he farmer who was to drive
them to town, seeing that Hobert managed to climb into the wagon without
assistance. "I don't believe there is any need of Dr. Killmany, after
all!" And the neighbors, as one after another they leaned over the
sideboard of the wagon, and shook hands with Mr. Walker, made some
cheerful and light-hearted remark, calculated to convey the impression
that the leave-taking was a mere matter of form, and only for a day.

As Jenny looked back at the homestead, and thought of the possibilities,
the tears would come; but the owner of the team, determined to carry it
bravely through, immediately gathered up the slack reins, and, with a
lively crack of his whip, started the horses upon a brisk trot.

"Don't spare the money," Jenny entreated, as she put the pocket-book in
Hobert's hand; but she thought in her heart that Dr. Killmany would be
touched when he saw her husband, and knew how far he had travelled to
see him, and what sacrifices he had made to do so. "He must be good, if
he is so great as they say," she argued; "and perhaps Hobert may even
bring home enough to buy back Fleety." This was a wild dream. And the
last parting words were said, the last promises exacted and given; the
silent tears and the lingering looks all were past, and the farmer's
wagon, with an empty chair by the side of Jenny's, rattled home again.

It was perhaps a month after this that a pale, sickly-looking man, with
a pair of saddle-bags over his arm, went ashore from the steamboat Arrow
of Light, just landed at New Orleans, and made his slow way along the
wharf, crowded with barrels, boxes, and cotton-bales, and thence to the
open streets. The sun was oppressively hot, and the new fur hat became
almost intolerable, so that the sick man stopped more than once in the
shade of some friendly tree, and, placing the saddle-bags on the ground,
wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked wistfully at the strange
faces that passed him by.

"Can you tell me, my friend," he said at last, addressing a slave-woman
who was passing by with a great bundle on her head,--"Can you tell me
where to find Doctor Killmany, who lives somewhere here?"

The woman put her bundle on the ground, and, resting her hands on her
hips, looked pitifully upon the stranger. "No, masser, cante say, not
for sure," she answered. "I knows dar's sich a doctor somewhars 'bout,
but just whars I cante say, an' he's a poor doctor fur the likes o'
you,--don't have