This expression she had learnt from an Irish servant wench, who was in the habit of making frequent use of it; and it was so often echoed by the little girl, in a parrot-like manner, that Mr Sullivan and his wife--at the time I joined the family were striving to break her from the habit of using it. The servant girl, when forbidden by her mistress ever to use the expression in the child's presence, would cry out: "God help us, Mem! I can't help it." Whenever the words were spoken by little Sarah--this was the child's name--Mrs Sullivan would say, "Sarah, don't you ever say that again. If you do, you shall be locked up in the cellar." "God help us!" little Sarah would exclaim, in real alarm at the threat. "There you go again. Take that, and that," Mrs Sullivan would cry, giving the child two or three slaps on the side of the head. "Oh mother! mother! God help us!" little Sarah would cry out, altogether unconscious of the crime she was committing. Every effort made, for inducing the child to refrain from the use of this expression, only caused its more frequent repetition; and often in a manner so ludicrous, as to conquer the anger of her parents, and turn it into laughter. When I had been about five weeks with Mr Sullivan, I was engaged one morning in washing the shop windows, and accidentally broke a large and costly pane of plate glass. A sudden shock came over my spirits--one more painful than I had ever experienced. Mr Sullivan had been so kind to me, that to do him an injury, accidentally or otherwise, seemed the greatest misfortune that could happen to me. He was upstairs at the time; and I had not the moral courage to face him. Had I waited for him to come down, and see what had been done, he might have said something that would have pained me to hear; but certainly nothing more serious would have happened, and all would have been well again. I must have a disposition constitutionally inclined to absconding. To run away, as my mother had often told me, must be my _nature_. I would rather believe this than otherwise, since I do not wish to be charged with the voluntary indiscretion of deserting a good home. It was only an overwhelming sense of the kindness with which I had been treated, and the injury I had inflicted on my benefactor, that caused me to dread an encounter with Mr Sullivan. Perhaps a boy with a smaller sense of gratitude and less sensitiveness of soul, would have acted differently; and yet would have acted right: for it is always better to meet a difficulty boldly, than to flee in a cowardly manner from the responsibilities attending it. Little Sarah Sullivan happened to be in the shop at the time I broke the window. I heard her exclaim, "God help us!" I did not stay to hear any more: for in six seconds after, I had turned the nearest corner; and was once more homeless in the streets of New Orleans. Volume One, Chapter VI. ONCE MORE UPON THE OCEAN!