ve a pore, ignorant, deluded black woman
from Joe Johnson's band. Now, you've been a-cryin 'Mercy!' I want you to
show mercy by a-tellin' of me whar I'm to overtake an' sarch Levin
Dennis's cat-boat if it comes up the Nanticoke to-night with them people
and Joe Johnson aboard!"

Having swallowed his liquor greedily, the colored man replied, with his
former lowering countenance and evasive eyes:

"You can't do nothin' as low down de river as Vienny, 'case de Nanticoke
is too wide dar, and if you cross it at Vienny ferry, den you got de
Norfwest Fork between you and Johnson's Cross-roads, wid one ferry over
dat, at Crotcher's, an' Joe Johnson owns all dat place. But you kin keep
up dis side o' de Nanticoke, Marster Phoebus, de same distance as from
yer to Vienny, to de pint whar de Norfwest Fork come in. Sometimes Joe
Johnson sails up dat big fork to get to his cross-roads. In gineral he
keeps straight up de oder fork to Betty Twiford's wharf, right on de
boundary line."

"How far is that?"

"It's five miles from yer to Vienny, and five miles from yer to a
landin' opposite de Norfwest Fork. Four miles furder on you're at
Sharptown, an' dar you can see Betty Twiford's house on de bank two
miles acrost de Nanticoke."

"Nine miles, then, to Sharptown! He's had the tide agin him since he
entered the Nanticoke, and it's not turned yit. By smoke! I'll look for
a conveyance!"

"You can ride with me to the first landing," spoke up a noble-looking
man, whip in hand; "and after delaying a little there, I shall go on the
Sharptown ferry and cross the river."

Phoebus accepted the invitation immediately, and cautioning Mrs.
Custis to speak with less freedom in that part of the country, he bade
her adieu, and took the vacant seat in the stranger's buggy.

When Mrs. Custis came to Vienna ferry, and the horses and carriage went
on board the scow to be rowed to the little, old, shipping settlement of
that name, the negro Dave, standing at the horses' heads, exchanged a
few sentences with the ferry-keeper.

"Dave," called Mrs. Custis, a little later on, "you have no love, I see,
for old Samson."

"He made a boxer outen me an' a bad man, missis."

"Do you know the man he works for--Meshach Milburn?"

"No, missis. I never see him."

"He wears a peculiar hat--nothing like gentlemen's hats nowadays: it is
a hat out of a thousand."

"I never did see it, missis."

"You cannot mistake it for any other hat in the world. Now, S