weeks after. If we are not mistaken, the world will yet hear
from him there.

Of our other characters we have nothing very particular to write, except
a word relating to Miss Ophelia and Topsy, and a farewell chapter, which
we shall dedicate to George Shelby.

Miss Ophelia took Topsy home to Vermont with her, much to the surprise
of the grave deliberative body whom a New Englander recognizes under
the term "_Our folks_." "Our folks," at first, thought it an odd and
unnecessary addition to their well-trained domestic establishment; but,
so thoroughly efficient was Miss Ophelia in her conscientious endeavor
to do her duty by her _eleve_, that the child rapidly grew in grace and
in favor with the family and neighborhood. At the age of womanhood, she
was, by her own request, baptized, and became a member of the Christian
church in the place; and showed so much intelligence, activity and zeal,
and desire to do good in the world, that she was at last recommended,
and approved as a missionary to one of the stations in Africa; and we
have heard that the same activity and ingenuity which, when a child,
made her so multiform and restless in her developments, is now employed,
in a safer and wholesomer manner, in teaching the children of her own
country.

P.S.--It will be a satisfaction to some mother, also, to state, that
some inquiries, which were set on foot by Madame de Thoux, have resulted
recently in the discovery of Cassy's son. Being a young man of energy,
he had escaped, some years before his mother, and been received and
educated by friends of the oppressed in the north. He will soon follow
his family to Africa.

CHAPTER XLIV

The Liberator

George Shelby had written to his mother merely a line, stating the day
that she might expect him home. Of the death scene of his old friend
he had not the heart to write. He had tried several times, and only
succeeded in half choking himself; and invariably finished by tearing up
the paper, wiping his eyes, and rushing somewhere to get quiet.

There was a pleased bustle all though the Shelby mansion, that day, in
expectation of the arrival of young Mas'r George.

Mrs. Shelby was seated in her comfortable parlor, where a cheerful
hickory fire was dispelling the chill of the late autumn evening. A
supper-table, glittering with plate and cut glass, was set out, on whose
arrangements our former friend, old Chloe, was presiding.

Arrayed in a new calico dress, with clean,