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Mrs Smyth, and George attending to their baggage.

'George was standing at the captain's office, settling for his party,
when he overheard two men talking by his side.

"I've watched every one that came on board," said one, "and I know
they're not on this boat."

'The voice was that of the clerk of the boat. The speaker whom he
addressed was Marks, a friend of Haley, who had come on to Sandusky,
seeking whom he might devour.

"You would scarcely know the woman from a white one," said Marks. "The
man is a very light mulatto. He has a brand in one of his hands."

'The hand with which George was taking the tickets and change trembled
a little; but he turned coolly around, fixed an unconcerned glance on
the face of the speaker, and walked leisurely toward another part of
the boat, where Eliza stood waiting for him.

'Mrs Smyth, with little Harry, sought the seclusion of the ladies'
cabin, where the dark beauty of the supposed little girl drew many
flattering comments from the passengers.

'George had the satisfaction, as the bell rang out its farewell peal,
to see Marks walk down the plank, to the shore; and drew a long sigh
of relief when the boat had put a returnless distance between them.

'It was a superb day. The blue waves of Lake Erie danced rippling and
sparkling in the sunlight. A fresh breeze blew from the shore, and the
lordly boat ploughed her way right gallantly onward.

'Oh what an untold world there is in one human heart! Who thought, as
George walked calmly up and down the deck of the steamer, with his shy
companion at his side, of all that was burning in his bosom? The
mighty good that seemed approaching seemed too good, too fair, even to
be a reality; and he felt a jealous dread every moment of the day that
something would rise to snatch it from him.

'But the boat swept on--hours fleeted, and, at last, clear and full
rose the blessed English shore--shores charmed by a mighty spell--with
one touch to dissolve every incantation of slavery, no matter in what
language pronounced, or by what national power confirmed.

'George and his wife stood arm in arm as the boat neared the small
town of Amherstberg, in Canada. His breath grew thick and short; a
mist gathered before his eyes; he silently pressed the little hand
that lay trembling on his arm. The bell rang--the boat stopped.
Scarcely seeing what he did, he looked out his baggage, and gathered
his little party. The company were landed on t