startling incident occurred.

Chloe stood at a respectful distance, leaning over the side of the vessel,
watching the play of the wheel and the rainbow in the spray that fell in
showers at its every revolution. An old negro busied about the deck; drew
near and addressed her:

"Well, auntie, you watchin' dat ole wheel dar? Fust time you trable on dis
boat, eh?"

Chloe started at the sound of the voice, turned suddenly round and faced
the speaker, her features working with emotion: one moment of earnest
scrutiny on the part of both, and with a wild cry, "Aunt Chloe! my ole
woman," "Uncle Joe! it can't be you," they rushed into each other's arms,
and hung about each other's neck, weeping and sobbing like two children.

"Papa! what is it?" exclaimed Elsie, greatly surprised at the little
scene.

"Her husband, no doubt: he's too old to be a son."

"Oh, how glad, how glad I am!" and Elsie started to her feet, her eyes
full of tears, and her sweet face sparkling all over with sympathetic joy.
"Papa, I shall buy him! they must never be parted again till death comes
between."

A little crowd had already gathered about the excited couple, every one on
deck hurrying to the spot, eager to learn the cause of the tumult of joy
and grief into which the two seemed to have been so suddenly thrown.