N0 $2.50 Published Weekly by Beadle and Adams, Price, V01 3 Yen" No. 98 WILLIAM ST. NEW YORK. 1'1"" Gen“. MARSH MOSE AN The Swamp Guide. Marsh Muse and His Dog; THE Swen} GUIDE. BY WALTER NORRIS MCNEIL. CHAPTER I. run car-roan. " FATHER, is there no hope?" The heart of the strong man at the helm throbbed with intensified love for his child. How doubly dear, how precious were her words, for, perchance, they might never again gladden his heart on earth. Ellinor Vannier laid her hand upon her father’s arm, and again her words, low but distinct, were heard amid the din of strife, and the raging storm. “Fear not, my father, your child has no coward heart.” As though to challenge these words, across the foaming waters 3 the missile of death, falling with a sullen p ash into the sea, angrily, as though enraged at being despciled of its rey. p “My child this is no B16260 for you.” “My place is ever ide you,” repiied the devoted child. Captain Vannier pressed his child closer to his heart, as though to shield her, with his life, from the terrible impending evils. His only one, whom he had guarded so tenderly, lest, per- chance, the gentle winds of heaven might visit her all too roughly, to meet a fate like this! The agonized father groaned in bitterness of spirit. Another flash and report followed. Now, with unerrin and deadly recision, tho projec- tile fell, and he deck was s uttered by the force of falling masts. “ This assures me of our fate, dear father. We shall die together i” cried the brave girl. For many hours the doomed vessel hm , “like a thing of life," fled before her pursuers. The men bhad worked witiiados ration, for in the mi ility o escape y t eir only hope; but now their labors ceased, and the lightning’s lurid glare revealed (faces whose every feature por- rayed despair, yet resolute, withnl, as the faces of men who shrink not at the approach of death One of their number, a weather-beaten sea- men, up reached Captain Vannier, as, with‘ his child stll clasped in his arms, he stood amid the darkness and desolation, and in 'tonesas evon as though the decks were clear, the sea calm and“ he were about to announce an ord'nary fadt, he .said: ” “ She‘s disabled, sir.” Then he stood respectfully, 'as though await- ing orders. ‘ Ah. Will Brando, faithful to the last. They have all done nobly; tell them ’tis useless now," said Captain Vannier. He felt a reproach that even in his eat anguish he had for a. moment forgotten h s noble crew. There was a moisture on his bronzed‘cheek, as Will Brande turned «array, but his “ Ay, ey, sir,” was delivered in x .u,' prompt tones, and his usual salutation of respect, although lost in the darkness, was not omitted. Again the disabled ship received a volley, and reeled to and fro under the force of the terrific concussion, while every wave threatened instant destruction. The lightning's flash for a moment illuminated the scene, and showed their ursuer With appalling distinctness~the arm men, eager for their prey, the death-dealing cannons upon her deck; while upon her dark sides, and seemingly blazoued in letters of fire, was her name, “Ocean Scourge." Eagerly as she had before sought tidings of hopc, Ellinor Vanniwr now sought tidings of a fate which would save her from these captors—less merciful than the remorselcss waves. “ Will Brande, you have been kind and truth- ful to me, always,” she said, earnestly. “ Tell me. now, must the pirate reach us ere we die?" “I’ve never sailed alongside that craft under . false colors, and can’t do it now she‘s in foul weather,” soliloquizcd Will. Then he replied, aloud: “You see, miss, the wind and see. that only beats us about, helps her on. We may float some time yet, and she’ll be here in lcsi than that. Leiistwuys, that’s my ’plniou.” “ Heaven grant that I may die thus," more murcd tlm gentle girl, and, as a child seeking refuge, she drew closer within her father’s embrace.“ . But the strong nrms that encircled her 1' laxed. then full nerve-less by his side, and Cd tain Vannicz' sunk lifeless upon the deck, wh1 o the warm blool, gushing from a wound in his breast, deluged the face and neck of his child. , 5 With a cry of horror and despair Ellinor lost all consciousness of surrounding terrors. ‘ “ If the cap’n's gone, it's my duty to take his place, as well .as I can: leastways, that’s my inion." said Will Brande, as he raised Ellinor annier in his arms. At this moment a ludicrous feature was added to the scene, if “ ludicrous” anything could be termed in connection with a moment of such terror. “ Och, murtherl” exclaimed a voice, in un- mistakably Hibernian accents, “ an‘ is it yerself, Miss Ellinor, darlint, that’s goin’ to stay there. wi'l de niurtherin’ cannons, and Winn intirelyi A Howly Moses, and all the blissid saints! W!) n we’ve sailed chine through Chaney and the Inj y says,\ and the great S’ary Desirt, itself, to come to this, intil this haste ov a say.” “Bridget, your screamin’.is worse than the roar of the cannons " exclaimed Will Brande. “ Yis, faith, and it‘s wees that‘s always givin‘ of yer advice, and never follerin’ of yersnlf at all," was the retort. “ This is no time for words Bridget." “ Then,” interrupted Bridget, ‘ why don’t the masther or the sw'ite young leddy spake a word, Wliin it’s moself that’s kilt wid fright?“ Will made no reply. . ” Then it’s kilt they are intirely. Och‘ hone the day!” ' With this exclamation, Brid et fell prone upon the deck, uttering a series of s rieks, suflicientiyj appalling to strike terror to any human beam 011 came the irate shin. Lights gleamed. um her deck, an when Will B de. prac 868‘ man though he was, thoughlxhat with onempre In. it I t ’ The Swamp Guide. wave the wreck would be annihilated, she lay alongside, and the deck of the sinking vessel swarmed with her crew. But the bloodthirsty spirit of pursuit had nearly deprived them of a. rich booty. A few only of the most daring ventured to secure a small porti n of the treas- ures, in gold and merchandise, with which the vessel‘was laden. Tempting as was the booty, they were compelled to leavoit; not, howeVe-r, without many imprecations of rage and disa_ - pointment. / Brave, when bravery was worse than vain, ,Will Brande held the inanimate furm of his cap— tain’s daughter in his arms, determined to do— fend her with his life. But, felled by a shower of blows, the faithful seaman soon lay insensihle beside the bleeding form upon the deck, and , Ellinor Vannier was borne away. Bridget had remained paralyzed by terror, and Seemingly ~ ' unobserver in the confusion; but now. influ— enced by a new 1error~thnt of being left to perish on tho wreck—she started to her feet, and again gave utterance 'to the most piercing shrinks. “An’ it’s yces that w’u’d be afther l’avin‘ me behint wid do say, an’ carryin’ off me young loddy, the blissing of me life, before me. very eyes, ye thaivin’ pirates,” she exclaimed, vehe« mently. One of the villains ausod, seemingly amused by her grief and lo im'ous exclamations, and sax . “It would be a pit to carry oif the angel and leave the devil. {'ou must be the shriek- ing devd, and we’ll have all sorts for a va- riety.” “ No more a divil nor yersclf, harrin’ it’s me— self that’s a Christian woman, an” yer a hay- » t en; but ye can .call me the divil or a blissid saint itself, Mr. Pirate, if ye’ll only take me along wid me leddy.” ' r Thus,_amid alternate reproaehes and entren- tiles, Bridget was conveyed on board the pirate , 8 1p. . CHAPTER II. HOMEWARD BOUND. A FEW hours previous to the scenes porirayed in the foregoing chapter, the merchant ship, “ Ellinor,” was, seeming] y under the most favor- able auspices proceedingr on her voyage, “ home- ward bound. As though reluctant to hide the beauties or the, gorgeous ocean sunset, the angel of night slow y spread her mantle over' the earth. so slowly that each deepening shadow but added a softer tint to the gent] '—fading scene. , Captain Vannier trod the och. a proud and happy man. Beside him was his joy, his on] V treasure; for, considered beside his fair chik, ; the father counted his wealth on land and at - sea, as naught. She was peerless in his eyes; to “him the rays of the setting sun, reflected on the ocean’s broad ex use, were not so bright as the V gOlden threads oiwher hair, nor were the depths of ocean as blue as those eyes, ever beaming with , affection. ’Tis said the darkest mtg-ht precedes the bright- est day, May not the, airest (lay portend the d ' est hours of night? Do not the blessings, ensures of life beerime dearer. priceless, in the, Mowing of dark events at hand? I ‘ ,1 war .cap‘n, I don‘t look for clouds in the Vannie'r resigned the glass to his hands, saying: i . . ' . I '. ‘ Vs -1 p 5. Captain Vannier deemed this the happies‘ hour of his life. His daughter, too, seemed g9.er even than was her wont. She spoke of distant lands they had visited, dwelt with rapture on the scenes of beauty and grandeur they had beheld. Then, as the sun sunk and twilight deepened, she swim in low tones of their old cottage home in her dear native land, around which clustered tender memories of the “ angel mother, not lost, but gone before.” She 519 t now in the village churchyard. and her chi d longed to know if the rose-tree she had planted there bloomed on tho consecrated spot. Then, when she saw her father’s face saddened by the memory of joys lost to him forever, sho strove to call the smiles again. “ There, papa, I will have no sighs now,” she said, with a pretty assumption of willfulness. Then in a moment she added; “ There will be a. change of weather, papa.” , - " Since when did my Ellinor become a prophet- cssi” asked Captain Vunnier, smiling at her af- fectionate ruse for diverting his thoughts. " This moment, on looking at our weatherwiso Will Brande.” Captain Vannier joined his mate, who stood, glass in hand, apparently absorbed in the con— tain )lation of some distant object. “ Vhat is it,—Will?~——a Cloud '5" he asked. “Yes, cap‘n, two on ’em," replied Will. “ Two!” ejaculated Captain Vannier, as his practiced eye swept the horizon. - “ I see but one, Will, in reality as small as a man’s hand," he said. “It will be a gale, sir. But, askin’ ardon, eavens through them glasses. I’m lookin’ for clouds on earth," replied Will. ‘ “You rre full of mysteries, Will.” . Will adjusted the glass, and steadied it, say- ing: 2 “Now look, cap'n. T’other cloud’s tiwre.” “ I see a sml. it is visible to the naked eye.” “ Look again, cap’n,” suid Will. “ She has a peculiar appearance—«built fer fast sailing, I should say.” “J cs, 50, sir. Them dark spots on her Sides is port—holes, and she‘s a rebel pirate. Leastways, that's my ’ inion.” , \Vill spo e in low tones. He did not wish his words to reach the ears of his captain's daugh- ter, for Ellinor Vunnicr had, by some opportune art of kindness, won the heart even of the sim- ilcst seamen on her father’s vessel. Will Brando had lknown and loved her fromhcr'curliest child- hom . . Captain Vannier held the glass in silence, and W'll spoke again. v 4 v \ “ You see, cap’n, times ain’t like they use to was. That ugly craft is after us. Leastways, that’s my ‘pinion.” This was Will’s favorite ex— pletive, and delivered with much emphasis, es— pecially when under excitement, as at present. “You see she don’t run up the old flag, ca ’11.” . “ That looks suspicious, Will.” “I’ll give the Ellinor a little more canvas. Been crowdin’ sail for the last half-hour," said Will, as he turned away. l I‘ In a few moments Will returned. Captain i 4 The Swamp Guide. “She is evidently bearing upon us. lVill. Keep a sharp‘lookont." y, ay, sn'. With rapid strides, Captain Vunnier paced to and fro. How changed a man! He had been long absent from his native land, and now that it was too late, be deeply rcgrctttxl the temerity which had induced him to attempt the homeward voyage. It was rather confidence than tcmerity, for Captain Vannier was but one of the many who, even after the commencement of hostilities, rc— fused to believe that our unhappy 1 1nd could be~ come the scene of bloodshed which followed. There had been several outrages reported in distant waters, but even those lacked confir— mation, and Captain Vannier had left Liverpool for New York, in command of h is richly-freigh t- ed bark, without a nilsgiving concerning the danger which new threatened. Otherwise he would never have consented that his daughter should be his companion for this voyage. ’A few moments since, he rejoiced in her presence as his greatest earthly blessing; now, he would have given all his wealth and wondered forth a beggar, could he have remov- ed her far from the present scene. Captain Vannier was a. brave man, but his: heart sunk within his bosom, when he considcr- ed that he was defenseless, powerless, even be- foro his enemies. They must make every ex- ertion, however, strain every stitch of canvas, before the coming gale. In this and approach- ing night lay their only possibility of escape. Ellinor had, duringr her father’s consultation with Will Brando, entered the saloon. This apartment was fitted with taste and elegance, and thither wEllinor usually resorle at dusk, while her attendant. the faithful but Somewhat eccentric Bridget Flaherty, made preparation fer the evening repeat. Bridget was the (laughter of an old and faitlr ful steward, who had 10st his life in Captain Vannier’s service at see. some years revious. . She had, since Ellinor’s childhood, een her constant attendant. She was devoted to her mistress, and had accompanied her on several "voyages. On such occasions she censidered Ellinor her especxal charge, and gave such nd— 'vice' and uttered such remonstrance as she deemed necessary. “Shnre, on it’s meself that didn’t’know as ye’d be afther coming in, at all, at all. Ye’ll be gettin‘ burned as black as a nagur itself in this same say breeze, I'm thinkin’,” exclaimed the faithful monitress, as Elllnor entered the saloon. “Never mind. Bridget, it will not burn very deep] ," said Ellinor, laughing, as she seated herseii upon a. luxurious divan. “ Onl skin-dupe, ye m’une. And does the black 0 a nagur itself go duper than that, I’d like to know?" “ Come, Bridget, let’s ‘make our little saloon 7 V, bright and cheerful, and set the most tempting supper possible,” said Ellinnr, still laughing at Brid t’s original idea. of color. _ “ ow iverye can make the swam little place nicer than nice, it’s meself don’t know, and b the same token, ’tis n’ataly done, for, faith, 7 fixed it all meself. It’s better than having those men-servints cl’anin’ and - scmpin’ around, hreakin’ ivory blissed thing they let fall. ,It’s ' ineself thutlll niver’let ‘em in here at all, but kape ’0111 out, altogether.” ' “ You have arranged everything very nicely, Bridget,” said Ellinor, casting an approving glance around the room. “ But it’s right, for all that, miss, ye know, that ye would come and see the avemu’ fixiu’s, like ye did when we was at Chaney, that queer place, do ye mind, miss, where the paple- wore tails at the back ov the’r heads, and no feet ;ut all, none worth sp'nkiu’ ov—but bowly saints, protect us! what iver are they doin’ wid (1c poor ship? They’re runnin’ her as if she was a. race coorse, or a ronrin’ lion itself,” exclaimed Bridget. “ Perhaps they are in haste; we’re homewurd bound, you know.” ' “ Home!" exclaimed Bridget. “ Home in- ilall‘"! 7They‘re tryin’ to run us ashdre, it’s my mlair‘. Ellinor httppczl on deck, and approaChed her father. v “I cannot speak with you now, my darling.” His tones were almost stern, and her heart sickened at the expression of his cnuntenance as v he spoke. She recutered the saloon, with on indefinite foreboding of evil, and said: “Bridget, something terrible has occurred." “ Shure, on7 I’ll go and see. I’m not going to stay and be drowned in me bed, like a. mad In- jun itself.” , ‘ ‘ Intent on her purpose, Bridget hastened to Will Brande, and asked: “ What ivcr’s the matter now E’ ' lVe’ro rush: in’ through the say fit to split ivory b’iler~lrar— rin’ there’s none to burst itself—and like to tear the sails into threads ag’in.” \ V. ‘ Will Brande made no reply, and Bridget ‘con- ' tinned, angrily: “ It’s yorself stundin’ there like a statoo, or a mile—stone on Patienee’s monnynient, niver giviu’ an answer to a civil question. Is it the bloody pirit of the says ye’r‘ a-lookin7 at, or the say- ‘ sarpint itself?” I i Her loquacity annoyed Will exceedingly in the present instance, and he exclaimed, impa- tiently: “ Hold your tonczyue, Bridget.” “It’s mesolf can do that same, but I’ll do it out of the hearin’ of the likes of ye, intirely. “Sorry a word did I git from him at all, barrin’ a civil request to hould me tongue,” ex- claimed Bridget, as she rejoined her mistress. “ But, let ’em sail, and whin things begin to fly off ginerally,‘ it’s mesclf can hold onto the mast, and no than 5 to the b’astely min at all." . , And Bridget coolly continued her prepara- tions for the evening mcuh " ' The rosy hues of twilight had long since ven- ished. The night deepened and darkened, as the threatened storm arose; still, they urged the frail bark on. Theinests bent to the storm, and the timbers crooked, as though appealing .to tho ; human hands tint guided her. . , It was, a mad chase, and nothing could be, 5 red, for still there was hope, however faint». t at in the darkness and stem they might empe- . ,' . And they hoped onefor to hope is but human l—euntil,.deep‘er than the. crashingrthnndtr,’ was fin... swap-Game, ‘, _ , 4 ’ , ,5 heard across the broad expanse of waters the cannon’s sullen roar; that sound which has any nounced the desolation of so many homes and hearts; once heard, never to be forgotten more. CHAPTER III. , THE PIRATE CHIEF. ELLINOR VANNIER awoke to consciousness in the cabin of the “ Ooeun Scourge.” Bridget sat beside the couch, with her face buried in her hands, loudly lamenting their fate. , “ An’ it‘s me own dear leddy herself that’s killed wid the roar of the say on” the cannons, an’ it’s all along of these thaiv'es, bad luck to ’emf’she cried. “ Bridvet,” said Ellinor, in a low voice. “ Hoiva Moses! did iver a dead man spake More?” exclaimed Bridget, starting to her feet. “ An’ if it’s not dead ye are why don’t ye be either asking where ye are, like ivory one I’ve sane come out of a. faint, if they wa’n’t dead.” Ellinor’s lips moved. but the emotions of her heart forbade the utterance of words. “ It’s on board the pirate crew we are, bad luck to ’em,” said Bridget. ,“ My father?” ” Och hone! sorry’s the day or the night he like. Dead by this, between the say an’ the pirates, dear leddy. me, and meself was ’live enough. What wid the » . scraimin’ and the fright, that kilt me intirely, it he t me spirits up, praise the howly saints,” said ridget, in dolorous tones. “Alas, alas!” subbed Ellinor, as her aching heart found momentary relief in tears. “’Tis alas, an’ alas, me colleen, but it’s the way of the warld itself. Didn’t me own daddy ,, pitch head-first into the b’ilin’ say, and has he iver come out alive? L’avin’ me an orphanless child entirely, at a tender age-Lbarrin’ me dear auld mother, livin’, in Cork till this day—~Hiven bless her.” _ Although the simple Bridget’s words were not selected with that nieety which betokens skill in the art of nrlolence, her tones came from a truly3 sympat etic heart, and spoke volumes. _ “ ut them that’s gene, is gone, miss, and we’re here wid the thaivish pirates. They’ll be eomiu’ here, and then what iver will we do it- , , self?” A, “ We must trust in Providence,” replied E).- linor. ” . ' “ I’ll do that some, and call on the howly t’ « saints, but it’s my belaif that Proyidence helps thimmost that‘helps thimselves,”ssid Bridget. / ‘ “,We cannot do that, in'this dreadful ex— tremity". » I ‘ ‘.