d grant it."

"Young Massa, is dis death?"

"'Tis coming, Jeff."

"Let me pray; I only knows one prayer, an' it's so short."

"Say it."

"'Now I lay me'--oh, I'se goin' fast, young massa."

"Go on."

"'Down to sleep'--Massa Guly dis long sleep."

Guly took his hand.

"'I pray de Lord my--soul--to keep; an'--should--I die'--Oh, dis is de
wrong prayer--Bressed Lord, forgive my sins, and take me to dat Heaven
where de white folks go, dat I may see Massa Guly, wid his white wings
on. Good-bye, young massa. Last at my side in death, I'll be fust at
yours in Heaven."

With a convulsive effort, the dying man turned upon his side, the limbs
grew rigid, the death-rattle shook an instant in his throat, and poor
Jeff was dead.

Guly left the negro's side, to acquaint Mr. Delancey, who had remained
sitting stiffly in his chair, of the facts. The merchant listened
unmoved, but ordered the body to be sent to his house, and a longer or
better ordered funeral never passed through the streets of New-Orleans,
than that which next day bore poor Jeff to his last resting-place.
Whether or not that Master felt he had wronged a true and faithful
slave, could not be told; but all he could do to show he honored his
memory, was done; and as much expense and pomp were displayed in those
last rites, as ever were lavished over a white man's bones.[A]

[Footnote A: A fact.]

"Everything ready now, Minny?" said Della, glancing tearfully around her
sumptuous apartments.

"Everything is prepared, Miss. Shall we go?"

"Sure you are able to walk to the carriage, Minny?"

"Oh, yes, Miss; certain of it."

Once more Della turned to look upon those objects, which use and long
association had endeared to her. There were her books, her birds, her
flowers, the bed, where she had dreamed so many happy dreams, and the
cushioned chair, where she had so often sat listless and happy. With a
sigh, which she could not repress, she waved them a fond adieu, and,
taking Minny's arm, crept out upon the balcony, down the stairs, and
through the secret garden-door. Here was an outlet Mr. Delancey had
never thought of; and while the guard, he had placed at her door, stood
vigilant and wakeful, the bird flew through the window.

Once in the street, at night, and in darkness, Della grew timid, and
clutched convulsively her attendant's arm; but they went on steadily,
until arriving at an adjacent corner, a third person joined them, and
helped them into