosely over her face, he felt somewhat at liberty to eye her moreclosely. While thus engaged, the lady gave a slight scream, and seemedsuddenly to have fallen into a fainting condition. Jerome sprang fromhis seat, and caught her in time to save her from falling to the ground. 

At this moment an elderly gentleman, also dressed in black, was seenapproaching with a hurried step, which seemed to indicate that he was insome way connected with the lady. The old man came up, and in rather aconfused manner inquired what had happened, and Jerome explained mattersas well as he was able to do so. After taking up the vinaigrette, whichhad fallen from her hand, and holding the bottle a short time to herface, the lady began to revive. During all this time, the veil had stillpartly covered the face of the fair one, so that Jerome had scarcelyseen it. When she had so far recovered as to be able to look around her, she raised herself slightly, and again screamed and swooned. The old mannow feeling satisfied that Jerome's dark complexion was the immediatecause of the catastrophe, said in a somewhat petulant tone, --

"I will be glad, sir, if you will leave us alone. "

The little boy at this juncture set up a loud cry, and amid the generalconfusion, Jerome left the ground and returned to his hotel. 

While seated at the window of his room looking out upon the crowdedstreet, with every now and then the strange scene in the graveyardvividly before him, Jerome suddenly thought of the book he had beenreading, and, remembering that he had left it on the tombstone, where hedropped it when called to the lady's assistance, he determined to returnfor it at once. 

After a walk of some twenty minutes, he found himself again in theburial-ground and on the spot where he had been an hour before. Thepensive moon was already up, and its soft light was sleeping on thelittle pond at the back of the grounds, while the stars seemed smilingat their own sparkling rays gleaming up from the beautiful sheet ofwater. 

Jerome searched in vain for his book; it was nowhere to be found. Nothing, save the bouquet that the lady had dropped, and which layhalf-buried in the grass, from having been trodden upon, indicated thatany one had been there that evening. The stillness of death reigned overthe place; even the little birds, that had before been twittering andflying about, had retired for the night. 

Taking up the bunch of flowers, Jerome returned to his hotel. "What canthis mean?" he would ask himself; "and why should they take my book?"These questions he put to himself again and again during his walk. Hissleep was broken more than once that night, and he welcomed the earlydawn as it made its appearance. 

CHAPTER XXXII. THE HAPPY MEETING

AFTER passing a sleepless night, and hearing the clock strike six, Jerome took from his table a book, and thus endeavored to pass away thehours before breakfast-time. While thus engaged, a servant entered andhanded him a note. Hastily tearing it open, Jerome read as follows:--

 "SIR, --I owe you an apology for the abrupt manner in which I addressed you last evening, and the inconvenience to which you were subjected by some of my household. If you will honor us with your presence to-day at four o'clock, I will be most happy to give you due satisfaction. My servant will be waiting with the carriage at half-past three. 

 "I am, sir, yours, &c. , "J. DEVENANT"

 "JEROME FLETCHER, Esq. "

Who this gentleman was, and how he had found out his name and the hotelat which he was stopping, were alike mysteries to Jerome. And this noteseemed to his puzzled brain like a challenge. "Satisfaction?" He had notasked for satisfaction. However, he resolved to accept the invitation, and, if need be, meet the worst. At any rate, this most mysterious andcomplicated affair would be explained. 

The clock on a neighboring church had scarcely finished striking threewhen a servant announced to Jerome that a carriage had called for him. In a few minutes, he was seated in a sumptuous barouche, drawn by apair of beautiful iron-grays, and rolling over a splendid gravel roadentirely shaded by trees, which appeared to have been the accumulatedgrowth of many centuries. The carriage soon stopped at a low villa, which was completely embowered in trees. 

Jerome alighted, and was shown into a superb room, with the walls finelydecorated with splendid tapestry, and the ceilings exquisitely frescoed. The walls were hung with fine specimens from the hands of the greatItalian masters, and one by a German artist, representing a beautifulmonkish legend connected with the "Holy Catharine, " an illustrious ladyof Alexandria. High-backed chairs stood around the room, rich curtainsof crimson damask hung in folds on either side of the window, and abeautiful, rick, Turkey carpet covered the floor. In the centre of theroom stood a table covered with books, in the midst of which was avase of fresh flowers, loading the atmosphere with their odors. Afaint light, together with the quiet of the hour, gave beauty beyonddescription to the whole scene. A half-open door showed a fine marblefloor to an adjoining room, with pictures, statues, and antiquatedsofas, and flower-pots filled with rare plants of every kind anddescription. 

Jerome had scarcely run his eyes over the beauties of the room whenthe elderly gentleman whom he had met on the previous evening made hisappearance, followed by the little boy, and introduced himself as Mr. Devenant. A moment more and a lady, a beautiful brunette, dressed inblack, with long black curls hanging over her shoulders, entered theroom. Her dark, bright eyes flashed as she caught the first sight ofJerome. The gentleman immediately arose on the entrance of the lady, andMr. Devenant was in the act of introducing the stranger when he observedthat Jerome had sunk back upon the sofa, in a faint voice exclaiming, --

"It is she!"

After this, all was dark and dreary. How long he remained in thiscondition, it was for others to tell. The lady knelt by his side andwept; and when he came to, he found himself stretched upon the sofa withhis boots off and his head resting upon a pillow. By his side sat theold man, with the smelling-bottle in one hand and a glass of water inthe other, while the little boy stood at the foot of the sofa. As soonas Jerome had so far recovered as to be able to speak, he said, --

"Where am I, and what does all this mean?"

