She lit the lamp of love in his heart at last. For the first time in his long life he felt the unmistakable, holy, heavenly glow; his heart broke into a full storm of love, and, stooping down, he took her yielding hand in his, and said: "Yes, I wull; yes, I wull! I'll come twice every day, my Jo! my Jo-Jaanet!"

Before the unhappy man knew where he was, he had kissed the maiden, who was long expecting it. But the man blushed crimson, feeling guilty of a crime which he thought no woman could forgive, for it was the first kiss he had gotten or given in fifty long years, while the woman stood with a look of supreme satisfaction, and said to him:

"Eh! Saunders McGlashan, isna that rale refreshin'?" -Anonymous.

THE TWO RUNAWAYS

Years ago there dwelt in Middle Georgia a wealthy but ec centric bachelor planter, known by the name of Major Crawford Worthington. He was the owner of a number of slaves, to whom, on the whole, he was very kind. One of them, named Isam, had been with him from childhood; in fact, they had sort of grown up together. Isam had an annual runaway freak, which usually lasted about a fortnight. The strangeness of this action on the part of his slave troubled the Major more than a little, not that he cared an iota for his loss of time, nor for his bad example, but it galled him to think that there was anything in connection with a negro which he could not fathom. At last the Major struck upon a plan whereby he should solve the mystery, and he accordingly threatened Isam with dire punishment if he should go off another time without letting him know. The threat had the desired effect; the Major was duly informed; whereupon, to the astonishment of the negro, the master signified his intention to accompany him on his expedition, and accordingly the two runaways started. For nearly two weeks they remained in the woods, only a few miles distant from their home, where they lived in a semi-civilized state, hunting, fishing, and foraging, both, indeed, enjoying themselves hugely. A day or two prior to their return, they had been out foraging for dinner, and were on their ay to camp, heavily laden with their spoils. The two had just

reached the edge of the canebrake, beyond which lay the camp, and were entering the narrow path, when a magnificent buck came sweeping through, and collided with Isam with such force and suddenness as to crush and spatter his watermelons into a pitiful ruin, and throw the negro violently to the ground. Instantly the frightened man seized the threatening antlers and held on, yelling lustily for help. The deer made several ineffectual efforts to free himself, during which he dragged the negro right and left without difficulty, but, finding escape impossible, turned fiercely upon his unwilling captor, and tried to drive the terrible horns through his writhing body.

"O Lord! O Lord!" screamed Isam; "O Lord! Mass' Craffud, cum holp me tu'n dis buck loos'."

The laugh died away from Major Worthington's lips. None knew better than he the danger into which Isam had plunged. Not a stick, brush, stone, or weapon of any description was at hand, except his small pocketknife. Hastily opening that, he rushed upon the deer. Isam's eyes were bursting from their sockets, and appealed piteously for the help his stentorian voice was frantically imploring, until the woods rang with his agony. Major Worthington caught the nearest antler with his left hand, and made a fierce lunge at the animal's throat. But the point of the knife was missing, and only a trifling wound was inflicted. The next instant, the deer met the new attack with a rush that carried Isam with it, and thrust the Major to the ground, the knife falling out of reach. Seeing this, the negro let go his hold, rolled out of the way, and with a mighty effort literally ran upon the top of a branching haw-bush, where he lay spread out like a bat, and moaning piteously.

"Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im! Wo' deer! wo' deer! Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud."

And the Major stuck. Retaining his presence of mind, he threw his left arm over the deer's neck, and, still holding with his right the antler, looked about for Isam, who had so mysteriously disappeared.

"Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Hit's better fur one ter die den bofe! Hole 'im, Mass' Craffud, hole 'im! Wo' deer! wo' deer! Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, steddy! Look out fur es ho'n! Wo' deer! Steddy, Mass' Craffud!"

By this time the struggles of the beast had again ceased, and,

wearied from his double encounter, he stood with his head pulled down to the ground half astride the desperate man, whɔ was holding on for life. Whether Major Worthington was frightened or not it is hard to say; probably he was; but there was no doubt about his being angry when he saw Isam spread out in the hawbush, and heard his address. As soon as he caught his breath, he burst forth with.

'You black rascal! why don't you come down out of that bush and help - me?" Isam's face was pitiful in its expression. His teeth chattered, and he fairly shook the bush with his trembling.

"Don', Mass' Craffud, do n'; you ain' got no time ter cuss now. Lif' up yo' voice en' pray! Ef ev'r er man had er call ter pray, you dun got it now."

- I get loose from this -brute
whole bone in your body!"

If ever I'll not leave a

you scoundrel

"Don' say dat, Mass' Craffud, don'! you must n't let de sun go down on yo' wraf! O Lord! don' you mine nuth'n he es er sayin' now, cos he ain' 'spons'b'l'. Ef de bes' aingil you got wuz down dere in his fix, dey ain' no tell'n' w'at ud happ'n, er w'at sorter langwidge he'd let loos'. Wo' deer! wo' deer! Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Steddy, deer! steddy, Mass' Craffud!"