‘ I belaive that same, too. not just this minit, for, as I’m a livmg sinner. I hear the print of a fut on the rickety auld stairs, bad luck to em.” The foolstep paused, and a gentle knock was heard upon the door. Bridget, almost dumb With terror, found strength to whisper: ' “ Does that thafe iXpiet me to open the door r itself? 'Divil a. bit will I do that same, any- how.“ There Was a. momentary pause, the door tum; ed upon its hinges. A form for a moment dg’rk- ened' the entrance, then the door was closed. , The rebel pirate chief stood before them. _ Interim, as though she sawimapparition, They were fain to l’ave’ Bridget let the beads, which she had pressed convulsivel in her hands, full to the floor. Ellinor annier had arisen with trembling limbs from the couch, but as she looked upon the face of her captor, all weakness, all timidity vanished. Instead of the shrinking captive, she stood a. Nemesis. , The pirate chief was tall, and of commanding form, and his face might have been deemed handsome, but for the hardened lines on cheek and brow. Fora moment he stood in silence and gazed upon his captive. The hardened-features seemed to yield to a milder influence as he ut- tered her name. ' “ Ellinor l” “Robert Lynne!” exclaimed Ellinor Vannier, in tones of mingled re wrench and contempt. The pirate stood home the. gentle girl, with bowed head and dowucast eyes, 939. criminal about to receive sentence. “Robert Lynne, what tempted you to this foul deed?” “Why ask me, Ellinor? The cause grew with my growth, it strengthened with my strength. That cause is the only pure and he]?r impn so my reckless life has ever known. E - liner, it was, it is, my love for you.” “Deem it not a holy impulse. Call it not love. Brave men protect the object of their love. Your hand has robbed me of 8.111 hold most dear.” ‘ “ Not all, Ellinor. ’Twas this that maddened me. Your refusal, your scorn I could endure, but not that you should bestow upon another the love that you refused to me. I resolved up‘ on the course I have pursued,»and am prepared to submit to your re roaches. I will have you near me, Ellinor, an at whatever cost to my; self, will know that you are not another’s bride. This Ihave sworn. This shall beyour home while I have life. Every luxury of earth shall be laid at your feet. but here is your prison- house‘.» You shall be free from every annoyance, your word shall be my law, and, Ellinor, if your eartbe not harder than marble, it must a preeiate in time devotion such as mine.” ‘ “The devotion of my father’s murderer! Never,” she exclaimed, in a voice of suppressed emotion. ' “Nay, ,Ellinor, you do *me injustice, by my soul you do. I would have sawed him if for" your sake alone.” I“ And you ,left him, wounded and insensible, to perish in his helplessness. You feared to face his indignation, your prisonerthongh her mith be, and you became his murderer,” cried Ellinor. ‘ v “Ellinorr, you will tempt me from the calm- ness 1 have resolved to maintain, by our made dening accusations,” said the pirate c ief, as the - lines on his brow deepened in anger. “’ If you would escape my reproaches, Robert - Lynne, never again seek my presence, for you Will hear naught else from my lips, nmrderer, traitor, that you- are!” exclaimed ’Ellinol‘ Vanuier in tones of withering scorn. “ I will then relieve you of my presence but r thinkgnot that repreec ee ‘11 deter me tom ‘ my purpose- You have heard In analtemhh ' decision, and you know me too w todeemme’ 7 / capable of a weakness." . . _ ’ n (7 , The Swamp Guide. With these words, the pirate chief strode from the presence of his prisoner. Ellinor had been sustained throughout the trying interview by the conflictierr emotions of resentment and grief, but no »v she sunk almost overpowered up- on her couch. Bridget had stood by in silence and astonishment. “If iver I’ve saine the likes 0' that!” she exclaimed. “To think that the great pirate is ounly Misther Robert, afthcr all.” “ We are in the power of a cruel, relentless man, one who will not scruple to do all that he has threatened,” said Ellinor, in desponding tones. " Let him, thin, if he can, had luck to the likes 0v him. But of he’s a-thinkin’ he’ll kape us here all the days ov our lives, he‘s mistaken, ho is.” “ Ours is a hopeless fate,” sighed Ellinor. “ Not a bit of it, jewel ov me HOW], and light ov me eyes, as ye are altogether. It’s not that ye’r’ a—comin' to. Don’t ye mind the sthory books ye’ve rend, about princesses jist like yer blissed self. wid a poor erayther—that’s [he——~ was taken by cruel Jauics and things, and shot up, even inter the middle of rocks and hills, and some other Jauies, stronger and better, nor the first, always com s jth in time to let ’em out, and then, the last Janie turns out to be a fine young gintleman, and they all fly away and git married, and live happy and blissid all the days ov the’r lives? I mind the time when ye uwd to read all them party things, when ye was a little wee child,” said Bridget, soothingly. “ This is no fairy tale,” sighed Ellinor. , “It mayn’t be; but for all that. they needn’t I stharve us to death-the haythins,” said Bridget, an rily. ‘ How can you think of food in such an hour?” exclaim'ied Ellinor, reproachfully. “ Bedad, thin it’s meself that don’t think of it at all. It’s the food and the’good warm break- fast, somewhere, that‘s thinkm’ ov me, it is, and of they will kape us here, they shall kape us on the best of the land, or the say, which is all the same I take it. and I’ll jist go and tell lem, of they don’t Inlane to starve us,‘ like cannybils, as they are, it‘s time we had our breakfast.” “ Bridget, will you go out among this lawless crew for your breakfast?” “ I’ll do that same, jist. and as quick for me Rating as an thing, and it’s sthrango it is, that ye'r’ so fear ess, an 1 n it at all fear (1 whin Mis- tber Robert’s here, and so w’ako intirely, now, whin it’s meself that’s bowlder out of the dan- ger. But it did me good, it did, jist tu hear ye ‘ sp'ake yer mind, and it’s Bridget will do that same, for niver a hair of wetland will he dare to let ’om touch, for your sake intirely. But I’ll not be aither givin him a chance to come in here, with his murtherin’ tongue, whin I’m not here to stand by ye. Shore I’ll jist lock the door. an’ give ye the key afore I go.” “ Bridget!” “ Shure. miss, what wid these themes and , the say, I’ve forgot the little sense I had—~l for- got I couldn’t git Out wid the key in yer pocket. ’11 take the ka wid me. and it's a blessin’ to find a key at a l, in this haythen land.” ‘ Bridget’s absence was but momentary. She The morn is broad a‘ready,. returned, preceding a boy, who carried a tray. She did not, however, pcrmit’him to enter, but took the tray, and scarcely allowing him an op- ortunity to step out of the doorway, turned the ock, with an emphasis intended to proclaim her authority. “ There, I’ll jist let ’em know that whin they’ll come in here, it’ll be wid my turnin’ or the kay. But Would ye belaive it, miss, I came near runnin’ over the crayther a-comin’ wid this? And sure it’s loaded, as the b’ustely oulrl crayther said, wid ivory thing that grows on the land and say. Here’s the coffee and .the choc’iit, and ye’ve got to ate and drink a mite now, miss. Some painle’s one thing, and .somo’s another, and belike, they can’t help it if they’re not all alike. They can’t all be good itself, and of they was all pirates, there would be no good folks lift at all, to gel. into throuble and dis- thress,” said Bridget, evidently softened for the moment by a contemplation of the creature com- forts set before her. CHAPTER IV. THE ESCAPE. TWO days passed, and the captives were left unmolested in the solitude of their cabin. Elli- nor was surprised and gratified that the pirate captain had not inflicted upon her his loathsome presence. Robert Lynne, once Captain Vannier‘s -.ward, had been her Childhood’s playmate, her boy champion: He had guarded her with jealous care and selfish affection, which had efl’ectuall kept other companions aloof ; some fearin , al disliking his cruel nature, for the entle El inor was the only being he loved or cared in the , wide world. When Ellinor was sent to school, , ,. then accompanied her father on his distant voy- ‘ ‘ age, Robert Lynne led a wandering life. They met occasionally, seemingly by accident, and Ellinor always we corned bun with pleas- ure, for she cherished a sisterly affection for the rash, impetuous youth, who had been her earliest friend. Several years later she had been rescued from . imminent peril by a stranger. The friendshi thus formed became a stronger sentiment, ang' . then Ellinor Vannier knew a deeper love than the kindly aflfection she had cherished for Robert Lynne. Well she remembered the vio- lent hatred he conceived for her preserver Frederick Armstrong. He vowed. amid mad protestations, that he would rather she had died, than that another band should save her. He repronched her with love for her preserver,‘ and rushed from her presence with an oath at ‘ ‘ vengeance. She had not deemed him capable, of Villainy so subtle, but now felt that she was; _ in the hands of a relentless captor. , The days were passed in hopeless apathy, the’. \ . 3’ nights in tears of anguish. All pop? Bridget’s efforts at consolation seemed unavaihng. After making several attempts to draw Ellinor from her griefs, if for a moment, but With no more / success than usual, she exclaimed: , “Ah’ here it’s meself. W’arein’ away to the » bones, intirely, along wid graif, an’ ye can’t spake a civil worrd to me; barrm ’twas civikor - 4..- f .‘V ‘ cheerfully. The Swamp Guide. oncivil. little would Biddy Flaherty care, so ye’d sp’ake at all.” Her tones were of heartfelt sorrow, and she sunk upon a low seat, with a gesture of despair, which touched Ellinor’s heart. “ Bridget, you must forgive me,” she said. “ Forgive yel” exclaimed Bridget. “ An’ what’ll I be doin’ that same fur? It’s onlyto see yer graif breaks the heart ov me intirely. I call it a cryin’ shame, an’ a timptin’ ov Provi— dence, to jist cast yerself into graif, whin ye know ther’s one, at laiste, would walk the world over, to so much as bring the leastest goust of a. smile to yer face. An' if ’twas one loved Biddy Flnherty like that, she’d be as gay as a lurk, in the face of all the pirates of the say itself— wouldn’t she?” Ellinor’s eyes were tearful, as they rested on her companiou’s face, and she said: I “ In the depth of my grief, I forget my bless- ings, my (good, faithful Bridget. There is one who Woul save me, with his life, if need be, for the sacrifice, but the oceun rolls between us.” “ Niver mind that, miss,” replied Bridget, “There niver was a b’aste ov a say so wide and so dupe that it wasn’t thraveled yit, nn’ by the same token, there‘s niver a road so long but it has a turn. Ye jist be aisy, darlin’ an’ of ye can’t be aisy, be as aisy as ye can, til we come to that same. The murtherin’ thaives thrate us better m r I ixpected—they kape away and let us alone; an’ as to the ’atin', I must say 1 they thrate us like uaines." p Bridget’s broad ace showed her satisfaction at this, her first successful effort to interest Elli- nor; and as the evening ap roached, declared her intention of going upon cck for a “breath of air.” “It’s jist that, miss, that kapes me life and me 5 errits in me, at all, in this same murther— in’ ace, an' it’s only fur the minit I’ll be one." he latter clause was literall complie with, for not more than a. minute el‘h sed, after her departure, ere Bridget return hastily, and sunk breathless upon a seat, exclaiming: “Howly Moses au’ all the saints deflnd us! It’s come at last 1" “What is the matter, Bridget?" questioned Ellinor, in alarm. “Och! if we was only in Injy, or Proosh , where the cannibals live, forninst they’ll fai 9 ye on puppies, if ye’ll ate ’em, thin ate ye, it- self, if e won’t let ’em; but it’s mesilf wishes we won (1 be there." “ Has any new misfortune occurred?” asked Ellinor. “ New! No, indade, it’s an old misfortune, itself, bad luck to it, and so it is. Don’t ye mind, miss. we’re a-sailin’ jist like we did that night whin this b'aste ov a irate chased us. an’ did ye iver know any good, ut hurruin itself, to come of sich runnin’ over the .~a i” “ Are we pursued i" asked Ellinor, eagerly. “ It’s pursooed we are, though Whativer any— r body wants wid this ould hulk ov a pirate, it’s , whin were goin’ to be killed “ meself can’t tell.” “Thank Heaven 1” ejaculated Ellinor. , »“ Thank Hivenl—for what, I’d like to know? by two pirates In- stead 0v one! Whativer won’t paple thank the Lord for nixt? I’d as soon ixpict tohear the ould man that fell out’n the housetop an’ broke his nick, cry ‘Praise the howly saints,’.whm he touched the ground," said Bridget, Indignantly. “ It is not a pirate; it must be a inan~of—wa.r," said Ellinor. . “An’ if so, a friend. But if we’re kilt by friend or foe, it’s all the same, it is, so we‘re kilt. We won’tbe the first that’s bin kilt wid kind- ness; and there’s another thing: we’re comin’ to land. I seen it betwain the sk and the say—” “ The pirate will then roba )ly esca by run- ning into some secludc harbor in t e coming night, where her pursucr cannot follow,” sald Ellinor, despondingly. Nor was she mistaken. For several hours every sail was spread, and the hustle overhead was deafening. At last, under cover 01: a dark night, the fu itive craft glided quietly into her harbor, and ‘llinor, who had listened prayerful— ly, almost hopefully, threw herself, weeping, upon her couch, little suspecting how nearly she had been rescued. _ In the morning, Bridget, on awakening start- ed to her feet in surprise, exclaiming, ‘ howly mother of Moses and the saints, we are stopp‘efdl” ‘ e have been lying at anchor several hours," said Ellinor. _ “An’ you’ve kipt awake to see it all, an’ at ye’ve closed yer eyes this blissitl night, I’m in a doubt. But that iver we should hev stopped! Why, 1 kin hardly kape me faite itself, in the silence. I thought, shure, a pirate stopped nivcr at all, but kapes on and on, 'ke the anthei iu‘ Jew in the Arabian Ni hts.” Breakfast was serve( , and, from the coffee— waiter Bridget handed Ellinora note. It was from obert Lynne, soliciting the favor of an interview. Ellinor was no dissimulator. She wrote on the reverse of this note: “ The captive cannot choose her guests." “ Faith, an’ he makes as much fuss about it as ef he was goin’ wher’ he was wanted,” exclaim~ ., ed Bridget. > . His approaching step was immediately heard, and as he entered the room, Ellinor rose. with an air of hauteur and contempt, which Robert Lynne had' never thought her fair face and fragile figure could express. “I am aware, Ellmor,” he said, “that my absence needs neither explanation nor apologg: It was to you, doubtless, a most welcome om sion. , Ellinor bowed her head, but made no other reply, and he continued: “ I will, however, state m%vreasons, superflu— ous as it ma swam to you. e have been pur- sued, and did not wish to alarm you by in- formiéig you of the fact until the danger was sse . “ I can congratulate neither you nor myself on our escape, nor can I appreciate the mistaken kindness which kept me in ignorance of the fact that friends were at hand." “ Why your friends, Ellinor?” he asked. “ On the broad earth, all and every being I deem ‘ friend,’ save you.” Robert L nne’s eyes flashed angrily for a mo- ment, then e said, calm y: ' _ ‘\ 8 The Swamp Guide. “ I know it, Ellinor, but has an engagement at see no terrors from which your delicate nature shrinks? Think of the danger." “ There is no danger in anything which could release me from you," said Elliuor Vannier, unshrinkingly. Robert Lynne gazed at the noble girl in won- der and admiration, and said: “ By Heaven! Ellinor, your nature must have changed; you, once the most timid and reliant of delicate creatures, have become a proud and defiant Woman, more beautiful still, but it is a change of which I had never deemed youcapable.” “ Such a change, even, is possible. when men become fiends, and treachery is newly-named, honor,” said Ellinor, bitterly, Robert Lynne turned away, with a gesture of angry impatience, and strode from the room. At the door, however, he paused fora moment, and said: “Bridget, I shall be absent until to—morrow. See that Miss Vannier’s Wants are supplied—” “ Yis, sur. Thank ye for the same, sur,” said Brid et. courtesying as she closed the door. “ ridget‘!” exclaimed Ellinor, reproachfully. “ Niver mind a poor crayther like me, mum. It’s thrue, ivery word, an’ I thank him from the bottom ov me sowl, not for the ’atin’, an’ sich, but for the goin’, 'ispecially as he'll stay till the mornin'. Howly saints preserve ye, miss! had ye forgot ther’ was land on the airtlflwan7 it’ll go hard with Bridget Flaherty-athat’s meself— if we don’t set fut on tarry farmy afore that mornin’ he spakes 0v.” “ Is escape possible?" questioned Ellinor, in— credulously. “ lndade it is ; trust Biddy for that. An’ now, if ye’ll ate a mite 0v somethin’, all day, an’ belike slip away a biscuit ag’in’ a time 0’ undo, it’ll go well wid ye.” Bridget seemed so confident, that Ellinor felt herself buoyed by the possibility of escape, and the da passed in alternate iopes and fears. Bridge was on deck mo at of the time, Con’ling down occasionally to urge Ellinor to eat and sleep. “ For," said she, “ ye didn’t slape a wink the night gone, I’m thinkiu’, no more’n ye Will the night to come.” Night came on, and Bridget brought in their supper at an early hour. She bestowed the most of it in an immense pocket, and said: “Now, miss, I want yer diment cross ye al— ways wears on yer neck.” ‘ My diamond cross!” exclaimed Ellinor. “ The same that was yer mother’s. miss, an’ ef by her pra ors ’twill be the price of yer liberty, ’twill be al the more blissid, I’m thinkin‘." “Take it, Bridget, and may her prayers at« tend us to-night.” At the midnight hour, a boat was lowered from the Ocean Scourge. Ellinor, trembling with apprehension, was lifted in, and Bridget, with ejaculatory supplications to all the saints, followed. The muffled oars silently plunged into the calm waters and the captives were swiftly borne toward the shore. The time that inter- vened seemed like an age, ere the frail bark rested on the sands. “ Tarry furmy at last I” ejaculated Bridget, as her feet touched the land, “ and for that same, praise all the howly saints, ’specially the one I that‘s ‘uidr‘d us the darksome night—and afther thim ’ll rcmimber yo, and mintion ye in me prayers,” she said, turning to the companion of their flight. “ Much nadc I‘ll hev ov that same if I don't make good me retreat, so good-by, an’ good luck to ye an’ the lcddy. I’ve five miles to row yit afore moonrise.” Silently, as it had come, the boat glided away. “I had not aword to thank our preserver,” murmured Ellinor. “ Niver mind that same, miss. and thanked him, too.” “ I cannot .uuderstand how you arranged matters so sucaessfully.” “ Aisy enough, me colleen. You see he was a couuthryman of mo own, and alwa 5 had a civil word whiniver I was on deck. e didn’t seem like the rist of ’em, but still he didn’t give over till I showed him the diamonts, thin he was as tinder—hearted as a child itself. He said he’d take it and help us, thin he’d go over to t’other side, fur he wa’n’t sworn to the rebels, nohow—so, here we are,” said Bridget. The concluding, exceedingly practical clause, was suggested by the silence and extreme lone— liuess of the place. “ Yis, here we are, and What may be forninst us, the Lord only knows.” “ Our condition can