of more easy but respectful familiarity.

"Ah! Masser Mile! Masser Mile!" Vulcan exclaimed, certain that we felt
alike on this topic, if on no other; "poor young missus! when we ebber get
'noder like _she!_"

"My sister is in heaven, Vulcan, where I hope all at Clawbonny, blacks as
well as whites, will endeavour to meet her, by living in a manner that
will improve the mercy of God."

"You t'ink dat _posserbul,_ Masser Mile?" demanded the old man, fixing his
dull eyes on me, with an earnest intentness that proved he had not
entirely lost all sensibility to his moral condition.

"All things are possible with God, Vulcan. Keeping him and his
commandments constantly in mind, you may still hope to see your young
mistress, and to share in her happiness."

"Wonnerful!" exclaimed the old man; "dat would be a great conserlation.
Ah! Masser Mile, how often she come when a little lady to my shop door,
and ask to see 'e spark fly! Miss Grace hab a great taste for
blacksmit'in', and a great knowledge too. I do t'ink, dat next to some
oder t'ing, she lub to see iron red-hot, and 'e horse shod!"

"You have come to look for me, Vulcan, and I thank you for this care. I
shall return to the house presently; you need give yourself no further
trouble. Remember, old man, that the only hope that remains of either of
us ever seeing Miss Grace again, is in living as Mr. Hardinge so often
tells us all we ought to live."