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thirty-five years of age. His hair was here and there threaded with gray, and his cheeks were somewhat sunken, although there was nothing to suggest the lassitude of ill-health in his appearance. His complexion was that of a man who leads an active out-of-door life ; but his hands were small and unmarked by toil.

He wore his beard neatly trimmed. His finely curved Roman features and small expressive mouth spoke refirement and strength of will, not untempered with tenderness ; while his dark gray eyes seemed to penetrate without a pause straight to their object. A sagacious physiognomist would have said of him, “That man has a story to tell ; life has been to him no holiday frolic.” In the expression of his eyes Mrs. Berwick was reminded of Sir Joshua's fine picture of “The Banished Lord.” This stranger, as he passed by, looked at her gravely but intently, as if struck either by her beauty or by a fancied resemblance to some one he had known. There was that in his glance which so drew her attention, she said to her husband, “ Who is that man ?” “I have not seen him before,” replied Mr. Berwick.

“ Probably he came on board at New Madrid.”

They walked to the extent of their promenade forward, and turning saw this stranger leaning against the bulwarks. His low-crowned hat of a delicate, pliable felt, with its brims half curled up, his well-cut pantaloons of a coarse but unspotted fabric, and his thin overcoat of a light gray, showed that the Broadway fashions of the hour were not unfamiliar to the

This time he did not look up as the three passed. His gaze seemed intent on the children; and the soft smile on his lips and the dewy suffusion in his eyes betrayed emotion and tender meditation.

“Well, Leonora, what is your judgment? Is he, too, a gentleman ?” asked Mr. Berwick of his wife.

“ Yes; I will stake my reputation as a sibyl on it,” she replied. Ah! you vain mother!”•said Berwick, laughing.

“ You say that, because he seems lost in admiration of our little Clara. Is n't her weakness transparent, Mr. Onslow? What think you of this new-comer?”

“He certainly has the air of a gentleman," said Onslow;

wearer.

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“ and yet he looks to me very much like a fellow I once had up before me for horse-stealing. Was he too much interested in looking at your wife, or did he purposely abstain from letting me catch his eye? I should n't wonder if he were either a steamboat gambler or a horse-thief!”

“ Atrocious !” exclaimed Mrs. Berwick. “I don't believe a word of it. That man a horse-thief! Impossible!”

“On closer examination, I think I must be mistaken,” rejoined Mr. Onslow. “ If I remember aright, the fellow with whom I confound him had red hair."

“ There ! I knew you must be either joking or in error,” said the lady.

“ And now," continued Mr. Onslow, “I have a vague recollection of meeting him at the hotel where I stopped in Chicago last week.” “Ah! if he is a Chicago man, I must be right in

my

estimate of him," said Mrs. Berwick.

" Why so? Why should you be partial to Chicago ?”

“ Because my father was one of the first residents of the place.”

“ What was his name?“ Robert Aylesford.”

As she uttered this word they repassed the stranger. To their surprise he repeated, in a tone of astonishment, “ Aylesford !” then seemed to fall into a fit of musing. Before they again reached the spot, he had walked away, and taken a seat in an arm-chair aft, where he occupied himself in wiping the opera-glass with his handkerchief. If he had recognized Onslow, he had not betrayed it.

Here the attention of all on the upper deck was arrested by an explosion of wrathful oaths.

A tall, gaunt, round-shouldered man, dressed in an ill-fitting suit of some coarse, home-made cloth, had ascended the stairs with a lighted cigar in his mouth. One of the waiters of the boat, a bright-looking mulatto, followed him, calling, “ Mister! Mister!”

The tall man paid no heed to the call, and the mulatto touched him on the shoulder, and said, “ We don't allow smoking on this deck,” whereupon the tall man angrily turned on

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him, and, with eyes blazing with savage fire, exclaimed: “ What in hell air yer at, nigger? Ask my pardon, blast yer, or I'll smash in yer ugly profile, sure !”

“ Ask your pardon for what? “ For darrin' to put yer black hand on me, confound yer!

The mulatto replied with spirit: “You don't bully this child, Mister. I merely did my duty."

“ Duty be damned ! I'll stick yer, sure, if yer don't apologize right off, damned lively!” And the tall man unsheathed a monstrous bowie-knife.

Mr. Onslow approached, and mildly interposed with the remark, “ It was natural for the waiter to touch you, since he .could n't make you hear.”

“ Who the hell air you, sir ? " said the tall man. 66'I reckon I kn settle with the nigger without no help of yourn."

“ Yes,” said another voice ; “if the gentleman demands it, the nigger must ask his pardon."

Mr. Onslow turned, and to his surprise beheld the stranger with the opera-glass.

Really, sir,” said Mr. Onslow, “I hope you do not wish to see a man degrade himself merely because he is n't white like ourselves."