in no case be more terri- ble than the captivity from which we have es- caped,” said Ellinor. “ Yis, mum. The say is oncertain at best, cspecial’ wid pirates, and if yer worst inemy catches ye, there’s small place to run in, barrin’ ye run intil the say itself. Here we’ve got the whole of North Ameriky afore us at l’aste, and, as if the moon knew jist what we want, there she is, this blissid minit. Now. let’s see What kind of a counthry is this same, an’ we’ll make new diskiveries, as Robinson Crusoe did, when he diskivered Ameriky.” Bridget advanced a. step, and suddenly ex- claimed: “ Howly Moses! l’m a—goln’ down!” “ Bridget, you terrify me,” cried Ellinor. “ 1 tarrify meself, let alone other paple. I belave the whole place is mud, wid nothin’ but wather on it, at all, at all.” Bridget‘s alarm was not without cause, for she had stepped into a mud—pit, from which she ex- tricated herself with (lifliculty. “ An’ we’ll hev to sthaud here in the mud itself till the murtherin’ thaives come and find us, and carry us back ag’in on board the ould pirate crew itself.” “ Do not suggest the thought,” exclaimed Ellinor. “ The moonlight is ewry moment be- coming brighter. We can, we must, find means of escape.” A cheerless prospect was revealed in the silvery light. The beach on which they had landed was but a mere strip, was soon lost in a swamp, filled with dense undergrowth, so inter- woven as to be impenetrable. The only mode of egress was by a narrow and almost impercepti- hle path, so overgrown as to be nearly Impasse- ble. “ Thin, this is our ouuly course, and We must thry it,” said Bridget. I‘ve paid him, - , w as». . f’w‘kv“..4‘qxq The Swamp Guide. ' “Yes, for we know not at what moment we may he pursued.” “There’s no evil widout some good, and if ‘ we can’t go fast, by the same token, they’ll be, coming slow after us,” said Bridget. After following this path for some distance, it grew Wider, and, until the dawn of day, they hastened ouwurd. High above them towered ‘ the swamp-trees, in the branches of which as if to Welcome the advent of the. sun, birds of gor- geous plumage sung their matin songs. There wasu rank luxuriance of vegetation, and many things beautiful and pleasant, but there Were. no signs of human habitations. “ Where iVOI' do the human paplo live?” ex— claimed Bridget, as she sought in vain for what she so anxiously desired, some token of civilized ' life. “ Cpme, miss, here’s a fullen tree; take a seat on it. for it’s mcsell' that’s tired, and ye’ro waike, iiitirely.” “ Dare we pause here? asked 'Ellinor, anxiously. . “ From thiin tliaives, yis. Safe enuf to ate a matter of a cowld biscuit or so,” was the reply. “ You were very thoughtful Bridget, to pro~ vide for this emergency,” said i llinor. “ An’ it’s meself wishes I’d provided betther still for it saimes that we'll spind a saison, if not longer, here,” said Bridget, casting a rueful glance on their surroundings. ‘ Bridget found a pool of clear water, and, by means of a cup, formed of leaves, fastened with thorns, she made this primitive addition to their morning repast. “ It’s saisonin’ makes good the mate, and. by the same token, it’s hunger and thirst that gives taste to the bread and wuther. But, howly saints! what’s that?” Ellinor drew Bridget from her seat, and there, almost beneath her feet, was coiled a huge ser— Aro we safe, Bridget?” ent. . “ A rattlesnake!” exclaimed Ellinor. , “ ’Tis a rattlesnake, shure, and I’ve ni'ver a doubt at all that’s the way the ould surpint stole upon Ave in the Garthen of Aiden. He was smiling on us, and if he hadn’t dropped his tail on the ground unawares, he’d hev devoured us, intirely. But I’ll nivcr iurn me back upon the likes of ye, will Biddv Flahert .' Therel take that, will ye? If Mother Ave ad served yer greatgran’father, the same, what a. power of sci-row would hev bin saved us human cray— thers." 4 ‘Bridget had seized a ponderous stick, and dealt a. succession of furious blows upon the head of the hideous reptile. “ Didn’t he look surprised? Faith, I beluive the craytlier was as as much frightened as I was , meself,” said she, as she surveyed her writhing and vanquished foo with evident satisfaction. CHAPTER V. _ run WRECK. Tim human beings left by their captors to perish on the “ Ellinor,” were destined to be the means of bringing retribution upon the outlaws. Will Brande did not long remain insensible. _ Aided by his companions, he examined Captain , _ Vunnier’s wounds, and rendered such assistance ,_ as their limited means permitted. The storm « lulled, and, although the wmck lay at the mercy of the waves, they were not in momentary dau- ger, for, by strenuous efforts they might, to use their own expression, “keep their heads above water,” for some hours. The were hopeful; many things might occur in this time, for their relief and they set to work “right cheerily." “ . on see, comrades, it ain’t a hopeless case, after all,” said Will, “ though chances beagainst us. It ain’t often human beings is left to perish in the sea; leastways, that’s my ’pinion. So we’ll just kee good heart, as long as we’re above the level. 6 must splico‘the masts somehow, and make a high point for signals. ’1 he 'car n— ter can manage that, with help. I guess, an , in the mean time, the cook had better give us our grub, as usual, for that keeps good- heart in a man, along with a little drop of something strong—mind, comrades, not too much. The day’s breakin; I’ll see about the cap’u, then take the lookout, and, comrades, we’d better all trust in Providence. Lenstways, that’s my ’pinion." The seamen applauded Will’s sentiments, and readily consented to submit to his guidance. There was indeed scarcel an alternative. They soon raised signals of istress, but it required their united exertions to defer the dreaded mo- ment, and the most sanguine felt that at best. they could not long hoe ) the wreck afloat; but Will Brande continue confident, and (thawed all by his example. It was alread past noon- day, when Will, who had scarcely left his is, . came where the crew were busiest, and sai : “ Thor’s nothing like trusting in Providence, comrades. There’s a sail in sight.” . There followed numerous questions as to the nature of the “ sail.” , “Mnn-of—war, I should call her, boys, trim and taut,” was the reply. “ But, were thev discovered?” “ She’s bearing for this point.” “ Three cheers for the flag!” They were given with a will; then, with that peculiar zest inspired by hope, the men resumed . their labors. . , Ere darkness fell again u n the face of the waters, the man-of—war lay a ongside the wreck, and she was received with such intense, hearttelt joy, as those experience who greet‘their deliv- ercrs. . - Will Brando’s face brightened, and his voice expressed intense gratification as an officer, the- first who set foot upon the wreck, approached, and he exclaimdd: , “ Captain Armstrong i” “ Will, where are they?" questioned the ot- fieer thus arldressod. His veice trembled with integse emotion, as be grasped the honest sailor’s han . r “The cap'n is here, sir, badly wounded, but the young lady’s one,” answered Will. V “ Gone!” ech the questioner. - In a few words, Will gave an account of the events of the previous night. Captain Arm- strong listencd i silence, then, in a. Voice 0‘ suppressed rage, e uttered an oath of m- eanee. ; g “I’m with you ther cap‘n. I and all hands,” said Will Brande. “ our coming was a. fortn- V nate coincidence.” ' r ‘5 No coincidence, Will. A few day! she? CaptainYennier left part, the Own 3099139 1o The Swamp Guide. was reported, depreciatingx at sea. I obtained leave to cruise for her and astened 0n the track of vessels homeward bound, fearing that she _. , might meet with the Ellinor. I am, alas, too v late to save her from their hands, but not too ‘ r late to avenge her fate.” Captain Vaunier, in a state of partial deliri- um, owing to his wounds, which the seamen had not been able to care for properly, was conveyed on board the “ Union Flag,” and tended by care— ful hands, while, uided by instinct, as it were, or, like a wild st scouting its prey, the avenger sped onward. CHAPTER VI. NEW FRIENDS. Two weary ni hts of exposure and terror ' V ware (passed by El inor Vannier and her devoted atten ant, in wandering through the intricacies of what seemed an endless swamp. They were obliged» to use the greatest care to avoid the numerous mud—pits, and a variety of terrible reptiles which they encountered was a constant and fruitful source of alarm. The path which they had been so fortunate as to discover at first, long since disappeared and the desolation was so perfect as to induce the belief that never before had these wilds been visited by a human They had no food remaining, and, as nigh approached, Ellinor declared her inability to roceed further. in uspair. “ Ye’ll never live the night ag’in in the open air widout no house at all to put Over yer head, Bridget wrung her hands wid the snakes, and sarpints, and crockydales! Shure they’ll ate us More the mornin’, and we’ll niver be able to so much as lift up our 0 es ag’in’ the craythers, much they’ll care if we id, ' bad luck to ’em.” 'Ellinor’s heart was full. She could speak no words to allay the fears of her companion. “ We’d as well die sittin’ down as standin’ in this haythen land. Here‘s an ould tree, wid grants soft moss at the fut of it, makin’ me think of a swate bog in old Ireland itself. Belike, yo can rest a bit here, though there’s no knowin’ if the!“ an’t a crockydale forninst the tree, bad 1’ luck to it. It’s meself that always thought if ye kip!) on arguin’ ye‘d come to somewhere; but ' here We’v in goin’ and goin' and come to jist nowhere at all,” said Bridget, despairin 1y. Ellinor sunk almost exhausted u on the mossy seat, while Bridget continued or 'dolorous lamentations. Her voice which had become a wall of des air, now changed into a sudden ex— pression of elight. -“ Howly Mary 1” I’ve found it at last. Niver no small a one, but I’ve found it. Shore, an’ if that loads nowhere, it‘s the first path that iver di barrin’ tne unlucky one we found store, bad luc tom” , There was, in reality. a gathWay, very narrow and scarcely percepti le; ut human beings had trodden there and it ave them hope. ' , More Bri at h ceased speakin . she was « puttingthzside he tangled growth w ich inter- ' t» and no supper to ate. Och hone! another night pg; "V fill, it looks like a human beingdid that, V l to hide the same path; but I’ll follow it if it goes to 3 din of themes. Jist sthay here aminit, darlin’.” Bridget returned in a few moments, breathless with haste and terror, exclaiming: “All the howly saints and angels save us now! We’ve come to an end at last. Oh! if we’d ounly staid Wid the murtherin’ pirates, and bin ate by the say—sarpints! That iver we’d come to this! Oh, if we was ounly in the Red‘Sny wid the cunnybelsl” “ Brid Yet, what have you discovered?" ques- tioned E linor. ‘ - “ Diskiveredl It’s meself that’s diskivered the say~sarpint ashore, the quaino of the monkeys, or the divil himself, I don’t know which,” was her reply. “ Have you seen a human being?” “A human baingl Don’t I tell ye it’s meself that’s sain the divil, bad luck to him?” Ellinor, finding it impossible to obtain a rational answer, arose, determined to ascertain the cause of her alarm. “ Och, murtherl it’s running into the very face av danger 'e are. Sorry’s the day. or the night, bcliko, W lin we liftour pirate fri’ndsl” exclaimed Bridget, as, in increased alarm, she followed Ellinor. The path wound, for a short distance, through a growth of cane, then suddenly terminated at an opening a few yards square. In the center of this space was a slight elevation, not unlike the roof of a house in form, and from this s t there issued a thin, curling wreath of smo e. Ellinor discerned a crevice where a small piece of turf was loosened. She stooped and looked through the aperture. , Here was an explanation of Bridget’s terror. Crouching over the brilliant blaze of a pine torch, was the form of an aged negro. His spare frame was bent nearly double, his head was white as the snowy cotton in the fields, while his hands and feet, extended as they were over the blaze, seemed not unlik 3 the tnlons of a bird of prey. The flickering glare of the torch reproduced his shadow in a thousand grim, fan- tastic forms, which danced madly in the cor- ners, and in the dingy sides of the cavern. It was altogethcm sight, at such a time and place, well calculated to strike fear to a heart less sus- ceptible to that emotion than that of the simple Bridget. , . “ I towld ye, miss, I’d found the divil, and in his hole in the ground. muk‘m’ brimstone pills for sinners. Shure, an‘ hasn’t he a s r itself in his hand? If he’d turn around. ’ve niver a. doubt we‘d see his tayle. Oh, murtherl” ‘ The last exclamation was caused bya move- mcnt on the part of the object of contemplatIon. The torch was instantly extinguished, and they were in wtal‘darkness. N “ An‘ now, all he’ll hev to do will be 3181: to ate us itself,” said Bridget, in terror. “ It’s a negro,” said Ellinor. “He has heard our voices and extinguished the torch." . “A no uri" exclaimed Bridget. “Shlfl‘e: 331’ it’s mesel that’s niver sain a. nagur afore w1d claws, and cookin’ brimsthone for_ his supper. He’s comin’ now. Och, I’m kilt intirely.” ‘ The negro’s white hair and distended eyes” were seen. in the Melee 6?: he meted. torch 4*“... {g X. ,4" wul-~l .. ». a A was“. g , . .W-...Nn_n.u..,~-w . ._ m. ...w,mmerW \ The Swamp Guide. “- from the opening and exclaimed, in the accent peculiar to his race: “ Who’s day?" Ellinor could not speak. Bridget uttered a groan. “ Who’s dot?" asked the negro. “ Ef yo don’t do suflin' more‘n groan, I’ll let old Danger out on 0,” he continued. ’ llinor now found words: “ We are Wanderers, and ask protection in the name of humanity.” “Yis, in the name of hoomanity, and ivory other sort. Pl’aze, good mistherdivil or nagur, whichever ye be, an’ it’s allthe some, I take it, don’t turn the bloody iinps on us,” entree.th Bridget. The negro withdrew, but almost instantly re- appeared with a. light. He stopped aghast, as he surveyed the fugitives, and said slowly and incredulous] y : - “Two missussesl How did you get through de swam ?" " We didn’t. at all. at all; we’re in it yit. W’e’ve comethrough pirates and erokydales and all kinds of insects, and, by the same token, we’re stharvin’ and fraizin’ weare, wid the dews that‘s like rain," said Bridget, whose power of speech gained strength in proportion to the decrease of her terror. “ Bress you, miss; if you can git down in old Mesc’s den, an’ won’t take ’I'ense at my askin'—” “ Indade We’d come~hut we’re kilt wid bein’ scairedtodeuth itself—if yo won’t let out no nnps nor are us alive.” ‘ Laws, missus! never hurt nobody in all do days of my life. Cauehrake Mose Wouldn’t hurt a War of yer head, and if you and t‘other mis— sus ’11 come down, I’ll give ye a hit of bread and meat," he said. ' “Bread and m'ate!” ejaculated Bridget in an undertone, as she prepared to f allow the old negro, who now descended into the den. “ I’d as soon expect to pick apples off av the big trees in the great S’ury Desert itself.” Canal-rake Moss descended the. ladder that led to his abode, and Ellinor and Bridget followed. It was a dark and narrow place, but the pine- torch spread a cheerful glow which was very acceptable to our weary fugitives. Mose drew a seat for Ellinor near the, fire, her weary and ' , exhausted expression seeming to excite his pity . “ Here’s a seat, missus. It’s a sorry one, but better’n the dump ground. Bress your heart, you is tired, ohile. Dis ain’t no fit place for you, much lesser the cold ground,” said Mose, as he looked in surprise at the delicate form and fair face before him. “ You jes’ sit down, and while you and t‘othor missus worms and dries I’ll get a bite of Slipper.” And with an alacrity not to be expected from one of his apparent years, the negro hastened to pro mm a meal for his unexpected guests. mm a niche in the wall he produced n. tray and in this with as much care as Bridget herself I could have exercised. he proceeded to prepare bread. It was of Indian meal, white as Wheaten . flour; but, to Bridget’s astonishment, this broad, when she thought it ready for the oven. he de- posited in a bed of ashes upon the hearth and a raked the glowing coals upon it. t ‘| glue}: the day that iver We’d come to this, and be glad to ate bread made by a black nagur ‘ itself, and cooked 1n the ashes, at that,” she murmured. ' Mose next placed a nicely—dressed fowl upon the embers, and soon beside it there bubbled a dingy (:oil'ce-pot, which, howevor, emitted a pc- culiarly grateful odor. There was no table, and but one ilute; this was of tin, lint clean and bright. osepro- cured two forked poles, which he drove into the ground, and placed across them a piece of board. This served for a table. “ You see, missus,” said the host, in an apolo- getic tone, “ Mose ain’t used to cntertuinin7 com- pany here, and what‘s good enough for him won’t do for white ladies, by no manner of means, nohow, and, of ye’ll jes’ exeuse what’s amiss, I’ll do better to-morrow. Bress you! Mose knows how things orter be fix; jcs’ orter seen him in ole morse’s time. Huinph!" and Mose cast a glance of sovereign contempt on his humble surroundings. He had evidently inheri- ted that characteristic weakness of the simple- mindcd African, pride in the lost wealth or de- ported glory of “ do family.” Ellinor assured him that no words of apology I were needed, and Bridget exclaimed: “ VVe’re glad (W the m’ate and bread itsel', let alone the plates and knives; besides, beggars mustn’t be choesors, at all, at all.” The fowl had reached the last stages and Mose, after sundry examinations, took the bread, steaming, from the embrrs, and plunged it into a vessel of Cold Water, whence he took it, still steaming, and placed upon the impromptu table. To Bridget’s surprise, the trust “as al— ternately white and brown, while the inside was white as before it was consgned to its net bed, and the odor was inviting. The brem was placed with broiled fowl upon a small wooden tray, and the only plate placed for Ellinor. The coffee-pot, innocent of handle or spout, com- pleted the array. Notwithstanding these defl- ciencies, the coffee was adroitly poured out by Mose into two vessels; one a tin «up, which he had assiduously scoured while the. meal was in progress—this he )laced for Ellinor. The other, a small cracked pitcher of earthenware, like its ancient companion, the coffee—pot, shorn of use- ful and ornamental appendages, served Bridget for a cup. Bridget placed the choicest portions of the fowl on Ellinor’s plate, with the seeming intention of uttendin as was her custom. “ Do you suppose, ridgct, I will allow you to wait; until I have Slipped ?” asked Ellinor. “ It’s n'ieself that never presumes upon me position; but the sarcumstances is an induce— ment, and I'll do as ye wish, miss,” replied Bridget. Mose set upon the tableahn e gourd-shell filled with cool water, then stood by with an air of evident satisfaction, while his guests par» took of their impromptu meal. Bridget forgot that the bread was baked in the ashes, also that their cook was of ebony hue, and, as she arose from the table. expressed her thorough appreciation of the efforts of their humble host to promote their comfort. “ It’s good enough for a quaine algogetherfio ‘ esarvin a it, is Misther Na r thou h ye‘r bottlleiy name itse fish? . The Swamp Guidé. “ floss, missus—Cunebrake Mose, at your scr- “ l’ll jist dhrop the Cambrakin’ part, for it’s a haythenish name altogether, and Pa be