"Why so, Partrick--what do you mean?" said Uncle Nathan, mystified by the sudden change of manner in the new convert. "Hould aisy a bit, for I'd like to hould a private correspondence wid yous. Will ye jist come to the hurricane deck, till I tells yous all about it?" "Sartain," replied Uncle Nathan, his curiosity fully excited. As soon as they reached a deserted portion of the promenade deck, Pat, after satisfying himself there were no listeners near, commenced, with an air of grave importance, his story. "Whisht now, and draw near," said he. "Can yous keep a sacret?" "Well, I think I could, if it was an honest one." "Faix, thin, it _is_ an honest one. Sure yous come from the North, and don't belave in keeping the naigers in bondage?" "To be sure not." "Well, then, would yous help a naiger out of throuble, if yous could as well as not?" "I sartainly wish 'em well; but the Scripture says 'Honor the king,' which means nothin' more nor less than 'obey the laws.' Arter all, though, perhaps we ought not to mind wicked laws." "Musha bad luck to your raysoning! Sure I'm no docthor, to blarney over the matther. Will yous kape the sacret?" asked Pat, a little excited, and somewhat disappointed to find his auditor lukewarm in "the cause." "Sartain; tell your story, and, if I can't do you any good, I won't do you any harm." "That's the mon for me!" replied Pat, slapping Uncle Nathan familiarly on the back. "Now, do you see, there's a naiger on this boat, that wants a frind." "A friend!" said Uncle Nathan, with some doubt, as he reflected on the conflict between the claims of humanity and the stringent laws of the slave states. "To be sure, a _frind_!" replied Pat, with emphasis. "I _will_ befriend him," replied Uncle Nathan, his natural inclination triumphing over his fear of the law. "Spoken like a Christian! Sure, that's jist what St. Patrick would say, if the saint--long life to him!--were here," replied Pat, rejoicing that the difficulty was overcome. "Now, dhraw near till I tells yous all about it; and, if iver you mintion a word of it, may your sowl never lave purgatory till it is burnt to a cindther! Now, do you mind, there's a naiger concayled in the hould of the boat, that wants to correspond with a faymale in the cabin." "But he will expose himself, and she may deliver him up." "Divil a bit! Didn't he save her from dhrowning, last night?" exclaimed Pat, warmly, for this act of Hatchie excited all his admiration. "Good gracious! you don't say so!" and Uncle Nathan understood the mystery of the previous night. "Sorra a word o' lie in it." "But where in natur is the feller?" asked the wonder-struck Yankee, his curiosity getting the better of every other consideration. "Whisht, now," whispered Pat; "he is in one of those boxes, with the dead men! Do yous mind?" "Good gracious! how you talk! In a coffin?" "Divil a coffin at all. Sure as nate a bit of a box as iver held a Christian."