, sure! Just wait till I can get my
umbrella into shape,--my gracious! how the wind pulls it! Now, then,
suppose you come along with me."

"Please, Sir, I can't walk"; for the lad's limbs had stiffened, in spite
of his angels.

"Is that so, Sir? Let me see; about how much do you weigh, Sir? Not much
above a hundred, do you? It isn't impossible but I may take you on my
back. Suppose you try it."

"Oh, I can't!" groaned the boy.

"Excuse me for contradicting you, but I think you can, Sir. I shouldn't
like to do it myself, in the daytime; but in the night so, who cares?
Nobody'll laugh at us, even if we don't succeed. Really, I wish you
wasn't quite so wet, Sir; for these here is my Sunday clothes. But never
mind a little water; we'll find a fire to get dry again. There you are,
my friend! A little higher. Put your hands over across my breast.
Couldn't manage to hold, the umbrella over us, could you? So fashion.
Now steady, while I rise with you."

And the stalwart young negro, hooking his arms well under the legs of
his rider, got up stoopingly, gave a toss and a jolt to get him into the
right position, and walked off with him. Away they go, tramp, tramp, in
the storm and darkness. Thank Heaven, the Judge's fame is safe! If the
pauper dies, it will not be at his door. Little he knows, there in his
elegant study, what an inestimable service this black Samaritan is
rendering him. And it was just; for, after all the Judge had done for
the negro, (who, I suppose, was equally unconscious of any substantial
benefit received,) it was time that the negro should do something for
him in return.

Tramp! tramp! a famous beggar's ride! It was a picturesque scene, with
food for laughter and tears in it, had we only been there with a
lantern. Fessenden's, fantastic, astride of the African, staring forward
into the darkness from under his ragged hat-brim, endeavoring to hold
the wreck of an umbrella over them,--the wind flapping and whirling it.
Tramp! tramp! past all those noble mansions, to the negro-hut beyond the
village. And, oh, to think of it! the rich citizens, the enlightened and
white-skinned Levites, having left him out, one of their own race, to
perish in the storm, this despised black man is found, alone of all the
world, to show mercy unto him!

"How do you get on, Sir?" says the stout young Ethiop. "Would you ride
easier, if I should trot? or would you prefer a canter? Tell 'em to
bring on their two-forty nags now