ai'thor breakin7 my tongue itself wid sp’nkin’ ov it.” Bridget being refreshed by her supper, began to surmise concernng the arrangements their new friend would make for their night’s repose. “ Though if he‘s as good at that as he is at get- tin a supper wid nothing visible at all at all to git it wid, it’s meself nced feel no consarn,” she soliloquizsfl; and it was probabl her thoughts on this subject which caused ier to look more closely than she had before done into the recesses of the “ don." As she cast her eyes toward the corner most remote from her seat, they rested upon an object which gave new cause for terror. , ’l‘wo glaring eyes, like balls of fire, were fixed upon her face, and, beneath, she distinctly saw the jaws of an animal, red, as if bathed in blood. Ellinor whose cyes followed the direction of Bridgct‘s alfrightcd gaze, could scarce repress a shudder. “Hiven save us now!" cjanuiatcd Bl‘ldgt‘t. “There‘s the bloody Dungcr yo spoke of, itself. He’s ready now to ate us, and all the bicssin’s and supper We’ve had is lost.” “ That’s Danger, niissis, but he’s the innocent— est thing in life when he gits acquainted,” said Mose. ' “Hiven save me from sich acquaintances,” exclaimed Bridget, unable to draw her eyes from the Object of her terror, and “ Danger” returned her steady gaze. 7 “He don‘t forget anybody that's kind to him, ‘ and if he takes bread once from your hand, he’ll _never forget it, inissis,“ said Mose. “ Nayther ,I think would I, mesclf," said Brid et, in terror at the thought. I “ ’other missis ain‘t ‘feard,” said Mose as he - tooka. piece of broad. and handed it to Ellinor. “ It's berr well to make fr’en’s with Danger, missus. e knows his fr‘en’s.” Mose approached the dog and, by wa of in- troduction, he patted the massive hear , then placed his hand on Ellincr’s dress. The eyes of the ferocious animal assumed in mild look; then Ellinor extended her hand containing the bread. Danger opened his hu e jaws, and accepted the morsel with evident p ensure. Ellinor then placed her hand upon his head, when he evinced his delight by gambols which, in 'an animal of his size and ferocious appearance, seemed ludicrous. ‘ I’d as soon ixpict an illephnnt to roll tin- ’ ‘ pins, oraroarin' lion to play hO-pa. c, as that some wolf-hound to play wid my 1 dy’s hand, like a poodle, or a little King,r Charles in tho drawinnr-room,” exclaimed Bridget, alarmed at her mis ress’s teniority. - “ You see, missis, he’s used to white folks. ’s .ially missus’s chillun. Dcr’ ain’t many dogs nigchangor,” said Mose, gs be surveyed his pet with evident pride. ‘tTroth an‘ it's mesel-f that hopes they won‘t " be plentiful till the time comcs when the Holy - Book spakes ov, when the lion and the lamb will lie down ether, and the cow and calf, though it‘s mesa] don’t see how that last is so so risin’ but natural altofielither," said Bridget. one left the “ den,” as e appropriately de~ nominated his place of abode, and soon return- ed, bearing on his shouldeis a load of tender boughsoi' the pliant swamp elm. Of these he constructed a simple couch. . “Sure and he don’t ixpict we’ll slape on trees, like monkeys, or hayt on itself,” ejaculated Bridget, in dismay. But when his preparations were completed, and upon the soft- eaved twigs a. thick covering was laid, Bridget hesitated not to repose her weary limbs upon her alloted resting-place. . CHAPTER VII. NEW ALARMS. BRIDGET’S awakening exclamation on the fol. lowing morning was characteristic. “ Shurc an’ it’s nicscif that’s slept a Christian slope intircly. on a hnythcn bed; thanks be to good Misther Mowse for that same, and to the kind saints that Sent him. There he is now, grittin7 breakfast, and it‘s the Paste one can do, to offer to hnd a helpin’ hand, though it's mesolf couldn’t bake bread in the ashes, and pick it out whole, like a. nut out’n the shell, not for the life of inc.” ‘ Bridget, however, fulfilled her original inten‘ tion of profi‘cring assistance, although rreatly doubting her capacity. To her offer ose ro- iliur . - 1 “ Dress you, missis, you don’t slpose I’s gw‘lue to let a white lady help me jis’ git a bite of breakfast Mose been raise better’n dat, mis—_ sis.” . “ Barrin’ the white, ye‘r’ callin’ me out ov me: name altngither. l’m theyoungledd ‘s sarm'nt. and no lcdcly meself at all, at all, answered Bridget, in a tone as though indignant at the implied assertion. ' . ‘ You’s white, anyhow, missus,” persisted Mose. ‘ “It’s no misthrcss I am, nayther. I niver called a dog nor a cat even we own in all me life. It’s the misth'ress yonder, it is, slaping swntely, as a b’asw of burden itself. I’m lain Bidrly Flaherty,” said the matter-o Jact Bridget. - "Den ou ain’t no kin to little missus» there, is you, iss Biddy’é" asked Mose. ' “ Is it bloody kindred ye m’ane? Not a bit," re )licd Bridget. ' 11 low tones, lest she should awaken Ellinor, Brid rct proceeded, in her own peculiarly ‘ graphic style of narrative, to recount their adventures. Mose often paused, his e es and. mouth distended with astonishment, an at that conclusion he exclaimed: I “Gor’ mighty, miSsus! It’s a. wonder you live frough it, ’spociaily little missus.” Breakfast Was a repetition of the supper of. the prevmus night, and, at its conclusion, Mose said: “ ’Spcc’ you’d better food Danger, little missus. I’m gwino to let you wid him.” ' . “Share. Misther Mowse, ye’re not gwnno to l‘nve us all alone by ourselves in this haytheuish place?” exclaimed Bridget, filled anew with ap- prehension. , “ Nothin’ ain’t gwine to hurt on. Miss Biddy. It Won’t find you first I’smc: Yee’ifie first i ‘ u r I ’ I’s knowed of comin’ here, for ever so many years, done for ot how many, ’bout a hundred, reckon,” said ose, as he proceeded to loosen Danger’s chain, which was secured by a stake, driven into the ground. “ Dar! I know nobody won’t come now; if dey does, most likely dey Won’t get away fllSii, he! he!” chuckled Mose, with an admiring glance at the huge animal as ho paced about the narrow room. “I’m thinkin’ that same, 011’ it"s a blissed mercy itself, it is, and ot owin7 to himself, nor his own appetite, if he don’t ate us,” exclaimed Bridget, as she eyed Danger with a feeling not in the least allied to admiration. “ I‘ll be back, missus, as soon as I can, but it won’t be long ’fore night. Dose yore things :ain’t ood cnuf for you, and 1’s gwine to get some tter ones. Here, Danger, stay] stay and Watch, sir ” said Mose. Danger had arisen, as though for the purpose of following his sable keeper, but, at these words, seeming: to com irehend their import, _ he crouched at 7 Danger stood irresoiute between the parties, enables There ,.« as if waiting for orders. Sudden! , Elhnor membered the words which Mose had ‘ . leaving the animal in charge of the cabin and its in mates, and resolved to try their effect. “ Watch, Danger watch,” she said. These words acted with magical effect. Dam gcr did not wait for their conclusion. but with incredible rapidity darted toward the animal, which snapped its enormous jaws with terrible force at its attacking foe. Danger seized his antagonist, together they rolled down the ladder and renewed the struggle at the feet of the ter— rified spectators. ‘ Bridget seized Ellinor in her strong arms, and run up the ladder, exclaiming: “ Och, howly Mnryl we must go and lnive them the din itself, we must.” But, with a sudden impulse that had nearly pre 'ipitated both Ellinor and herself among the combatants below, she -.drew backward and commenced bustin to close the aperture. as she renewed her cxclmnatious, if possible with an all litionul expression of terror. ' “Oh, howly Varginl and all the good and blissid in nirth and hivenl whzit iver will we do now itself? It’s surrounded, we are, cut off in- tirely, in the bloom of youth, wid no one to mourn us at all, for no hunqu cmyther’ll know wlrit ute us, bad luck to it. Don‘t ye hear ’em, more insicts like thnt ornythor there, a—wnlkin’ nJ’ scratchin’?” . It was true. The same shuffling noise which had Preceded the appearance of the first intruder was new repeated. as the new—comers made the / circuit of the ground roof. Ellinor wasnnncrv- ' ol by this accumulation of terrors, and trembled with apprehension. Bridget made the entrance {is secure as )ossible, her terror increasing whenever one 0 their un welcome visitors drew near. “ Perhaps. Bridget, they will pass the door unobserved,” said Ellinor, with a sigh of relief, a; the point of entrance seemed unhocded. “ Perhaps they won‘t and perhaps they will,” said Bridget. sententionsly. ~ , How fared the combatants below? The con- teste'ngol furiously, but with what success the anxious and affrigbtcd spectators could not decide. “ Howly Moscsl ain’t it a blissid thinn- the creyther’s legs are so short he can‘t weli up- stairs, itself T’ said Bridget, asthe alligator, seek~ ing to esca 0 his fierce antagonist. crawled along ;' the sides‘o the cabin and paused at the steps. ,. / The strife finally became unequal. The dog, seeming to compre lend the nature of his antag- onist, attacked him 0:11 at vulnerable points, and contrived, successfu ly, toescepe the furious gnashin of his enemy’s jaws. At last, the alli- gator, b inded and infurinte, snapped madly in‘ the air, and the dog seemed to feel that 110w the ' monster was at his mercy. He cooll ensconced himself beneath the step:, as if to (‘Ol ect himself for a. grand ell‘ort, while he watched the futile and exhausting rage of his weakened adver- sary. After a. short time thus passed, Danger arose and rushed furiously upon his foe. Soon the =nionster yielded to his fate, the bloodhound ', buried his fangs in the region of his heart, the ‘. only point where he. might successfully attack the life ofrtlm terrible creature. It was long, however, before they ventured \ The Swamp Guide. from their position, and Bridget protested vehemently against the step. “ It would be a tem ting of Providence, that same, for there is no lliu’ whin the horrid in- sict may wake up and s ‘nke to us, itself,” she said, as she eyed their fal en foe, suspiciously. Danger, an if conscious of his achieved victory and to give assurance of his continued watch fulness, stretched himself beside his late antag— onist. The noise without had ceased, and at length, assured that the life of the alligator was extinxt. Ellinor and her Companion descended to the ground. I “ If that dog ain’t more than human, it’s me» self that's less, and I’ll niver slandher a. dogs,r ug’in, if he’s in human shape or ony other, won‘t I,” exclaimed Bridget, as she ventured to put her hand on Danger‘s head. “ An’ now, if I ken ounly git ’round that her- rid crnythcr, an’ git ye a. cup of coffee itself—— burrin’ ther’ ain't no cup, nor nothin’ to make it, in, an’ the dogs an’ crockydnles hev put out the fire wid the’r tnyles, an” sich a thing as a match was niver known in this haythen land,” said Bridget. “ Shure, miss, yez won’t be afther wnypin now, whin we’ve ivery thing for our comfort, and more besides; and here’s some rowls in the corner. If I kin only find the (Pure, swate little taypot, widout a tayle, I’ll soon give yo :1 nice cup of coffee, bnrrin’ the cr’ameitsnlf.” Ellinor could not, however imbibe her com— panion’s cheerful views, and hridget'continned: “Jist whin it’s mesilf knows gmfl-luck’s in sthore for us! See, the sun’s gittin’ low. and Misther Cnnehrake Mowse will come and bring nobody knows what, itself. Thin we’ll git away, for, thouvh we ain’t seine no human, barrin’ Mister ficwse, and I isgive that he’s, ouldcr than the flood itself, th r’ is humans, and I make no doubt we’ll live happy as quaines whin we ,do find paple.” Bridget soon prepared coffee, and prevailed on Ellinor to partake of it. , “ It’s mesilf that‘s goin' to papa out, now, and a see if thim cruythers is got tired of waitin’ round the ’corner for the’r fri’nd yonder.” She again ascended the ladder, and looked forth. “ They’re gone, ivery one of ’em, Hiven Ibless ’em! And as I’m a livin’, dyin’ sinner, yonder’s Misther M0\V50,108110d all over wid somethin'l You see, miss, that’s what’s come of faith. Shnre I’d think he was armed to fight some cookin’ divil itself, I would.” Mose soon made his appearance at the entrance, which we will denominate, par excellence, the “ door." He bore a load, to the Wei ht of which he attested with u sigh of relief as ders was strapped a. bumper, Well filled: around his neck and waist were suspended various cook- ing implements, which caused him topresent a. most grotesque appearance. “ S‘pose nothin’ ain’t ,‘sturb you, has ther’, , missus?” he questioned. “ It’s aiten we’ve bin, the blissed day, itself,” exclaimed Brid et. “an’it’s kilt intirel dead we’d hnv bin, i Danger there hadn’t a to the cravther up first.” I Cunehrake Mose regarded the result of the, conflict in astonishment. and exclaimed: e deposited a his burden upon the ground. Across his shoule ' “Argos—«Mean . . mus-mm. .— ~.—- was“. , u " with an air of gratification, to un v The Swamp Guide. “I clean forgot to feed ’em before I went away dis mornin’." “Fade ’eml” ejaculated Bridget. “Is thim yer .tsl". ' “ ot ’zactly, missus, but I’s bin feedin’ ’em. 'A showman said he'd give me twenty dollars for ’em, so I bean Wid ’em when they was babies—’l _ ' “Babies! As if thim craythers was iver babiesl“ exclaimed Bridget, conteniptuously. “They never come here afore; I fed ’em in de swamp; but dey didn’t git bre’kfas’ dis mornin’, and come tolook for it—hel hel Won- der dey didn’t bite you, missus.” “ Bite! Frith, I’m thinkin’ it would be ’atein’, itself. I wa’n’t raised in a country wher’ they knpe pct crockydales and all) ators, for in my ’pinion, one’s tother, and t’ot er’s one, itself,” said Bridget, indi antly. “ He ain’t more half grown, missus, IlOllOVV,‘” said Mose, as he prepared to remove the body. “ Ef he had been, no dog in dis world couldn’t hev kilt him." “ lt mukes the blood of me run cowld, intirely, it docs, the sight 0v him." It was a laborious task to remove the remains, but it was at last accomplished, and now Bridget’s curiosity was fully awakened as to the” content! of the hamper which Mose lproceeded, c . “ How did ye find yer/children, ister Mowse?” questioned Bridget. “My chillun, missus l” be repeated. ‘ “Yis, shure, thim e carried the birds and little b’astes and wee skets to,” she replied. “ Brcss you, missus! dem ain’t my chillun; day ’longs to mist’—my missus, I mean. Mose ain t got no chillun nowheres’bout here, ’ce t missus’s. Mino’s all growed up. Soxne’s in Kmntuck Wld Marse Phil, and some’s in Misseppy ’long wid Miss Alice. I staid ‘long 0’ missus. One dc boys ’long wid young marse in de war. Dem things you see, for missus’s chillun; dey allus looks for .suflin’ when I goes home.” ’ ' "‘Honlel E ye got a home what makes ye stay in this din ov a place?" ‘ I likes it, mimus. Ole marse dat’s mist‘ gmn'fnthcr, raise me in do home house, and I was nnst’ head man, clean till she got married, den some dem lazy, med’lin’ Diggers sot him, ’gainst me, and I wa’n’t gwine to stan’ dat no- how, so 1 run’d away, and staid in dis yer’ place fifteen ears. Den marse died, and I Went back {to mi: ': she knowed whar Mose was all do my, and day never did hunt dis swamp—th I “ Why didn’tjye go and live wid yer children?" questioned Bri get. “ Marse Phil want to buy me out’n do estate but I ruther ’long to mist’; ’ca’so, you see, done raise her myself—carried her, and her ma afore her, in dese arms many a day. Ahl dem 311a: grand times; de fine ladies and gentlemans comes in de’r fine carri’ and horses, and den I brin little mist’ out, o prettiest thing dar, on dat nd. Mose wa‘p’t so old den,” and the speaker sified. " But w l t iver makes you sthay here now 1’“ isted hIS questioner. “~Mist’ ain’t got nobodyto look after things her, and nurse, drive her husban’ data dead, spent a heap of her property. and sold her niggers. It like mighty nigh tohroke her heart; but he took and died, jes’ in time. Dat's do most sensible thing I ever knew mane to do— hel he! So I stays down here part of do time to look out,” said Mose. “For what? Crockydales?” asked Bridget. “ De blockaders and sojers; folks ’fraid dey’ll come, and if dey does, mist’ gwine to send all her cattle and bosses out‘n de way. If dey. come, Iil see ’em first thing, and run up to’ fie home house, whar mist’ lives,” answered their 08;. During this conversation Mose had relieved the hamper of its contents. There were many delicacies and necessaries; ham, mutton, dressed . fowls, snowy bread, rich cakes. butter, tea, cof- fee, and sugar. ‘ Dar!” exclaimed Mose, in tones of satis- faction, “mist‘ sent you dese, wid her bes’ compliments, and she sent you a. letter, too, little missus." » Mose handed Ellinor a note, penned in a deli- cate female hand. The writter ex ressed the deepest commiseration for the mis ortunes of the strangers, and assured them that no efforts should be spared to relieve their deplorable con- dition. Thiss ath soweloome et so unex ted tgufilhedygllllinorih the heart, 13nd she weptxlike a: c l . “ It’s meself never could understhand some paple. They cry when ther’s no cause for graifie, and when there cause for waipin’, they’re as bold as a lion,” said Bridget, her eyes moist with sympathetic tears. “ Mist’ sent dis er’ to you, most special, little. missus, kase I tel ed her yon’s poorly like. .It’s ole wine, and ’11 do you a heap of good,” said Mose, placing the article referred to in Bridget’s hand. “I cannot ex ress my 'a predation of such great and unlpo ed-for kin noes,” said Ellinor. , “ Bress you, Chile, my mist’s de bes’ lady in do world' she is. E! she could only git you all up to do home house, she’d nuss an’ care for you jes’ like you was her own flesh an‘ blood, an’ as for v ole Mose, I’s b’en used to waitin’ on white chil- lun all my life. Done raise as many of ’em as any nigger in dis State.” “ An is it a sthate itself this dirthy swamp is in, wid its crockydales, shure?" exclaimed Bridget. “Dis yere’s in Sou! Caroliner, an’ dis yer’s Flat Swamp, missus.” As Mose spoke, he produced a damask table« cloth with napkins, knives and forks, and other articles, which, with an air of ride be arranged upon the table, then proceeded with prepara- tions for the evening meal, continuing, mean- while. to enlighten his guests. “ You know, missus, dat if it wa‘n’t fordis yer’ swamp all ’round, mist’ would sent for you 11311 directly, in’ she’s mighty ’strgd’bout' it. er’s too ,muc swamp for carriage wagons, un’ ’tain’t water enut for boats—a real, olefin swamp. Brass you! of ditches could helped it, * marse would bev done it—he was keen, he was. ,So all do place ’tween .de lan’ and dis yet 313’! neither one thing nor t‘other, halt lan‘ I DI water, an’ t’other hall mud," said Hole. , - The Swamp Guide.- 4 v . “ How iver do you git over it, yerself, an’ how did ye git all this ever?” asked Bridget. “I crawls and wados, and where it’s too deep 1 gits over on some trees that fell down, and some} cuts down,” replied Mose. “ Thin we’re niver to git out 0v this b’asto ov a place. Och hone, the day l" exclaimed Briti‘ at. g “ Yes, you will, missus,” replied Mose, confi— dently, as he complacently viewed the table and its accessories. , , “ How iver, thin’l We can nayther swim nor fly, and I’ll niver see the face of swato Ireland again itself,” si rhed Bridget. “Don’t you 'lieve (lat, missus. I lef’ Tom, and Bill and Bob a-cuttin’ poles like all do world. 