2

He rushed from the house--and plunging into the very depths
of the forest, sought in its loneliest paths, in its darkest
glens and deepest ravines, the lost object of his first and only
love. The roaring of the tempest--the crash of falling trees,
the whirling of dry leaves; in vain impeded his progress.
He struggled through the underwood; he pushed aside
the intermingling branches, he tore his clothes from the briars
which sought them, unheeding the blood which followed
the effort; and pressing onwards, sought, as if he hoped to
find his Lucy, amidst these rocks and wilds. He had sat
the live-long night by the lifeless body of the good old
woman, and it was yet early morning, when he had rushed
forth in search of her he loved. Long and lonely were
his wanderings. Deeper the groans from his broken heart
than those of the storm which shatter'd the forest
around him, as he repeated in all the bitterness
of grief, "Lucy --dear Lucy where art thou!" Reckless
and lost in thought, he wandered on,till wearied nature
gave way. He burst into an agony of tears and sank
down at foot of a tree, beside one of those grass-grown
and solitary roads, which crossed the woods in every direc-
tion. He raised his head, and listened to
the sound of coming wheels; it was that of a one horse-cart
driven by a black boy, who smacked his whip and whistled as
the parent, heedless of the load he carried. William,
looked up, and saw in the cart a coffin. He started,
and before he could enquire of the boy, from whence he
came, and whither he was going. The lad, called out, in
a tone of glad surprise. "Law's Master Billy, is that you,
laws how you scared me, I thought as how you were
a neger-buyer--for they be'd always lurking about
these lonesome woods, to ketch a poor negor's--Why likes
be, you'll go home wid a body--for I'm going
a towards your house--this here coffin's for old