of these was evidently the
homestead, as it had a rudely constructed porch in front, and a thin
cloud of smoke was drifting from its chimney. As I drew nearer, I
could perceive the reflection of a light streaming out through the open
doorway.

No one appeared in answer to our shouting,--not even a stray dog; and,
in despair of thus arousing the inhabitants, I flung my rein to Seth,
and, mounting the doorstep, peered within. As I did so, a shiny,
round, black face, with whitened eyes and huge red lips, seemed to
float directly toward me through the inner darkness. It was so
startling an apparition that I sprang back in such haste as nearly to
topple over backward from the steps. Heaven alone knows what I fancied
it might be; indeed, I had little enough time in which to guess, for I
had barely touched the ground,--my mind still filled with memories of
Seth's grotesque horrors,--when the whole figure emerged into view, and
I knew him instantly for a negro, though I had never before seen one of
his race. He was a dandified-looking fellow, wearing a stiff white
waistcoat fastened by gilded buttons, with a pair of short curly
mustaches, waxed straight out at the ends; and he stood there grinning
at me in a manner that showed all his gleaming teeth. Before I could
recover my wits enough to address him, I heard a voice from within the
house,--a soft, drawling voice, with a marked foreign accent clinging
to it.

"Sam," it called, "have you found either of the scoundrelly rascals?"

The darkey started as if shot, and glanced nervously back over his
shoulder.

"No, sah," he replied with vigor, "dat Mistah Hawkins am not yere, sah.
An' dat Mistah Burns has gone 'way fer gud, sah. But dar am a gemman
yere, sah,--"

"What!" came a surprised ejaculation that caused the negro to jump, and
I heard a chair overturned within. "A gentleman? Sam, don't deceive
me! For the love of Heaven, let me see him. May I be bastinadoed if
it hasn't been three months since my eyes beheld the last specimen!
Sam, where was it I saw the last one?"

"Montreal, sah."

"By Saint Guise! 'tis gospel truth," and the speaker strode forward,
candle in hand. "Here, now, you ace of spades," he cried impatiently,
"hold the flame until I bid this paragon of the wilderness fit welcome
in the name of Hawkins, who strangely seems to have vanished from the
sylvan scene. Alas, poor Hawkins! two gentlemen at one time, I greatly
fear, will be the death