"Have you seen your master, Jim, and is it all right there?”

"No, Mas' William: I dusn't dar speak to him fust. I been calculatin' on Miss Blanche or you to help me through. Is old master very much down on me, sir?"

I am afraid he is, Jim. I have heard him say that he would never have anything more to do with you."

"Jes' what I 'spected and feared," said poor Jim, in a tone of real distress. "Mas' William, can't you talk him out of dat notion? I'll do a'most anything, if he'll only lem'me stay at home."

"What would be the use, Jim?

You would get tired and go away again." "Go, Mas' William? Go away? Go away again?"

There was so much expressed in the climax of this sentence, that young Dudley recognized the sincerity of poor Jim's heart, and determined to do his part in restoring him to his old home and footing.

Seeing that there were guests in the parlor, Dudley advised Jim to remain concealed until a favorable opportunity should offer for presenting himself before his master.

He knew it would not do to take him to the room of his invalid mother; and like Jim, he thought Miss Blanche would prove the most eloquent pleader in his behalf.

"I'll whistle for you, Jim," said the young man, as he prepared to enter his father's house; "and when you hear the signal, be ready to come right forward."

"I'll stay right at dat tree," said Jim, pointing to the avenue of elms. “I can see de winders fust-rate from dar, and can watch when de young gemp

lems go."

Young Dudley entered the house, while Jim betook himself to his lonely post. Seated there, he could see, as he said, the windows of the house, and could hear the merry voices ring out upon the stillness of the night.

Tears rose to his eyes as he watched the great, shining house, within whose walls he had always found light, and love, and happiness.

He thought over his wretched experience of freedom, his pitiful plight on board the ship, and his present homeless, friendless condition.

He was no longer the boy in whom his master felt such pride and confidence, whom his kind mistress indulged and pampered, and whom the young people had always treated with familiar and affectionate regard.

And now who cared for him, or took any interest in his welfare? He remembered the nice clothes, the good food, the pocket-money, that had made his life so pleasant in the olden time.

He thought of his Sunday suits, of the circus nights, the procession days, the holiday seasons, when his had been a share of every pleasure, comfort, or amusement.

Shivering with the fear that perhaps these golden days had passed away forever, Jim saw the young men preparing to leave, and knew that the moment of ordeal was near at hand.

Dudley accompanied them to the door, and as soon as the leave-takings were over, Jim heard his young master call Miss Blanche to his side. By the gas-light in front of the house, he could see the gleam of her white hands as she rested them on her brother's shoulder.

Then Jim knew that they were speaking of him, and his heart and his hands and his knees trembled in unison, one with the others. Then he knew that all was told that a pair of white hands had clapped together in an ecstasy of delight, that a sweet, pale face had flushed with joyful surprise, that a pure and stainless heart had thrilled with generous emotion; and even before the young man whistled, Jim, though stiff from long sitting, had jumped from his place, and was half-way across the street.

“Jim! Jim! Jim!" was Miss Blanche's kind greeting to him, “I was so afraid you had died away there at the North; for I always believed that you would come back to us again. Come in. I'll go right up stairs for papa, and we'll have you forgiven soon, poor fellow ! '

She flew away even while she spoke, and as Kate had also gone to her mother's room, Dudley found the parlors deserted.

Jim stood partially hid by one of the doors, as Mr. Dudley, led by his sweet daughter, entered the room.

"Well; well!" he said, in his usual cheerful tones; "Blanche has some mysterious communication to make, and I have to come down from mamma's cosy room to hear it."

He sat down in one of the velvet arm-chairs Dudley rolled up to receive him, and stretched out his arms to Blanche to seat her on his knees.

"Not yet, papa," she said. "First hear what brother has to say, for it is a great, great favor we have to ask you."

There was a slight quiver of sadness in the young girl's voice as she said the words, and for the first time Mr. Dudley felt that it was no trivial question of party or dress that engrossed his daughter's thoughts.

"Father," said Dudley, stepping up to Blanche, and encircling her with his arm, we come to ask your forgiveness, to petition for your favor; not for ourselves," he added, seeing a look of surprise and pain flash from his father's eye; 66 not for ourselves, but for a poor, prodigal, truly repentant"It's Jim! dear papa. It's Jim!” cried Blanche, impatient at her brother's slow, studied speech, and throwing her arms around her father's neck. "It's our Jim who has come home; and he wants you to forgive him, and take him back to your favor, and let him be the same old Jim he used to be."

"Whew! There, now!" thought Dudley. "What short work she makes of it! I don't think I would have come to that point for a quarter of an hour yet."

As soon as his name was mentioned by the tender voice which could not fail to win its way, Jim hurried forward, but catching sight of his master's still, stern face, dropped suddenly on his knees, half-way between the door and his master's chair,

"Here I am, massa! here I am!" he said in a tone of humble sorrow; "do anything you want to me, only don't send me away from home!"

'Hush, sir!" interrupted Mr. Dudley in his sternest tones, "and listen to what I have to say."

Jim's head went down upon his breast, as if it had suddenly been dislocated, while it could scarcely be told if he breathed at all, so still and statue-like was his drooping form.

"I have always said," continued Mr. Dudley, "that if ever a slave of mine saw fit to run away, I would never again have anything to do with him. You, however, have come back of your own accord, and this step shows that you have a good heart."

Up came Jim's head again, while honest joy at this assertion shone out from his two staring eyes.

"Though determined to adhere to my first resolution," continued his master, “I will not deal hardly by you; but will myself look out for a good home and a kind master for you."

Again did poor Jim's head go down with a spring, while an unmistakable groan proceeded from the kneeling figure.

