dy saddled. A faithful negro slave was holding them, and the
little maid, clothed for a long journey, awaited her father's arrival. A
fourth horse was near on which were a pack of provisions and a small
camping outfit.

The father and child met and embraced in silence, and, had she not felt
a tear on her face, she would hardly have known that he was so greatly
agitated.

"We will mount and be far on the journey before the day dawns," said
Robert.

"Do you go with us?" asked George Waters.

"Certainly. I know the country and will guide you beyond danger."

They mounted and travelled all night long. At early dawn, they halted
only to refresh themselves with a cold breakfast, and pushed on.

Three days Robert journeyed with them, and then, on the border of
Maryland, he halted and told them of a land now within their reach,
where the Quakers dwelt. There they might rest until they were able to
go to Massachusetts. He gave a purse of gold to the father, saying:

"Take it, and may God be as good to you as he has been to me."

The fugitive murmured out some words of thanks; but his benefactor
wheeled his steed about and galloped away, lest the words of gratitude
might fall on his ears.

"Let us go on, father," said Cora.

For days, Cora Waters could never tell how long, they journeyed, until
at last, on the banks of the Delaware, they came upon a small town where
dwelt a people at peace with all the world--the Quakers, and the tired
child and her father were taken in, given food and shelter, Christian
sympathy, and assured of safety.

CHAPTER IV.

MR. PARRIS AND FLOCK.

And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues of even,
And Love and Hope, and Beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb,--
There's nothing bright but Heaven.
--Moore.

The last expiring throe of a mighty superstition was about to convulse
the little society at Salem, and, as usual in such cases, ignorance and
prejudice went hand in hand for the destruction of reason and humanity.
The last of the great religious persecutions was to begin, when eminent
divines were to stand and point with pride to the swaying bodies of
their victims, hanging from the gibbet, and call them "fire-brands of
hell."

In the village of Salem, there was a strife between Samuel Parris the
minister and a part of his people; a strife so bitter, that it had even
attracted the attention of