of anguish, not one tear of the oppressed, is
forgotten by the Man of Sorrows, the Lord of Glory. In his patient,
generous bosom he bears the anguish of a world. Bear thou, like him,
in patience, and labor in love; for sure as he is God, "the year of his
redeemed _shall_ come."

The trader waked up bright and early, and came out to see to his live
stock. It was now his turn to look about in perplexity.

"Where alive is that gal?" he said to Tom.

Tom, who had learned the wisdom of keeping counsel, did not feel called
upon to state his observations and suspicions, but said he did not know.

"She surely couldn't have got off in the night at any of the landings,
for I was awake, and on the lookout, whenever the boat stopped. I never
trust these yer things to other folks."

This speech was addressed to Tom quite confidentially, as if it was
something that would be specially interesting to him. Tom made no
answer.

The trader searched the boat from stem to stern, among boxes, bales and
barrels, around the machinery, by the chimneys, in vain.

"Now, I say, Tom, be fair about this yer," he said, when, after a
fruitless search, he came where Tom was standing. "You know something
about it, now. Don't tell me,--I know you do. I saw the gal stretched
out here about ten o'clock, and ag'in at twelve, and ag'in between one
and two; and then at four she was gone, and you was a sleeping right
there all the time. Now, you know something,--you can't help it."

"Well, Mas'r," said Tom, "towards morning something brushed by me, and I
kinder half woke; and then I hearn a great splash, and then I clare woke
up, and the gal was gone. That's all I know on 't."

The trader was not shocked nor amazed; because, as we said before, he
was used to a great many things that you are not used to. Even the awful
presence of Death struck no solemn chill upon him. He had seen Death
many times,--met him in the way of trade, and got acquainted with
him,--and he only thought of him as a hard customer, that embarrassed
his property operations very unfairly; and so he only swore that the
gal was a baggage, and that he was devilish unlucky, and that, if things
went on in this way, he should not make a cent on the trip. In short, he
seemed to consider himself an ill-used man, decidedly; but there was no
help for it, as the woman had escaped into a state which _never will_
give up a fugitive,--not even at the demand of the whole glorious
Union. The trad