IT IS IMPOSSIBLE to conceive of a human creature more wholly desolate and forlorn than Eliza, when she turned her footsteps from Uncle Tom's cabin.

  The boundaries of the farm, the grove, the wood-lot, passed by her dizzily, as she walked on; and still she went, leaving one familiar object after another, slacking not, till daylight found her many a long mile from all familiar objects upon the open highway.

  She stopped at noon at a farm house, to rest herself and buy some dinner for her child and herself. An hour before sunset, she entered a village by the Ohio river, weary and footsore, but still strong in heart.

  It was now early spring, and the river was swollen. The ice had been lodged in great quantities, and the narrow channel was full of it, piled one cake over another, thus forming a temporary barrier to the descending ice, which also lodged and formed a great, undulating raft, filling up the whole river.

  Eliza turned into a public house on the bank to make a few inquiries.

  "Isn't there any ferry or boat, that takes people over the river?" she said.

  "No, indeed!" answered the woman, "but there's a man a piece down here, that's going over with some truck this evening, if he durs' to; he'll be in here to supper to-night, so you'd better wait."

  The child, wholly exhausted, began to cry.

  "Here, take him into this room," said the woman, opening a door which led into it, where stood a comfortable bed. Eliza laid the tired boy upon it, and held his hands in hers till he was fast asleep.

  Here we must take our leave of Eliza for the present, to follow the course of her pursuers.

  Though Mrs. Shelby had promised that the dinner should be hurried on the table, it was soon seen that it required more than one to make a bargain.

  An impression seemed to reign among the servants generally that missis would not be particularly disobliged by delay; and it was wonderful what a number of counter accidents occurred constantly to retard the course of things. At length the bell rang, and Tom was summoned to the parlor.

  "Tom," said his master, kindly, "I want you to notice that I give this gentleman bonds to forfeit a thousand dollars if you are not on the spot

  "Thank you, mas'r," said Tom.

  "And mind yerself," said the trader, "and don't come it over your master with any o' yer nigger tricks."

  "Mas'r," said Tom—and he stood very straight—"I was jest eight years old when de ole missis put you into my arms, and you wasn't a year old. 'Thar' says she, 'Tom, that's to be your young mas'r; take good care on him,' says she. And now I jest ask you, mas'r, have I ever broke word to you, or gone contrary to you?"

  "My good boy," said Mr. Shelby, "the Lord knows you say but the truth; and if I was able to keep you, all the world couldn't buy you."

  "And sure as I am a Christian woman," said Mrs. Shelby, "you shall be redeemed as soon as I can in any way bring together the means."

  At two o'clock Sam and Andy brought the horses up to the door, apparently quite refreshed by the scamper of the morning.

  In consequence of the various delays, it was an hour after Eliza had laid her child on the bed to sleep awhile, that Haley with Sam and Andy came riding up to the door of the same village tavern. Eliza was standing by the window, looking out in another direction, when Sam's quick eye caught a glimpse of her. Haley and Andy were two yards behind. At this crisis, Sam contrived to have his hat blown off, and uttered a loud and characteristic ejaculation, which startled her at once; she drew suddenly back, and the whole train swept round to the front door.

  A thousand lives seemed to be concentrated in that one moment to Eliza. Her room opened by a side door to the river. She caught her child, and sprang down the steps toward it. The trader caught a full glimpse of her, just as she was disappearing down the bank; and throwing himself from the horse, and calling loudly for Sam and Andy, he was after her like a hound after a deer. A moment brought her to the water's edge. Right on behind they came; and, nerved with strength such as God gives only to the desperate, with one wild cry, and flying leap, she vaulted over the turbid current by the shore on to the raft of ice beyond. It was a desperate leap——impossible to anything but madness and despair; and Haley, Sam, and Andy, all instinctively cried out, and lifted up their hands, as she did it.

  The huge green fragment of ice on which she alighted pitched and creaked as her weight came on it, but she staid there not a moment. With wild cries and desperate energy she leaped to another and still another cake; stumbling, leaping, slipping, springing upward again! Her shoes were gone-—her stockings cut from her feet—while blood marked every step; but she saw nothing, felt nothing, till dimly, as in a dream, she saw the Ohio side, and a man helping her up the bank.

  "Yer a brave gal, now, whoever ye ar!" said the man.

  Eliza recognized the voice and face of a man who owned a farm not far from her old home.

  "O, Mr. Symmes—save me—do save me——do hide me," said Eliza.

  "Why, what's this?" said the man. "Why, if 'tain't Lizy!"

  "My child—this boy—he'd sold him! There is his master," said she, pointing to the Kentucky shore. "O, Mr Symmes, you've got a little boy."

  "So I have," said the man, as he roughly, but kindly, drew her up the steep bank. "Besides, you're a right brave gal. I like grit, wherever I see it."

  When they had reached the top of the bank, the man paused. "I'd be glad to do something for you," said he, "but then there's nowhar I could take ye. The best I can do is to tell ye to go thar," said he, pointing to a large white house which stood by itself off the main street of the village. "Go thar; they're kind folks. Thar's no kind o' danger but they'll help you."

