hunt
him up, I would call, in the course of an hour or two, to see what
luck he had.'"

"Who is Father Snowdon?" inquired Mrs. Delano.

"He is the colored preacher in Belknap Street Church," replied Mr.
Percival, "and a remarkable man in his way. He fully equals Chloe in
prayer; and he is apt to command the ship Buzzard to the especial
attention of the Lord. The first time I entered his meeting, he was
saying, in a loud voice, 'We pray thee, O Lord, to bless her Majesty's
good ship, the Buzzard; and if there's a slave-trader now on the coast
of Africa, we pray thee, O Lord, to blow her straight under the lee of
the Buzzard.' He has been a slave himself, and he has perhaps helped
off more slaves than any man in the country. I doubt whether
Garrick himself had greater power to disguise his countenance. If a
slaveholder asks him about a slave, he is the most stolid-looking
creature imaginable. You wouldn't suppose he understood anything, or
ever _could_ understand anything. But if he meets an Abolitionist a
minute after, his black face laughs all over, and his roguish eyes
twinkle like diamonds, while he recounts how he 'come it' over the
Southern gentleman. That bright soul of his is a jewel set in ebony."

"It seems odd that the police-officer should apply to _him_ to catch a
runaway," said Mrs. Delano.

"That's the fun of it," responded Mr. Percival. "The extinguishers
are themselves taking fire. The fact is, Boston policemen don't feel
exactly in their element as slave-hunters. They are too near Bunker
Hill; and on the Fourth of July they are reminded of the Declaration
of Independence, which, though it is going out of fashion, is still
regarded by a majority of the people as a venerable document. Then
they have Whittier's trumpet-tones ringing in their ears,--

"'No slave hunt in _our_ borders! no pirate on _our_ strand!
No fetters in the Bay State! no slave upon _our_ land!'"

"How did Mr. Brick describe Mr. Fitzgerald's runaway slave?" inquired
Flora.

"He said he was tall and very black, with a white scar over his right
eye."

"That's Tom!" exclaimed she. "How glad Chloe will be! But I wonder he
didn't come here the first thing. We could have told him how well she
was getting on in New Bedford."

"Father Snowdon will tell him all about that," rejoined Mr. Percival.
"If Tom was in the city, he probably kept him closely hidden, on
account of the number of Southerners who have recently arrived; and
a