"I will do even more," said Mr. Dudley, kindly; "whatever amount your new owner shall see fit to offer for you, I will give over to your own hands, so that in the course of time, by industry and good behavior, you may be enabled to purchase, in an honest way, that freedom you seem so much to covet."

This was too much for Jim's poor heart to bear. It was the fear of this that had kept him thin, and that now gave words to his sorrow and motion to his rigid limbs. Falling rather than kneeling at his master's feet, he sobbed aloud: “I don't want to be sold! I don't want to be free! I only want to stay in my dear, dear old home!"

Blanche leaned her sweet face against her brother's bosom and wept too. "Don't part with him, dear papa!" she pleaded; "I don't think he will ever leave us again.”

Here was another kind word to cheer his sinking soul, and Jim, rising to his knees, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, exclaimed:

"You are right, Miss Blanche! If every other nigger in New Orleans was free, I would n't go with them. No! That I would n't."

"What an absurd contingency!" whispered Dudley to his sister. "We can count upon Jim remaining with us for a pretty long time."

But poor Jim saw nothing amusing in his humble plight, and drawing himself still closer to Mr. Dudley, while he nervously grasped one arm of the velvet chair, he continued his simple pleading:

"I never knowed how dear everything was to me until I had lost 'em all! O massa, massa! let me stay home now with you until I die!"

Blanche's tender heart melted within her as she listened to poor Jim's entreaties; and again laying her hand on her father's shoulder, she said: "For my sake, papa, forgive him. I cannot bear to have him sold!” Mr. Dudley was a kind man in spite of his determined will, and felt sorely

troubled by the alternatives forced upon him. Jim's sincere attachment to the family touched him deeply, and his daughter's tears brought sympathetic drops to his own eyes. What was he to do? How keep his word in regard to Jim? How soothe the grief of his own most cherished Blanche? Suddenly his face brightened, and drawing his daughter close to his side, he spoke again : "I am truly sorry for you, Jim; but I cannot change my determination never to own you again as my slave. Still, I think I know of one person who will make you as happy as ever I did, and by transferring you to that person's care, I shall feel satisfied that your welfare is secured."

Jim rocked his head from side to side in a sort of hopeless, wild negative; but Blanche, detecting some hidden meaning in her father's altered tone, glanced up to his face with a glad, inquiring look.

"Jim! look at me!" said Mr. Dudley, "and mark my words attentively." Jim stopped the rocking motion, but looked up with a face most mournful and incredulous.

"I have already chosen your new owner, and henceforth you are no slave of mine. I trust that the lesson of the past may serve as a teacher for the future, and that from this day forth you will be a wiser boy as well as a more contented servant. Here, Jim, is your owner! your new master, or mistress rather; and I hope Miss Blanche may never again have occasion to complain of her new slave, or feel dissatisfied with her old father!"

They saw it all in a moment; and as Mr. Dudley drew his daughter toward him, Jim seized his other hand and covered it with tears and kisses. Blanche clasped him round the neck and thanked him with a hundred different endearing words; while Willie, catching up his hat from where he had last left it, threw it up to the ceiling, and caught it again with a "Hip! hurrah! and father forever!"

Mr. Dudley's hearty laugh rang out with an unmistakable satisfaction in it, and laying his hand on Jim's shoulder, he brought him up to a standing position:

"Your young

"You are not looking very well, boy!" he said, kindly. mistress must look after you, and see that you get as fat as you used to be.” Jim understood his master's ruse perfectly, but was too grateful to question further.

And what a change had come over his face! The strange, whitish look had gone, and its genuine black hue shone out most brilliantly, while his eyes and even his teeth bespoke his heart-felt joy and satisfaction.

When at last Mr. Dudley dismissed him to the kitchen to see his old companions and fellow-servants, Jim's grin was as natural, and his bow as full of grace and ease as they had ever been. "I feel good all over!" said Jim to himself as he left the room; and just before he was out of reach of "Mas' William's" mischievous eyes, he threw up his arms in a kind of wild, exuberant joy, that made Dudley declare to his father and sister that if Jim had only dared he would have repeated with additional gusto his own enthusiastic demonstration: "Hip! hurrah! and old master forever!"

ME

MRS. M. B. HAY.

RS. HAY, well known throughout the South by her poems and prose, which display talent, sometimes lacking in finish and study, was born in New York, but her parents removed to Kentucky during her infancy, and she was raised in the South.

She is descended from English and Irish parentage, from titled families on both sides. Her mother's father was Scotch, by name of Wilson, and a relative of the celebrated "Christopher North." She is related, on her father's side, to General Andrew Jackson, to whom she is said to have a strong family and personal resemblance. She was married at the age of sixteen to the Rev. A. L. Hay, and accompanied her husband, who went as missionary to the Indians, among whom she spent eight years.

Her life has been spent in arduous duties, and writing has been only an occasional recreation. She has not had the leisure to devote to her pen, to cultivate imagination or indulge in æsthetic taste. She has written many articles of practical or local interest, having been obliged, by circumstances, to lay aside inclinations and taste, and consequently has wooed the Muse but occasionally.

Mrs. Hay has gained considerable reputation as a teacher of mathematics, having written an arithmetic, which was highly complimented by the press and the professors who examined it, and failed of publication by bad faith on the part of the parties who contracted for its publication.

Mrs. Hay is at this time a resident of Shreveport, La.

The following sonnet, which appeared in the first number of the "Crescent Monthly," New Orleans, received many merited encomiums.

ASPASIA.

Aspasia fair Miletian, thou art wreathed

With all a woman's heart can wish, the dower
Of classic beauty fair, illumed with power

Of intellect. From thy red lips are breathed