"Wait awhile, " replied the old man, "and I will tell you all. "

After the lapse of some ten minutes, Jerome arose from the sofa, adjusted his apparel, and said, --

"I am now ready to hear anything you have to say. "

"You were born in America?" said the old man. 

"I was, " he replied. 

"And you knew a girl named Clotelle, " continued the old man. 

"Yes, and I loved her as I can love none other. "

"The lady whom you met so mysteriously last evening was she, " said Mr. Devenant. 

Jerome was silent, but the fountain of mingled grief and joy stole outfrom beneath his eyelashes, and glistened like pearls upon his ebonycheeks. 

At this juncture, the lady again entered the room. With an enthusiasmthat can be better imagined than described, Jerome sprang from the sofa, and they rushed into each other's arms, to the great surprise of the oldgentleman and little Antoine, and to the amusement of the servants whohad crept up, one by one and were hid behind the doors or loitering inthe hall. When they had given vent to their feelings and sufficientlyrecovered their presence of mind, they resumed their seats. 

"How did you find out my name and address?" inquired Jerome. 

"After you had left the grave-yard, " replied Clotelle, "our little boysaid, 'Oh, mamma! if there ain't a book!' I opened the book, and sawyour name written in it, and also found a card of the Hotel de Leon. Papa wished to leave the book, and said it was only a fancy of mine thatI had ever seen you before; but I was perfectly convinced that you weremy own dear Jerome. "

As she uttered the last words, tears--the sweet bright tears that lovealone can bring forth--bedewed her cheeks. 

"Are you married?" now inquired Clotelle, with a palpitating heart andtrembling voice. 

"No, I am not, and never have been, " was Jerome's reply. 

"Then, thank God!" she exclaimed, in broken accents. 

It was then that hope gleamed up amid the crushed and broken flowers ofher heart, and a bright flash darted forth like a sunbeam. 

"Are you single now?" asked Jerome. 

"Yes, I am, " was the answer. 

"Then you will be mine after all?" said he with a smile. 

Her dark, rich hair had partly come down, and hung still more looselyover her shoulders than when she first appeared; and her eyes, now fullof animation and vivacity, and her sweet, harmonious, and well-modulatedvoice, together with her modesty, self-possession, and engaging manners, made Clotelle appear lovely beyond description. Although past the agewhen men ought to think of matrimony, yet the scene before Mr. Devenantbrought vividly to his mind the time when he was young and had a lovingbosom companion living, and tears were wiped from the old man's eyes. Anew world seemed to unfold itself before the eyes of the happy lovers, and they were completely absorbed in contemplating the future. Furnishedby nature with a disposition to study, and a memory so retentive thatall who knew her were surprised at the ease with which she acquired hereducation and general information, Clotelle might now be termed amost accomplished lady. After her marriage with young Devenant, theyproceeded to India, where the husband's regiment was stationed. Soomnafter their arrival, however, a battle was fought with the natives, inwhich several officers fell, among whom was Captain Devenant. The fatherof the young captain being there at the time, took his daughter-in-lawand brought her back to France, where they took up their abode at theold homestead. Old Mr. Devenant was possessed of a large fortune, all ofwhich he intended for his daughter-in-law and her only child. 

Although Clotelle had married young Devenant, she had not forgotten herfirst love, and her father-in-law now willingly gave his consent to hermarriage with Jerome. Jerome felt that to possess the woman of his love, even at that late hour, was compensation enough for the years that hehad been separated from her, and Clotelle wanted no better evidence ofhis love for her than the fact of his having remained so long unmarried. It was indeed a rare instance of devotion and constancy in a man, andthe young widow gratefully appreciated it. 

It was late in the evening when Jerome led his intended bride to thewindow, and the magnificent moonlight illuminated the countenance of thelovely Clotelle, while inward sunshine, emanating from a mind at ease, and her own virtuous thoughts, gave brightness to her eyes and made herappear a very angel. This was the first evening that Jerome had been inher company since the night when, to effect his escape from prison, she disguised herself in male attire. How different the scene now. Freeinstead of slaves, wealthy instead of poor, and on the eve of an eventthat seemed likely to result in a life of happiness to both. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. THE HAPPY DAY

IT was a bright day in the latter part of October that Jerome andClotelle set out for the church, where the marriage ceremony was to beperformed. The clear, bracing air added buoyancy to every movement, andthe sun poured its brilliant rays through the deeply-stained windows, as the happy couple entered the sanctuary, followed by old Mr. Devenant, whose form, bowed down with age, attracted almost as much attention fromthe assembly as did the couple more particularly interested. 

As the ceremonies were finished and the priest pronounced thebenediction on the newly-married pair, Clotelle whispered in the ear ofJerome, --

 "'No power in death shall tear our names apart, As none in life could rend thee from my heart. '"

A smile beamed on every face as the wedding-party left the church andentered their carriage. What a happy day, after ten years' separation, when, both hearts having been blighted for a time, they are broughttogether by the hand of a beneficent and kind Providence, and united inholy wedlock. 

Everything being arranged for a wedding tour extending up the Rhine, theparty set out the same day for Antwerp. There are many rivers of greaterlength and width than the Rhine. Our Mississippi would swallow up halfa dozen Rhines. The Hudson is grander, the Tiber, the Po, and theMincio more classic; the Thames and Seine bear upon their waters greateramounts of wealth and commerce; the Nile and the Euphrates have agreater antiquity; but for a combination of interesting historicalincidents and natural scenery, the Rhine surpasses them all. Nature hasso ordained it that those who travel in the valley of the Rhine shallsee the river, for there never will be a railroad upon its banks. Somountainous is the land that it would have to be one series of tunnels. Every three or four miles from the time you enter this glorious river, hills, dales, castles, and crags present themselves as the steamerglides onward. 

