Andy wasn't certain; he'd only "hearn tell" about that road, but never been over it. In short, he was strictly noncommittal. Haley, accustomed to strike the balance of probabilities between lies of greater or lesser magnitude, thought that it lay in favor of the dirt road aforesaid. The mention of the thing he thought he perceived was involuntary on Sam's part at first, and his confused attempts to dissuade him he set down to a desperate lying on second thoughts, as being unwilling to implicate Eliza. When, therefore, Sam indicated the road, Haley plunged briskly into it, followed by Sam and Andy. Now, the road, in fact, was an old one, that had formerly been a thoroughfare to the river, but abandoned for many years after the laying of the new pike. It was open for about an hour's ride, and after that it was cut across by various farms and fences. Sam knew this fact perfectly well, indeed, the road had been so long closed up, that Andy had never heard of it. He therefore rode along with an air of dutiful submission, only groaning and vociferating occasionally that 'twas "desp't rough, and bad for Jerry's foot." "Now, I jest give yer warning," said Haley, "I know yer; yer won't get me to turn off this yer road, with all yer fussin' so you shet up!" "Mas'r will go his own way!" said Sam, with rueful submission, at the same time winking most portentously to Andy, whose delight was now very near the explosive point. Sam was in wonderful spirits, professed to keep a very brisk lookout, at one time exclaiming that he saw "a gal's bonnet" on the top of some distant eminence, or calling to Andy "if that thar wasn't 'Lizy' down in the hollow;" always making these exclamations in some rough or craggy part of the road, where the sudden quickening of speed was a special inconvenience to all parties concerned, and thus keeping Haley in a state of constant commotion. After riding about an hour in this way, the whole party made a precipitate and tumultuous descent into a barn-yard belonging to a large farming establishment. Not a soul was in sight, all the hands being employed in the fields; but, as the barn stood conspicuously and plainly square across the road, it was evident that their journey in that direction had reached a decided finale. "Wan't dat ar what I telled Mas'r?" said Sam, with an air of injured innocence. "How does strange gentleman spect to know more about a country dan de natives born and raised?” "You rascal!" said Haley, "you knew all about this." "Didn't I tell yer I know'd, and yer wouldn't believe me? I telled Mas'r 'twas all shet up, and fenced up, and I didn't spect we could get through, Andy heard me." It was all too true to be disputed, and the unlucky man had to pocket his wrath with the best grace he was able, and all three faced to the right about, and took up their line of march for the highway. In consequence of all the various delays, it was about threequarters of an hour after Eliza had laid her child to sleep in the village tavern that the party came riding into the same place. Eliza was standing by the window, looking out in another direction, when Sam's quick eye caught a glimpse of her. Haley and Andy were two yards behind. At this crisis, Sam contrived to have his hat blown off, and uttered a loud and characteristic ejaculation, which startled her at once; she drew suddenly back; the whole train swept by the window, round to the front door. A thousand lives seemed to be concentrated in that one moment to Eliza. Her room opened by a side door to the river. She caught her child, and sprang down the steps towards it. The trader caught a full glimpse of her, just as she was disappearing down the bank; and throwing himself from his horse, and calling loudly on Sam and Andy, he was after her like a hound after a deer. In that dizzy moment her feet to her scarce seemed to touch the ground, and a moment brought her to the water's edge. Right on behind they came; and, nerved with strength such as God gives only to the desperate, with one wild cry and flying leap, she vaulted sheer over the turbid current by the shore, on to the raft of ice beyond. It was a desperate leap - impossible to anything but madness and despair; and Haley, Sam, and Andy instinctively cried out, and lifted up their hands, as she did it. The huge green fragment of ice on which she alighted pitched and creaked as her weight came on it, but she stayed there not a moment. With wild cries and desperate energy she leaped to another and