a good boy. It wouldn’t do any good to land yonder where the light is — it’s only a wood-yard. Say, I reckon your father’s poor, and I’m bound to say he’s in pretty hard luck. Here, I’ll put a twenty-dollar gold piece on this board, and you get it when it floats by. I feel mighty mean to leave you; but my kingdom! It won’t do to fool with small-pox, don’t you see?”

“Hold on, Parker,” says the man, “here’s a twenty to put on the board for me.

Good-by, boy; you do as Mr. Parker told you, and you’ll be all right.”

“That’s so, my boy — good-by, good-bye. If you see any runaway niggers you get help and nab them, and you can make some money by it.”