Their first resting-place for any length of time was at Coblentz, at themouth of the "Blue Moselle, " the most interesting place on the river. From Coblentz they went to Brussels, where they had the greatestattention paid them. Besides being provided with letters ofintroduction, Jerome's complexion secured for him more deference than isusually awarded to travellers. 

Having letters of introduction to M. Deceptiax, the great lacemanufacturer, that gentleman received them with distinguished honors, and gave them a splendid [soiree, ] at which the [elite] of the city wereassembled. The sumptuously-furnished mansion was lavishly decorated forthe occasion, and every preparation made that could add to the noveltyor interest of the event. 

Jerome, with his beautiful bride, next visited Cologne, the largest andwealthiest city on the banks of the Rhine. The Cathedral of Cologneis the most splendid structure of the kind in Europe, and Jerome andClotelle viewed with interest the beautiful arches and columns of thisstupendous building, which strikes with awe the beholder, as he gazes atits unequalled splendor, surrounded, as it is, by villas, cottages, and palace-like mansions, with the enchanting Rhine winding through thevine-covered hills. 

After strolling over miles and miles of classic ground, and visitingcastles, whose legends and traditions have given them an enduring fame, our delighted travellers started for Geneva, bidding the picturesquebanks of the Rhine a regretful farewell. Being much interested inliterature, and aware that Geneva was noted for having been the cityof refuge to the victims of religious and political persecution, Jeromearranged to stay here for some days. He was provided with a letterof introduction to M. De Stee, who had been a fellow-soldier of Mr. Devenant in the East India wars, and they were invited to make his housetheir home during their sojourn. On the side of a noble mountain, whosebase is kissed by the waves of Lake Geneva, and whose slopes are deckedwith verdure to the utmost peak of its rocky crown, is situated thedelightful country-residence of this wealthy, retired French officer. Awinding road, with frequent climbs and brakes, leads from the valley tothis enchanting spot, the air and scenery of which cannot be surpassedin the world. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. CLOTELLE MEETS HER FATHER. 

THE clouds that had skirted the sky during the day broke at last, andthe rain fell in torrents, as Jerome and Clotelle retired for the night, in the little town of Ferney, on the borders of Lake Leman. The pealsof thunder, and flashes of vivid lightening, which seemed to leap frommountain to mountain and from crag to crag, reverberating among thesurrounding hills, foretold a heavy storm. 

"I would we were back at Geneva, " said Clotelle, as she heard groansissuing from an adjoining room. The sounds, at first faint, grew louderand louder, plainly indicating that some person was suffering extremepain. 

"I did not like this hotel, much, when we came in, " said Jerome, relighting the lamp, which had been accidentally extinguished. 

"Nor I, " returned Clotelle. 

The shrieks increased, and an occasional "she's dead!" "I killed her!""No, she is not dead!" and such-like expressions, would be heard fromthe person, who seemed to be deranged. 

The thunder grew louder, and the flashes of lightening more vivid, whilethe noise from the sick-room seemed to increase. 

As Jerome opened the door, to learn, if possible, the cause of the criesand groans, he could distinguish the words, "She's dead! yes, she'sdead! but I did not kill her. She was my child! my own daughter. I lovedher, and yet I did not protect her. "

"Whoever he is, " said Jerome, "he's crack-brained; some robber, probably, from the mountains. "

The storm continued to rage, and the loud peals of thunder and sharpflashes of lightening, together with the shrieks and moans of the maniacin the adjoining room, made the night a fearful one. The long hours woreslowly away, but neither Jerome nor his wife could sleep, and they aroseat an early hour in the morning, ordered breakfast, and resolved toreturn to Geneva. 

"I am sorry, sir, that you were so much disturbed by the sick man lastnight, " said the landlord, as he handed Jerome his bill. "I should beglad if he would get able to go away, or die, for he's a deal of troubleto me. Several persons have left my house on his account. "

"Where is he from?" inquired Jerome. "He's from the United States, andhas been here a week to-day, and has been crazy ever since. "

"Has he no friends with him?" asked the guest. 

"No, he is alone, " was the reply. 

Jerome related to his wife what he had learned from the landlord, respecting the sick man, and the intelligence impressed her so strongly, that she requested him to make further inquiries concerning thestranger. 

He therefore consulted the book in which guests usually register theirnames, and, to his great surprise, found that the American's name wasHenry Linwood, and that he was from Richmond, Va. 

It was with feelings of trepidation that Clotelle heard theseparticulars from the lips of her husband. 

"We must see this poor man, whoever he is, " said she, as Jerome finishedthe sentence. 

The landlord was glad to hear that his guests felt some interest in thesick man, and promised that the invalid's room should be got ready fortheir reception. 

The clock in the hall was just striking ten, as Jerome passed throughand entered the sick man's chamber. Stretched upon a mattress, with bothhands tightly bound to the bedstead, the friendless stranger was indeeda pitiful sight. His dark, dishevelled hair prematurely gray, his long, unshaven beard, and the wildness of the eyes which glanced upon themas they opened the door and entered, caused the faint hope which had sosuddenly risen in Clotelle's heart, to sink, and she felt that this mancould claim no kindred with her. Certainly, he bore no resemblance tothe man whom she had called her father, and who had fondly dandled heron his knee in those happy days of childhood. 

"Help!" cried the poor man, as Jerome and his wife walked into the room. His eyes glared, and shriek after shriek broke forth from his parchedand fevered lips. 