  "The Lord bless you!" said Eliza, earnestly.

  Haley had stood a perfectly amazed spectator of the scene, till Eliza disappeared up the bank, when he turned a blank, inquiring look on Sam and Andy.

  "Wal, now," said Sam, scratching his head, "I hope mas'r 'scuse us tryin' that ar road. Don't think I feel spry enough for dat ar, no way!" and Sam and Andy laughed heartily.

  "I'll make yer laugh t'other side of yer mouths," said the trader, laying about their heads with his riding whip. Both ducked, and ran shouting up the bank, and were on their horses before he was up.

  "Good-evenin', mas'r," said Sam, with much gravity. "I bery much spect missis be anxious 'bout Jerry. Missis wouldn't hear of our ridin' de critters over Lizy's bridge to-night;" and with a poke into Andy's ribs, he started off, followed by the latter at full speed.

  Eliza made her desperate retreat across the river just in the dusk of twilight. The swollen current and floundering masses of ice presented a hopeless barrier between her and her pursuer, so Haley returned to the little tavern to ponder over what was to be done. He was presently startled by the loud voice of a man, who was dismounting at the door. He hurried to the window.

  "By the land! if this yer ain't the nearest now, to what I've heard folks call Providence," said Haley. "I do b'Iieve that ar's Tom Loker."

  Haley hastened out. Standing by the bar, in the corner of the room, was a brawny, muscular man, full six feet in height, and broad in proportion. In the head and face every organ and lineament expressive of brutal and unhesitating violence was in a state of the highest possible development.

  "Wal, now, who'd a thought this yer luck 'ad come to me? Why, Loker, how are ye?" said Haley, coming forward, and extending his hand to the big man.

  "Haley?" was the reply. "What brought you here?"

  "I say, Tom, this yer's the luckiest thing in the world. I'm in a devil of a hobble, and you must help me out."

  "Like enough," grunted his acquaintance.

  "You've got a friend here," said Haley, looking doubtfully at Marks; "partner, perhaps?"

  "Yes, I have. Here, Marks, here's that ar feller that I was in with in Natchez."

  "Shall be pleased with his acquaintance," said Marks. "Mr. Haley, I believe?"

  "The same, sir," said Haley. "And now, gentlemen, seein' as we've met so happily, I think I'll stand up to a small matter of a treat in this here parlor. So, now, old coon," said he to the man at the bar, "get us hot water, and sugar, and cigars, and plenty of the real stuff, and we'll have a blow-out."

  Haley then began a recital of his troubles. Loker listened to him with gruff attention.

  "So ye'r fairly sewed up, ain't ye?" said Marks. "Now, Mr. Haley, what is it? You wants us to undertake to catch this yer gal?"

  "The gal's no matter of mine—she's Shelby's; it's only the boy. I was a fool for buying the monkey."

  "You generally are a fool!" said Tom, gruffly.

  "Come, now, Loker, none of your huffs," said Marks. "You see, Mr. Haley's a puttin' us in a way of a good job, I reckon. This yer gal, Mr. Haley, how is she? what is she?"

  "Wal! white and handsome—well brought up. I'd a gin Shelby eight hundred or a thousand, and then made well on her."

  "White and handsome—well brought up!" said Marks, his sharp eyes, nose, and mouth, all alive with enterprise. "Look here, now, Loker, we'll do a business here on our own account. We does the catchin'; the boy of course goes to Mr. Haley—we takes the gal to Orleans to speculate on. Ain't it beautiful?"

  Tom Loker here interrupted Marks by bringing his heavy fist down on the table, so as to make all ring again. "It'll do!" he said.

  "But, gentlemen, ain't I to come in for a share of the profits?" asked Haley.

  "Ain't it enough if we catch the boy for ye?" said Loker. "What more do you want?"

  "Wal," said Haley, "If I gives you the job, it's worth something—say ten per cent. on the profits, expenses paid."

  "Now," said Loker, again striking the table with his heavy fist, "don't you think to come it over me! We'll have the gal out and out, and you keep quiet, or, ye see, we'll have both."

  "O, wal, certainly, jest let it go at that," said Haley, alarmed; "you catch the boy for the job."

  "We must cross the river to-night," said Tom.

  "But there's no boat about," replied Marks.

  "I heard a woman say there was one coming along this evening, and that a man was going to cross over in it. We must go with him," said Tom.

  "I s'pose you've got good dogs," said Haley.

  "First rate," replied Marks. "But what's the use? you hain't got nothin' o' hers to smell on."

  "Yes I have," said Haley, triumphantly. "Here's her shawl she left on the bed in her hurry; she left her bonnet, too."

  "That ar's lucky," said Loker, "fork it over."

  Loker stepped out to the bar to make some inquiries, and returned with the word that the man had come with the boat. After exchanging a few words of further arrangement, the worthy trio separated for the night.