in which are discoveries and pleasant scenes

st. patrick's night closed the day on which the scenes of the foregoing chapter were enacted; and that patron saint being of aristocratic descent, which caused him to be held in high esteem by our "very first families," than among whom better admirers could nowhere be found, his anniversary was sure to be celebrated with much feasting and drinking. but while this homage to the good saint made glad the hearts of thousands-while the city seemed radiant of joy, and reeling men from hibernia's gorgeous hall found in him an excuse for their revelries--there sat in the box of a café;, situated on the west side of meeting street, two men who seemed to have a deeper interest at heart than that of the saint's joy on his road to paradise. the one was a shortish man, coarse of figure, and whose browned features and figured hands bespoke him a sailor; the other was delicate of figure, with pale, careworn countenance and nervous demeanour. upon the marble slab, on which they rested their elbows, sat a bottle of old madeira, from which they sipped leisurely, now and then modulating their conversation into whispers. then the man of brown features spoke out more at ease, as if they had concluded the preliminaries of some important business.

"well, well,--now isn't that strange?" said he, sighing as he spread his brawny hands upon the white marble. "natur's a curious mystery, though" (he looked intently at the other): "why, more nor twenty years have rolled over since i did that bit of a good turn, and here i is the very same old jack hardweather, skipper of the maggy bell. but for all that--and i'd have folks know it!--the maggy's as trim a little craft as ever lay to on a sou'-easter; and she can show as clean a pair of heels as any other--barring her old top timbers complain now and then--to the best cutter as ever shook uncle sam's rags." his hard features softened, as in the earnest of his heart he spoke. he extended his hand across the table, grasping firmly that of his nervous friend, and continued--"and it was no other witch than the taunt maggy bell that landed that good woman safe on the free sands of old bahama!" the maggy, he tells the other, is now at the wharf, where the good wife, molly hardweather, keeps ship while the boys take a turn ashore.

"there's always a wise provision to relieve one's feelings when sorrow comes unexpectedly," returns the nervous man, his hand trembling as he draws forth the money to pay the waiter who answered his call.

