But, if the position of the lovers was uncomfortable, Jaspar’s was painful.  They had the consolation of loving and being loved; but he was now writhing under the weight of an additional torture.  The appearance of Hatchie was the knell of all his hopes, the precursor of ruin.  To him it was a mystery, and all his endeavors to solve it were unavailing.

About noon the Chalmetta arrived at Baton Rouge, where, according to previous arrangement, and much to the joy of the perplexed uncle, De Guy came on board.  Jaspar greeted him with more than usual courtesy, and felt, to as great a degree as guilt can feel it, a relief from the embarrassments which surrounded him.  The first step of the red-faced attorney, on finding no state-room unoccupied, was to dispossess two flat-boatmen of theirs, by the payment of a round bonus.  Jaspar thought this a rather extravagant move for one apparently so parsimonious; but his mind was too deeply engrossed with the difficulties which environed him to comment on extraneous subjects.

To this state-room Jaspar and his confidant retired, to consider the condition of their operations; and while they deliberate we will return to another character.

Uncle Nathan was in the full enjoyment of all the satisfaction which seeing the world affords to the observing man.  He gazed with unceasing wonder upon the Father of Waters, on whose mighty bosom he was borne towards the loved scenes of home.  He was edified and amused with the ever-varying succession of objects which presented themselves, as the Chalmetta progressed.  Flat-boats and steamers, plantations and cotton-wood groves, islands and cut-offs, were all objects of interest.  And, when he was tired of these, “Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress,” which was his constant travelling companion, afforded him all the excitement his contented disposition required.  The time promised to be easily disposed of, even if the passage should be unusually prolonged.  Besides, the number and variety of dispositions on board afforded him some study, and some instruction.  There were men of all grades of society, and all degrees of moral worth,—­beginning, of course, at a very moderate standard, and descending to the vilest of the vile, which last were in a large majority.  There were tipplers, and gamblers, and profane swearers, in abundance; and Uncle Nathan felt, at the bottom of his philanthropic heart, a desire to lead them from their sins.  Not that he was officious and meddlesome, for he believed in “a time for everything.”  In his modest, inoffensive way, no doubt, he sowed the seeds of future reformation in some wayward heart.

Pat Fegan proved an apt disciple, and already had Uncle Nathan given him the first lesson in the form of a temperance lecture, which probably had its effect, as he left the boiler deck without the dram for which he was supposed to have come up.

“Now, Partrick,” said Uncle Nathan, on the evening after Emily’s rescue, “rum never did any one any good.”