d not comprehend,
his feelings were excited to the highest degree. After running for a few
minutes, he stopped to see if he could recognize his position. The first
thing that caught his eye was the old jail, looming its sombre walls in
the gloomy contrast of night. He followed the walls until he reached the
main gate, and then, taking an opposite direction from his former route,
proceeded along the street until he came to a lantern, shedding its
feeble light upon the murky objects at the corner of a narrow lane.
Here he stood for several minutes, not knowing which way to proceed: the
street he was in continued but a few steps farther, and turn which ever
way he would, darkness and obstacles rose to impede his progress. At
length he turned down the lane, and proceeded until he came to another
junction of streets; taking one which he thought would lead him in the
right direction, he wandered through it and into a narrow, circuitous
street, full of little, wretched-looking houses. A light glimmered from
one of them, and he saw a female passing to and fro before the window.
He approached and rapped gently upon the door. Almost simultaneously
the light was extinguished. He stood for a few minutes, and again rapped
louder than before; all was silent for some minutes. A drenching shower
had commenced, adding to the already gloomy picture; and the rustling
leaves on a tree that stood near gave an ominous sound to the excited
feelings of the child. He listened at the door with anxiety and fear, as
he heard whispers within; and as he was about to repeat his rapping,
a window on the right hand was slowly raised. The female who had been
pacing the floor protruded her head with a caution that bespoke alarm.
Her long, black hair hanging about her shoulders, and her tawny, Indian
countenance, with her ghost-like figure dressed in a white habiliment,
struck him with a sort of terror that wellnigh made him run.

"Who is that, at this time of night?" inquired the woman, in a low
voice.

"It's only me. I'm lost, and can't find my way to our vessel," said
Tommy, in a half-crying tone.

"Mother," said the woman, shutting the window, "it's only a little
sailor-boy, a stranger, and he's wet through."

She immediately unbarred and opened the door, and invited him to come
in. Stepping beyond the threshold, she closed the door against the
storm, and placing a chair at the fire, told him to sit down and
warm himself. They were mulatto half-br