gleaned a great deal
of information, when I heard a sudden exclamation, and, on looking round, I
found myself recognized by a white man of my acquaintance. I ran
immediately; and whether I was pursued or not, I'm unable to say. I had
almost reached here, when my foot caught in a grating and gave my ancle
such a wrench that I'm unable to stand." As he spoke, his face grew pale
from the suffering the limb was occasioning. "I'm sorry, very sorry," he
continued, limping to the sofa; "I was going out again immediately. They
intend making an attack on Mr. Garie's house: I didn't hear his name
mentioned, but I heard one of the men, who appeared to be a ringleader,
say, 'We're going up to Winter-street, to give a coat of tar and feathers
to a white man, who is married to a nigger woman.' They can allude to none
but him. How annoying that this accident should have happened just now, of
all times. They ought to be warned."

"Oh, poor Emily!" cried Esther, bursting into tears; "it will kill her, I
know it will; she is so ill. Some one must go and warn them. Let me try;
the mob, even if I met them, surely would not assault a woman."

"You mustn't think of such a thing, Esther," exclaimed Mr. Walters; "the
idea isn't to be entertained for a moment. You don't know what ruthless
wretches they are. Your colour discovered you would find your sex but a
trifling protection. I'd go, but it would be certain death to me: my black
face would quickly obtain for me a passport to another world if I were
discovered in the street just now."

"I'll go," calmly spoke Mr. Ellis. "I can't rest here and think of what
they are exposed to. By skulking through bye-streets and keeping under the
shadows of houses I may escape observation--at any rate, I must run the
risk." And he began to button up his coat. "Don't let your mother know I'm
gone; stick by her, my girl," said he, kissing Esther; "trust in
God,--He'll protect me."

Esther hung sobbing on her father's neck. "Oh, father, father," said she,
"I couldn't bear to see you go for any one but Emily and the children."

"I know it, dear," he replied; "it's my duty. Garie would do the same for
me, I know, even at greater risk. Good-bye! good-bye!" And, disengaging
himself from the weeping girl, he started on his errand of mercy.

Walking swiftly forwards, he passed over more than two-thirds of the way
without the slightest interruption, the streets through which he passed
being almost entirely desert