into the room, and why they should go through such strange and antic evolutions. Sometimes I would fall

partly asleep, and a hideous being would come close to me, and I would awake with a start; and just as I opened my eyes, this hideous-looking object would take the form and face of the boy from whom I rescued Helen, and, with his eyes fixed upon mine, he would move swiftly backward, until he receded from my sight. Again, the object of terror resembled Deacon Webber, and at the same time it resembled my mother; and the pale face of Helen Means was looking tearfully into mine. At times I screamed out in the agony of fear and terror, and the creatures would vanish away, but only to return in greater numbers and more horrible shapes. At last I lost all consciousness, and when I regained it the pain in my head was mostly gone, the strange sensations had taken their departure, and with them the ghastly crowd. I perceived that it was night, for a light was burning in my room. I was alone, but in a moment Jane came in, and I thought she had watched with me, and that it must be near morning.

When I attempted to move, I found that I was almost entirely helpless.

"What time is it?" I inquired, in a feeble voice. "Half-past ten," she answered.

"So early! Why, I thought it almost morning." "Do you feel better now?"

"Yes, only I am so weak. What makes me so weak?" "You have been very sick."

"I know it, but how could I get so helpless in a few hours?"

"Why, you poor child! you have been sick three weeks."

"Three weeks!"

"Yes; and very sick, too

"How strange!"

"You have not had your senses since the evening you were taken sick, and we were fearful you would never have them again. But you must not talk more now. Here is some medicine which the doctor left for you to take as soon as you regained your senses; and he said he thought you would, during the night. There, go to sleep now, and to-morrow you will be able to talk longer, I hope."

I soon fell into a refreshing slumber, and I was not again conscious until morning, though I was told that I took medicine, talked, and opened my eyes two or three times. During the day I grew better and stronger, and the events which transpired on the day I was taken ill came back to me, causing very sad feelings. What would poor Helen think that I had forgotten the forsaken child? I did not mean that she should have staid there another week. But sickness had defeated my hastily formed plans.

During the weeks that I was confined to the house,

after I began to grow better, my mother visited me frequently; but we were both cold and distant, and I was always glad when she took her departure, for I kept thinking of Helen. I prayed for strength; for I wanted to take her out of the hands of Deacon Webber.

How ardently I longed to see her once more, and tell her that I had not forgotten my promise, and as soon as I was well I would have her removed to a good home, where she should always be very happy, and where I would come to see her sometimes, and ask her how she liked, and if she was contented, and whether she was not very glad that she had escaped from Deacon Webber so nicely, to live in such a pleasant, quiet home. All this, and much more, I thought over a thousand times, during those helpless days. A number of fine things I would say to her, to cheer her up and make her smile with bright hope; very wise things, no doubt, but, alas! like the beautifully formed speeches of a lover, they were never spoken. In three weeks from the time I regained my senses, I was able to leave my room, and soon after I was gratified with an interview with Helen.

One delightful morning I walked in the direction of the forage-ground owned by Deacon Webber, as I had learned that Helen drove the cattle to pasture every morning. I hoped that I might be so fortunate as to meet her on the way, that we might form a plan for her

escape. I was not disappointed, for I soon saw her com

ing towards me.

When we met, I took her hand, and asked if she was well. What a look of sorrow and grief she gave me, in reply! There was no necessity for her to speak, to say to me that the greatest indignities and wrongs were daily heaped upon her, for I could read in her face a world of meaning. Her eyes were like a book of sorrows,-every page blotted with tears! I saw that she was thinner and paler, and, if possible, she had a more weary and forsaken look. The poor girl tried to speak; but could not, but commenced crying bitterly. The sight of her and her distress made me wish that I had Deacon Webber in my power. I just then thought that I should like to torture him until I wrung agony and bitter repentance from his hard and wicked heart.

"You look wretched and sickly," I remarked. "Have you been sick?"

Half choking with grief, she answered, "I am sick of such a weary, cruel life."

"Poor child! Then they continue their savage abuse?"

"Is it possible? What can the wretches mean?” "I know not; for I do as well as I can. I would work every day, and never complain, if they would only leave off whipping and starving me. The deacon learned by some means that I had told you how badly I was treated.

He was awful angry when he came home; and he dragged me into the cellar, and stripped off my clothes, and whipped me until I could not stand.”

"I will teach you,' said he, 'to go tattling and lying to bad boys! I understand your case, and know how to make the application; and I think, Miss, that I shall effect a cure. Say another word about me or your treatment, and I will whip you worse next time, you lying wench! Sneaking round after bad boys, are you?' And then he struck me with his hand on the side of my head so hard that I was almost stunned.

"When he had done whipping me, he washed off the blood, and then put on my clothes and carried me into the garret, and left me there until the next day, before I had anything to eat. O! how I suffered that night' I prayed to God that I might die,- that he would take me home to heaven, that I might be delivered from that awful, cruel man. As we were going up stairs, we met Mrs. Webber, and I noticed that she was weeping, but I don't know what for.

"Since my severe whipping, the deacon tells everybody who comes into the house what a vile creature I am. If he should see you, he would make you hate me."

"No! no! By heaven, he would not!" I said, trembling with excitement and indignation. "Pardon me, Helen, for I have been the indirect cause of this outrage.