"No, I did not kill my daughter!--I did not! she is not dead! Yes, sheis dead! but I did not kill her--poor girl! Look! that is she! No, itcannot be! she cannot come here! it cannot be my poor Clotelle. "

At the sound of her own name, coming from the maniac's lips, Clotellegasped for breath, and her husband saw that she had grown deadly pale. It seemed evident to him that the man was either guilty of some terribleact, or imagined himself to be. His eyeballs rolled in their sockets, and his features showed that he was undergoing "the tortures of thatinward hell, " which seemed to set his whole brain on fire. Afterrecovering her self-possession and strength, Clotelle approached thebedside, and laid her soft hand upon the stranger's hot and feveredbrow. 

One long, loud shriek rang out on the air, and a piercing cry, "It isshe!--Yes, it is she! I see, I see! Ah! no, it is not my daughter! Shewould not come to me if she could!" broke forth from him. 

"I am your daughter, " said Clotelle, as she pressed her handkerchief toher face, and sobbed aloud. 

Like balls of fire, the poor man's eyes rolled and glared upon thecompany, while large drops of perspiration ran down his pale andemaciated face. Strange as the scene appeared, all present saw that itwas indeed a meeting between a father and his long-lost daughter. Jeromenow ordered all present to leave the room, except the nurse, and everyeffort was at once made to quiet the sufferer. When calm, a joyous smilewould illuminate the sick man's face, and a strange light beam in hiseyes, as he seemed to realize that she who stood before him was indeedhis child. 

For two long days and nights did Clotelle watch at the bedside of herfather before he could speak to her intelligently. Sometimes, in hisinsane fits, he would rave in the most frightful manner, and then, in afew moments, would be as easily governed as a child. At last, however, after a long and apparently refreshing sleep, he awoke suddenly to afull consciousness that it was indeed his daughter who was watching sopatiently by his side. 

The presence of his long absent child had a soothing effect upon Mr. Linwood, and he now recovered rapidly from the sad and almost hopelesscondition in which she had found him. When able to converse, withoutdanger of a relapse, he told Clotelle of his fruitless efforts to obtaina clew to her whereabouts after old Mrs. Miller had sold her to theslave-trader. In answer to his daughter's inquiries about his familyaffairs up to the time that he left America, he said, --

"I blamed my wife for your being sold and sent away, for I thought sheand her mother were acting in collusion; But I afterwards found thatI had blamed her wrongfully. Poor woman! she knew that I loved yourmother, and feeling herself forsaken, she grew melancholy and died in adecline three years ago. "

Here both father and daughter wept at the thought of other days. Whenthey had recovered their composure, Mr. Linwood went on again:

"Old Mrs. Miller, " said he, "after the death of Gertrude, aware thatshe had contributed much toward her unhappiness, took to the free useof intoxicating drinks, and became the most brutal creature that everlived. She whipped her slaves without the slightest provocation, andseemed to take delight in inventing new tortures with which to punishthem. One night last winter, after having flogged one of her slavesnearly to death, she returned to her room, and by some means the beddingtook fire, and the house was in flames before any one was awakened. There was no one in the building at the time but the old woman and theslaves, and although the latter might have saved their mistress, theymade no attempt to do so. Thus, after a frightful career of many years, this hard-hearted woman died a most miserable death, unlamented by asingle person. "

Clotelle wiped the tears from her eyes, as her father finished thisstory, for, although Mrs. Miller had been her greatest enemy, sheregretted to learn that her end had been such a sad one. 

"My peace of mind destroyed, " resumed the father, "and broken down inhealth, my physician advised me to travel, with the hope of recruitingmyself, and I sailed from New York two months ago. "

Being brought up in America, and having all the prejudice against colorwhich characterizes his white fellow-countrymen, Mr. Linwood very muchregretted that his daughter, although herself tinctured with Africanblood, should have married a black man, and he did not fail to expressto her his dislike of her husband's complexion. 

"I married him, " said Clotelle, "because I loved him. Why should thewhite man be esteemed as better than the black? I find no difference inmen on account of their complexion. One of the cardinal principles ofChristianity and freedom is the equality and brotherhood of man. "

Every day Mr. Linwood became more and more familiar with Jerome, andeventually they were on the most intimate terms. 

Fifteen days from the time that Clotelle was introduced into herfather's room, they left Ferney for Geneva. Many were the excursionsClotelle made under the shadows of Mont Blanc, and with her husbandand father for companions; she was now in the enjoyment of pleasureshitherto unknown. 

CHAPTER XXXV. THE FATHER'S RESOLVE

AWARE that her father was still a slave-owner, Clotelle determined touse all her persuasive power to induce him to set them free, and in thiseffort she found a substantial supporter in her husband. 

"I have always treated my slaves well, " said Mr. Linwood to Jerome, asthe latter expressed his abhorrence of the system; "and my neighbors, too, are generally good men; for slavery in Virginia is not like slaveryin the other States, " continued the proud son of the Old Dominion. "Their right to be free, Mr. Linwood, " said Jerome, "is taken fromthem, and they have no security for their comfort, but the humanity andgenerosity of men, who have been trained to regard them not as brethren, but as mere property. Humanity and generosity are, at best, but poorguaranties for the protection of those who cannot assert their rights, and over whom law throws no protection. "

It was with pleasure that Clotelle obtained from her father a promisethat he would liberate all his slaves on his return to Richmond. In abeautiful little villa, situated in a pleasant spot, fringed with hoaryrocks and thick dark woods, within sight of the deep blue waters ofLake Leman, Mr. Linwood, his daughter, and her husband, took up theirresidence for a short time. For more than three weeks, this little partyspent their time in visiting the birth-place of Rousseau, and the formerabodes of Byron, Gibbon, Voltaire, De Stael, Shelley, and other literarycharacters. 

