It is unnecessary to say that “Iron” was the negro corruption of Aaron, and not an unapt translation, either. “And mother is well and cheerful?” “High! what I tell you, Miss Elsie? Think I gwine to ax you a lie? De madam is fus’rate!” “Thank Heaven, then! Here, Bob, here is a keepsake for you. It is a little prayer-book that I have carried in my pocket ever since I first left home for England. I held it in my hand when I was married, and I intended to carry it out West with me; but here, you shall have it. And, Bob, give my love to mother, and tell her that I am very happy—you hear, Bob?” “Yes, miss.” “And give her this letter also, Bob,” said Dr. Hardcastle, taking one ready sealed and directed from his pocket. Then they took leave of the colored folks, shook hands with Uncle Bob, and started. Again Elsie called the driver back. “Now, be sure to tell my dear mother that she must not have a thought or a care for me. Tell her I am very happy.” “Yes, Miss Elsie; yes, honey; I’ll be sure to tell her—’deed, God A’mighty knows will I. Good-by! God bless you, Miss Elsie, and you, too, Marse Magnet! I wishes you both all the good luck in the worl’—’deed I does, children!—’deed, God A’mighty knows does I—I don’t care what ole marse say!” And Uncle Bob hurried off after his staff of workmen, leaving the wagon pursuing its way. Suddenly, with one of his impetuous bursts of emotion, Magnus threw his arms around the form of his bride, and drew her to his bosom, exclaiming: “Oh, Elsie! every now and then I realize, with a sort of quick, sharp, almost mortal pang of joy, that you really are my wife! Oh, Elsie, my love! my child! there lives not a being on earth so happy as I! There lives not a creature in heaven so happy as I!” And she sank upon his bosom, pale, faint, with excess of joy. The reins were loosed, the mules came to a standstill on the decline of the hill, when Elsie, with one of her sudden, healthful rebounds from the bathos of sentiment, sprang laughing up, and seizing the reins, exclaimed: “Gee up, Dobbin! Magnus, why don’t you make them gee up? We shall not make our thirty miles to-day.” Magnus took the reins from her hands, flourished the whip, and they set off in earnest, unmindful of a cynical old negro by the roadside, who, watching them as he bagged his snow-birds from the trap, said: “The cussed infunnally young fools! I s’pose dey tink it always gwine be jes’ so! Gor A’mighty help ’em! Aar, Lor’! der troubles is all afore ’em, like young bearses!”