erbread color--and they went into the little old disused
court-house, in the middle of a street, where there was a fire.

"Brother," said the stranger, "I see by your actions that you're trying
to git a passage North. Is it fur yourself?"

"No," Samson said, taking an inventory of the other's fine chest and
strength, and mentally wishing to have a chance at him; "I'm a free man,
and kin go anywhere; but I have a friend."

"Why, old man," spoke the other, frankly, "I'm the agent of our society
at this pint."

"What is it?" asked Samson, warily.

"The Protection Society. They educated me right yer. I went to school
with white boys. Now, where is your friend?"

"What kin you do fur her?" asked Samson.

"It's a gal, is it? Why, I can just put her in my buggy, made and
provided for the purpose, and drive her to the Quaker settlement."

"Where's that?"

"Camden--only thirty miles off. I've got free passes all made out. Give
yourself, brother, no more concern."

Samson looked at the handsome person long and well. The man stood the
gaze modestly.

"Oh, if I had some knowledge!" spoke Samson; "I might as well be a slave
if I know nothin'. I can't read. I wish I could read your heart!"

"I wish you could," said the man; "then you would trust me."

"What is your name?"

"Samuel Ogg."

"I want you to hold up your hand and swear, Sam Ogg, that you will never
harm the pore chile I bring you. Say, 'Lord, let my body rot alive, an'
no man pity me, if I don't act right by her.'"

"It's a severe oath," said the stranger, "but I see your kind interest
in the lady. Indeed, I'm only doing my duty."

He repeated the words, however, and Samson added, "God deal with you,
Sam Ogg, as you keep dat oath. Now come with me!"

The girl was found asleep, but delirious, her large eyes, in which the
blue and brown tints met in a kind of lake color, being wide open, and
almost lost in their long lashes, while flood and fire, sun and frost,
had beaten upon the slender encasement of her gentle life, that still
kept time like some Parian clock saved from a conflagration, in whose
crystal pane the golden pendulum still moves, though the hands point
astray in the mutilated face.

Her teeth were shown through the loving lips she parted in her stormy
dreams, like waves tossing the alabaster sails of the nautilus, or like
some ear of Indian corn exposed in the gale that blows across the
tasselled field.

Her raiment, partly torn from h