by drop. I
know the man."

CHAPTER XXXVII

Liberty

"No matter with what solemnities he may have been devoted upon the altar
of slavery, the moment he touches the sacred soil of Britain, the
altar and the God sink together in the dust, and he stands redeemed,
regenerated, and disenthralled, by the irresistible genius of universal
emancipation." CURRAN.*

* John Philpot Curran (1750-1817), Irish orator and judge
who worked for Catholic emancipation.

A while we must leave Tom in the hands of his persecutors, while we turn
to pursue the fortunes of George and his wife, whom we left in friendly
hands, in a farmhouse on the road-side.

Tom Loker we left groaning and touzling in a most immaculately clean
Quaker bed, under the motherly supervision of Aunt Dorcas, who found him
to the full as tractable a patient as a sick bison.

Imagine a tall, dignified, spiritual woman, whose clear muslin cap
shades waves of silvery hair, parted on a broad, clear forehead, which
overarches thoughtful gray eyes. A snowy handkerchief of lisse crape
is folded neatly across her bosom; her glossy brown silk dress rustles
peacefully, as she glides up and down the chamber.

"The devil!" says Tom Loker, giving a great throw to the bedclothes.

"I must request thee, Thomas, not to use such language," says Aunt
Dorcas, as she quietly rearranged the bed.

"Well, I won't, granny, if I can help it," says Tom; "but it is enough
to make a fellow swear,--so cursedly hot!"

Dorcas removed a comforter from the bed, straightened the clothes
again, and tucked them in till Tom looked something like a chrysalis;
remarking, as she did so,

"I wish, friend, thee would leave off cursing and swearing, and think
upon thy ways."

"What the devil," said Tom, "should I think of _them_ for? Last
thing ever _I_ want to think of--hang it all!" And Tom flounced over,
untucking and disarranging everything, in a manner frightful to behold.

"That fellow and gal are here, I 'spose," said he, sullenly, after a
pause.

"They are so," said Dorcas.

"They'd better be off up to the lake," said Tom; "the quicker the
better."

"Probably they will do so," said Aunt Dorcas, knitting peacefully.

"And hark ye," said Tom; "we've got correspondents in Sandusky, that
watch the boats for us. I don't care if I tell, now. I hope they _will_
get away, just to spite Marks,--the cursed puppy!--d--n him!"

"Thomas!" said Dorcas.

"I tell you, granny, if