still another cake; - stumbling - leaping slipping springing upwards again! Her shoes are gone her stockings cut from her feet while blood marked every step; but she saw nothing, felt nothing, till dimly, as in a dream, she saw the Ohio side, and a man helping her up the bank. "Yer a brave gal, now, whoever ye ar!" said the man, with an oath. Eliza recognized the voice and face of a man who owned a farm not far from her old home. "O, Mr. Symmes ! save me said Eliza. - do save me do hide me!" "Why, what's this?" said the man. "Why, if 'tan't Shelby's gal!" "My child! - this boy! - he'd sold him! There is his Mas'r," said she, pointing to the Kentucky shore. "O, Mr. Symmes, you've got a little boy!" "So I have," said the man, as he roughly but kindly drew her up the steep bank. "Besides, you're a right brave gal. I like grit, wherever I see it." When they had gained the top of the bank the man paused. "I'd be glad to do something for ye," said he; "but then there's nowhar I could take ye. The best I can do is to tell ye to go thar," said he, pointing to a large white house which stood by itself, off the main street of the village. "Go thar; they're kind folks. Thar's no kind o' danger but they'll help you, they're up to all that sort o' thing." "The Lord bless you!" said Eliza, earnestly. "No 'casion, no 'casion in the world," said the man. I've done's of no 'count." "And, oh, surely, sir, you won't tell any one!" "Go to thunder, gal! course not," said the man. sensible gal, as you are. shall have it, for all me." "What What do you take a feller for? In "Come, now, go along like a likely, You've arnt your liberty, and you The woman folded her child to her bosom, and walked firmly and swiftly away. The man stood and looked after her. "Shelby, now, mebbe won't think this yer the most neighborly thing in the world; but what's a feller to do? If he catches one of my gals in the same fix, he's welcome to pay back. Somehow I never could see no kind o' critter a strivin' and pantin', and trying to clar theirselves, with the dogs arter 'em, and go agin 'em. Besides, I don't see no kind of 'casion for me to be hunter and catcher for other folks, neither." So spoke this poor, heathenish Kentuckian, who had not been instructed in his constitutional relations, and consequently was betrayed into acting in a sort of Christianized manner, which, if he had been better situated and more enlightened, he would not have been left to do. Haley had stood a perfectly amazed spectator of the scene till Eliza had disappeared up the bank, when he turned a blank, inquiring look on Sam and Andy. "That ar was a tolable fair stroke of business," said Sam. "The gal's got seven devils in her, I believe!" said Haley. "How like a wildcat she jumped!" "Wal, now," said Sam, scratching his head, "I hope Mas'r 'll 'scuse us tryin' dat ar road. Don't think I feel spry enough for dat ar, no way!" and Sam gave a hoarse chuckle. "You laugh!" said the trader, with a growl. "Lord bless you, Mas'r, I couldn't help it, now," said Sam, giving way to the long pent-up delight of his soul. "She looked so curi's, a leapin' and springin' - ice a crackin' - and only to hear her, plump! ker chunk! ker splash! Sping! Lord! how she goes it!" and Sam and Andy laughed till the tears rolled down their cheeks. "I'll make ye laugh t'other side yer mouths!" said the trader, laying about their heads with his riding-whip. Both ducked, and ran shouting up the bank, and were on their horses before he was up. "Good-evening, Mas'r!" said Sam, with much gravity. "I berry much spect Missis be anxious 'bout Jerry. Mas'r Haley won't want us no longer. Missis wouldn't hear of our ridin' the critters over Lizy's bridge to-night;" and, with a facetious poke into Andy's ribs, he started off, followed by the latter, at full speed, their shouts of laughter coming faintly on the wind. SIR JOHN SUCKLING SIR JOHN SUCKLING, an English poet and soldier. Middlesex, England, 1608; died in Paris, 1642. published, London, 1832. Born at Whitton in Author of "Poems," CONSTANCY OUT upon it, I have loved Three whole days together; Time shall moult away his wings, Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again But the spite on't is, no praise Is due at all to me; Love with me had made no stays, Had it any been but she. Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen in her place. SONG WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? Why so dull and mute, young sinner? Prithee, why so mute? |