papers
for all his people,--men, women, and children,--packed them up in
wagons, and sent them off to settle down; and then honest John turned
his face up the creek, and sat quietly down on a snug, retired farm, to
enjoy his conscience and his reflections.

"Are you the man that will shelter a poor woman and child from
slave-catchers?" said the senator, explicitly.

"I rather think I am," said honest John, with some considerable
emphasis.

"I thought so,"' said the senator.

"If there's anybody comes," said the good man, stretching his tall,
muscular form upward, "why here I'm ready for him: and I've got seven
sons, each six foot high, and they'll be ready for 'em. Give our
respects to 'em," said John; "tell 'em it's no matter how soon they
call,--make no kinder difference to us," said John, running his fingers
through the shock of hair that thatched his head, and bursting out into
a great laugh.

Weary, jaded, and spiritless, Eliza dragged herself up to the door,
with her child lying in a heavy sleep on her arm. The rough man held the
candle to her face, and uttering a kind of compassionate grunt, opened
the door of a small bed-room adjoining to the large kitchen where they
were standing, and motioned her to go in. He took down a candle, and
lighting it, set it upon the table, and then addressed himself to Eliza.

"Now, I say, gal, you needn't be a bit afeard, let who will come here.
I'm up to all that sort o' thing," said he, pointing to two or three
goodly rifles over the mantel-piece; "and most people that know me know
that 't wouldn't be healthy to try to get anybody out o' my house when
I'm agin it. So _now_ you jist go to sleep now, as quiet as if yer
mother was a rockin' ye," said he, as he shut the door.

"Why, this is an uncommon handsome un," he said to the senator. "Ah,
well; handsome uns has the greatest cause to run, sometimes, if they has
any kind o' feelin, such as decent women should. I know all about that."

The senator, in a few words, briefly explained Eliza's history.

"O! ou! aw! now, I want to know?" said the good man, pitifully;
"sho! now sho! That's natur now, poor crittur! hunted down now like a
deer,--hunted down, jest for havin' natural feelin's, and doin' what no
kind o' mother could help a doin'! I tell ye what, these yer things make
me come the nighest to swearin', now, o' most anything," said honest
John, as he wiped his eyes with the back of a great, freckled, yellow
hand. "I