We can scarcely contemplate a visit to a more historic and interestingplace than Geneva and its vicinity. Here, Calvin, that great luminaryin the Church, lived and ruled for years; here, Voltaire, the mightygenius, who laid the foundation of the French Revolution, and whoboasted, "When I shake my wig, I powder the whole republic, " governed inthe higher walks of life. 

Fame is generally the recompense, not of the living, but of thedead, --not always do they reap and gather in the harvest who sow theseed; the flame of its altar is too often kindled from the ashes of thegreat. A distinguished critic has beautifully said, "The sound whichthe stream of high thought, carried down to future ages, makes, as itflows--deep, distant, murmuring ever more, like the waters of the mightyocean. " No reputation can be called great that will no endure this test. The distinguished men who had lived in Geneva transfused their spirit, by their writings, into the spirit of other lovers of literature andeverything that treated of great authors. Jerome and Clotelle lingeredlong in and about the haunts of Geneva and Lake Leman. 

An autumn sun sent down her bright rays, and bathed every object in herglorious light, as Clotelle, accompanied by her husband and father setout one fine morning on her return home to France. Throughout the wholeroute, Mr. Linwood saw by the deference paid to Jerome, whose blackcomplexion excited astonishment in those who met him, that there wasno hatred to the man in Europe, on account of his color; that what iscalled prejudice against color is the offspring of the institution ofslavery; and he felt ashamed of his own countrymen, when he thought ofthe complexion as distinctions, made in the United States, and resolvedto dedicate the remainder of his life to the eradication of thisunrepublican and unchristian feeling from the land of his birth, on hisreturn home. 

After a stay of four weeks at Dunkirk, the home of the Fletchers, Mr. Linwood set out for America, with the full determination of freeing hisslaves, and settling them in one of the Northern States, and then toreturn to France to end his days in the society of his beloved daughter. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE RETURN HOME

THE first gun fired at the American Flag, on the 12th of April, 1861, at Fort Sumter, reverberated all over Europe, and was hailed with joy bythe crowned heads of the Old World, who hated republican institutions, and who thought they saw, in this act of treason, the downfall of thegreat American experiment. Most citizens, however, of the United States, who were then sojourning abroad, hastened home to take part in thestruggle, --some to side with the rebels, others to take their stand withthe friends of liberty. Among the latter, none came with swifter stepsor more zeal than Jerome and Clotelle Fletcher. They arrived in NewOrleans a week after the capture of that city by the expedition underthe command of Major-Gen. B. F. Butler. But how changed was societysince Clotelle had last set feet in the Crescent City! Twenty-twoyears had passed; her own chequered life had been through many shiftingscenes; her old acquaintances in New Orleans had all disappeared; andwith the exception of the black faces which she beheld at every turn, and which in her younger days were her associates, she felt herself inthe midst of strangers; and these were arrayed against each other inmortal combat. Possessed with ample means, Mr. And Mrs. Fletcher setabout the work of assisting those whom the rebellion had placed in astate of starvation and sickness. 

With a heart overflowing with the milk of human kindness, and a tear forevery sufferer, no matter of what color or sect, Clotelle was soon knownas the "Angel of Mercy. "

The "General Order No. 63, " issued on the 22nd of August, 1862, byGen. Butler, recognizing, and calling into the service of the FederalGovernment, the battalion of colored men known as the "Native Guard, " atonce gave full scope to Jerome's military enthusiasm; and he made hasteto enlist in the organization. 

The "Native Guard" did good service in New Orleans and vicinity, tillordered to take part in the siege of Port Hudson, where they appearedunder the name of the "First Louisiana, " and under the immediate commandof Lieut. -Col. Bassett. The heroic attack of this regiment, made on the27th of May, 1863, its unsurpassed "charge, " its great loss, and itssevere endurance on the field of battle, are incidents which have passedinto history. The noble daring of the First Louisiana gained forthe black soldiers in our army the praise of all Americans who valueRepublican institutions. 

There was, however, one scene, the closing one in the first day's attackon Port Hudson, which, while it reflects undying credit upon the braveryof the negro, pays but a sorry tribute to the humanity of the whitegeneral who brought the scene into existence. The field was strewn withthe dead, the dying, and the wounded; and as the jaded regiments wereleaving the ground, after their unsuccessful attack, it was found thatCapt. Payne, of the Third Louisiana, had been killed; and his body, which was easily distinguished by the uniform, was still on thebattle-field. The colonel of the regiment, pointing to where the bodylay, asked, "Are there four men here who will fetch the body of Capt. Payne from the field?" Four men stepped out, and at once started. But, as the body lay directly under the range of the rebel batteries, theywere all swept down by the grape, canister, and shell which were letloose by the enemy. The question was again repeated, "Are there four menwho will go for the body?" The required number came forth, and startedupon a run; but, ere they could reach the spot, they were cut down. "Are there four more who will try?" The third call was answered in theaffirmative, and the men started upon the double-quick. They, however, fell before getting as far as the preceding four. Twelve men had beenkilled in the effort to obtain the body of the brave Payne, but to nopurpose. Humanity forbade another trial, and yet it was made. "Are therefour more men in the regiment who will volunteer to go for Capt. Payne'sbody?" shouted the officer. Four men sprang forward, as if fearful thatthey would miss the opportunity of these last: one was Jerome Fletcher, the hero of our story. They started upon the run; and, strange to tell, all of them reached the body, and had nearly borne it from the field, when two of the number were cut down. Of these, one was Jerome. Hishead was entirely torn off by a shell. The body of the deceased officerhaving been rescued, an end was put t the human sacrifice. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE ANGEL OF MERCY

The sad intelligence of Jerome's death was brought to Clotelle while shewas giving her personal attention to the sick and wounded that filledthe hospitals of New Orleans. For a time she withdrew from the gaze ofmankind, and gave herself up to grief. Few unions had been productive ofmore harmonious feelings than hers. And this blow, so unexpected and ata time when she was experiencing such a degree of excitement caused bythe rebellion, made her, indeed, feel the affliction severely. 