"yes!" quickly rejoined the other, "but keep up a good heart, like a sailor hard upon a lee shore, and all 'll be bright and sunny in a day or two. and now we'll just make a tack down the bay-street-and sight the maggy. there's a small drop of somethin' in the locker, that'll help to keep up yer spirits, i reckon--a body's spirits has to be tautened now and then, as ye do a bobstay,--and the wife (she's a good sort of a body, though i say it) will do the best she can in her hard way to make ye less troubled at heart. molly hardweather has had some hard ups and downs in life, knows well the cares of a mother, and has had twins twice; yes"-adds the hardy seafarer-"we arn't polished folks, nor high of blood, but we've got hearts, and as every true heart hates slavery, so do we, though we are forced to dissemble our real feelings for the sake of peace in the trade." here the delicate man took the sailor's arm, and sallied out to seek the little maggy bell, the former saying the meeting was as strange as grateful to his very soul. down market street, shaded in darkness, they wended their way, and after reaching the wharf, passed along between long lines of cotton bales, piled eight and ten feet high, to the end, where lay motionless the pretty maggy bell, as clipper-like a craft as ever spread canvas. the light from the cabin shed its faint gleams over the quarter-deck, as hardweather halted on the capsill, and with a sailor's pride run his quick black eye along her pirate-like hull, then aloft along the rigging. exultingly, he says, "she is the sauciest witch that ever faced sea or showed a clean pair of heels. the maggy bell!"-he pats his friend on the shoulder-"why, sir, she has-just between ourselves now-slided many a poor slave off into freedom; but folks here don't think it of me. now, if i reckon right"-he bites his tobacco, and extends it to the stranger-"and i believe i do, it's twenty years since the maggy, of one dark night, skimmed it by that point, with fort pinkney on it, yonder, that good creature on board." he points to the murky mass, scarce visible in the distance, to the east. "and now she's one of the noblest women that ever broke bread to the poor; and she's right comfortable off, now,--alwa's has a smile, and a kind word, and something good for old jack hardweather whenever she sees him. lord bless yer soul!"-here he shakes his head earnestly, and says he never was a lubber-"jack hardweather didn't care about the soft shot for his locker; it was my heart that felt the kindness. indeed, it always jumps and jerks like a bobstay in a head sea, when i meets her. and then, when i thinks how 'twas me done the good turn, and no thanks to nobody! you hearn of me 'afore, eh" (he turns to his companion, who measuredly answers in the affirmative). "well, then, my name's skipper jack hardweather, known all along the coast; but, seeing how the world and navigation's got shortened down, they call me old jack splitwater. i suppose it's by the way of convenience, and so neither wife nor me have a bit of objection." here the conversation was interrupted by the good wife's round, cheery face shooting suddenly from out the companion-way, and enjoining our friend jack to come away aboard, her high peaked cap shining like snow on a dark surface. the truth was, that splitwater, as he was styled, had become so much absorbed in excitement as to forget the length of his yarn. "come away, now!" says the good wife, "everybody's left the maggy to-night; and ther's na knowin' what 'd a' become 'un her if a'h hadn't looked right sharp, for ther' wer' a muckle ship a'mast run her dune; an' if she just had, the maggy wad na mar bene seen!" the good wife shakes her head; her rich scotch tongue sounding on the still air, as with apprehension her chubby face shines in the light of the candle she holds before it with her right hand. skipper splitwater will see his friend on board, he says, as they follow her down the companion-ladder. "wife thinks as much of the maggy-and would, i believe in my soul, cry her life out if anything happened till her: wife's a good body aboard a ship, and can take a trick at the wheel just as well as harry span the mate." skipper splitwater leads the way into a little dingy cabin, a partition running athwart ships dividing it into two apartments; the former being where skipper hardweather "sleeps his crew" and cooks his mess, the sternmost where he receives his friends. this latter place, into which he conducts the nervous man, is lumbered with boxes, chests, charts, camp-seats, log lines, and rusty quadrants, and sundry marine relics which only the inveterate coaster could conceive a use for. but the good wife molly, whose canny face bears the wrinkles of some forty summers, and whose round, short figure is so simply set off with bright plaid frock and apron of gingham check, in taste well adapted to her humble position, is as clean and tidy as ever was picture of mine vrow vardenstein. nevertheless,--we know the reader will join us in the sentiment-that which gave the air of domestic happiness a completeness hitherto unnoticed, was a wee responsibility, as seen sprawling and kicking goodnaturedly on the white pillow of the starboard berth, where its two peering eyes shone forth as bright as new-polished pearls. the little darling is just a year old, dame hardweather tells us; it's a twin,--the other died, and, she knows full well, has gone to heaven. here she takes the little cherub in her lap, and having made her best courtesy as hardweather introduces her to his nervous friend, seats herself on the locker, and commences suckling it, while he points to the very place on the larboard side where clotilda-"ah! i just caught the name," he says,--used to sit and sorrow for her child. "and then," he continues, "on the quarter-deck she'd go and give such longing looks back, like as if she wanted to see it; and when she couldn't, she'd turn away and sigh so. and this, molly," he continues, "is the self-same child my friend here, who i am as happy to meet as a body can be, wants me to carry off from these wolves of slavery; and if i don't, then my name's not jack splitwater!" so saying, he bustles about, tells the nervous man he must excuse the want of finery, that he has been a hard coaster for god knows how many years, and the little place is all he can afford; for indeed he is poor, but expects a better place one of these days. then he draws forth from a little nook in the stern locker a bottle, which he says contains pure stuff, and of which he invites his visitor to partake, that he may keep up a good heart, still hoping for the best. the nervous man declines his kind invitation,--he has too much at heart, and the sight of the child so reminds him of his own now blighted in slavery. the good woman now becoming deeply concerned, hardweather must needs recount the story, and explain the strange man's troubles, which he does in simple language; but, as the yarn is somewhat long, the reader must excuse our not transcribing it here. with anxious face and listening ears did the woman absorb every word; and when the earnest skipper concluded with grasping firmly the man's hand, and saying-"just you scheme the strategy, and if i don't carry it out my name aint jack hardweather!" would she fain have had him go on. "lack a day, good man!" she rejoined, fondling closer to her bosom the little suckling; "get ye the wee bairn and bring it hither, and i'll mak it t'uther twin-na body'll kno't! and da ye ken hoo ye may mak the bonny wife sik a body that nane but foxes wad ken her. just mak her a brae young sailor, and the maggy bell 'll do the rest on't." hardweather here interrupted molly's suggestion which was, indeed, most fortunate, and albeit supplied the initiative to the strategy afterwards adopted-for slavery opens wide the field of strategy-by reminding the stranger that she had a long scotch head. the night had now well advanced; the stranger shook the woman's hand firmly, and bade her good night, as a tear gushed into his eyes. the scene was indeed simple, but touching. the hard mariner will accompany his friend to the wharf; and then as he again turns on the capsill, he cannot bid him good night without adding a few words more in praise of the little maggy bell, whose name is inscribed in gilt letters upon the flash-board of her stern. holding his hand, he says: "now, keep the heart up right! and in a day or two we'll have all aboard, and be in the stream waiting for a fair breeze-then the maggy 'll play her part. bless yer soul! the little craft and me's coasted down the coast nobody knows how many years; and she knows every nook, creek, reef, and point, just as well as i does. just give her a double-reefed mainsail, and the lug of a standing jib, and in my soul i believe she'd make the passage without compass, chart, or a hand aboard. by the word of an old sailor, such a craft is the maggy bell. and when the spanish and english and french all got mixed up about who owned florida, the maggy and me's coasted along them keys when, blowing a screecher, them ingins' balls flew so, a body had to hold the hair on his head; but never a bit did the maggy mind it." the stranger's heart was too full of cares to respond to the generous man's simplicity; shaking his hand fervently, he bid him good night, and disappeared up the wharf.

