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before they had thought of starting. He
never thought they would be so late
never! He expected they would come
by eight o’clock, by nine at farthest, and
now it only wanted a quarter to eleven.
All at once, he thought, suppose they
do not come at all! It was a miserable
thought. He climbed upon a low bough
of an oak and looked out over the whole
extent of “ the big field,” but saw nothing
of them. He jumped down from the tree
and ran along to the end of the foot-path.
At the end of the foot-path was a gate,
which opened into a shady lane, down
which Dick and his ymung friends ought
to have come. Harry climbed on the
bottom bar, and as the gate was a tall
one, his chin just rested on the top bar,
and there he stood, with great blinding
tears in his eyes, staring up the empty
lane. They had forgotten him —they had
forgotten their promise—they cared for
nothing but amusing themselves! He
shut his eyes to keep back the tears for
awhile, and then, fairly overcome, stepped
down from the gate, threw himself on the
grass and wept bitterly.
If he had not been crying, and if he had
not been so miserable, and if he had only
stayed a little longer looking over the gate,
he would have seen Dick Tattersall car
rying the sturdy little Joshua on his back,
and Nancy with a sheaf of Timothy-grass
in one hand, on every bent of which
were at least four-and-twenty wild straw
berries, like great coral beads; and in the
other a little basket as full as ever it
would hold, and covered with a cloth ;
and Peggy Ford, with something in her
hand that looked very much like a big
basin tied up in a buff handkerchief. And
down the lane they were trudging as fast
as they could come, chattering as they
came along. Having heard them just be
fore they reached the gate, he jumped up
all at once and rushed forward. There
they w T ere, all four of them!
I wish I had room to tell you how they
spent the day, but I have not. You
should get the book and read it for your
self, for besides the balance of the story
of little Harry Twiggs, it contains many
other beautiful things for children.
Little Things.
Springs are little things, but they are
sources of large streams ; a helm is a lit
tle thing, but it governs the course of a
ship; a bridle-bit is a little thing, but see
its use and powers; nails and pegs are
little things, but they hold the parts of a
large building together; a word, a look,
a smile, a frown, are all little things, but
powerful for good or evil. Think of this,
and mind the little things.
BXJRKE’S WEEKLY.
Good Night.
®OOD night, little star,
From my little low bed
I see you are shining
Bright over my head.
Are y°n the bright star
That once led the wise men
To the babe in the manger
At Bethlehem 1
And will you, good star,'
Lead one little as I
To the blessed Lord Jesus
Up in the sky ?
Oh 1 I haven’t got leave
From my own dear Ma
To go with you just now,
Dear little star.
But will you not please,
Please to carry my prayer
To the blessed Lord Jesus
Up in the air.
And you will fetch back
His kind blessing to mo.
Good night, little star 1
I don’t you see.
Written for Burke’s Weekly,
MAROONER’S ISLAND;
OR,
Dr. Gordon in Search of his Children.
BY REY. F. R. GOULDING,
Author of the " l Young Marooners .”
CHAPTER XXYll.— Continued.
SIGNS OF A DISTANT STEAMBOAT NEGRO
SONGS —GETTING ABOARD —LETTERS AND
PLANS —MRS. GORDON.
T the predicted time, a
volume of black
smoke, far up the lake
grfJlp iflai like river, began to roll
filuL over the gigantic cy-
WjJ presses and rich-looking magnolias,
announcing that the expected
vw steamboat would soon be in sight,
and this was followed in the course
of time by a noisy clack! clack! of ma
chinery, and by a roar, as of water dis
turbed; for the operations steam of
that day were far less quiet than they are
now.
The gentlemanly planter, at whose
house Dr. Gordon had spent his day of
delightful rest, and who had placed at his
disposal a handsome plantation boat, man
ned by four lusty negroes, was so loth,
when the time came, to part with his
guest that he made some excuse for ac
companying him to the steamboat.
No sooner were they fairly underway
than a significant “Ah-oo!” was heard
from one of the oarsmen, who, without
further preliminary or permission, started
a low, plaintive melody, in which the
others united, swelling it louder and loud
er until it might have been heard to the
distance of a mile. Not much could be
said in praise of either the poetry or mu
sic, but the voices were rich and well
toned, and the performers seemed greatlv
to enjoy their own performance. Ne
groes are proverbially fond of music, and
never are they more inclined to indulge
in it than when upon the water. Their
songs, always simple in language and ut
terance, are then marked by a peculiar
expression of sound which cannot be bet
ter described than by calling it water-mu
sic. A boat song can always be recogni
zed, and it is seldom, if ever, heard on
land. Negroes are capital time-keepers,
and the effect of their songs while tug
ging at the oar is to impart such regular
ity and force to the stroke that it is usual
ly good economy to encourage their sing
ing. The boat glided swiftly over the
glassy surface. There was ever a hissing
ripple at the bows, and a tiny jet, raised
by the cutwater, gracefully projected it
self a few inches beyond.
On nearing the steamboat, Somassee,
who was in company, received his last
instructions, together with a note to the
commandant at Fort Brooke; the planter
and his guest bade each other adieu with
mutual regret; the teeth of the negroes
shone with pleasure at the sight of sundry
little silver coins that were chinking in
their hands ; the steamboat glided noise
lessly up, propelled by its own momentum
for the last quarter of a mile, the revolu
tion of the paddle wheels having been ar
rested on a signal from the planter; a
rope ladder was lowered from its side, up
which the new passenger ascended to the
deck, followed by his baggage; the tinkle
of a little bell, touched by the captain, set
in motion the paddle wheels, which re
newed their deep digging into the water,
and the obedient boat was once more
ploughing her foamy way towards Jack
sonville, the ocean, and Charleston.
At that day it was customary for the
w T eak steam craft engaged in our coast
trade, to avoid the dangers of the ocean
by seeking the smooth water lying Be
tween the main and the almost continu
ous chain of islands extending along the
Atlantic shore from Florida to Maryland.
On this occasion, however, the weathei
was so calm, and the ocean so smooth,
that the adventurous captain pushed bold
ly to sea, instead of following the crook
ed creeks and the narrow cuts of the in
side passage, and being thus delayed b)
nothing more than the necessary stopping
at the several sea-ports, St. Marys, Damn
and Savannah, ho was enabled to make
the trip in the almost unparalleled space
of two and a half days.
Early in the voyage, Dr. Gordon P cn
ned a letter to his sister in Montgomery
Alabama, —Mrs. Mclntosh, mother of his
nephew Harold, who had been a pai takci