her husband, he was wont to consider his opponent in the abstract, however dear and precious in the concrete. "As, shall I say, some Ethiop, past pursuit Of all enslavers, dips a shackled foot, Burnt to the blood, into the drowsy, black, Enormous watercourse which guides him back To his own tribe again, where he is king; And laughs, because he guesses, numbering The yellower poison-wattles on the pouch Of the first lizard wrested from its couch Under the slime, (whose skin, the while, he strips To cure his nostril with, and festered lip, And eyeballs bloodshot through the desert blast,) That he has reached its boundary, at last May breathe; thinks o'er enchantments of the South, Sovereign to plague his enemies, their mouth, Eyes, nails, and hair; but, these enchantments tried In fancy, puts them soberly aside For truth, projects a cool return with friends, The likelihood of winning mere amends Erelong; thinks that, takes comfort silently, Then from the river's brink his wrongs and he, Hugging revenge close to their hearts, are soon Offstriding to the Mountains of the Moon." Flor stood listening, with eyes that shone strangely out of the gloom of her face. "Well, child," said her master to Miss Agatha, "how does that little monodrame strike you? Which do you find preferable, tell me, Ashantee at home or Ashantee abroad? civilized or barbarized? the institution or the savage? Eh, Blossom," turning to Flor, "what do you think of the condition of that ancestor of yours?" "Mas'r Henry," said Flor, gravely, "he was free." "Eh? Free? What! are you bitten, too?" And Mas'r Henry laughed at the thought, and pictured to himself his dancer dancing off altogether, like the swamp-fire she was. Then his tone changed. "Flor," said he, sternly, "who has been talking to you lately? Do you know, Agatha? I have seen this for some time. I must learn what one among the hands it is that in these times dares breed disaffection." "No one's talked to me, Sah," said Flor,--"no one onter der place." "Some one off of it, then." "Mas'r Henry, I's been havin' my own t'oughts. Mas'r knows I could n' lebe Miss Emma nowes. Could n' tief her property nowes. But ef Mas'r Henry 'd on'y jus' 'sider an' ask li'l' Missy for to make dis chil' a presen' ob myse'f"---- "So that's what it means!" And Mas'r Henry smiled a moment at the ludicrous idea presented to him. "Flor," said he then, abruptly, "I have never heard the whole of that night in the swamp. It must be told." "Lors, Sah! So long ago, I's done forgot it!" "You may have till to-morrow morning to quicken your memory." "Haan' nof'n' more to 'member, Mas'r." "You heard me. You have your choice to repeat it either now or to-morrow morning."