But the newspaper accounts of the intense suffering of the Unionprisoners in the rebel States aroused her, and caused her to leave herretirement. In the month of October, 1863, Clotelle resolved to visitAndersonville, Ga. , for the purpose of alleviating the hardships of oursick and imprisoned soldiers, and at once put her resolution into effectby going immediately to that place. After crossing the lines, she passedas a rebel lady, to enable her the more successfully to carry out herobject. On her arrival at Andersonville, Clotelle took up her abodewith a private family, of Union proclivities, and commenced her workof mercy. She first visited the hospitals, the buildings of which weremerest excuses for hospitals. 

It was the beginning of November; and, even in that southern latitude, the cold made these miserable abodes uncomfortable nights and mornings. The dirty, unventilated rooms, with nothing but straw upon the cold, damp floor, for beds, upon which lay the ragged, emaciated Unionprisoners, worn down to skin and bone with disease and starvation, with their sunken eyes and wild looks, made them appear hideous in theextreme. The repulsive scenes, that showed the suffering, neglect, andcruelty which these poor creatures had experienced, made her heart sinkwithin her. 

Having paid considerable attention to hospital life in Europe, and sorecently from amongst the sick at New Orleans, Clotelle's experience, suggestions, and liberal expenditure of money, would have added greatlyto the comfort of these helpless men, if the rebel authorities had beenso disposed. But their hatred to Union prisoners was so apparent, thatthe interest which this angel of humanity took in the condition of therebel sick could not shield her from the indignation of the secessionofficials for her good feeling for the Union men. However, with adetermination to do all in her power for the needy, she labored inseason and out. 

The brutal treatment and daily murders committed upon our soldiers inthe Andersonville prisons caused Clotelle to secretly aid prisonersin their escape. In the latter work, she brought to her assistance theservices of a negro man named Pete. This individual was employed aboutthe prison, and, having the entire confidence of the commandant, was ina position to do much good without being suspected. Pete was anoriginal character, of a jovial nature, and, when intending some seriousadventure, would appear very solemn, and usually singing a dolefulditty, often the following, which was a favorite with him:--

 "Come listen, all you darkies, come listen to my song: It am about old Massa, who use me bery wrong. In de cole, frosty mornin', it an't so bery nice, Wid de water to de middle, to hoe among de rice;

 When I neber hab forgotten How I used to hoe de cotton, How I used to hoe de cotton, On de old Virginny shore; But I'll neber hoe de cotton, Oh! neber hoe de cotton Any more. 

 "If I feel de drefful hunger, he tink it am a vice, And he gib me for my dinner a little broken rice, -- A little broken rice and a bery little fat, And he grumble like de debbil if I eat too much of dat;

 When I neber hab forgotten, etc. 

 "He tore me from my Dinah; I tought my heart would burst: He made me lub anoder when my lub was wid de first; He sole my picanninnies becase he got dar price, And shut me in de marsh-field to hoe among de rice;

 When I neber hab forgotten, etc. 

 "And all de day I hoe dar, in all de heat and rain; And, as I hoe away dar, my heart go back again, -- Back to de little cabin dat stood among de corn, And to de ole plantation where she and I war born!

 Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 

 "Den Dinah am beside me, de chil'ren on my knee, And dough I am a slave dar, it 'pears to me I'm free, Till I wake up from my dreaming, and wife and chil'ren gone, I hoe away and weep dar, and weep dar all alone!

 Oh! I wish I had forgotten, etc. 

 "But soon a day am comin', a day I long to see, When dis darky in de cole ground, foreber will be free, When wife and chil'ren wid me, I'll sing in Paradise, How He, de blessed Jesus, hab bought me wid a price;

 How de Lord hab not forgotten How well I hoed de cotton, How well I hoed de cotton On de old Virginny shore; Dar I'll neber hoe de cotton, Oh! I'll neber hoe de cotton Any more. "

When away from the whites, and among his own class, Pete could often beheard in the following strains:--

 "A storm am brewin' in de Souf, A storm am brewin' now. Oh! hearken den, and shut your mouf, And I will tell you how: And I will tell you how, ole boy, De storm of fire will pour, And make de darkies dance for joy, As dey neber danced afore; So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breafh, And I will tell you how. 

 "De darkies at de Norf am ris, And dey am comin' down-- Am comin' down, I know dey is, To do de white folks brown! Dey'll turn ole Massa out to grass, And set de niggas free, And when dat day am come to pass We'll all be dar to see! So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breafh, And do de white folks brown!