“The point can't be argued, sir,” said the stranger, putting his glass in his pocket. Then seizing the mulatto by the throat, he thrust him on his knees. “ Down, you black hound, and ask this gentleman's pardon."

To everybody's surprise, the mulatto's whole manner changed the minute he saw the stranger; and, sinking on his knees, he crossed his arms on his breast, and, with downcast eyes, said, addressing the tall man, “I ask pardon, sir, for putting my hand on you.”

“Wall, that's enough, nigger! I pardon yer," said the mollified tall. man, returning his bowie-knife to its sheath. gers mus' know thar places, that's all. Ef a nigger knows his place, I'd no more harm him nor I'd harm a valable hoss.”

The mulatto rose and walked away; but with no such show of chagrin as a keen observer might have expected; and the tall man, turning to him of the opera-glass, said, “ Sir, ye’r a high-tone gemmleman; an'cuss me but I'm proud of yer acquaint. Who mowt it be I kn call yer, sir?”

“ Nig“ Vance of New Orleans," was the reply.

“Mr. Vance, I'm yourn. I know'd yer mus' be from the South. Yer mus' liquor with me, Mr. Vance. Sir, ye'r a high-tone gemmleman. I'm Kunnle Hyde, - Kunnle Delancy Hyde. Virginia-born, be Gawd! An' I'm not ashamed ter say it! My ahnces'tors cum over with the caval'yers in King James's time, -yes,' sir-r-r! My father was one of the largest slave-owners in the hull State of Virginia, — yes, sir-r-r! Lost his proputty, every damned cent of it, sir, through a lowlived Yankee judge, sir!”

“I could have sworn, Colonel Hyde, there was no Puritan blood in your veins.”

“That's a fak!” said the Colonel, grimly smiling his gratification. Then, throwing his cigar overboard, he remarked: “ The Champion 's nowhar, I reckon, by this time. She ain't in sight no longer. What say yer to a brandy-smash ? Or sh'l it be a julep ?”

6 The bar is crowded just now ; let 's wait awhile,” replied Vance.

Here Mr. Onslow turned away in disgust, and, rejoining the Berwicks, remarked to the lady, “What think you

of

your gentleman now?"

“ I shall keep my thoughts respecting him to myself for the present,” she replied.

My wife piques herself on her skill in judging of character by the physiognomy," said Mr. Berwick, apologetically ; " and I see you can't make her believe she is wrong in this case. She sometimes gets impressions from the very handwriting of a person, and they often turn out wonderfully correct.” " Has Mrs. Berwick the gift of second-sight?

Is she a seeress ?."

“ Her faculty does not often show itself in soothsaying,” said Berwick. “But I have a step-mother who now and then has premonitions."

“ Do they ever find a fulfilment ?

“ One time in a hundred, perhaps," said Berwick. “If I believed in them largely, I should not be on board this boat.”

“Why so?” inquired Onslow. “She predicts disaster to it.”

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him, and, with eyes blazing with savage fire, exclaimed: “What in hell air yer at, nigger ? Ask my pardon, blast yer, or I'll smash in yer ugly profile, sure !”

“ Ask your pardon for what ? ” “ For darrin' to put yer black hand on me, confound yer!”

The mulatto replied with spirit: “You don't bully this child, Mister. I merely did my duty."

“ Duty be damned ! I'll stick yer, sure, if yer don't apologize right off, damned lively!” And the tall man unsheathed a monstrous bowie-knife.

Mr. Onslow approached, and mildly interposed with the remark, “ It was natural for the waiter to touch you, since he .could n't make you hear.”

“Who the hell air you, sir?” said the tall man. “I reckon I kn settle with the nigger without no help of yourn.”

“ Yes,” said another voice ; “if the gentleman demands it, the nigger must ask his pardon.”

Mr. Onslow turned, and to his surprise beheld the stranger with the opera-glass.

Really, sir,” said Mr. Onslow, “I hope you do not wish to see a man degrade himself merely because he is n't white like ourselves.”

“The point can't be argued, sir," said the stranger, putting his glass in his pocket. Then seizing the mulatto by the throat, he thrust him on his knees. “Down, you black hound, and ask this gentleman's pardon.”

To everybody's surprise, the mulatto's whole manner changed the minute he saw the stranger; and, sinking on his knees, he crossed his arms on his breast, and, with downcast eyes, said, addressing the tall man, “I ask pardon, sir, for putting my hand on you.”

“Wall, that's enough, nigger! I pardon yer," said the mollified tall.man, returning his bowie-knife to its sheath. “Niggers mus' know thar places, — that's all. Ef a nigger knows his place, I'd no more harm him nor I'd harm a valable hoss.”

The mulatto rose and walked away; but with no such show of chagrin as a keen observer might have expected; and the tall man, turning to him of the opera-glass, said, “Sir, ye 'r a high-tone gemmleman; an'cuss me but I'm proud of yer acquaint. Who mowt it be I kn call yer, sir?”

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