Year: 1860




It was story the pilot told with his
back to his hearers-keeping his hand
on the wheel and his eye on the globe Of
the jack staff, holding the boat to the
shore and out of the sweep of the cur.
rent lightly turning aside for the heavy
logs of the drift wood, widely stunning
the snags that made US sardonic obel
sance


All the soft, damp air was full of deli
cate pefume from the young willows in
bloom on either bank of the river-faint
delicious fragrance, trancing the indo-
lent senses in luxurious dream of the
river and land of the lotus. In the deep
blue above, light clouds of gold and
crimson, foated in slumber serene, and
the restless river beneath them rushed
away to the sea with vision of rest in
its bosom. Far on the eastern shore lay
dimly the swamps of the cypress; dimly
before us the islands grew from the
rivers exparses-beautiful, wood grown
isles-with the CLEAN of the swart inun-
dation seen through the swaying boughs
and slender trunks of the willows. and
on the shore beside us the cotton trees
rose in the evening, phantom like, yearn-
ingly, YEARLY, with the inscrutable sad
ness of the mute race of trees. While
hoarsely the steam from her scape- pipes
shouted, then whispered moment, then
shouted again to the silence, trembling
through all her frame with the mighty
pulse of her engines, slowly the boat as
cended the swollen and broad Missis-
sippi, bank-full, sweeping on, with
nearing masses Of driftSwood, daintily
breathed about with hazes of silvery va
por where in his arrowy flight the twit-
tering swallow alighted, and the belated
blackbird paused on the way to its nest
lings.


1t was the. pilots story" They both
came aboard there, at Cairo, from New
Orleans boat, and took passage with US
for ST. Louis. She was beautiful wo-
man, darkening her eyes and her hair,
to make her race known to a trader; you
would have thoug ght she was white. The
man that was with her-you see such
weakly, good -natured and kind, and
weakly good natured and vicious, slender
of body and soul, fit neither for loving
nor hating. was youngster then, and
only learning the river-not overfond Of
the wheel. | used to watch them at
monte, down In the cabin at night, and
learned to know all the gamblers. So
when saw this weak one stalking his
money against them, betting upon the
turn of the cards, l knew what was com
ing. They never left their pigeons
single feather to fly with. Next day I
saw them together-the stranger and one
of the gamblers, picturesque rascal he
was, with long black hair and moustache,
black slouch hat drawn down over his
eyes from his villainous forehead. On
together they moved, still earnestly
talking in whispers, on toward the fore
castle where sat the woman by the gang
way. Reused by the fall of feet, she
turned, and beholding her master, greet
ed him with a smile that was more like
wife's than another's, rose fondly to
meet him, and then, with the dread ap-
prehension always haunting the slave,
fell her eye on the face of the gambler,
dark and lustful and fierce and full of
merciless 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 tremor all through her frame.
I saw her from where [ was standing.
she shook SO. Say is it SO p she cried.
On the weak white lips of her master
died sickly smile, and he said "Lou-
lisa have sold you. God is my judge!"
May | never see such look Of despair
ing, 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, as fixed
as the Indian woman carved out of wood
on the pilot house of the old Pocahon-
tas Then, with gurgling moan, like
the sound in the throat Of the dying,
came back her voice that, rising, hut-
tered, through wild incoherence, into
terrible shrek that stopped my heart
while she answered: nSold, not sold
me? sold And you promised to
give me my freedom HromlSed me, Tor
the sake of our little boy in St. Louis
What will you say to our boy, when he
cries for me in St. Louis? What will
you say to our God? All, you have
been joking! see it! No? God?
-God2 He shall hear it-and all of the
angels in HeaVen-even the devils in
hell and none will believe when they
hear it! Sold mer' Fell her voice
with thrilling wall, and in silence down
she sank on the deck, and covered her
face with her fingers.


In his story momentthe pilot paused,
while he listened to the salute Of boat.
that, rounding t1a point OF an island,
famed 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