 "Den all de week will be as gay As am de Chris'mas time; We'll dance all night and all de day, And make de banjo chime-- And make de banjo chime, I tink, And pass de time away, Wid 'nuf to eat and nuf to drink, And not a bit to pay! So shut your mouf as close as deafh, And all you niggas hole your breafh, And make de banjo chime. "

How to escape from prison was ever the thoughts by day and dreamsby night of the incarcerated. Plans were concocted, partly put intoexecution, and then proved failures. Some of these caused increasedsuffering to the prisoners after their discovery; for, where the realparties could not be found, the whole were ill-treated as a punishmentto the guilty. Tunnelling was generally the mode for escape; andtunnelling became the order of the day, or, rather, the work for thenight. In the latter part of November, 1863, the unusual gaiety of theprisoners showed that some plan of exit from the prison was soon to beexhibited. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE GREAT TUNNEL AND THE MISTAKE

FOR several weeks, some ten or fifteen of the most able-bodied of theprisoners had been nightly at work; and the great tunnel, the [largest]ever projected by men for their escape from prison, was thought to befinished, with the exception of the tapping outside of the prison wall. The digging of a tunnel is not an easy job, and, consequently, is ofslow progress. The Andersonville prisoners had to dig ten feet down intothe earth, after cutting through the floor, and then went a distance offifty feet to get beyond the wall. The digging was done in the followingway: As soon as the operator was below the surface, and had a placelarge enough to admit the body, he laid down upon his face, at fulllength, and with his knife, spoon, piece of earthenware, or old iron, dug away with all his energies, throwing the dirt behind him, whichwas gathered up by a confederate, carried off, and hi. This mode ofoperating was carried on night after night, and the flooring replacedduring the day, to prevent suspicion. The want of fresh air in thetunnel, as it progressed to completion, often drove the men from theirwork, and caused a delay, which proved fatal to their successful escape. 

The long-looked for day arrived. More than three hundred had preparedto leave this hated abode, by the tunnel. All they waited for was thetapping and the signal. The time came, the place of egress was tapped, and the leader had scarcely put his head out of the hole, ere he wasfired upon by the sentinels, which soon alarmed and drew the entireguard to the spot. Great was the commotion throughout the prison, andall who were caught in the tunnel were severely punished. 

This failure seemed to depress the spirits of the men more than anyprevious attempt. Heavy irons were placed upon the limbs of many ofthe prisoners, and their lot was made otherwise harder by the keepers. Clotelle, though often permitted to see the prisoners and contribute totheir wants, and, though knowing much of their designs, knew nothing ofthe intended escape, and therefore was more bold in her intercessions intheir behalf when failure came upon them. 

The cruelty which followed this mishap, induced Clotelle to interestherself in another mode of escape for the men thus so heavily ironed. 

Pete, the man of all work, whose sympathies were with the Unionprisoners, was easily gained over to a promise of securing the keys ofthe prison and letting the men escape, especially when Clotelle offeredhim money to enable him to make good his own way to the North. 

The night of the exodus came. It was favored with darkness; and it sohappened that the officials were on a spree, owing to the arrival ofConfederate officers with news of a rebel victory. 

Before getting the keys, Pete supplied the sentinels on duty with enoughwhiskey, which he had stolen from the keepers' store-room, to make themall drunk. At the chosen moment, the keys were obtained by Pete, thedoors and gates were opened, and ninety-three prisoners, including thetunnel workers, whose irons were taken off, made their escape, allowingthe faithful negro to accompany them. Nothing was known of the exit ofthe men till breakfast hour on the next morning. On examination of thestore-room, it was found, that, in addition to the whiskey Pete hadtaken a large supply of stores for the accommodation of the party. Addedto this, a good number of arms with ammunition had been furnished themen by the African. 

The rebels were not prepared to successfully pursue the fleeingprisoners, although armed men were sent in different directions. Nothing, however, was heard of them till they reached the Union lines. Long suspected of too freely aiding Union prisoners, Clotelle was nowopenly charged with a knowledge of the escape of these men, and wascompelled to leave Andersonville. 

CHAPTER XXXIX. CONCLUSION

THE fiendish and heartless conduct of a large number of the peopleof the South towards Union men during the war, and especially theunlady-like demeanor of rebel women at New Orleans and other points, isa matter that has passed into history. In few places were the women moreabusive to those of Union proclivities than the female portion of theinhabitants of Greenville, Alabama. While passing through this town, onher return from Andersonville to New Orleans, Clotelle had to encounterthe fierce ill-treatment of these chivalrous daughters of the South. There were, during the rebellion, many brave and generous women, who, inthe mountains and lowlands of Alabama, gave aid to Federals, --soldiersand civilians, --in their wanderings and escape from the cruelties of thetraitors. One of these patriotic women was arrested while on a visit toGreenville for the purpose of procuring medicine and other necessariesfor sick Union men then hid away in the woods. This large-heartedwoman--Eunice Hastings--had her horse taken from her, robbed of thegoods she had purchased, and, after experiencing almost death at thehands of the rebel women, was released and turned out penniless, andwithout the means of reaching her home in the country; when Clotelle, who had just arrived at the dilapidated and poorly kept hotel, met her, and, learning the particulars of her case, offered assistance to theinjured woman, which brought down upon her own head the condemnation ofthe secesh population of the place. However, Clotelle purchased a finehorse from the landlord, gave it to Miss Hastings, who, after securingsome articles for which she had come to Greenville, left town undercover of night, and escaped further molestation. This act of kindness toa helpless sister at once stirred up the vilest feelings of the people. 

"The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules. "

As has already been said, there was nothing in the appearance ofClotelle to indicate that a drop of African blood coursed through herveins, except, perhaps, the slight wave in the hair, and the scarcelyperceptible brunettish tinge upon the countenance. She passed as a rebellady; yet the inhabitants of Greenville could not permit sympathy with, and aid to, a Union woman to pass unnoticed, and therefore resolved onrevenge. 

"Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long, back on itselfrecoils. "

Clotelle's person, trunks, and letters were all searched with the hopeand expectation of finding evidences of a spy. Nothing of the kind beingfound, she was then rigorously interrogated as to her sympathieswith the two contending armies. With no wish whatever to conceal heropinions, she openly avowed that she was a Union woman. This was enough. After being persecuted during the day, she was put in charge of acommittee of rebel women for the night, with a promise of more violenttreatment on the morrow. The loyalty of the negroes of the South, duringthe severest hours of the rebellion, reflects the greatest possiblecredit on the race. Through their assistance, hundreds of Union menwere enabled to make their escape from prisons, and thousands kept fromstarvation when on their way to the Federal lines, or while keeping outof the way of rebel recruiting gangs. They seldom, if ever, hesitated todo the white Unionists a service, at the risk even of life, and, underthe most trying circumstances, revealed a devotion and a spirit ofself-sacrifice that were heroic. No one ever made an appeal to them theydid not answer. They were degraded and ignorant, which was attributableto the cruel laws and equally unchristian practices of the people of theSouth; but their hearts were always open, and the slightest demand upontheir sympathies brought forth their tears. They never shunned a man orwoman who sought food or shelter on their way to freedom. The goodnessof heart and the guileless spirit of the blacks was not betterunderstood by any one than Clotelle; and she felt a secret joy at seeingall the servants in the Greenville hotel negroes. She saw from theirvery looks that she had their undivided sympathies. One of the servantsoverheard the rebels in a conversation, in which it was determined tosend Clotelle to the county town, for safe keeping in the jail, thefollowing day; and this fact was communicated to the unfortunate woman. The slave woman who gave the information told her that she could escapeif she desired. 

Having already been robbed of every thing except the apparel upon herperson and some money she had concealed about her, she at once signifiedto the black woman her wish to get out of the reach of her persecutors. The old worn-out clock in the narrow dining hall had struck one; acold rain was patting upon the roof, and the women watchers, one afteranother, had fallen asleep; and even the snuff-dippers, whose dirtypractice creates a nervousness that keeps them awake longer than anyother class, had yielded to the demands of Morpheus, when Aggy, thecolored servant, stealthily entered the room, beckoned to Clotelle, andboth left in silence. 

Cautiously and softly the black woman led the way, followed by the"Angel of Mercy, " till, after passing down through the cellar with thewater covering the floor, they emerged into the back yard. Two horseshad been provided. Clotelle mounted one, and a black man the other;the latter leading the way. Both dashed off at a rapid pace, through adrenching storm, with such a pall-like darkness that they could not seeeach other. After an hour's ride the negro halted, and informed Clotellethat he must leave her, and return with the horses, but that she waswith friends. He then gave a whistle, and for a moment held his breath. Just as the faithful black was about to repeat the signal, he heard theresponse; and in a moment the lady alighted, and with dripping garments, limbs chilled to numbness, followed her new guide to a place ofconcealment, near the village of Taitsville. 

"You is jes as wet as a drownded rat, " said the mulatto woman, who metClotelle as she entered the negro's cabin. 

"Yes, " replied the latter, "this is a stormy night for one to be out. "

"Yes mam, dese is hard times for eberybody dat 'bleves in de Union. I'spose deys cotched your husband, an' put him in de army, ain't dey?"

"No: my husband died at Port Hudson, fighting for the Union, " saidClotelle. 

"Oh, mam, dats de place whar de black people fight de rebels so, wasn'tit?" remarked Dinah, for such was her name. 

"Yes, that was the place, " replied the former. "I see that your husbandhas lost one of his hands: did he lose it in the war?"

"Oh no, missus, " said Dinah. "When dey was taken all de men, black anwhite, to put in de army, dey cotched my ole man too, and took him longwid 'em. So you see, he said he'd die afore he'd shoot at de Yanks. Soyou see, missus, Jimmy jes took and lay his left han' on a log, and chopit off wid de hatchet. Den, you see, dey let him go, an' he come home. You see, missus, my Jimmy is a free man: he was born free, an' he boughtme, an' pay fifteen hundred dollars for me. "

It was true that Jim had purchased his wife; nor had he forgotten thefact, as was shown a day or two after, while in conversation with her. The woman, like many of her sex, was an inveterate scold, and Jim hadbut one way to govern her tongue. "Shet your mouf, madam, an' hole yourtongue, " said Jim, after his wife had scolded and sputtered away forsome minutes. "Shet your mouf dis minit, I say: you shan't stan' dar, an' talk ter me in dat way. I bought you, an' paid my money fer you, an' I ain't a gwine ter let you sase me in dat way. Shet your mouf disminit: ef you don't I'll sell you; 'fore God I will. Shet up, I say, orI'll sell you. " This had the desired effect, and settled Dinah for theday. 

After a week spent in this place of concealment, Jim conveyed Clotelleto Leaksville, Mississippi, through the Federal lines, and from thenceshe proceeded to New Orleans. 

The Rebellion was now drawing to a close. The valley of the Mississippiwas in full possession of the Federal government. Sherman was on hisraid, and Grant was hemming in Lee. Everywhere the condition of thefreedmen attracted the attention of the friends of humanity, and no onefelt more keenly their wants than Clotelle; and to their education andwelfare she resolved to devote the remainder of her life, and for thispurpose went to the State of Mississippi, and opened a school for thefreedmen; hired teachers, paying them out of her own purse. In thesummer of 1866, the Poplar Farm, on which she had once lived as a slave, was confiscated and sold by Government authority, and was purchased byClotelle, upon which she established a Freedmen's School, and where atthis writing, --now June, 1867, --resides the "Angel of Mercy. "