a good piece, an' I t'ought it was all ober for dis nigger sho'; den de saddle-girth bust, an' dat seemed to gib Challenger some 'couragement, fur he drawed a long breff an' struck out fur de Kansas sho'. Wall, it war an awful swim, an' no mistake, but bimeby we all landed, 'bout halfway down to Quindaro, blowin' and snortin' like so many steamboats. I didn' try to ride Challenger up to Leavenworth, but jis' walked by his side, a-huggin' an' a-kissin' him as I nebber kissed no women-trash in all my young days, an' John Brown a-lyin' 'crost his back as limp as a empty gunny-bag. I took her roun' to Vina's 'fore I went to de libbery-stable, an' jes' 'fore I come to de doah a t'ought come to me dat made me dat sick to de stomach I could hardly stan'. S'posin', after all, she _wan't_ Vina's chile! But she was--leastways, Vina was sure ob it--an' ob all de goin's-on dat gal went into yer'd a t'ought 'twas sumfin' mighty consequentious, stead ob nuffin' but a little nigger young 'un. 'Yer jus' take back dat hoss, Fader Abram,' says she, 'an' den come back to yo' darter Vina; an' don't yer dar lib anywhar else after dis.' "I tole Cap'n Gallup I'd been chased by hoss-thieves, an' had swum de ribber wid Challenger, but I didn' say nuffin' 'bout John Brown, for dat war de name Vina gabe de chile dat very day. I went dar, as she tole me, an' she got up de biggest dinnah, wid more chicken-fixin's an' pie an' cake dan ebber I see; but dat arternoon I was taken down ag'in wid de rheumatiz--couldn't do no work for more'n six munfs, an' don't reckon I'll be much use any more, nohow. Vina's tuk car' ob me more'n two year now. She's had a sight ob beaux, but she's allus tole 'em she couldn't leab her ole fader. Las' one was dat spruce yaller schoolmarster from Oberlin. Says I, 'Vina, why don't yer git married? 'Pears like yer'd feel less onsettled an' lonesome ef yer had an ole man.' Says she, 'I'se got one ole man: dat's 'nuff.' Says I, 'But don't yer nebber t'ink yer'd like to git married, Vina?' An' says she, 'Yes, Fader Abram, I do. How does _you_ feel 'bout it?' and wid dat she--Beg yer pardon, sah, I didn' know _you_ war dar, sah, but if yer've brought dem ar papers we was speakin' 'bout dis mornin', sah, I t'ink Vina 'll let dis day's washin' go toward payin' for 'em, sah, an' I'll come down to de office an' tote up yer winter's coal for de balance ob de damages." LIZZIE W. CHAMPNEY. TO SLEEP I pray thee, timid Sleep, to bide with me. Night after night do not affrighted be, Like some wild bird, Which, at the softest word Or slightest rustle heard, Afar from human presence swift doth flee. I woo thee, gentle Sleep, with every art That wistfullest desire can impart; But cruelly Thou still deniest me Thy restful company, And I am weary--body, mind and heart.