t observer could detect no negro characteristic in her looks
or her manner. So fair and white was she, that her mistress had given
her the name of "Lily." And yet she was a slave, and that which made her
fascinating to the eye had given her a value which could be estimated
only in thousands of dollars. Of her father and mother Lily knew
nothing. One of her companions in bondage told her that she had been
bought, when a child, on board of a Red River steamboat. That was all
she knew, and all she ever was to know. Those who are familiar with the
slave system of the South can surmise who and what she was.

Miss Edith was indolent, but she was sour and petulant, and poor Lily's
daily life was not a bed of roses. All day long she had to stand by her
exacting young mistress, obey her slightest gesture, and humor all her
whims. Though she was highly valued as a piece of property by her owner,
she had only one real friend in the wide world--a cold, desolate, and
dreary world to her, though her lot was cast in the midst of the sweet
flowers and bright skies of the sunny south--only one friend, and that
was Dandy. He knew how hard it was to indulge all the caprices of a
wayward child; how hard it was to be spurned and insulted by one who was
his inferior in mind and heart.

Dandy had another friend, though the richest treasures of his friendship
were bestowed upon the fair and gentle Lily. A wild, rollicking,
careless piece of ebony, a pure negro, was his other friend. He was a
stable boy, and one of the crew who pulled the four-oar race boat, when
Master Archy chose to indulge in an excursion upon the water. His
master, who in his early years had made the acquaintance of the
classics, had facetiously named him Thucydides--a long, hard word, which
no negro would attempt to utter, and which the white folks were too
indolent to manage. The name, therefore, had been suitably contracted,
and this grinning essence of fun and frolic was called "Cyd"--with no
reference, however, to the distinguished character of Spanish history.
But Cyd was a character himself, and had no need to borrow any of the
lustre of Spain or Greece. He shone upon his own account.

With this introduction to Redlawn, and those who lived there, our
readers are prepared to embark with us in the story of the young
fugitives.

CHAPTER II.

THE EDITH GOES DOWN TO GREEN POINT.

"Shove off!" said Master Archy, in the most dignified manner, as he sunk
upon