“O well, never mind that, they are all right now.”
“Bress de Lor’ for dat.”
Speaking to his wife, Mr. Bartlett directed some supper be prepared before he should send her on.
“O no, Massa, I’se been done and eat supper dis bressed day.”
“Well, then, we’ll arrange to send you on soon, but come and see my grandson,” a lad lying sick in the other part of the room, saying which he arose and took the hand of the dame and led her to the bedside, and laying his hand across her stooped shoulders, began to speak tenderly of the little sufferer.
The risibilities of the counterfeit Dinah were now at their utmost tension and she contrived to place a foot heavily upon the caudal appendage of the great house dog lying near. There was a sudden bound of the brute, accompanied by a most unearthly howl, and away darted the decrepid fugitive, shrieking, “O Lor’ de houn’, de houn’.”
It was in vain the philanthropic old agent called after her, that there was no danger; on she sped until an opportunity offered to restore herself to Japhetic hue and male attire.
Mr. Bartlett long upbraided the female portion of his household for want of humanity on that occasion, but was allowed to die in blissful ignorance of the ruse played upon him, and DeWitt confessed that the ultimate fun derived therefrom scarcely compensated for the annoyance of the old gentleman and the trouble of removing the cork.
VI.
A year has passed anxiously at Albany with Jo. Rumors reached him that in an attempt to escape, Mary had been captured and sold into the south forever beyond his reach. Gathering up his earnings and bidding his companions good-by, he started rather aimlessly westward, and where he would have brought up no one can tell, had he not one day met a stranger, a pleasant, benevolent looking gentleman, near the village of Versailles, N. Y. It was just at the close of that most hilarious campaign in which the cry of “Tippecanoe and Tyler too,” with “two dollars a day and roast beef,” mollified with liberal potations of “hard cider,” rendered “Little Matty Van a used up man,” though the result was not yet ascertained, for no telegraph had learned to herald its lightning message in advance of time. If no other good came from the campaign, it had given every class of men the free use of the tongue in hurrahing for his favorite candidate, and foot-sore and hungry as he was, there was something about the gentleman that said to Jo, “Now is your opportunity,” and touching his hat in genuine politeness he called out, “Hooraw for Ol’ Tip.”