'l‘rus’ my missus for dat.” _ “And is it poles We’ll go ovor on, shure?” ask- ed Brid et. “ Dey re gwine to fix a sort of floatin’ bridge of oles tone on top so you and little missus can we. hover. ' Ellinor listened to the proposed plan for their relief, scarer surprised at the intelligence. They had received so much unexpected kind- ness, that she seemed to accept this as a natural consequence. “ Hiveu be praisedl We’re like to git out ov this, at last, and it’s Biddy Flaherty that’ll niver more trust the say, wid the )iratcs and roarin’ crockydalea. An’ who iver hramcd ofdrinkin’ colfee itself from Chaney cups, in a place like this, not to mention the creme, which reminds . me of cold Ireland, intirely, so it does; and the chauoy cups don’t at all, at all,” exclaimed Bridget, as, seated at the sumptuously spread .table, she filled a cup for Elliuor. V She could not recover from her surprise at their ameliorated condition, and never Wearied in making comments thereon, while the same subject seemed to be a cause of equal gratifica tion to their simple-hearted entertainer. Mose stood by,and attended their wants with alacrity, doubtless coujecturing many avision of the past grandeur o! “ other days.” ' “ And if the ’ating last ni ht was fit for a quaine, this same supper is fit or the President 01 Chaney, it is,” was Bridget’s assertion, at its conclusion. CHAPTER VIII. , REPOSE. ON the following morning, Mose after pre- paiing breakfast, made every possible arrange- ment for the comfort of his guests, preparatory to taking his departure for the day. “‘Case cu see, missus,” said be, addressing Ellinor, “ em boys dunno much, an’ dey gets’ as like to put do logs in the wrongest place ey can. find, and if we ’pends on dem, it won't be done for a whole month.” ' “Thin, for the love of hiven itself, Misther - Mame, butyerha thenish ts intoa. pen, afore ye Pave us.’ excla ed Bri get. . “’Tain’t worth while to be ’feard of dem little alligators, missus; don’t ’spec’ dey’s goin’ to hurt you, nohow, but I’ll give dem a good (1 n dey’ll stay in lace,” said Mose. ' “ it don’t'raln croc doles and ’arthquakes t rm on our heads, we may live the day,” said Brid- _ . get, when Mose took his departure. The day passed quietly. Bridget, profiting“ by the previous day’s‘cxperience, did notvanture to remove the stones and earth, which Mose had arranged with care. There was not so much as the rustling of a leaf to alarm them. Danger, feeling himself constituted their guardian, often arose, and, as though remembering the ladder as the point of the enemy’s appearance on the day previous, proceeded thither, utterin low growls: then, resuming his place at E1 inor’s feet, he caressed her hands, and looked into her face, as though to assure her of the absence of all cause of alarm, and of his power to, protect her in any emergency. The noble brute appeared to have conceived a strong affection for the gentle girl, and Ellinor felt. in this Singular solitude, that she had an eificient protector, whilo Bridget, although she still approached him with fear and trembling, often reiterated the opinion— “That dog is more human than half the paple in the world, anyhow.” Ellinor no longer felt despondent and appre— hensive for the future. he length of time which had elapsed since their escape removed, in a measure, the fear of pursuit, and she knew that efforts were being made for theirdeliver— once—exertions which there was every reason to suppose would prove successful. There was but one source of grief. Kind friends might rescue her and minister to her wants, she might even again be restored to him she loved, all earthly blessings might again be hers—save one. Nor love, nor wealth, nor the grateful sympathy of friends could restore her to her father’s arms. “ Now whisht, honey, what‘s the use (N we. - " in’? Ye’r’ betther off now than half the folks in the world, fur more’n half on' ’em’s seen the’r ouuly fathers dead and hurried, afore the’r eyes; it's meself has seen that some, barrin’ me dadd fell intil the say, as I tould yez store, and I (ll - n’t persaive him at all, at all. Ye ain’t seen naythur the one nor the other, an’ ye don’t know' yerselt' but the cap’n is as well an’ ’live as yer- self, jist.” ‘ This was simply an elIort at consolation, Bridget little dreaming how nearl her surmises approximated to the truth. er patience through this long day was wonderful. It was not until the approach of night that she evinced any of those changes to which her mercurial na- ture was subject. “ It’s come to an end at last, no it has. Long as it samed, the day has an end, as all things good and evil—’specially ain't, must,” she are claimed, as the slanting rays which penetrated through the crevices of the door into the cabin, grew fainter. “Bridget, don’t forget your teachings; you have read me a lesson today, you know, on hope and faith,” said Ellinor. t “ R’ading you a lisfsonl Sorry a bit hev I done that same,” exclaimed Bridget. “ Wasn’t yez always the image of fait and patience itself, I’d like to know, to say u thin’ or all the other cardinal points of the compass? But, if, Saint Pathriok himself was here shut u wid that craythur and instead of the blissid. ight of the sun which is me meat and me bread itself, > r me guar 1am an e] 7' i The Swamp Guide. 1'7, stead of the blessid sun I say, that Waste of a haythenish torch in the chauiney, he‘d lose heart though he had the patience of Jowb, he would.” - Ellinor smiled at the assumption of. a new virtue as characteristic of, Bridget’s favorite saint. “ It’s smilin’ ye are; Jyo may think that all the patience was given to owb, ecause he was an oulder man—though I niver heard of his being a saint itself, and nivcr a. bit left‘ at all, at all for Saint Pathrick. They left a hit of all'thc vartues for the blissid saint of ould Ireland, and it didn’t sp‘ilo wid the drapin’, t.;ough he‘s the last saint to get credit for all the good ho did in this poor, thankless world. But, if ye can smile in this den, kape on, even if it’s larfin’ at Saint Pathrick himself ye ar'e, rest his sow]. It does me heart good to see yo smile at anything, it does. But hist, I hear somethin’, an’ shure it must be Misther Mowse.” Bridget ascended the steps, and as she peepcd through the crevices, continuedz‘ “ Yes it’s himself though I niver thought I’d see the do. whin l’ti look on the likes of him as ' an’ he’s bringin’ a long sthriug of little sh, shinin’ like silver. Hiven bless him for the same.” , Mose brought a string of glistening silver perch, which he displayed to Ellinor, saying: “Ain’t dese pretty, missus.z Mist’ sent ’em down to de swamp by one of do boys for er supper. Dey done cotch ’em in do lake as‘ night.” ' ‘They are beautiful and sufficiently tempting for an epicurian appetite, and I prize them as an additional token of that kindness which has already loaded us with favors,” said Ellinor.’ “Bress you, chilc, what’s folks put inter dis yer’world for, if. it ain’t to take care of each other? Dese yer’ fishes is pretty, and dey’s good; of dat trnfe you shall‘ soon fvince yourself,” said Mose, as he commenced preparations for supper, * actively, as thou h this were the beginning in- stead of the cone usion of his daily duty. He told, with pleasure, of the progress of the labors in the swamp, and assured them that they might soon expect to leave their present abode. After supper had been prepared and partaken of, Mose, seeing with pleasure that his addition to the bill of fare was appreciated, Danger was duly fed and caressed, and Ellinor and her at~ tendant retired, thankful for the first day of rest since their escape from the pirate ship. Mose tool: the seat by the fire, which, since the advent of his guests, had been his only place of re .\ ~ View it will be a blessin’, shore, once more to set fut ina Christian land, if ’twas only among Hindoos and Hottcnmts. But it’s meself that’s thinkin’, Misther Mowse, ye’ve hard slapin’ sit— tin‘ u all night an’ watchin’ instead of layin’ down like a tired Christian,” said Brid et. , - “Brass you, missus, it’s all in use— ’s use to dat. L’arnt to sleep so when I was in de wars - wid marse—dat‘s ole mama’s father. Mose was a boy then.” ‘_‘ Hiven defind us,” soliloquized Bridget; “as if M iver was a boy; it‘s my _belaif he’s forgot within 119‘ was born, and been hviu’ forever. .l’ve . no doubt he’s been in all the wars, Christian and haythen. Belike he was at the Howly Land it- self.” - Bridget fell asleep, to dream of Canebrake Mose, mounted on a fiery charger, and clad in the armor of a. crusader; but, although he was a boy in stature, his face was, even then, furrowed with traces of many years. CHAPTER IX. A NIGHT or TERROR. ANOTHER day passed as tranquilly as the one described. Mose was absent all da . On his i'eturn he exhibited more than usual e tion. “ You see, missus, we was gittm’ sort of down- heartcd. De logs didn’t mam good nohow; do mud kept sinkin’ an’ givin7 way when we didn’t expect it. Working there wa’n’t no more’n throwin7 straws ag’in the wind. I jcs’ went up to do home house, and tole mini? 7bout it. so she went over to Marse Robert’s. dat’s her cousin dat’s in de army, a—la *in’ of lin'dges, dey calls him aengineer, dough don’t know what for, ’ca’se he don’t run no injines, but dcy calls him so, howsomover, and he come prancin’ down on do gray hoss, like mad. You see he was in a mighty hurry ’ca’se dcr’s a great ‘motion in do country; dey say do Yankee Fedralms is comin’ oif’m aship, lyin’ ofl’ do creek harbor. Marsc Robert he storm and cuss like alla wrath. ’Tis ’stonishin’ how gentlemens does learn to cuss when dey go to fightin’,” said Mose. “ It’s aisy for ’em to learn nivil’father than rood, anywheres, I‘m thinkin’,” remarked ridget. ‘ “Mi hty nigh right, dat is, I ’spec', missus. Marso obert uscter be as soft spoken as a lady wid a nice han’, like akid glove. He certain did blow do boys up'fcr tryin’ to build a. bridge. (lat ar’ way, and made we all do it all over “ again. We got a whole stretch of )019 clear ’cross do swam , afore he lef’, den e gallop away, and say dey don’t get' anoder stretc ’longside of dat one, he’s wine to bfeak every bone in dere bodies, he! 0! Morse Robert’s a good man, but I ’spec’ do cannon balls gwine to cotch him like do minnow balls did dem nice young men dat went out w.id him. It do seem' strange like, dat ole croeters like me’s lef’, and young men, jes’ read to do 00:1 in do world taken out’n it," said use, re actively. He paused for an instant, as though indulging in memories of the past, and then Tesumed his cheerful tones. “ So you see, missus, you’ll hcvliope of gettin’ to the home house day after to—morrow, ef nothin’ happens, and we prosper.” “ Thanks to your untiring energy,” said Ellinor. , - “ e’s worked by da , and watched by night, and the Lord knows w at not, and ef he niver gits a reward on airth, may all good saian re« ward him in purgatory by takin’ him ont’n that same. And miss, ef youd come and braithe a little air, we ain’t afraid now Misther Mowse is here; the same will do ye good, I’m thinkin’, I'll jist open the door, barrin’ ther’s no door to open, itself. Shure the breath of the air is fresh and , new entirely, like new vi’lets, and dewdrops and nightingales'and—oh, Lordl oh, Moses, a the '_ saints: oh, hool och!” exclaimed Bridget, £31!- A , The Swamp Guide. inn,r to the floor, and fairly rolling to Ellinor‘s sile, and grasping her clothing, as if for protec— 1101]. Danger uttered a terrible growl, and rushed into the open air, While Mose quickly followed. “Bridget, tell me, in inerey’s name, what you have seen? You terrify me beyond expression,” said Ellinor, trembling with vague apprehension. “Expression! I’m dead, miss, and to think that it’s happened now jist when good Misther Mowse has fixed the powles. I’ll nivcr look out More ag’in.” " Bridget, What. have you seen?” again asked L Eilinor. . " I‘ve saine the whole Oshun Seargel I’ve seine the scnrgeof the world itself. Och hone tho duyl I’we snino a man !” . “ Were you not in error, Bridget?” asked Ellinor. ' ‘ “In aror, ni’aml” exclaimed Bridget. “ I iiiver was in that place in me life, not to my knowin’. 1 was in here, jist, in this haythen den of a place, barriii’ me head was out, and I was‘snyin’ to inoself, Bridget, me garl, says I, , you’re in luck, you are, and I raised me eyes, I , jist. and there, and a-lookin’ at mo too, in the brown dusk, I saw the murt'ierin’ pirate, as plain as the nose on me face, jist—nndit’s meself that has often wished that was less plain. Hivin knows, but it"niakes little difference now. All ,t'ie aivil seems to come belike, if iver I look out that blessed windy.” “By what unfortunate accident have they dis- covered our place of concealment?” “ In the same way we found it ourselves. by thramping' and rowling ’ronnd till they wore the finite o ’em a ’ane to the bone, 1 hope shure— they found it by accident. It’s ounly tho direst 6f accilents, that would bring any human cray- ther here. And the dear little bridge of powls t .vo wide, and Misther Mowse’s swnte misthress th'lli I began to love like me own dear sister, we‘ll niver see them now. Och hone!" “ Listen, Bridget.” . “ It’s meself that’s always doin’ that same. I was born wid a talent for listenin’ naterally, and of hearin’, ’specially what I’d not wish to hear. And did ye iver hear sieh a growlin’ us that murtherin’ hound ov a. dog makes alto- getherl" $uestioned Bridget, as the noise with~ out grow earfully distinct. Danger was growling furiously, and in low, smothered tones, expressive of the fiercest rage. - \ He evidently held something in a deadly grasp. _ Mingled with these sounds was heard a voice .utterin alternate enrreaties and imprecntions, while time’s shrill tones were heard high above this confusion of sounds. “Stay, Danger! Stay, sirl Down, good fol- low,” he exclaimed, as the noise paused at the door. Mose first entered, and aided by Denver, drew after him the a parently lifeless form 0 a man. The dog’s teet were firmly fastened in the shoulder of the prisoner, and it was not until re- peatedl urged and threatenel by Mose, that ho was in need to relinquish his hold. A ll Ellinor stood wit clas move or utter a W6 d, while Bridget, in this ex- . ,tremitfy; gave utterance to the uSual variety hi lumen 'tious. V , , . a“) .v \ “i z hands, unhhlo to The intruder was immediately recognized as belonging to the pirate crew, by the uniform he wore. He was without a. hat, and his clothing partially torn away, while a deep wound in his a shoulder. from which the blood flowed freely, ‘ i attested the ferocity of the struggle in which be ' had been overpowered. He was nearly insen- sible, and his bushy hair and board, dabbled in blood, caused him to present a truly frightful up lCal'illll'P. ,, ‘,- v egnrdlcss of his wounds and insensibility, ‘-,' “ Mose proceeded to bind his prisoner firmly with 3 leathixrn thongs, a when this object was so» " eiircly accomplishe , he exclaimed: , “ Dari you won’t hurt us now, master, I ; reckon, and I s’pec' I’ll keep you dar a little , while. He! hel” . - l Danger he d stood over the captive during the ‘ proceSs of binding, evidently prepared, at the * least signs of resistance, to renew the attack. l He now evinced his satisfaction by )18, ul gam- l, hols, and by rubbin if his huge, bloor y Jawsupon . . Ellinor’s clothing. ridget was equally grati— , , tied at the prostrate condition of their foe, and ’ ‘ ' her joy was equally demonstrative. “ 0h, yo bloody, murtherin’ thafe ov a pirate! 1. I know ye, bad luck to ye, and now ye’r wher’ ye ought to be, fist. I’ll taich ye to cut women’s and children’s throats. and kill ’em wid scaii'en’ - of ’ein to death itself 1” she exclaimed, as, under ‘ assurance of his utter helplessness, she ventured to approach. But as the movements ottho captive indicated returning consciousness, she removed to u re- spectful distance. “ Come, missus,” said Mose, turning toEllimr, a “ we must run to do swamp. . Dc whole place is filled wid ’em. I heerd de’r gun‘s, like pepper an’ salt, while we was draggin' dis yer’ one ' ’ 3‘ down.” . 'g “Merciful Moses! Mother of sainth, we’re ‘ lost ag’inl” exclaimed Bridget, as, seizing Elli- I T, nor’s arm, she fairly carried her up the steps, V l ‘ an i rushed into the darkness. The pirate moved uneasily, as though trying to rise. “Jes’ as well lie still, master; you can‘t get up, I s’ iec’, and you’ll excuse me for leavin‘ you in dat X; but some of your fi"on’s will co 9 - ’ ~ g, ' along,” said Mose, as he hurriedly followed t 0 ~ ’ fu ritives. V ' anger had not‘waited for his keeper, but ' -, preceded Ellinor, as though to assure by his '2’ _' presence, and protect her from impending evils. ' Thus, but n. few moments had elapsed since our . party were dWelling with pleasure on their . r “ prospect of a speedy deliverance and they were ' r 2 again, with fleeting footsteps and in terror, pur— suing their way through the tangled mazesof the treacherous swamp. ‘ V “ If We can jes’ get on t’other side of do first piece of do swamp, dey can't catch us,.’less’n ’ ey knows more ’bout dis swamp than I thinks “ Dem, «flu—m: ‘ dey does,"ssid Mose, in or low voice. poles is mighty small to walk on in de dark.” “Merciful saints! we’d as well be hung it— self by them bloody, murtherin"thaives 0v. 'V » pirates, as to be hung Suspended between the, . hivens and a‘irth on five poles. - It’s worse, f" nor a dannin'-masther on, wires itself,” ,exclaim-V "' ed Bridget. . , " “ It’s strong, and ain’t gwine to let you fall. ' missus. Little missus rather try it, I s’pec’, for it’s the only chance,” replied Mose. “ Yes, oh, es, anything rather than to fall into the ban 5 of our pursuers!" exclaimed Elli— nor, in agitated tones. “Hastenl I hear their footsteps in the rustle of every leaf.” . “ Lorrd love ye, they ain’t in the laives itself, I shure l” exclaimed Bridget, under the influence ‘ t; of new terror. r Soon the report of musket‘s was heard, and ' ere they reached the point where the foundation for the rude bridge was laid, Ellinnr could scarce ' proceed, owin to the combined effect of terror and haste: an Bridget, after every ejaculation expressive of fright, vented her reproaches upon their persecutors. “Its huntin’ us like the mad bastes of the prayries they are. I’m thinkin’ they’ve lost the’r mison itself, if they iver had any to lose at all, at all, berrin‘ the raison of cannybels, inste’d of men. ’Tis a new way intirely of i ,_ pursooin’ one’s lady-love, an’ so it is. and { inesclf would like to hev the hearin’ of his ears "i i r ....i_£s.__-_,- as. . . for a minit. I’d give him me opinion itself, would I." Mose sought to soothe the alarm of the fugi- tives as best he‘ could, while, in the. intense V darkness and by imperceptible paths, he led ‘I ‘ them onward. - 2' “Don‘t you be uneasy, missus. ' y i its us further from ’em, an” ef we once ‘ gem poles, deg ain’t never gwine to flu said Mose, confidently. “ Share, and won’t they come onto the powles too, itself?" questioned Bridget. , g; ' “ Trns’ Mose for (int, missus,” was the reply. i ’ “How iver ye’r’ to kape thim divils rom crossin’ anything human paple iver walked on, L; r I don’t know,” said Brid et, incredulously. ’ “ De fu’st bridge is a s ort one, and don’t be- long to de main.hridge, nohow. It ain’t but , one length of poles—mighty long ones, dough— » _ but after we’ve crossed I reckon we kin pull ’em v after us afore deg gets dar ” said Mose, as he aused amoment and gro in the darkness gor the firm earth, upon Which the foundation of the brid e rested. ‘ , The nobe dog, however, was quickest, and - with wonderful instinct, or, as it seemed, under the promptings of reason itsclf, as though he , ’, knew the object of their search, and compre- Every step it on us,” i g. hended its importance, he dashed forward, then, . 