uired that he
should conceal his feelings, or he might lose the confidence of his
master, and thus be deprived of the opportunity for which he intended to
watch and wait.

"How do you feel, Dandy?" asked Archy, in tones of sympathy, as he
placed himself by the bedside of his body-servant.

"Not very well, Master Archy," replied Dandy.

"My father carried it farther than I intended, Dandy. I tried to stop
him before."

"Thank you, Master Archy," answered the patient, meekly.

"Though it was more than I meant you should have, I hope you will
remember it a long time," added Archy.

"I shall, master."

"My eye is not in very good condition," said he, wiping the injured
organ with his handkerchief. "It was a hard blow you gave me."

Dandy wished he would leave him, and he did not care to argue the matter
with him, even if he had been privileged to do so.

"It won't do to let your servant go too far," said Archy.

"I am very sorry it happened," replied Dandy.

"Well, I hope the lesson will last you as long as you live."

"It will, Master Archy."

The young tyrant, when he had fully satisfied himself that his minion
was in a tractable state, took his leave, much to the satisfaction of
the sufferer. The old negro who acted as his physician paid him another
visit in the evening, and assured him that he would be well in a few
days. He left him with the injunction to go to sleep, and forget all
about it.

Dandy could not go to sleep, could not forget all about it. The wound in
his soul was more painful than those upon his back, and hour after hour
passed away, but his eyes were still set wide open. His great resolution
filled the future with sublime visions, which he panted to realize. His
path lay through trial and danger, was environed by death on every side;
but paradise was at the end of it, and he was willing to encounter every
hardship, and brave every danger, to win the glorious prize, or content
to die if his struggles should be in vain.

He was determined to leave Redlawn at the first favorable opportunity;
and while he pictured a glowing future beyond the chilly damps of the
swamp, and out of the reach of the rifle-ball and the bloodhound, there
were still some ties which bound him to the home of his childhood.

Home! No, it was only a mockery of that heaven upon earth! It had been
the scene of his tribulation--that which riveted the bonds upon his
limbs. But it was home so far as it was the abiding p