Again the deer commenced to struggle, and by this time the Major's breath was almost gone, and his anger had given way to unmistakable apprehension. He realized that he was in a most desperate plight, and that the only hope of rescue lay in the frightened negro up in the haw-bush. He changed his tactics when the deer rested again.

"Isam," he said, gently.

"Yes, honey."

Isam, come and help me, old fellow."

Mass' Craffud, dere ain' nuthin' I woodn' do fur you, but hit's better fur one ter die'n two. Hit's a long sight better."

But there is no danger, Isam; none whatever. Just you come down and with your knife hamstring the brute. I'll hold him."

"No, sah! no, sah! no, sah!" said Isam, loudly, and with growing earnestness. "No, sah! it won' wuk! no, sah! You er in fur hit now Mass' Craffud, en' et can't be holped. Dere ain' nuthin' kin save yer but de good Lord, en' He ain' go'n'ter, less'n you ax

'im 'umble like, en' er b'liev'n 'en es mussy. I prayed w'en I wuz down dere, Mass' Craffud, dat I did, en' look w'at happ'n. Didn' He sen' you like er aingil, en' didn' He git me up hyah safe en' wholesum? Dat He did, en' He nev'r spec' dis nigg'r war go'n'ter fling esse'f und'r dat deer arter He trubbl' Hisse'f to show 'im up hyah. Stick ter 'im, Mass' Craffud, stick ter 'im. Wo' deer! wo' deer! Look ou' fur es ho'n! Stick ter im, Mass' Craffud. Dere, now - t'ank de Lord!"

Again the Major got a breathing-spell. The deer, in his struggles, had gotten under the haw-bush, and the Major renewed his earnest negotiations.

"Isam, if you will get down will give you your freedom." Isam answered with a groan.

and cut this brute's legs - I

"And fifty acres of land." Again that pitiful moan. "Anda mule and a-year's rations." The Major paused from force of circumstances. After awhile the answer came: "Mass' Craffud?"

“Well?”

"You know dis nigg'r b'en hard-work'n en' hones' en' look atter you en' yo'n all es life."

"Yes, Isam," said the Major, "you have been a faithful, honest nigger." There was another pause. Perhaps this was too much for Isam. But he continued after a little while:

"Well, lemme tell you, honey, dere ain' nuthin' you got er kin git w'at'll tem' dis nigg'r ter git down dere. W'y," and his voice assumed a most earnest and argumentative tone, "deed'n hit ud be 'sultin' de Lord. Ain' He dun got me up hyar out'n de way, en' don' He 'spec' me fur ter stay? You reck'n He got nuth'n 'tall ter do but keep puttin' Isam back up er tree? No, sah! He dun 'ten ter me, an' ef you got enny dif'culty, you en' de deer kin fight it out. Hit's my bizness jes ter keep er prayin'. Wo' deer! wo' deer! Steddy, Mass' Craffud. Dere now- tank de Lord!"

Again the Major defeated the beast's struggles, and there came a truce. But the man was well-nigh exhausted, and saw that unless something was done in his behalf he must soon yield up the fight. So he decided to touch the negro's superstitious side:

"Isam," he said, slowly and impressively. But Isam was praying. The Major could hardly trust his ears when he heard the words:

"But, Lord, don' let 'm 'peer'sh fo' yo' eyes. He's b'en er He cuss 'n' sware, 'n' play keerds, 'n' bet on horse

bad man.

"En' he steal

goodness, he tek ter steal'n' like er duck ter water. Roast'n yers, watermilluns, chick'n— nuthin' too bad fur

The word came upward in tones of thunder. Even Isam was obliged to regard it.

"Yes, sah?"

66

Isam, I am going to die."

Isam gave a yell that ought to have been heard a mile away. Oh! do n't let 'im die! Skeer 'im, skeer 'im, Lord; but don' let 'im die!"

"Yes," continued the Major, "I am going to die; but let me tell you something, Isam. I have been looking into this beast's eyes until I recognize him." A sound came from the haw-bush like the hiss of a snake, as the negro with ashen face and beaded brow gasped out an unintelligible word. The right chord had been touched at last. "You remember Dr. Sam, who died last year?" Isam's only reply was a moan that betrayed an agony too deep for expression. "Well, this is Dr. Sam; he got loose the other day when the plug fell out of the tree, and he and I will never give you another hour of peace as long as you live."

The sentence was never finished. With a shriek that was blood-curdling in its intensity of fear and horror, the negro came crashing down through the bush with his hands full of leaves, straight upon the deer.

This was the crisis.

The frightened animal made one desperate plunge, taking the startled Major by surprise, and the next instant found himself free. He did not remain upon the scene, or he would have beheld the terrified negro get upon his feet, run round in a frenzy of terror, and close his last circle at the foot of the bush, up which he scurried again like a squirrel, old as he was. The Major lay flat upon his back, after trying in vain to rise. Then the reaction came. He fixed his eye upon the negro above, and laughed until the tears washed the dirt from his face; and Isam, holding his head up so that his vision could encompass the narrow horizon, said slowly and impressively: