Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1860-09-12

1t was the pilots stoIy:-'They both came
aboard there, at Cairo,
From a New Orleans boat, and took passage
with US for Saint Louis.
She was beautiful woman, with just enough
blood from her mother,
Darkening her eyes and her hair, to make her
race known to trader;
| You would have thought she was white. The
man that was with her,-yOu see sueh,-
Weakly, good-natured and kind, and weakly
good natured and vicious,
Slender of body and soul, fit neither for loving
nor hating.
I was youngster then, and only learning the
Fivsr,
Not overload of the wheel. / used TO watch
them at BIOufe,
Down in the cabin at night, and learned to
know all the gamblers.
So when | saw this weak one stalking his mon
ey against them,
Betting upon the turn of the cards, knew
what was coming:
Theg never left their pigeons single feather
to fly wish.
The next day saw them together-the stran-
ger and one of the gamblers:
Picturesque rascal he was, with long black
hair and moustaches,
Black slouch hat drawn down 10 his eyes from
his villainous forehead:
On together they moved, still earnestly talk
ing in whispers.
On toward the forecastle, where sat the woman
alone by the gangway.
Reused by the fall of feet, she turned, and, be-
holding her master,
Greeted him with smile that was more like
wife's than another's,
Rose to meet him fondly, and then, with the
dread apprehension
Always haunting the slave, fell hereyes on the
face of the gambler,
Dark and lustful and fierce, and full Of merel-
less cunning.
Something was spoken so low that could not
hear what the words were;
Only the woman started, and looked from one
to the other,
With imploring eyes, bewildered hands, and
a tremor
All through her frame: saw her from where
l was standing, she shook so.
'Sayl is it soT she cried. On the weak, white
lips of her master
Died siekly smile, and he said-'Louise, l
have sold you
God is my judgei May l never see such a look
Of desparing,
Desolate anguish, as that which the woman
cast on her master,
Gripping her breast with her little hands, as if he
had stabbed her,
Standing in silence a-paee, as fixed as the In
dian woman,
Carved out of wood, on the pilot-house of the
old Pocahontasi
Then, with a gurgling moan, like a sound in
the throat of the dying,
Came back her voice. that, rising, futtered,
through wild incoherence,
Into terrible shrek that stopped my heart
when she answered.
Sold me? sold me? sold. And you prom
ised to give me my freedom!-
Promised ne, for the sake of our little boy in
Saint Louis!
What will you say TO our boy, when he cries
for me there in Saint Louis?
What will you say to our God?-Ah, you have
been joking! see i'll
No3 Godl Godl He shall hear it,-and all of the
angels in heaven
Even the devils in helli--and none Will believe
when they hear it,
Sold mep-Fell her voice with tremling vail,
and in silence
Down she sank on the deck, and covered her
face with her fingers
In his story, a moment the pilot paused, while
we listened
To the salute of boat, that rounded the point
of an island,
Flamed toward Us with fires that seemed to
burn from the waters
Stately and vast and swift, and borne on the
heart of the current.
Then. with the mighty voice of a giant ehal-
lenged to battle,
Rose the responsive whistle, and all the echoes
of island,