It was the close of the third year in which Harry had been from home.  Mrs. Grosvenor had received four letters from him in that time.  His last had stated they were doing well, that he was under one of the kindest of captains, and all that was wanting to make him perfectly happy, was to see his dear mother, and the rest of the family once more.  Poor boy, he little thought that there was one of its members whom he would never see again, until he had passed over that sea from which no navigator ever returns!  Harry had never written his mother of the brutal treatment which he had received from his first captain, but he had said that Neptune had been the means of saving his life, and that the old fellow was getting to be quite a sailor, inasmuch as he could take a turn on the quarter-deck with as much dignity as the captain himself.  It had been some time since Harry’s last letter had been received, and now Mrs. Grosvenor was anxiously looking for news from him, with a state of mind prepared for receiving almost anything, so fraught with sad events had been the last few years, when one day Vingo was seen far down the street, coaxing his time-wearied limbs into a run, and bursting into the room, he stood panting in the middle of the floor, grinning with delight, and holding at arm’s length a letter, which Mrs. Grosvenor recognized as coming from her son.  The Sea-flower read the letter aloud, and when Vingo learned that massa Harry was homeward bound, he could contain himself no longer; it seemed as if he would go beside himself at the thought of having his young massa home once more, for everything had appeared so different since he went away; there had been so many changes, that the fellow had really had his fears that it might be his turn next to be taken off, and he had often had visions of his old slave massa in nearer proximity than was at all consistent with his ideas of liberty.

“De good Lord be praised!” exclaimed the negro, as Sea-flower ceased reading; “dis am too good news for old black man live me! but I knew de bright sunshine not be contented to stay away from missy Sea-flower long.  I tinks missy get along better widout him, dan he can widout her; but dar am some poor souls dat neber sees de shine, making dem feel as full ob sing as a camp-meeting!” and the negro gave a deep sigh at the remembrance of his poor old Phillis, who was, for aught he knew, still wearing the accursed yoke of slavery.

“Poor things! poor things!” sighed the Sea-flower; “I would willingly share with them my joys, were it in my power.  Theirs would be a lighter burden to those who have learned of that glorious home, where the resplendent shining of its bright ones is forever!  But they, alas, have no bright future to look forward to, giving them renewed strength to bear their cross; or if they ever hear of that All-Father who hears the cry of the most wretched of his children, their masters would have them believe that he is but the white man’s God!  Oh, Vingo, how could you have had the heart to believe that God would disown his children?”