exclaimed, "They looks like great white angels, and
Ise feared they'll fly away 'fore Missis gits up."

Tulee was very impatient for the sound of Mrs. King's bell, and as
soon as the first tinkle was heard she rushed into her dressing-room,
exclaiming, "O, do come to the window, Missy Rosy! Sure this is silver
land."

Rosa was no less surprised when she looked out upon that wonderful
vision of the earth, in its transfigured raiment of snow-glory. "Why,
Tulee," said she, "it is diamond land. I've seen splendid fairy scenes
in the theatres of Paris, but never anything so brilliant as this."

"I used to think the woods down South, all covered with jess'mines,
was the beautifullest thing," responded Tulee; "but, Lors, Missy
Rosy, this is as much handsomer as Solomon's Temple was handsomer than
a meetin'-house."

But neither the indoor nor the outdoor splendor, nor all the personal
comforts they enjoyed, made this favored band of colored people
forgetful of the brethren they had left in bondage. Every word about
John Brown was sought for and read with avidity. When he was first
taken captive, Chloe said: "The angel that let Peter out o' prison
ha'n't growed old an' hard o' hearing. If we prays loud enough, he'll
go and open the doors for old John Brown."

Certainly, it was not for want of the colored people's praying loud
and long enough, that the prisoner was not supernaturally delivered.
They did not relinquish the hope till the 2d of December: and when
that sad day arrived, they assembled in their meeting-house to watch
and pray. All was silent, except now and then an occasional groan,
till the hands of the clock pointed to the moment of the martyr's exit
from this world. Then Tom poured forth his soul in a mighty voice of
prayer, ending with the agonized entreaty, "O Lord, thou hast taken
away our Moses. Raise us up a Joshua!" And all cried, "Amen!"

Chloe, who had faith that could walk the stormiest waves, spoke words
of fervent cheer to the weeping congregation.

"I tell ye they ha'n't killed old John Brown," said she; "'cause they
_couldn't_ kill him. The angel that opened the prison doors for Peter
has let him out, and sent him abroad in a different way from what we
'spected; that's all."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Through the following year, the political sky grew ever darker with
impending clouds, crinkled with lightning, and vocal with growlings of
approaching thunder. The North continued to make servile