—Chamber.

Enter GEORGE, ELIZA and HARRY, R. 1 E.

  At length, Eliza, after many wanderings, we are again united.

  Thanks to these generous Quakers, who have so kindly sheltered us.

  Not forgetting our friend Phineas.

  I do indeed owe him much. 'Twas he I met upon the icy river's bank, after that fearful, but successful attempt, when I fled from the slave-trader with my child in my arms.

  It seems almost incredible that you could have crossed the river on the ice.

  Yes, I did. Heaven helping me, I crossed on the ice, for they were behind me—right behind—and there was no other way.

  But the ice was all in broken-up blocks, swinging and heaving up and down in the water.

  I know it was—I know it; I did not think I should get over, but I did not care—I could but die if I did not! I leaped on the ice, but how I got across I don't know; the first I remember, a man was helping me up the bank—that man was Phineas.

  My brave girl! you deserve your freedom—you have richly earned it!

  And when we get to Canada I can help you to work, and between us we can find something to live on.

  Yes, Eliza, so long as we have each other, and our boy. Oh, Eliza, if these people only knew what a blessing it is for a man to feel that his wife and child belong to him! I've often wondered to see men that could call their wives and children their own, fretting and worrying about anything else. Why, I feel rich and strong, though we have nothing but our bare hands. If they will only let me alone now, I will be satisfied—thankful!

  But we are not quite out of danger; we are not yet in Canada.

  True, but it seems as if I smelt the free air, and it makes me strong!

  [With a snuffle.] Verily, friends, how is it with thee?—hum!

  Why, Phineas, what means this metamorphosis?

  I've become a Quaker, that's the meaning on't.

  What—you?

  Teetotally! I was driven to it by a strong argument, composed of a pair of sparkling eyes, rosy cheeks, and pouting lips. Them lips would persuade a man to assassinate his grandmother! [Assumes the Quaker tone again.] Verily, George, I have discovered something of importance to the interests of thee and thy party, and it were well for thee to hear it.

  Keep us not in suspense!

  Well, after I left you on the road, I stopped at a little, lone tavern, just below here. Well, I was tired with hard driving, and after my supper I stretched myself down on a pile of bags in the corner, and pulled a buffalo hide over me—and what does I do but get fast asleep.

  With one ear open, Phineas?

  No, I slept ears and all for an hour or two, for I was pretty well tired; but when I came to myself a little, I found that there were some men in the room, sitting round a table, drinking and talking; and I thought, before I made much muster, I'd just see what they were up to, especially as I heard them say something about the Quakers. Then I listened with both ears and found they were talking about you. So I kept quiet, and heard them lay off all their plans. They've got a right notion of the track we are going to-night, and they'll be down after us, six or eight strong. So, now, what's to be done?

  What shall we do, George?

  I know what I shall do!

  Ay-ay, thou seest, Eliza, how it will work—pistols—phitz—poppers!

  I see; but I pray it come not to that!

  I don't want to involve any one with or for me. If you will lend me your vehicle, and direct me, I will drive alone to the next stand.

  Ah! well, friend, but thee'll need a driver for all that. Thee's quite welcome to do all the fighting thee knows; but I know a thing or two about the road that thee doesn't.

  But I don't want to involve you.

  Involve me! Why, chaw me—that is to say—when thee does involve me, please to let me know.

  Phineas is a wise and skillful man. You will do well, George, to abide by his judgment. And, oh! George, be not hasty with these—young blood is hot!

  I will attack no man. All I ask of this country is to be left alone, and I will go out peaceably. But I'll fight to the last breath before they shall take from me my wife and son! Can you blame me?

  Mortal man cannot blame thee, neighbor George! Flesh and blood could not do otherwise. Woe unto the world because of offenses, but woe unto them through whom the offense cometh! That's gospel, teetotally!

  Would not even you, sir, do the same, in my place?

  I pray that I be not tried; the flesh is weak—but I think my flesh would be pretty tolerably strong in such a case; I ain't sure, friend George, that I shouldn't hold a fellow for thee, if thee had any accounts to settle with him.

  Heaven grant we be not tempted.

  But if we are tempted too much, why, consarn 'em! let them look out, that's all.

  It's quite plain you was not born for a Quaker. The old nature has its way in you pretty strong yet.

  Well, I reckon you are pretty teetotally right.

  Had we not better hasten our flight?

  Well, I rather conclude we had; we're full two hours ahead of them, if they start at the time they planned; so let's vamose. [Exeunt R. 1 E.]