possible speed. All was done for
him that could be, but his feet and legs were frozen solid. His uncle, Dr.
Henry, was brought as soon as possible, who decided that nothing could
save his life but the amputation of both legs, just below the knee. This
was done; but what a change in the prospects of this promising young man!
Instead of stepping lightly about as he used to do, with a smiling
countenance, he at last came forth after a tedious confinement, a cripple
for life, hobbling about on his knees, sad and dejected. And what, think
you, was the cause of this terrible calamity? What prevented the Doctor
from an exertion to save his life? Wine, intoxicating wine, was
undoubtedly the occasion of the heedless and reckless conduct of both
himself and Capt. Helm. And should not this circumstance be a warning to
parents and guardians, to young men and children, "to look not upon the
wine when it is red," and remember that at last "it will bite like a
serpent and sting like an adder?" Should it not also remind those who have
guests to entertain, of the sinfulness of putting the cup to their
neighbor's lips? Certainly it should. But I must resume my story.

About this time Major Thornton of Bath, died. He had long been an intimate
friend and acquaintance of Capt. Helm, and as the reader is already
informed of the death of Mrs. Helm, they will not be surprised to know
that he began to look earnestly after the widow of his late friend. It
become apparent that his solicitude for the loneliness of Madam Thornton
was not so much as a disconsolate widow, as that of making her the future
Mrs. Helm; nor was it less observable that the new-made widow accepted the
Captain's attentions with great favor, and more as a lover than a
comforter.

The result was, after the Major had been dead six weeks, Capt. Helm was
married to his widow, and brought her and her servants in great triumph
to his house, giving her the charge of it. His own servants were
discharged, and hers took their places.

All went on pleasantly for a while; then the slaves began to grow sullen
and discontented; and two of them ran away. Capt. Helm started a man named
Morrison, a Scotchman, in pursuit, who hunted them ten days, and then
returned without any tidings of the absconding slaves. They made good
their escape and were never heard from afterwards, by those whose interest
suffered by the loss.

I was one afternoon at a neighbor's house in the village, when I was