'V \ by whining and low, joyous barks, indicated, that he had found the desxred spot. “ If iver!” exclaimed Bridget. “ The more I know that dog, and the better I like him, the ' more am I afraid of the crayther. He’ll be either sp'akin’ presently, will he, the baiste. Oh! oh, mother of Moses, save us ag’in—they’re here!” This latter exclamation was cansed by the rt» rt of a musket in alarming proximity. El- inor whispered: _, “ We shall betoo late! Our pursuers are up- ‘on us. " - ' “ Whist, spake niver a word itself, me darlint, 01' it’s upon us they are,” was Bridget’s reply. _. Their feet were upon the poles. It was a nar- ‘ The Swamp Guide. row and insecure ooting. and swayed to and , trobemththelr hastening room, but they 19 were urged on by a strong motive power, and, although several times near falling from the frail support, they paused not until they gained the opposite side. ’ “ It’s meself will niver say ag’in I can’t walk on the slack rope, or dance on the air itself, won’t I, for afther that same. Ill niver deny I can’t perform faites,” said Bridget, as she set her foot firmly upr n the ground, to be assuled that it was in reality solid beneath her feet. “ I fear it will avail us naught, for I hear their voices on the opposite side,” said Ellinor. “ Yes, missus, I hears ‘em too, but, brass dc Lord, chile, h'earin' ain’t always swim, and dey won’t see us, I don’t ’spec’, to-night.” Mose drew a knife and out the fastenings of the )oles at his feet loose, then continued: “ ow, Miss Biddy, if you can help we’ll soon sp'ile de bridge.” Then Bridget lent her strength to his assist— ance. They1 drew the long poles from the other side throng the swampy bed until they rested upon the ground where they stood. This was accomplished quickly, although it required al- most superhuman exertions. “Howl Varginl Things that seemed so small an light in the walkin’-on, pulls one ter~ ribly to lift. Will we be either carryin’ all the bridges afther us on our backs. Misther Mouse? It strikes me it would be a saving of time and labor itself, to be bringin’ it Wid us the first time we cross, then it’s the divil himself couldn’t find us at all, at all,” said Bridget. “ Wonin’t got no more to pull ,awav. missus, dey are al too long and heavy," said ose, not regarding Bridget‘s last suggestion, “ but I ’spec" I’ll out de nex’ one. ” ' ' ’ “ Can they not follow us 'now P” asked Ellinor apprehensively. ' “ Dey ken try, missus, but I don‘t s'pec’ dey’ll exceed very well tryin’, he! he!” laughed Mose. The work was accomplished not a moment too soon. for, simultaneous with the complacent words of Mose, were heard shouts and cries of pursuit on the opposite side. The distance was so short that footsteps even were distinguished. On they came, nor paused at the edge of the swamp, and those first to advance lost their footing in the treacherous depths. Then fol- lowed angry shouts and calls to comrades for assistance. « - Mose appeared to enjoy exceedingly the diffi- culties in which their unfeeling pursuers were literal] plunged. ‘ The ugitives were in no immediate danger of discovery owing to the darkness, but, as the noise on the opposite side increased, the dog, an- swered the shouts with a long, furious bowl of defiance, which echoed far and near; and, ere the sound died away, a musket-ball whistled‘by, and fell harmless in the swamp behind. “ All the saints and praists itself pray for us nowl Surely, they‘ll be killing us intirely wid them bastely cannons,” exclaimed Bridget, elect trified by this new and startling feature ofrpur~ suit. “. It’s meself thought. sure, we'd be safe from the murtherin‘ wretches till they caught us, but they’ll be either catching us now before they find us." ‘ ‘ Cease! Another shot, and your liva , 20 pay the forfeit, villains. ’Tis but a shallow pool a child can cross. Advance!” Ellinor recognized the voice of Robert L} nn, and felt indued with strength for renewed efforts. Orders and threats were alike vain. The men became incighricably entanglai in the ilupths of the swamp. Mose, who possessed all the in- herent terror of the untrained negro, had rc- ccivcd an additional incentlve to action in the ball which had just whistled by; ho therefore hastened onward, after giving the low, peculiar whistle which culled Danger to his; sidc. ' “ \Vhat wid the two powles forninst us, and the innciny in our rare, and wid tho crocky— dalcs under our foot, we’ll have a night of it, so We will, and it' wo see the blissid morn at that the Lord be praisod. It’s more ,than I ixpict,‘ said Bridget, dolcl’ullv, as she, pondering upon their dangers and diflicultii-s, followo l the swift footsteps of thoir sable guide. “ If we escape the perils which encompass us, we can never be sufficiently grateful,” said Elliuor, in a low tone, for she scarce daro trust her voice. “ N iver!" exclaimed Bridget, energetically. “And it’s incsclf that would never caise me inf'ziyycrs to tho blissid saints all the days of me I 0. CHAPTER X. Tim moantno’s DAWN. IT was a night 01’ terrors, and as our fugitives . pressed onward, they occasionally heard the voices of their pursuers. These sounds, however, mocame less distinct and were finally lost in the distance. They‘were in constant fear of the serpents which infested the swamp, their proximity to which was assured by the occasional barking and snappiu 1' of their watchful escort, Danger. Bridgét’s oquacity deserted her under the accumulation of terrors, and she only occasion— ully found strength to utter a prayerful word of exclamation. Their Way was purtiall accom— plished when the moon’s soft light s ione full upon them. ' “Hiven be praisedl” ejaculated Bridget, as tears of thankfulnoss coulsed down her cheeks. “ I’d forgot the blissid light of the swuto moon itself could ,iver shine on us more, li’uste ov a sinner that I am for that same.” -A sigh of relief attested her gratitude, as Ellinor turnol hor- oyos heavcnwal‘d, for she was too greatly exhausted and overpowered for words. The uneven, treacherous way could now be morn confidently pursued, for threatening dan- gers could be soon, and perhaps avcrtvd. But every thing, howcvcr fearful, must end. The night was passed, and when the moon’s pale beams were last in the bright rays of. the morn- ing sun, the weary and worn fugitives paused at r the last bridge. It spanned astroam, narrow, but deeper than any they had previously cross- ed. This was the boundary of the swamp, and beyond ——ohl blessed sight to the lon ing eyes turned thitherward, lay cultivated golds and loft, shady groves. 4 Ellinor felt that, in her nervous and prostrate The Swamp Guide. ‘...........a condition, it was useless to attempt to cross on‘ a support so narron and difl‘lcult to traverse. Bridget protested against the attempt. “It’s nivir a bit of use, that same, thr in’ to cross there. Ye may walk on powles Whm ye’r’ surrounded, and can’t git away, and thin in ,t e swamp yo wouldn’t fall so far itself, the,“ "" crockydalcs, bad luck to ’om, will catch';‘,‘ 9?.» here tncr’s nothin’ to recaive ye, at all, at all, barrin’ that niurthcriu’ say ov a little river self that’s worse nor the say where ye have room: to swim," argued Bridget. “ Dat’s too high, missus,” said Mose, redac- tivcly. “ We mus’ manage some odor way, I reckon. I wonder whar‘s dcm lazy ni rs dis mornin’? I tole ’cm to be here afore ( e broke ob day, so did Marse Robert. Bouu’ if he was here, lxs‘d broke some of de’r head». Dat’s de way wid dem chaps. Dey dunno nothin‘ 7bout war,” and, with an expression of supremelmfvi— tempt, Mose looked in the direction whence" his assistants were to make their aplwarance, not a little angry at their slothfulnoss. “ Shur'e, if they do come, they can’t carry us. over itself,” said Bridget. “ No, missus, dat’s do truf, but ef doy’d only come, I’d make ’cm build a rat" in 'bout five- minutas,” replied Mose. “ Yes, dar day is, wid jes’ as much time aforee ’om as ef it didn‘t take a whole week to make do world, and don‘t take more time to do all dat orter he done in do world, after it's done made,” said Mose, as he witnessed their leisurely movev , ments. “ As I live, it’s a whole army of nagurs,” ex— claimed Bridget, who had no penchant for the unfortunate race. “ They have proved our friends, thus far," said Ellinor, reprovingly. “ Troth fer ye, mum, an’ they have, an’ it's n more than right to praise the bridge that carries ye over, if ’tis two powles, an' a nugur itself,” was Bridgct’s reply. ' v “ Hallo darl on Ben, Bob, Caesar! Hallo, all of you lazy (- ups!” hailed Mose. But, intent upon their promenade. and evi- dently delighted with the musical efforts of a trio of the pa rby. those addressed were insensia- ble to the call, while the rich tones and paw-- liarly African intonation sounded on the morn- ing air. “ De possum am a funny animal, He rumbles in de dark, An' all he hev to 'sturb his mind. ’ Is to hear do ole dogs bark-” “Hallo darl what’s dat ?" exclaimed the foremost, suddenly stop ing, as he saw the party on the opposite ban . “ Time you was askin’, you lazy ragamuflins! Ef I was jes’ dar, I’d make your eyes bigger’n dot,” said Mose. “ Now Bob. you go to do home house an’ tell mist’ do ladies here, an’ you jis’ be back here w1d do carri e in less'n no time.” , “ How is you done otch ’em hero, Mose?” questioned the former speaker. gazing upon the party as one in a dream, his eyes and mouth distended to the utmost capacity. ‘ . “ You hold your tongue, Pete,” said Mose, , “ and shot up your eyes, au’ ’long wid deni' boys, and havea raf' here in ’ 1: five minutes.” Moss quickly crossed the trail mm 1M " .4 , The Swamp Guide. 21 superintended the construction of the raft, While all hands worked zealously, and cheer- fully. I “ How iver the nagur is to build boats wid his e es shut, I’m sure 1 can’t tell itself,” said g meant that as n reproof for what he con- sidered disrespectful scrutiny of strangers,” said Ellinor, “ not that he is to work with 1115 eyes shut.” “ The crayther has ot manners, more‘n some aple, and he’s a jewe of a nagur, intirely, but f would like he’d be either sayin’ what he m’anes, or m’aning what he says, which is all the same 1 take it,” said Bridget. Ellinor and her attendant found a seat, and anxiously watched the process of construction. The negroes seemed accustomed to the super— vi"" :1, also to the railings and rcproofs of “bunebrake Mose," and before an hour had passed, a rough raft of unhewn logs, tied with 'green swamp withes, was launched upon the narrow stream. “ lt‘s glad I am, meself, infirely, for I never felt the presintiment stronger aforc nor hotter grbunded, that somewhere beyant the fields, ,V for the world like swam Irelan’d, barrin’ it’s not half so grane, and beyant the clumps of trees, there‘s a warrum breakfast, waitin’ for its most humble servant,” and Bridget sighed, for her strong physical nature hungered after “the good things of this world.” “I hope, Bridget, most earnestly, that you may enjoy a g breakfast, to console you for the terrors of the past night,” said Ellinor, who 4/ aithful companion always endured when de- rived of those comforts which constituted, for er, so large a portion of the enjoyments of life. . “ An’ it’s meself that thinks you‘d be betther oil, me darlint, if ye thought more of this same ’atm’ and drinkin’, and less of the graifs of yer life," said Bridget, seeming todivine her mis- . , tress’s thoughts. _ Danger never, for a moment, left Ellinor’s / ; side, and when they stepped on the raft, be de- ’ - mural followed, and preceded them as they land safely upon the opposite shore. It was yet another hour, ere the carriage made its appearance, which it did slowly, and by a. circmtous route. “ You see, missus,” said Mose, in an explana- tory tone “ I’s sorry you’s been Waitin’ so long, but it’s :1 (mg way to do home house. Dc roads is mighty bad, and aence (is war, dey’s been used lesser den ever, and got a. heap worse, so I didn’t ’spect he’d git the carriage here no sooner ’ nohow.’ ‘ But Mose appeared to think it was his province to reprove and admonish “in season and out of ‘ season," and he shouted to the stalwart driver as he came within hearing. ' I“ I knowed you’d be all day ’bout it. Do come along, now you’ve ot here.” The driver byn won rous grin, displayed a. , double row of ivorles, us with an air of bustling haste, he opened the carriage door, and drew down the steps, so ing: ,“ Missus sent a orse for you, Uncle Mose.” v “Don’t ’spect you think 1’: got any is es in my 1999-9591 1 9m: see a. bogus big as 09 Bet, .wight responsible. itied the physical suffering which she knew her ' Bound you ain’t fed her sence Iwent away. She ain’t nothin’ butbones and skin," said Mose, as, with the air of a person conferring an im- mense favor, he received the bridle-rein which the driver meekly detached from the back of the carriage; then turning to Ellinor, he con- tinued: “Dar, little missus, is cushions and things: knowcd missus would fix it right. Now you can res’ and sleep as if ye was in a cradle, and you’ll soon git home.” ' “ Home!” How that word stirred her heart! “ A cradlile J shore, and of it is, we’re gettin’ plenty of roekin’, we are,” exclaimed Bridget, as the carriage swayed to and iro, on the ne— glected, rain-washed road. Slowly the carriage pursued its winding course, attended by Mose, who, probably with a view of reviving the, spirits of the travelers ceased not to reprove the delinquent Bob, no only concerning the condition of the aforesaid stood, but in regard to thing's in general, for which he appeared to hold the unfortunate The dog Danger. as if con— scious of the important part he had acted in the rescue, also of the reception which awaited him at the journey’s end, trotted beside the cur— riage, and by an occasional bark or whine, seemed to wish to remind its inmates of his c'on— tinucd presence. “ It’s me warrum breakfast will become me dinner, in waitin’ fer me, and mo dinner itself will become could as asthone I'm thinkin’,” sighed Br'dgct, as they pursued their seemingly interminu lll‘ way. But soon after was Mose‘s voice heard. “ W'e’ro most dar. Det’s do home house,” he exclaimed. Bridget looked out of the windows anxiously. Just at that moment the carriage turned an angle, and the mansion and grounds, before hid. den from View, lay before them. ' “ There it is, and as pretty a sight as the two eyes of me iver looked at.” Ellinor raised her eyes, and saws, picture, which was indeed beautiful to look upon. The home house was situated on guntly rising _ ground, from which a well—kept park spread to the margin of a tiny stream, in which orted water-1' owl of various descriptions. The nose, itself, was low and irregularly built, as if at various times, and to suit the convenience of, different occupants. It was surrounded by a. broad piazza, which was scarcely elevated above the level of the greenswnrd. From this, vari- ous doors and windows opened, descending to the floor. It was, altogether, 9. sweet, homelike scene, bearing evidence of wealth and refine- ment. “ or, date niist',” said Mom, as a lady made her appearance, and hastened to meet her guests. “'An’ dar’s (1e chillun,” he continued, as twokcurly—hended sprites run down the graveled, wal . The carriage drew up at the steps. The lady took Ellinor’s bonds in her own, and pressing them tenderly, exclaimed, in accents of tender- / est solicitude: ’ “How you child!" _ , , V The soft eyes which gazed into her we were , s have suffered, my poor, poor v .-; a,» flaw The Swamp Guide. filled with tears of love and sympathy; thenrms which iul'oldcd her in a loving embrace clasped her so tenderly; Ellinor felt that at last she had reached a. haven of rest. Again mars came to the relief of her overburdened heart. and she wept like a tired child upon its mother’s breast. CHAPTER XI. HOME HOUSE. , ' Mus. CRANSTON, the mistress of home house, had once been an extremely beautiful woman, and although cares and the vicissitudes of life had left their traces, and marred the once ex- , quisito beauty of form and feature, she was still ' .‘ attractive. She possessed that beauty most to be prized, that unfailing, rejuvenating charm, which ever Wins admiration. that priceless treasure, a pure, true and loving heart. She evcr sympathizcd with the unfortunate, and felt their woes us her own, ’ Not with thatbemoaning and dcspondent sympathy which many cultivate, and which leads them to cry out against the “ world” and / lti evils, whilo they fold their hands quietly and resign themselves and the poor, belied “ World ” to its fate. Her most active sympathies had been awak— ened and enlisted in favor of the fugitives whose condition ha 1 been forcibly re rescnte and faithfully depicted b Cnuebru e Mose. Those feelings had, if possib c, been augmented by the fact that she could neither relieve them iumio'liataly from their Prison-house on the swamp island, nor persona 1y sympathize with y ' their gricfs. 3‘ 1 ' She felt it indeed a. blessing to be able to ro- ’ ' lieve their pl'ossiug wants by sending delicacies and necessaries, but she knew that eVen this ‘ x must be, to a. person of Elliuor’s delicate consti- ’ tution and refinement, scarce a moiety of the real needs of her nature, for, from the old ne— o’s delineation, Mus. Cranston had gained a githful conception of the character and appear- ance of those who were to be her guests. She had prayed, for them nightly, while using the most untirinfz; exertions for their relief, and folder! her own darlings closely to her heart as she pictured them in uposition so surrounded by r terrors. She rejoiced that Ellinor and her com- panion were safe beneath her roof, but shud. dared as she dwelt upon the adventures, and night of terror, which had caused them to an— tici late, by such terrible flight, the efforts being in e for their relief. - Mrs. Cfnnston accompanied Ellinor to the cheerful room, the preparation of which she had superintended for the accommodation of her guest, and personally ministered to her contort. Her maid brought fresh garments, while the gentle hands of the kind hostess smoothed and arranged the entangled mass of shinin 7 hair. She 'ncly insisted that Bridget should rc- tire and seek the repose which she felt assured must be so greatly needed. v ' i “ Share, an’ it’s mcself that’s restin’ and re- posin’ now, at me aisc. intirely,” said Bridget, grateful for the prolfer and the t oughtful kindness. “What wld sittin’on ac air and pain! in a, home wid doors and Windys, d wid I \ ~ , 1%.?th you‘ll be betther up): the spring Christian paple around, and wid me young lcddy herself lookin’ like life, and not like the painted picture ov disthress and dispair alto— gether, au’ not wid a. nest of crockydales,an’ the howly saints knows what else besides, howlin’ round and snaipin’ at me heels ' , hungry creditors—wbic lust reminds In? swato Ireland itself—I’m in a little tas e o ' hiven upon ’arth, 1 belavo,” said Bridget, her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She had scarcoly spoken since their arrival, and availed herself of the first opportunity to express her feelings. . “ Look at her, poor craytherl" said Bridget, pointing,r to Ellinor. Mrs. Crunston hooded smilingly, and placed her finger upon her lips, as she continued gentl to smooth the bands of shining hair. Beneat the soft, magnetic touch, the weary eyelids had closed, and Ellinor sleEt—a gentle, refreshing slumber, not haunted y memory of the bar— rowing realities which, had, until now, sur— rounded her, for, in her dreams, the slumber-er smiled. v - Mrs. Cranston gently drew the curtains, and seeming to know the reatest need of the mat- ter—of—fuct Bridget, ed her away and lacel ‘ 1'- her in charge of a servant, who soon set ofore . 