NEGRO LIFE IN AMERICA. $1

“Where are you going, mother?” said he, as she drew near
the bed with his little coat and cap.

His mother drew near, and looked so earnestly into his eves
that he at once divined that something unusual was the matter.

‘“‘ Hush, Harry,” she said; ‘mustn't speak loud, or they will
hear us. A wicked man was coming to take little Harry away
from his mother, and carry him ‘way off in the dark; but mother
won't let him—she’s going to put on her little boy’s cap and
coat, and run off with him, so the ugly man can’t catch him.”

Saying these words, she had tied and buttoned on the cl. ild’s
simple outfit, and, taking him in her arms, she whispered to |.im
to be very still; and, opening a door in her room which led iu‘o
the outer verandah, she glided noiselessly out.

It was a sparkling, frosty, starlight night, and the mother
wrapped the shawl close round her child, as, perfectly quiet with
vague terror, he clung round her neck.

Old Bruno, a great Newfoundland, who slept at the end of the
porch, rose, with a low growl, as she came near. She gently
spoke his name, and the animal, an old pet and playmate of hers,
instantly wagging his tail, prepared to follow her, though appa-
rently revolving much, in his simple dog’s head, what such an
indiscreet midnight promenade might mean. Some dim ideas
of imprudence or impropriety in the measure seemed to embar-
rass him considerably ; for he often stopped, as Eliza glided for-
ward, and looked wistfully, first at her and then at the house, and
then, as if reassured by reflection, he pattered along after her
again. A few minutes brought them to the window of Uncle
Tom’s cottage, and Eliza, stopping, tapped lightly on the window-
pane. |
The prayer-meeting at Uncle Tom’s had, in the order of hymn-
singing, been protracted to a very late hour; and as Uncle Tom
had indulged himself in a few lengthy solos afterwards, the con-
sequence was, that, although it was now between twelve and one
o’clock, he and his worthy helpmeet were not yet asleep.

‘Good Lord! what’s that?” said Aunt Chloe, starting up, and
hastily drawing the curtain. ‘My sakes alive, if it an't Lizy!
Get on your clothes, old man, quick! There's old Bruno, too, a
pawin’ round—what on airth! I'm gwine to open the door.”

And, suiting the action to the word, the door flew open, and
the light of the tallow candle which Tom had hastily lighted fell
on the haggard face, and dark, wild eyes of the fugitive.

“Lord bless you! I’m skeered to look at ye, Lizy! Are ye
tuck sick, or what’s come over ye?”

“I'm running away, Uncle Tom and Aunt Chloe—carrying off
my child. Master sold him !”

“Sold him ?” echoed both, lifting up their hands in dismay.

Yes, sold him!” said Eliza firmly. ‘I crept into the closet
by mistress’s door to-night, and I heard master tell missis that