nd only
one entrance, which was secured by double iron doors. Light and air were
supplied, in meagre quantities, by means of a skylight in the roof,
which was regulated by a cord passing down upon the outside.

This jail, either by accident or design, was so constructed that any
noise inside was not transmitted to the outside. Whether this was
because of the reflecting properties of the walls, which might have sent
the sound echoing out at the skylight on the apex of the four-sided
roof, or because of some other natural causes, we shall not take up the
reader's time in discussing. Its inmates might startle Heaven with their
cries, but certainly every ear on earth below must be deaf to their
wail. This circumstance seemed typical of the actual fact of oppression;
but we are sure that Jaspar never meant to typify the groans, by man
unheeded, of the victims of tyranny ascending to be heard above.

It was the day after the events related in the last chapter, and the
negro jail was tenanted; but not by a refractory or a runaway slave. It
was now devoted to a more dignified purpose, being occupied by a white
man and his wife, the victims of Jaspar Dumont's hatred and fears. They
had already been prisoners for the past forty-eight hours. No sound from
the wide, wide world without had reached them; and, though the man had
shouted himself hoarse in endeavors to arrest the attention of any
casual passer-by, the sound of his voice had risen to Heaven, but had
not been heard by any mortal ear.

On a heap of dirty straw, in one corner, lay a female. She was feeble
and helpless. By her side, gazing sadly upon her, was her companion,
pale and haggard, and apparently conquered in spirit. The sufferings of
the frail being by his side seemed to pierce him to the soul. He felt
not for himself; his thoughts, his feelings, all were devoted to her,
whom he had loved and respected through many vicissitudes, whose kindly
sympathy had cheered his heart in many of the severest of earth's
trials. They had passed through peril and poverty together, and now the
cup of tribulation seemed full to the brim. They were doomed to
death,--not to the death of the malefactor, but as victims of private
interest. No friendly jailer had been near, to bring them even a cup of
cold water to assuage their consuming thirst. Not a morsel of food had
they tasted since their incarceration! The terrible doom to which they
were consigned was too apparent; there was n