to Canada," said Eliza, "I can help you. I can do
dress-making very well; and I understand fine washing and ironing; and
between us we can find something to live on."

"Yes, Eliza, so long as we have each other and our boy. O! Eliza, if
these people only knew what a blessing it is for a man to feel that
his wife and child belong to _him_! I've often wondered to see men that
could call their wives and children _their own_ fretting and worrying
about anything else. Why, I feel rich and strong, though we have nothing
but our bare hands. I feel as if I could scarcely ask God for any more.
Yes, though I've worked hard every day, till I am twenty-five years old,
and have not a cent of money, nor a roof to cover me, nor a spot of
land to call my own, yet, if they will only let me alone now, I will be
satisfied,--thankful; I will work, and send back the money for you and
my boy. As to my old master, he has been paid five times over for all he
ever spent for me. I don't owe him anything."

"But yet we are not quite out of danger," said Eliza; "we are not yet in
Canada."

"True," said George, "but it seems as if I smelt the free air, and it
makes me strong."

At this moment, voices were heard in the outer apartment, in earnest
conversation, and very soon a rap was heard on the door. Eliza started
and opened it.

Simeon Halliday was there, and with him a Quaker brother, whom he
introduced as Phineas Fletcher. Phineas was tall and lathy, red-haired,
with an expression of great acuteness and shrewdness in his face. He
had not the placid, quiet, unworldly air of Simeon Halliday; on the
contrary, a particularly wide-awake and _au fait_ appearance, like a
man who rather prides himself on knowing what he is about, and keeping
a bright lookout ahead; peculiarities which sorted rather oddly with his
broad brim and formal phraseology.

"Our friend Phineas hath discovered something of importance to the
interests of thee and thy party, George," said Simeon; "it were well for
thee to hear it."

"That I have," said Phineas, "and it shows the use of a man's always
sleeping with one ear open, in certain places, as I've always said.
Last night I stopped at a little lone tavern, back on the road. Thee
remembers the place, Simeon, where we sold some apples, last year, to
that fat woman, with the great ear-rings. Well, I was tired with hard
driving; and, after my supper I stretched myself down on a pile of bags
in the corner, and pulled a b