She shuddered with a vision Of the bloodhounds on her track, As she thought how deadly certain They would be to bring her back! O, she could not, could not bear it! She would kill herself and him! Then, across her 'wildered memory Stole a vision, faint and dim, Of some reverent childish teaching, Prayer to God, and faith and fear"Lead us not into temptation!" Was He listening? Did He hear? Then she thought of old Aunt Dinah, Who had taught her thus to pray, Living free in Oppoloosa, Half a score of miles away, And at last, she rose, determined That the danger should be braved; Though her life might pay the forfeit, Little Philip should be saved! So she wrapped her sleeping treasure In a mantle dark and thin, Tied a gaudy-hued bandana 'Neath her smoothly-rounded chin, Planned her flight to escape detection, Hush! a voice of prayer and pleading Guide us when we go astray; With her spirit vision opened And was praying in the night. And she listened to their story Full of anguish, fierce and wild. Knowing well she could not save them, That her love though strong and bright, Was as chaff before the whirlwind Of the white man's power and might. "I would give my poor old heart's blood, Every drop for yours and you, If I could but keep you, honey, From this path you're walking through. "But, I've seen it all too often; "I will keep him from all danger; If you always know he's free. Turn his head, and he's done sartain When next morning she was summoned But a query ran among them,— Of the baby-where was he? 'Till she heard their words and answered Very calmly-" He is free!" "Free! The house was strongly guarded,. Every window, every door; They had seen both child and mother Safely caged the night before! "Not a living thing had ventured O'er the threshold that they knew; And the hounds with hungry voices Bayed outside the whole night through." Instant search sufficed to show them That the baby was not there; Not a hint, or trace, or sign Could they discover anywhere. Then, with threatening look and gesture While her eyes more brightly burned: "Strike me! Minions! I expect it! Ah, my baby's father's baby Was not born to be a slave!" So, with furtive eyes they watched her, She would vanish from their sight. And she thought not of her beauty Wondering which would be her master. But, the horrid truth awoke her, 66 Going! going! gone!" It told Then, as if the soul within her From their midst she swiftly fled. Ere a hand could lift to stay her On--to where the lofty margin There she paused and turned in triumph To yon gulf, to find your slave? Think you that I fear to render "Let Him in his righteous judgment J |