1 i her, she imagined, the identical “ warrum i“ breakfast, and the dinner which had not grown \ 3%: . cowld in the waiting.” Bridget heartily and ' , “ thankfully partook o the welcome feast, While Mrs. Cranston returned to watch beside the beautiful slee r with the tender anxiety of a. mother for a eloved child. Ellinor slept long and well. The soft shadows had lengthened, and the rays of the setting sun pooped in at the closed blinds, as if for a fare— we] glance, when, with a grateful sense of security and repose, she awoke; yet with a luxurious. dreamy lingering in the soft realm of sleep, she lay with closed eyelids. The first sound she heard was childish, prat— tlin Voices. “ amma, mayn’t we come in?” “ Momma, is the retty lady awake? We’ve been ever so still,” p ended the little ones. Mrs. Cranston signified her permission by an assenting gesture, and two fairy-like creatures , drew noiselcsoly near and bent over the couch. As they did so, Ellinor opened her eyes, and , s with the graceful presumption of those favor ones whose acts are always looked u on kindly by the indulgent eyes of love, the ittle ones , lnughod merrily, then withdrew to the other r side of the couch and peeped forth from behind Mrs. Crauston’s chair. _ In nccordnnce with her wishes, Bridget was, informed when Ellinor awoke, and on entering the apartment, she found that her “young leddy" had arisen and was partaking of re« freshments, at which highly judicious proceed-_ ing she signified her approval. . . “ Shure, an’ ye can niver be yerself widout. it. - ’Ating kapes soul and body togither, itself, so'it does,” said Bridget. , . “ Ah, yes. We will soon bring the bloom of, r health and its roses to her cheekJorIknow’ . they‘belong there,” said-Mrs. Crans'ton, smil- o ~~¢ i. ‘i. The Swamp Guide. 83 . that bring out the spring roses, itself, mum, so ye will," replied Bridget. “It'is neither right nor well to allovi the iefs which fall to our lot to prey upon our Egalth and spirits. We should ever strive ~ against desptmdency, and against yielding to the pressure of misfortune.” But. as Mrs. .7: Cranston spoke her voice was tremulous, as if _ she had not, herself, bten uitc successful in the a course which she would cinin have her young J.» ' friend pursue. Two days passed —two days of blessed rest, of uninterrupted quiet. No terrors to startle, no su ‘den alarms to unncrvc, and call into sudden and violent action every faculty of body and mind, and despite the grief of an orphaned heart, the aching void for a (father’s place none ' other over might fill, hllinor ast- regained her s‘rength. Bridget never ceasedto express her dgight at the change, generally denouncing hcr peculiar aversion, “ them thaivish pirates,” and not forgetting the crockydales and that b’ustc of a swamp,” in her invectives upon the cause of their recent misfortunes. The two little girls, twin children of Mrs. Crunston, bcczunc, in this short time, devotcdly attached to Ellinor, and their wiles and pretty ' * " ways served oftoncst to bring a, smiqu her I‘ . lips, which event the little ones hailed With de- _ light; for, children though they were, they r f' seemed tofcel by intuition that the lxmutiful strain or was suffering, and that even they could contribute their mite to cheer her. ' Yet Ellinor could scarce feel secure from pur— suit} they were but a few miles, as it were, rc« moved from the harbor where the pirate vessel lay, and she still felt that this distance, which had cost them so much to accomplish, could be easily traversed by those she feared. She ex- pressed her fears to Mrs. Cranston. who said: “I will not deny, my dear, that your appre- hensions may possibly not be without founda- tion; but it is a result 1 consider in the highest . extreme improbable. Bold and lawless though ‘ , the pirate crew may be, they will scarce, dare to « , pe trate such an outrage; besides, they are ‘ pro bly in ignorance of where you have taken refuge.” “ I sincerely hope such nn'y be the case,” re- plied Ellinor. “ There is, also, another reason for feeling so- herein the harbor, for fear of detection, as this coast is often visited by blockading vessels, sometimes a whole fleet: but I think that this secluded harbor,and its occasional occupants, have, thus far, escaped notice. In the event of their being still in the harbor, I think we need have no fears.” ~ V “ I thank you for the kind assurance, and will v endeavor to feel your own confidence in our ‘ safety,” said Ellinor. “ If,” said Mrs. Cranston, “ there is any course you can suggest, or any place which you can - mach where you will feel assured of safety, I , will use my best exertions to aid you: or, if you t have friends with whom you wish to communi- cate-,1 have relatives holding influential post- tions, who will aid in forwarding letters to Europe,__ort0 the Nowhern States.’2 ' cure. The blockade-runners seldom remain long ' acts of tho “ I have no friends in America,” said Ellinor, her eyes dim with tears, “save indeed, the new friends who have been raised up in my need, who in a few short days have become inexpres— sibly dear, and to whom I owe so much.” “Nay, you owe nothing for a simple act of kindness, it has been a. pleasure,” said. Mrs. Cranston. “I believe it, my kindest friend. There is but one with whom I am anxious to communi— cate. under the present difficulty of transmit} ting letters. That friend was in Europe, and ordered on distant service.” Ellinor’s cheek flushed, as she spoke of him whom she held so dear, then her heart saddened as she pictured his anxiety to know her fate when the news of the lost “Ellinor” should reach him. She continued: “ There .is no place of greater safety at band, and powhero can I feel myself so happy as with on. “Thanks, my dear girl,” said Mrs. Cranston, affectionately. “th, much as your presence gives Inc pleasure, and earnestly as I hope to make you happy, I do not wish to sacrifice your safety, or even your feeling of security, that I may enjoy the selfish pleasure of having you near me. No city in this State is just now ac- cessible from this point, and I know of no place at present which, more than this, promises safety.” ' Now that Ellinor and her companion were in comparative security, the humble instrument of their escape was not forgotten. Every morning Cnnebrake Mose, who, now that the immediate incentive to active exertion had ceased, had resumed the bent form and dc- crepit appearance which had so alarmed the Wanderers, as be bent over the brilliant blaze in his “den,” came, leaning,r on his stick, to ask after the health and well-being “ ob de ladies.” Every morning he brought an oil‘ering of ii h or game for the table which was duly praised and appreciated, and this seemed to be the ample re- ward of this simploheal‘ted creature; the dole he claimed of those he loved 170$ch9. Ellinor never failed to bestow a. kind Word upon him who had so assiduously and effectually toiled to promote their comfort while dependent solely upon him in the wilds of the forest swamp. “Mose is an original character,” said Mrs- Cranston, at the termination of one of these visits. “He is very aged, and has long‘been exempt from service, but, I find him quite in- valuable in my presenncondition. He devotes himself entirely to my interests, superintends the field labor, when not engaged in other matters, and informs himself, as if by magic, of any delinquencies on the part of the laborers, never failing to detect the offenders. His venerable appearance and cccentricitics give him a. power over the superstitious tendencies of the negro nature, and they yielda ready obedience to his every command. ’ “ He evinces' a delicacy of perception scarce to be expected of one in his station,” said Ellinor. whose mind reverted to the dark hours passed in the cabin, on Swamp Island, and to the many htfulness _which_ hadtended 59 greatly to ameliorate their CQDGWOR; . A“ i, ‘ , . ,\_ \_ The Swamp Guide. , , .Q. CHAPTER XII. THE RETREAT INVADED. IT was a. sunny morning. The members of the family at Home. Hone, among whom we class the fugitives, who had here found a. peace- ful hmm, were grouped on the broad piazza. Ellinor occu fled the luxurious invalid’s chair, which Mrs. ranstou insisted was still her prerogative. Bridget sat on the low step, lead- ing to the lawn, busily occupied in dressinga waxeu doll, which proceeding was eagerly watched by the smaller of the “ wee things,” those dlirling‘ household pots. Horinscparahle companion, for each was the acuoinpunyin; shadow of the other, gnmbnlod on the soft grass beside the steps, with Danger, the animal seeming- to enjoy the pastime exceedingly, while boyond, on a. bench, rested the aged form of Canobrake Mose. He held in his hand the soft, dried grass of Will"ll he made those tiny baskets which had elicited Briilgot’s n'hnimtion on the mwrninj: after their arrival in his cabin. He held one now in his hand, partially rom— pleto, but he did not seem intent upon his work, for ever and anon he raised his eyes, with an anxious, questioning glance to the face of his mistress. Mrs. Crunston sot beside Ellinor. Her arms rested upon the low railing around the piazza, and her head sunk weurily upon her hand. Vncnntly, us one who sees not, she gazed upon the scene before her. The sky was clear and blue. Not a. cloud lestrl upon the face of the heavens, and merrily the little songsters twitterad in the statel branches overhead. Still, there was a (1111, .indistinct rumbling, as of the most distant thunder. Very faint it was, yet perceptible. Suddenly it became more distinct, and Bridget, seemin': v the first to observe it, said: “We‘ll be afther havin’ a, sthorm, I’m thinkin’." ; “The noise you hear is not thunder,” replied Mrs. Cranston. “Not thundher itself! What is it thin, I’d ‘liko to know?” asked she. “ It is the report of cannon." “ Och mnrther! Ovv, ohl Blissid saints and angel-1‘ defln'l us. Oh, sorrv’s tho day I came from ould Ireland, itself. Ch! 011?] Bridget let her work full to the ground in her terror, and little Mina ruefnllv glithered the remains of her darling “ best doll.” which under Bridget’s hands was fast becoming :1 tolerany dressed Irish peasant, all her artistic skill to the contrary not withstanding. Bridget saw the little one’s sorrowful looks, null consoled her in the following original st e: “ Sorry's the day I broke it, honey. But you’ll be kilt wid them hnythenish cannons, as my swate young leddy yonder and mcself was, you and yer inn, Hiven bless her, and all yer purty , toys and things, and thin ye’ll niver want ’em more, the saints be praised.” Mrs. Cranston turned to Ellinor and said: “ It is as we, suspectedme dean. Mose has lmrnel that a. party of‘Union troops landed a May? skirmishing is now progressing.” x. . _, w, 'few miles up the coast, this morning, and that mime, “ And the reports, which were like the rum- blin of distant thunder, are becoming fearfully * 10m and distinct,” replied Ellinor, “ ()h! for mercy, for this, our torn and bleed- ing country,” Mrs. Cranston exclaimed. “How many hearts throb with the leaden Wei ht of anguish, in this fair land, to—dny. others weeping for brave sons, sisters for belove .1 brothers, all refusing to be comforted. because the loved ones ‘are not.’ Where all, and every one is door, the idol, perchance, of loving hearts, ' it seems selfish to pray that those we love may be restored to us again.” “Nay, not selfish, simply natural, my friend, and let me join my prayers to yours, for those you love, who share the perils of to—duy," said Ellinor, earnestly, “ I have two brothers there. One a. gentle fimth, our mother's youngest, and our ride. ay God preserve him, in this fearfu d . And one, a stern, brave man, Whose life is da. - v cned by the one he dearly loved. Now, he reck- ' lessly seeks a. fate, which shall, he deems bring forgotfulncss. May he be spared, to prize the , . holy gift "he seeks to cast away," said Mrs. " ,‘ Cranston, in a low voice. “ That they may both be spared to make you happy, shall be my prayer,” exclaimed Ellinor, in a voice 0E emotion. , Her heart was too full for words, and Mrs. Crunston took Ellinor’s hands Within her own, while they listened in prayerful silence, as, on the breath of the balmy morning air, the sounds were borne across smiling,r fields, which seemed, in their plenty, to protest auainst the blood- ' stained trampling of contending hosts, which . ~' soon should soil their purity. r * The arty at the heretofore peaceful home x house 0 eyed the summons to dinner with sad- » dened hearts, for each moment fuller and heavier came the deafening sound. The air seemed dull and close with its weight, as not a breath stirred the leaves. nor floated through the wide-open windows of the dining hall. A leaden weight pressed their spirits. The little pets set as usual, one on either side of the hostess, but seemed to share the general gloom, for they demurely received the choice bits laid upon their plates, without aword of the pleasant prattle with which they were wont to enliven the table reunions. -- When they returned to tho piazza, Mose sat on the step, and he arose with a grave expres—' sion on his withered countenance, as the ladies approached. \ ' , , “ Dom things is comin’ nearer, mist’," he said, as with a thumb he pointed over his shoulder, in the direction whence the sound proceeded. ’ “ Yes, they are fast approaching, and I feeli powerless to aid myself or others, ’ said Mrs. Cranston. ‘ ’ _ 5 “I dunno. myself, what ken be .done, mist’. r You see dey begun at the Inlet ’fore day, and * dey’vo been spreadin’ out, raster‘n a. horse can travel, I s’pose, in do shape of u half-moon like, and all dis country is ies’ in do b and, and I dunno ' how to get out,” said Mose. , . . “They may not reach this place,” suggested» Mrs. Cranston. a , ' .,-" ', Y Y “ Day’s a heap nearer dan, you thinks for now When .dey stops 3351113111." Weight €10] I ‘ 2'. , L _ 1n the dreary ~ :& 51-2 v.‘.<«_-:z-m..:,,. v "if..- :ggfggms, I . The $wamp Guide. ' ' 35 won’t be more‘n five miles off,” said Mose, con— fident] '. “ I dunno whether it’s (10 gray-coats, or de {due-coats~ nearest. Dey say dey’s been fightin’ hand and hand all day, and it’s mostlike we‘ll get mashed between ’em, an’ we won’t "" know whether t‘othc-r or which did it,” said Mose, reflectively. Canebrake Mose, the resort in all cases of trouble, failed in this dilemma. They were, as Mrs. Cranston said, hclplcs; in this emergency. In silence, and with heav forebmlings at heart, thcy awaited the approac 1 of night. Long and weary were the hours in passing, yet more to be feared Were the approaching ones. The sun set at last upon that day of carnage. Men lay across each other at the. contested guns, with the fierce emotions of the bloody tray fixed on their stiil’ened lips. Friend and fee together, in an almost inseparable confusion, and when the twinkling stars bespangled the southern sky, the looked upon the faces of the dead. Lien who had once met in the common court— esies of business and pleasure, who had held each other’s hands in friendly-clasp, met now, pale and worn upon the battle-field, to bury each his dead then turned away to meet on the morrow in a eadly strife for mastery. The tinkling of the supper-bell that night at Mrs. Cranston’s hospitable mansion smote upon the ears of its hearers with startling effect. It seemed unnatural, almost wrong, to these sensi. tive hearts, that the daily routine of life, how— ever necessary, should continue, when, but a. short distance 1 emoved, as it were. there was so much suffering, for they knew that in impromptu hos itals to—night, stern men groaned in agony, an sighed for the “loved ones at home,” whose faces they might never more behold. The little ones had not as usual been submit- ; ted to the hands of their nurse for the night. The mother uad felt that she could not in this hour separate from them for amoment. She took the hand of one of the little girls and arose from her seat, sayin : “Come, in frien , we must partake of our evening men , if possible. We may need every Support to meet some emergency ere to-mor- row." Ellinor took the hand of the little one, that had that evening nestled by her side, and fol- lowed her hostess. They set long at table, and conversed in low tones, as though fearing to go into the clear night air, or to look at the starr heavens. Nature seemed freighted with a wcig t of woe. “ The bloody pirates neither b land nor say, which is the same, I o it, shal ch’ate me out ov me warrum supper; there’s no tellin’ whin I’ll it another.” ith this sage and defiant reasoning, Bridget proceeded to do herself and the waiting supper ice. . Ellinor did not forget the morsel which she was accustomed to bestow on her canine friend, after each meal, and Danger received his portion with his usual tokens of ap robation, while Canebrake Mose looked on. hen Danger ca— ' named her hands, and in at her feet, as he did wamp Island when he} den at had been her ablest protector, and illinor felt reassured by the presence of the noble boastf— still brave as ever in her defense, but unequal, in his‘bruto force, to the peril of the coming night. ' “ Mose, do you never weary at your post?” asked his mlstress. “It is time for your sup— “Thanky, mist’; I was thinkin’ ’bout suffin’ else. You see, folks is get different ways; some runs away when the sojcrs comes; dey is ’fraid of ’cm, and den do sojers plays (1e mischief. Some folks tolls ’cm (loy can’t have nothin’ to eat, an’ dat’s do first thing (icy wants, and if dey won’t give ’em Something to eat den. dey plays mischief"| so I’d just have the table set wid de best in do house, and It‘ll ’em eat as long as you’ve got anything, and (let‘s do only way to make ’em behave." Mrs. Cranston followed the advice of Mose, and had her house “ swept and garnished," for whom she knew not. Ere this arrangement was complete, the world was ablaze with the camp—fires of the contending armies, now in re- pose. They dotted the hill—Sides and skirted the wood, and seemingly, lest the beholder might forget the stern realities of war in this beautiful sight. ever and anon the deep—toned cannon sounded its dread alarm, vibrating over the hill—sides, far and near, until lost in the echoing distance. Mose soon dispatched his supper, and return— ed to his scat. “ You see, mist’,” said he, “ I knows some on ’em is sure to come, so near camp as dis yer is, and I thinksdat’s do best way to treat ’em. It ain’t many men can behave harsh to ladies, ’spscial if dey treats ’om kind, and dcn’ you see mist’, most all on ’em’s got somebody at hi me, and thinkin’ of ’em Sometimes makes gen’men of do roughest of de sojers.” Mose was ignorant and untutored, but he was a judge of human nature, and he knew that the man who failed to feel his heart soft: 11 either by a memory of home, or—pardon the abrupt tran- sition—a good supper, must indeed be hardened, and the cunning calculator resolved that the lawless men Who should, on that memorable night, invade the sanctity of his beloved mis- tress’s peaceful home, should feel the influence of Italie tJvo great motive powers of humanity com- me . The camp—fires burned brightly, and the night advanced; still the anxious watchers remained upon the piazza. Suddenly lights were seen at ‘ a near point, and in a different direction from the camp-fires. " “ I’ll jes’ go an’ see who dat is; don’t like dat,” - said Mose, as he arose and suddenly disappeared among the shadows. . A little time the expectant arty sat in silence; slowly and with cautious ear, one after; another of the affrightexl servants came, and as ‘ ' if seeking Security in their mistress’s presence, stood, some in the recesses of the windows, and some in the doors, in every attitude of fear and expectation, every one having hisor her account ’ to give of the cause of” their fear. Some affirmed that they had seen the guns: of the a preaching party, others that they had seen t v ‘ ' glistenin of terrible , eye‘s, “bri hterr than, I; stars,” w 1011 mammy Sue silenced em all, by exclaiming, intones of contempt: .‘\ 26 “Hush! you all skecrt to deli, and ain’t seen nullin’; jis‘ heard me my 1’s see’d suflin’.” And mammy Sun, with the privilege of the oldest, ensconced herself in what she considered the safest point, namely, behind the chair of her mistress, and in grim silence awaited the coining of. events. A hastily-advancing footstcp was heard, which all recognized as that of Canehrnke Mose. He ran up the walk and exclaimed, breathless with haste: I “ Gor’mightyi dey’s comin’, niist’l” “ Who are coming?” questioned Mrs. Crans- ton. “ Dey! dcmi De Scourgors, cotch Miss Ellinorl” mist’. what CHAPTER XIII. PURSUIT BAFWLED. WHILE Ellinor Vannier and the devoted Bridget were prisoners in the cabin of the “ Ocean Seourgeflalso during: their escape from the pirate chief, and the eventful days that fol— lowed, the “ Union Flair ” commanded by Cap- taiu Armstrong, with Will Brande at the helm, glass in hand, hid cruised along the coast in search of their outlaw enemy. Captain Vannier was slowly recovering from the effects of his wound, and every day of this enjoined inactivity seemed to him an age. while Captain Armstrong ch if ed like a caged lion at every hour which posed bringing no tidings, and which seemed to remova him further from the accomplishment of the object for which he was prepared to yield his life. At length a. suspicious sail was reported, and Will Brande, after long scrutiny. satisfied him- self that this was indeed the long-sought ‘ “ Scourge.” then gave vent tohis joyin a hearty “hurrah!” He turned to Captain Armstrong, and said: “ That’s her, and no mistake. sir, and we’ve got her about right. We’ll lay this neck of land that rum; into the bay under our guns. and she’ll keep beautiful till morning, leastways, that’s my ’pinion.” “ Must we delay action until morning?" asked Captain Armstrong. who felt that, in this in- stance, it were well to be influenced by the opinion of the scaman. “ Yes, sir, safe must be the word; it's too late now, and we must not let the outlaws know we are about till we are ready for action." Captain Armstrong felt the force of this row selling, as night was already near. “Patience. oh, my soull” he muttered be— tween his clinched teeth, as. assuming a seren— ity which was far from real. he descended to the cabin to report to Captain Vannior the progress of events, and assure him of success on the morrow. ‘ ., ‘ Then they discussed-atlength the proposed plan of operations. They must deal gently with their enemy for her sake, whom they sought to save. The Scourge was to be disabled, thhn boarded, and the pirates engaged hand-to-hand upon her decks" . Now Captain Vannier felt his debility and wounds with double force. He alone to re~ main inactive on the morrow, while others shed i caused officers and men to respect their blood for the resonaof his beloved» The Swamp Guide. child, if, indeed, that might avail to restore her to his arms. And the father’s heart sunk with sickening forcbodings, as he pictured all the terrors of her situation since that fearful night. Alone. save her faithful attendant, among that rough pirate crew; she, so tenderly cared for, so scdulously guarded against contact with the coarser elements of human nature. Had not his gentle child died of despair? He shuddered as he dwult upon the possible contingencies that might have arisen in her captivity. \Vliile the guns of the “ Flag” protected the narrow and apparently the only outlet to the harbor, Where the pirate lay, and where the ut- most vigilance was exerted to prevent her escape, the “Ocean Scourge,” under cover of the dark- ness of night, silently entered the small inlet, beyond, and lay concealed from her pnrsners. Robert Lynne, the pirate chiefI felt that he was safe, but he knew not that the vessel on his track was guided by an uncrring hand, which should never relax its vigilance until the ashes of the “Ocean Scourge ” were s‘cat— tered as an atoning sacrifice upon'the broad blue sea. Long ere the dawn of day, all was excite— ment on the decks of the Flag. The strict dis— cipline of the man-of-war had, for the moment, yielded to the enthusiasm of the men in the cheerful bustle of preparation and eagerness for the fray. The nature of the excitement, how- ever, was changed when Will Brando, in the first faint dawn of day, took the glass in his hand, and after a few moments’ search turned to Captain Armstrong, who approached, and said slowly and with emphasis: “ She’s gone, sir!” Captain Armstrong seized the glass and swept the narrow limits of the bay. then the broad expanse of waters, only to receive confir— ination of th use words; then, with an expres- sion of rage and incredulity, he turned away. He felt in the impotent despair of that moment ’ ' that Ellinor was lost to him forever. His inaction. however, was of short duration: and when, a short time after, a sail was dis- covered, he ordered chase to be given, as thoufih assured of what he so desired, yet of which 6 could find no ground for hope, that the foe he sought was fleeing before him. Will Brande, with a rueful expression of countenance, again took the glass, and gazed wistfnlly at the fast receding spot where the night before the missing vessel lay; then he said to Captain Armstron , in an excited voice: “ Cap’n, that cusse Vessel never came out 0? there .i’ v This was the strengest form of an oath Will ever used, profane as were most of his compan— V ions, and ,this word betokened the strongest axe citcment on the art of the speaker. Although his recdom from this vicious habit Will more highly. there were a few who had ventured to' ’ jest with him on the subject, and one, more lawless than his fellows, once called him “paro son. . r . “ Now look here, comrades,” said .Willi ‘an joker-i a blue, I s’ 055, and I can take my 3 n ycm; utIhnd a. mother once,‘ perhaps w; :__‘ ._’ c The Swamp Guide. 2"? I’d had one new it I’d been a better son; but one of the few of her teachings I remember was the third commandment, and don’t you never say nothin’ ag‘in’ it.” From that day they had never dared jest with Will on the subject of his conscientious scruples. “ No, ca ’n, she never come out 0’ there," re- peated Will. , “She is not in the bay, Wlll. then?” asked Captain Armstrong. “ No more’n she ain’t there, cap’n,” said Will, slowly, as if reluctant to admit the evident fact. “She’s gone up, or down, for all I know, but she ain't gone out. Leastways, that’s my ’pinion.” The chase was continued for hours, when the “ sail" was recognized as one of the hlockading squadron, and signals were exchanged. Several do 5 were passed in searching every cove and in ct which indented the coast for miles above and below, where it was possible that the object of their search might lie con— cealed, but with no success, and the Fla again lay at the point from which the Seourgeiad last been seen at anchor, and from which she had so mysteriously disa )peared. ” Now, cap’n, t e Scourge has never left this buy. If she had, we’d have can ht her a dozen times in the last two days,” sai Will, as again he scanned the limits of the narrow expanse be fore them. Captain Armstrong made no reply, for in re— futation of Will’s theory there lay the clear bay, sparkling in the sunlight unmarred by even a Speck upon its surface. Will continued silent, but still intently gazing in the same direction. “ This inaction, this perfect helplessness, is un— bearable,” exclaimed Captain Armstrong. “ Well, cap’n, you‘re about right. It’s for all the world like bein' tied up and kickin’ at nothin’. Unp’n, I have a new idea, and if you’ll give me half a dozen men to—night, I’ll see if something won’t come of it.” “You can select for yourself. Will,” said the captain. He possessed unbounded Confidence in Will’s sagacity, and knew that there was scarce— ly a man among the crew who would not be anxious to join the expedition. They were ready for any enterprise, however hazardous. Captain Armstrong did not question Will as to his plans, but anxiously awaited the return of the boat containing the little party. The night was already passed, and the first faint streaks of light were discernible in the east, when Will’s boat came alongside. “ Ah! I told you so, cap’nl We’ve found her, boys. She ain’t near enough to hear us, so give her three cheers,” and Will led off, “three times three.” heartily given. Then, not waiting to answer questions, he ran with boyish agility be- low, to inform Captain Vanuier of their success. “You see, cap’n, in a place that from here looks like nothin’ more than a stream as big as your arm, if seen at all, runs the completest lit- tle outlet or inlet, just wide enoughfor a vessel, and deep, and there, just like tumin’ a corner, lies the Scourge, in the completest little cove, all in the moonlight. She was the prettiest, most a;ny sight I ever sot eyes on," said W111, en usiastically. Tthre is she, His plan was a simple one~they were to set sail slowly outward, to avoid giving alarm, and at the approach of night, return to their present position, from which they were to proceed in boats, and surprise the pirate crew in their fan- cied security. “ Thus,” said Will, “ they will be in our pow- er, and. if the young lady is there, the will have no chance to carry her 03, whic they might do if they had time.” The advantages which Will’s plan possessed were evident to all, and it was adopted. The “ Flag” stopd out to sea for hours, but at night— fall resumed her position of the morning, and, as early as expedient. the expedition set forth. Their )lans were admirably executed, for, not an hour ad elapsed since, on entering the nar- row strait, they had seen the object of their search, as “’ill described, lying before them, ere their boats were moored noiselessly alongside the “Scour e.” The Victory was an easy one, for a few mcn, left in charge of the vessel, were all on board. Surprised at meeting with so little resistance, Captain Armstrong, with heavy forebodings at heart, instituted search for Ellinor. It was, however, in vain. Will Brande, meantime, questioned the captives who werelying securely bound upon the deck. ‘rom them he learned of Miss Vannier’s escape, and the rage of their cap- tain, when, on his return, he was informed of the flight of his captives. They informed Will that, having on that day received information of her place of whom]— ment, the captain had a short time since set out on an expedition to recapture the fugitives; that his object was to return ere midnight, and escape to sea before the armed vessels, which were 0 >erating in conjunction with the land forces a ove, should reach that point. He had pro— longed his stay in the harbor, making futile searches for Miss Vannier, for he believed it im— possible for her to have made her escape from the swamp. With a fearful oath he swore that he would be taken with his crew ere he would relinquish his purpose. They offered to lead them to the place for which the expedition under their captain had set out, uttering an oath of vengeance on their leader, who for his own purposes had sacrificed his men. After short deliberation, Captain Armstrong decided to accept one of the captives as a guide. It was true he might be treacherous, and betray them into t e hands of their enemies, but again he might enable them to save Ellinor from the power of the pirate chief. They entered their boats, and rowed around the treacherous swamp-island, where Ellinor and her companion had so suffered in their wander— in _ and es<-ape. 11 they were hastening forward under their new guide toward the home house, where their arrival was most opportune, and will be demon~ strated by the events of the concluding chapter. CHAPTER XIV. CONCLUSION. THE announcement made by Mose, in his original words and manner, produced varied re- sults upon his hearers. - m . £8 Eliinor started to her feet in terror, as if to flee from her dreaded enemy. She was pale, and every feature expressed the despair in her heert.’ Bridget seized the little ones in each hand, and retreated hastily within the house. “ Go within, my door,“ said Mrs. Cranston. “And leave you to face the terrible men?" exclaimed Ellinor. “ I do not fear them, my child.” re )liewl her hostess, as she led Ellinor within, and c osed the door. “Now, my dear,” said she, “ go to the cast room up—stairs, that is the most dietant. They may be deterred from their purpose, and, ifnot‘, much may be gained by delay.” “ Och hone! Who’d iver ov thought ov a. ves— sel sniliu’ on dry lend, itself? but it’s that divil of :1 Say Seal-go that'll sail anywhere, bad luck to it,” exclaimed Bridget, aghast at this now misfortune. Mrs. Cranstou resumed her seat, as a footstep was heard upon the walk. The intruder was met a few steps from the piazza. by Mose, who, with a low bow, asked his “ pleasure.” “ The mistress of the house," was the curt rc- joinder. “ Walk in snr,” said Mose, indicating the way, and stepping aside to allow him to pass. Mrs. (Jmustou arose tomcat her visitor, who, as ' the reader has doubtless surmised, was Robert Lynne, the captain of the “' Ocean Scourge.” Ho bowel with overwrought court— esy, and said: “ Can I have the pleasure of a few moments‘ conversation, madam?” “ Certainly, sir,” said Mrs. Cranston,,as she Eointsd to a chair near the one from which she ’ ad arisen updn his entrance. The lawless mm was abashed by the presence of this frail woman but every moment was pre— cious was life itseh, and he spoke. “Madam, at ‘greit sacrifice. an'l imminent personal danger, lam here to night, to seek one who is now a guest beneath your roof.” “By what means are strangers informed who are my guests?" asked Mrs. Crimston calmly. Robert Lynne paused and {genuine the ques- tioner, but he saw no signs of timidity or fear ‘ in the, gentle hazel eyes, which returnel his gaze; " Madam,” he said, “ the person I seek I come prepared to claim, and [beg that you will not oppose my intentionsin this respect, null as one who Wishes you no ill, I a'lvisc you against such a. course of proceeding. I could give you expla- nations which would be doubtless satisfactory, but time presses, and urgent duties call me else- where.” “ Douhtless. ' None are exempt from pressing duties. One of the most sacred of which I am cognizant is the duty of a hostess to her guest,” replied Mrs. Cranston. , . “ Madam, will you inform Miss Vannier of the presence of a friend. who requests her to ac— company him?“ questioned Captain Lynne, in a tone of suppressed rage. , “ Captain Lynne—for. althdu ,h you have not , given me your name, I feel con dent that I ad— ' ress 310 othermMiss Vunnieris my guestmnd, The Swamp Guide. under my protection, inefficient as that protec- tion may he,” replied Mrs. Cranston. , ‘ x “ I can waste words no lou er, madam. You , ' compel me to use means would fain have * avoided,” exclaimed Robert Lynne, as he arose from his chair. ,“ I must and will see Miss _ Vannier.” “ Since this is your ultimatum, you must adopt your own course, and, under- the circum— stances, will doubtless permit me to withdraw.” Mrs. Crunston gracefully saluted her visitor. and ere he could detain her, she entered the hall and passed from his si ht. She hastened to t e room where Ellinor sat in silence and fear, her face buried in her hands “ He is a. villain of the deepest dye, my dear, and I can comprehend your aversion to falling into his power. Our conversation was but short, and I gained but little time, but I do not despair of saving you,” Mrs. Creustou said, «as. she noted the terrified expression of the young girl’s face, for at that moment Robert Lynne‘s voice was heard, summoning his followers. Mose had been politic, and, while the captain was conversing with Mrs. Cranston, he had in- vited the men to partake of refreshments. They had entered by another door. and were now seated at a. feast, such a. one as seldom fell to . their lot to enjoy. Their captain culled again, are they answered the summons, then Mose appeared at the door. “ Please, Mas’r Cup’n, de mens is takin’ a little supper, and a. little drop of suflin.” ' “Supper! curses on them, and on you too,” exclaimed the enraged officer. ‘ “Let him call, we’re ashore now: we’ve an~ V swercd him often enough. Let’s drink another glass,” said one of the men. " Pitty to lcf now. Two or free minutes ain’t much, nohow,” suggested Mose. . , . “Sensible fool, that,” exclaimed one of the outlaws. “There, old boy. take the crusts and bones for your pains.” ' ' , “ Yah! he!” laughed Mose, as though the speaker had perpetrated an exquisite jest. “ Yes, , sah. Thnnliy, ear.” I “A goo l-netured fool, tio,” continued 'thn speaker. “ Fill us again, old boy, and We’ll be gone. They might catch us, and, you know ' ‘ we’re the swingin‘ sort, hal he!” and he drained his glass with a. hideous gesture, in imitation oi! . ' strangulation by the refine. , "Confouud you! I’ll ’ave you hung formuti- - ny, if you he51tate another moment. Ha’vethe’ ' horses in readiness. find Miss Valnnier.” Robert Lynne had ap red at the door of the refreshment-room, on his concluding words. ' were addressed to Mose. , I “ Miss Ellinor? dat pretty lady what’s stayiu" “ wid mist’?” questioned Mose. ' , > i. . “ Yes, dotard’l” ‘v , “ Brcss me! I didn’t know you was herfrrgn’s.‘ ’Scuse me, sir, won’t you we in and take some - ’freshments and wine, sari” asked Mose, as he hobbled back to the door, from which he had‘ gonea few paces. ' I I ,, Moss‘s bodily infirmities had increased to a prising extent. Haynes very lama, : . ‘ ‘ Thls offer at hospitality, made With an“ air And now tell me where to/ _ ‘ ‘ A. The Swamp Guide. genuine sincerity by the old negro, exasperated the irate chief to the last degree. “. k ye," exrlaimed he, shaking Mose roughly. “ Your mistress has wasted time that I is precious to me, and, if you continue, it will be " the worse for you.” “ L01“, mas‘rl jes’ tell me what you wants. I didn’t know you un’ mist’ had any words,” said Mose in submissive tones. 1 “Vi’here is Miss Vannier?” asked the out— aw. . .“ Ef you was to kill me, mas’r, I don’t know,” re lied Mose. his was literally a truth; Mose did not know, but he could make a. shrer guess as to Miss Vannier’s whereabouts. , “’Deed I don’t know, nms’r, but she’s in do 1 house, I ’spee' ” he continued. ~ “Show me or apartment.” “Yes, sah, yes, mas‘r," replied Mose with alapn‘ty, but his pro ess as he toiled up the staircase was extreme y slow and tedious. Miss Vannier’s room was furlhest from that in which she had taken refuve, and, as they 358d 8. rticular window, fiose accelerated lis steps, or he did not wish the captain to be- come cognizant of a fact which he had known for some time. Across the open fields at a dis- tance, yet lalnly visible in the clear night, there was: a y of men approaching. , \After searching where he least expected to find her, Mose was at last forced to a proach the room Where he felt confident Miss Bonnier would be found. The door was locked. ' “ Ah! they are here, doubtless, and you have purposely misled me, vlllain,”excluimcd Robert ynne. “ I dunno as dey’re here, mas’r,” replied Mose. “ We’ll soon see.” Exerting his entire strength, the powerful V man threw himself a ain