“‘How you ’spect dis nigger to tell de lady’s name ’cept he knowed it?’ “‘When and where did you see the lady who gave you this letter?’ “‘I was gwine to de drug-store to fetch missus some ‘scription for dat sick nigger what had de ager, and de lady cotch me by de arm and told me to give de letter into your own hand; den she give dis nigger a whole dollar and went off.’ “‘What street were you in when you met the lady?’ “‘Squeal street, close to de church.’ “‘Beal street you mean.’ “‘Yes, boss, dat am hit.’ “‘Very well, you may go now.’ “As soon as the little negro left the room I proceeded to open the letter and, lo and behold! here was another document exactly like the one that I had found on my table, except the handwriting, the last one being a very neat, fine hand, while the first one was written in a bold, uneven hand: “‘Fly for your life--you are discovered. A large reward is offered for your capture. Delay is fatal.’ “This letter had no name signed to it, and no date--it was written on gilt-edged note-paper, and richly perfumed. My hands trembled so violently that I could scarcely hold the letter still enough to read it; and when I did manage to peruse it my vexation surpassed all previous bounds, and I fell back on the sofa and groaned in despair. I remained thus, buried deep in my melancholy reflections, until after midnight--then went to bed, but not to sleep. The old clock on the mantel was ticking regularly, and at every stroke of the pendulum it seemed to say: ‘Fly for your life! Fly for your life!’ It must have been near daylight when I fell into a troubled slumber, from which I was awakened by the breakfast bell at eight o’clock. My temples were throbbing--my eyes felt like balls of fire, while my blood was feverish. I plunged into a large tank of cold water in the bath-room, which served to cool the fever in my blood. “Hastily arranging my toilet, I met my mother at the breakfast table with a cheerful smile, which cost me a considerable effort to keep up. She made many anxious inquiries about my health and the manner in which I had rested during the night, all of which I answered truthfully, as far as I could without increasing her anxiety. I took a cup of strong coffee, kissed my mother, and hurried to the drug-store, when a little boy came briskly in and handed me another letter, and darted out at the door before I had time to interrogate him as to who had sent it. I of course supposed it was another one of those detestable notes advising me to ‘fly for life,’ and being disgusted with documents of that sort, I moved toward the fire, intending to consign the letter to the flames unopened; but glancing at the superscription, I was delighted to discover that it was from Lottie. The contents of the note caused a thrill of delicious joy to dart through my heart. It was like a cold, bubbling spring gushing up in the middle of an African desert before a perishing traveler.