we apprehend little difficulty to the reader in discovering the person of montague in our nervous man, who, in the absence of intelligence from his wife, was led to suspect some foul play. nor were his suspicions unfounded; for, on returning to memphis, which he did in great haste, he found his home desolate, his wife and child borne back into slavery, and himself threatened with lynch law. the grief which threatened to overwhelm him at finding those he so dearly loved hurled back into bondage, was not enough to appease a community tenacious of its colour. no! he must leave his business, until the arrival of some one from new york, to the clerk who so perfidiously betrayed him. with sickened heart, then, does he-only too glad to escape the fury of an unreasoning mob-seek that place of bondage into which the captives have been carried; nay, more, he left the excited little world (reporting his destination to be new york) fully resolved to rescue them at the hazard of his life, and for ever leave the country. scarcely necessary then, will it be for us to inform the reader, that, having sought out the rosebrooks, he has counselled their advice, and joined them in devising means of relief. blowers had declared, on his sacred honour, he would not sell the captives for their weight in gold.

rosebrook had no sooner received annette's letter from the hand of pompe than he repaired to blowers' plantation-as well to sound that gentleman's disposition to sell his captives, as a necessary precaution against the dangers he had incurred through his participation in the fair girl's escape; for albeit the disclosure might be extorted from her by cruelty. but blowers was too much of a gentleman to condescend to sell his captive; nor would he listen to arguments in her behalf. nevertheless, we will not underrate blowers' character, that the reader may suppose him devoid of compassion; for-be it recorded to his fame-he did, on the morning following that on which the punishment we have described in the foregoing chapter took place, send the child, whose long and piercing cries he could no longer endure, to the arms of its poor disconsolate mother, whom he hoped would take good care of it.

now, let not the reader restrain his fancy, but imagine, if he can, pringle blowers' disappointment and state of perturbation, when, three days after the punishment, he presented himself at broadman's establishment, and was informed by that functionary that the fair mother was non est. with honest face did broadman assert his ignorance of wrong. that he had not betrayed his duty he would satisfy the enraged man, by producing the very order on which he delivered them to joe! "yes, joe was his name!" continues the honest man; "and he asserted his ownership, and told a straightforward story, and didn't look roguish." he passes the order over to blowers, who, having examined it very cautiously, says: "forgery, forgery!-'tis, by the eternal!" turning his fat sides, he approaches the window, and by the light reads each successive word. it is written in a scrawl precisely like his own; but, forsooth, it cannot be his. however, deeming it little becoming a man of his standing to parley with broadman, he quickly makes his exit, and, like a locomotive at half speed, exhausting his perturbation the while, does he seek his way into the city, where he discovers his loss to the police. we have in another part of our history described blowers as something of a wag; indeed, waggery was not the least trait in his curious character, nor was he at all cautious in the exercise of it; and, upon the principle that those who give must take, did he render himself a fit object for those who indulge in that sort of pastime to level their wit upon. on this occasion, blowers had not spent many hours in the city ere he had all its convenient corners very fantastically decorated with large blue placards, whereon was inscribed the loss of his valuable woman, and the offer of the increased sum of four hundred dollars for her apprehension. the placards were wonderful curiosities, and very characteristic of blowers, who in this instance excited no small amount of merriment among the city wags, each of whom cracked a joke at his expense. now it was not that those waggish spirits said of his placard things exceedingly annoying to his sensitive feelings, but that every prig made him the butt of his borrowed wit. one quizzed him with want of gallantry,--another told him what the ladies said of his oss,--a third pitied him, but hoped he might get back his property; and then, tom span, the dandy lawyer, laconically told him that to love a fair slave was a business he must learn over again; and sprout, the cotton-broker, said there was a law against ornamenting the city with blue placards and type of such uncommon size. in this interminable perplexity, and to avoid the last-named difficulty, did he invoke the genius of the "bill-sticker," who obliterated the blue placards by covering them over with brown ones, the performance of which, blowers himself superintended. this made the matter still worse, for with jocose smile did every wag say he had hung the city in mourning for his loss; which singular proceeding the ladies had one and all solemnly protested against. now, blowers regard for the ladies was proverbial; nor will it disparage his character to say that no one was more sensitive of their opinions concerning himself. in this unhappy position, then, which he might have avoided had he exercised more calmly his philosophy, did his perturbation get the better of him;--an object of ridicule for every wag, and in ill-favour with the very first ladies, never was perplexed man's temper so near the exploding point of high pressure. and here, forsooth, disgusted within the whole city, nor at all pleased with the result of his inventive genius, he sought relief in strong drinks and a week of dissipation; in which sad condition we must leave him to the reader's sympathy.

as some of our fair readers may be a little prudish, or exacting of character, and as we are peculiarly sensitive of the reputation some of the characters embodied in this history should bear to the very end, we deem it prudent here not to disclose the nature of the little forgery which was perpetrated at blowers' expense, nor the means by which it was so cleverly carried out, to the release of the fair captives, who must now be got out of the city. should we, in the performance of this very desirable duty, fail to please the reader's taste for hair-breadth escapes, unnatural heroism, and sublime disinterestedness, an excuse may be found in our lack of soul to appreciate those virtues of romance. we have no taste for breathless suspenses, no love of terror: we deal not in tragedy, nor traffic in dramatic effects. but as the simplest strategy is often the most successful of results, so did it prove in this particular case; for, be it known, that on the morning of the twenty-fourth of march,--, was molly hardweather's suggestion adopted and effectually carried out, to the gratification of sundry interested persons. calm and bright was that morning; charleston harbour and its pretty banks seemed radiant of loveliness: the phantom-like maggy bell, with mainsail and jib spread motionless in the air, swung gently at anchor midway the stream; and dame hardweather sat in the dingy cabin, her little chubby face beaming contentment as she nursed the "t'other twin." the brusque figure of old jack, immersed in watchfulness, paced to and fro the maggy's deck; and in the city as trim a young sailor as ever served signal halliards on board man-o'-war, might be seen, his canvas bag slung over his shoulder, carelessly plodding along through the busy street, for the landing at the market slip. soon the maggy's flying jib was run up, then the foresail followed and hung loose by the throat. near the wheel, as if in contemplation, sat montague, while hardweather continued his pacing, now glancing aloft, then to seaward, as if invoking boreas' all-welcome aid, and again watching intently in the direction of the slip. a few minutes more and a boat glided from the wharf, and rowed away for the little craft, which it soon reached, and on board of which the young sailor flung his bag, clambered over the rail, and seemed happy, as old jack put out his brawny hand, saying: "come youngster, bear a hand now, and set about brightening up the coppers!" we need not here discover the hearts that leaped with joy just then; we need not describe the anxiety that found relief when the young sailor set foot on the maggy's deck; nor need we describe those eyes on shore that in tears watched the slender form as it disappeared from sight. just then a breeze wafted from the north, the anchor was hove up, the sails trimmed home, and slowly seaward moved the little bark. as she drifted rather than sailed past fort pinkney, two burly officials, as is the custom, boarded to search for hapless fugitives; but, having great confidence in the honesty of skipper splitwater, who never failed to give them of his best cheer, they drank a pleasant passage to him, made a cursory search, a note of the names of all on board (jack saying tom bolt was the young sailor's), and left quite satisfied. indeed, there was nothing to excite their suspicions, for the good dame sat nursing the "twa twins," nor left aught to discover the discrepancy between their ages, if we except a pair of little red feet that dangled out from beneath the fringe of a plaid shawl. and the young sailor, who it is hardly necessary to inform the reader is annette, was busy with his cooking. and now the little craft, free upon the wave, increased her speed as her topsails spread out, and glided swiftly seaward, heaven tempering the winds to her well-worn sails. god speed the maggy bell as she vaults over the sea; and may she never want water under keel, slaves to carry into freedom, or a good dame hardweather to make cheerful the little cabin! say we.

and now, reader, join us in taking a fond farewell of the rosebrooks, who have so nobly played their part, to the shame of those who stubbornly refuse to profit by their example. they played no inactive part in the final escape; but discretion forbids our disclosing its minuti'. they sought to give unto others that liquid of life to which they owed their own prosperity and happiness; nor did selfish motive incite them to action. no; they sought peace and prosperity for the state; they would bind in lasting fellowship that union so mighty of states, which the world with mingled admiration and distrust watches; which in kindred compact must be mightier, which divided must fall! and while taking leave of them, hoping their future may be brightened with joys-and, too, though it may not comport with the interests of our southern friends, that their inventive genius may never want objects upon which to illustrate itself so happily-let us not forget to shake old jack hardweather warmly by the hand, invoking for him many fair winds and profitable voyages. a big heart enamelled of "coarse flesh" is his; but with his warm functions he has done much good; may he be rich in heaven's rewards, for he is poor in earth's!