weary boy upon it, and held his hands in hers till he was fast asleep. For her there was no rest. As a fire in her bones, the thoughts of the pursuer urged her on; and she gazed with longing eyes on the sullen, surging waters, that lay between her and liberty. . . .

....

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 pursuing 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 glimpse of her, just as she was disappearing down the bank; and throwing himself from his horse, and calling loudly to Sam and Andy, he was after her like a hound after a deer. In that dizzy moment her feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground, and an instant 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-slippingspringing 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.

SCENES FROM "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN."

TOPSY.

One morning, while Miss Ophelia was busy with some of her domestic duties, St. Clare's voice was heard calling her at the foot of the stairs.

"Come down here, cousin; I've something to show you."

"What is it?" said Miss Ophelia, coming down with her sewing in her hand.

"I've made a purchase for your department. See here,” said St. Clare; and, with the word, he pulled along a little negro girl, about eight or nine years of age.

She was one of the blackest of her race, and her round, shining eyes, glittering like glass beads, moved with quick and restless glances over everything in the room. Her mouth, half open with astonishment at the wonders of the new mas'r's parlour, displayed a white and brilliant set of teeth. Her woolly hair was braided in sundry little tails, which stuck out in every direction. The expression of her face was an odd mixture of shrewdness and cunning, over which was oddly drawn, like a kind of veil, an expression of the most doleful gravity and solemnity. She was dressed in a ragged garment, made of bagging; and stood with her hands demurely folded before her. Altogether, there was something odd and goblin-like about her appearance,-something, as Miss Ophelia afterwards said, "so heathenish," as to inspire that good lady with utter dismay; and, turning to St. Clare, she said,Augustine, what can you have brought that thing here for?" "For you to educate, to be sure. I thought she was rather a funny specimen. Here, Topsy," he added, giving a whistle, as a man would to call the attention of a dog, "give us a song now, and show us some of your dancing."

The black, glassy eyes glittered with a kind of wicked drollery, and Topsy struck up, in a clear, shrill voice, an odd negro melody, to which she kept time with her hands and feet, spinning round, clapping her hands, knocking her knees together, in a

wild, fantastic sort of time, and producing in her throat all those odd guttural sounds which distinguish the native music of her race; finally, turning a somerset or two, and giving a prolonged closing note, as odd and unearthly as that of a steam-whistle, she came suddenly down on the carpet, and stood with her hands folded, and an expression of meekness and solemnity over her face, only broken by the cunning glances which she shot askance from the corners of her eyes.

Miss Ophelia stood silent, perfectly paralyzed with amazement. St. Clare, like a mischievous fellow as he was, appeared to enjoy her astonishment; and, addressing the child again, said,—

66

Topsy, this is your new mistress. I'm going to give you up to her; see, now, that you behave yourself."

"Yes, mas'r," said Topsy, with a perfect gravity, her wicked eyes twinkling as she spoke.

"You're going to be good, Topsy, remember," said St. Clare. “O yes, mas'r,” said Topsy with another twinkle, her hands still devoutly folded.

"Now, Augustine, what is this for ?" said Miss Ophelia. "Your house is so full of these little plagues, now, that one can't set foot down without treading on them. I get up in the morning, and find one asleep behind the door, and see one black head poking out from under the table, one lying on the door-mat; and they are moping, and mowing, and grinning between all the railings, and tumbling over the kitchen floor! Why did you bring this one ?"

"For you to educate, didn't I tell you? You're always preaching about educating. I thought I would make you a present of a fresh-caught specimen, and let you try your hand on her. The fact is, this creature belonged to a place that I have to pass by every day, and I was tired of hearing her screaming, and the people she belonged to beating and swearing at her. She looked bright and funny, too, as if something might be made of her; so I bought her, and I'll give her to you. Try, now, and see what you'll make of her. You know I haven't any gift that way, but

I'd like you to try."

Miss Ophelia carried Topsy to the kitchen regions, but she soon saw there was nobody that would undertake to oversee the cleansing and dressing of the new arrival; and so she was forced to do it herself, with some very ungracious and reluctant assistance from Jane.

When arrayed at last in a suit of decent and whole clothing, and her hair cropped short, Miss Ophelia, with some satisfaction, said she looked more Christian-like than formerly, and in her own mind began to mature some plans for her instruction.

Sitting down before her, she began to question her.

"How old are you, Topsy?"

"Dunno, missus," said the image, with a grin that showed all her teeth.

"Don't you know how old you are? Did nobody ever tell you? Who was your mother?"

"Never had none!" said the child, with another grin.

"Never had any mother? What do you mean? Where were you born?"

"Never was born!" persisted Topsy, with another grin, that looked so goblin-like, that, if Miss Ophelia had been at all nervous she might have fancied that she had got hold of some sooty gnome from the land of spirits; but Miss Ophelia was not nervous, but plain and business-like, and she said, with some sternness,—

"You mustn't answer me in that way, child; I'm not playing with you. Tell me where you were born, and who your father and mother were."

"Never was born," reiterated the creature, more emphatically

never had no father nor mother, nor nothin'. Old Aunt Sue used to take car on us."

The child was evidently sincere; and Jane, breaking into a short laugh, said,—

"Yes, missus, there's heaps of 'em.

Speculators buys 'em up

cheap, when they's little, and gets 'em sent to market."

"How long have you lived with your master and mistress ?" "Dunno, missus."

"Is it a year, or more, or less?"

"Dunno, missus."

"Why, missus, those low negroes, they can't tell; they don't know anything about time," said Jane; "they don't know what a year is; they don't know their own ages.”

"Have you ever heard anything about God, Topsy!"

The child looked bewildered, but grinned as usual. "Do you know who made you?”

"Nobody, as I knows on," said the child; "I 'spect I growed. Don't think nobody never made me."

"Do you know how to sew?" said Miss Ophelia, who thought she would turn her inquiries to something more tangible. "No, missus."

"What can you do ?—what did you do for your master and mistress?"

"Fetch water, wash dishes, rub knives, and wait on folks." "Were they good to you?"

"Spect they was," said Topsy, scanning Miss Ophelia cunningly.

Miss Ophelia rose in distress from this encouraging colloquy. The child was announced and considered in the family as Miss Ophelia's girl; and, as she was looked upon with no gracious eye in the kitchen, Miss Ophelia resolved to confine her sphere of operation and instruction chiefly to her own chamber.

Topsy was soon a noted character in the establishment. Her talent for every species of drollery, grimace, and mimicry-for dancing, tumbling, climbing, singing, whistling, imitating every sound that hit her fancy-seemed inexhaustible. In her playhours she invariably had every child in the establishment at her heels, open-mouthed with admiration and wonder-not excepting Miss Eva, who appeared to be fascinated by her wild play, as a dove is sometimes charmed by a glittering serpent.

Topsy was smart and energetic in all manual operations, learning everything that was taught her with surprising quickness. With a few lessons she had learned the proprieties of Miss Ophelia's chamber in a way with which even that particular lady could find no fault. Hands could not lay a coverlet smoother,