"See, Frances, Miss Ida is quite sick," said Amy. "Den your Aunty be bery sorry; tak hold ob Frances's hand, she min' you poor chil'."

A moment Amy lingered at the door of the church, in order to adjust the newbia more carefully round her throat, and the scene that met her eye can never be erased from memory's page.

The large wood building, with its walls decorated by the various implements of a carpenter's trade, the groups of dark excited beings, echoing each other's cries, hisses, and groans-some black as jet, some brown and olive, some fair; nay, white and beautiful almost as English women, some neatly dressed, some gaudily bedecked, and others bearing the unmistakable marks of extreme poverty and former illusage. In that room seemed collected every type and every grade of the negro race, from the most sable-hued son of Africa to the pale-faced Quadroon, all mingling together, all equally outcasts because of their dark colour-for it matters not whether the slaves have all black blood or only a few drops running in their veins, they are negroes-but, thanks be to God and the Union flag, no longer slaves in bondage. They were grouped together in that room, a strange and varied throng, the expressions of their faces, revealed by the flickering rays of rudely-formed torches fastened to the walls; as Amy turned to depart, they raised some hymn or negro ditty, the words of which she could not understand. She went from the church, and, out in the open air, heaved a deep sigh of compassionate sorrow for those poor, dark fellow-mortals, children of the self-same God. The rising moon shone brightly over the grove of oleander trees, whose fragrance filled the breeze, but above their rich perfume, and the perfume of roses and many flowers, came the terrible effluvia of yellow fever: the very ground, the very foliage, nay, everything seemed infected by that dread disease.

CHAPTER IX.

ALICE.

WHEN our friends reached home they found the family had gone to church, so Aunt Frances, after first ascertaining that Amy and Ida were comfortably placed, and their clothes free from the dews of night, seated herself on the floor close to the door of the room, and commenced to hum a merry tune.

"Are you not going to return to church, Aunty?" inquired Amy.

"I specks not until some person comes in. leave white ladies all by demselves."

Not likely

"Do not stay from meeting on our account, Aunty, we are accustomed to be alone."

"Wat, den, if you take de fever, chil, and no person near to fetch a doctor? No person put you in a warm bath? You die, sure, afore long."

"We shall not take fever, Aunty; God will keep us quite safely," said Ida.

"Dis darkie know dat Him above be bery good to Him childen, so Aunt Frances stay mind de childen, an' please de Lord."

"Aunt Frances, do you love Jesus?" asked Ida.

"Yes, I do, Miss. Him put in Fadder Limcum heart

mak de darkies free."

"You prefer freedom then, Aunty?" said Amy.

"Yah! I free woman now. My baby be my own; de odder ones, 'pears, lik em, belong Massa Carlton; dey use be his property."

“Then you were not happy in slavery times?'

“Yah, I were, till I taste how good it be to be free." "Was your mistress kind to you, Aunty?"

"Tinks she were, mighty good lady. I were raised in Massa Carlton family."

"Did you ever work in a cotton field?"

"No, 'deed," responded Frances, with a toss of her head, "I was a house servant-Miss Carlton's own maid-till young Massa Harry be born, den I nurse em."

"And loved him? Ah! Aunty."

"Lub Massa Harry, tink I do. Lub em more dan a small heap, else I no lebe my ole man.”

"Your old man. Is your husband still living?"

"Fancy you know dat before, Miss? I tell you he up country.'

"Oh to be sure, I remember, Aunty. Have you any children?"

"Two with your husband. What made you leave them, Aunty ?"

"Now, you go long, Miss Amy. Your Aunty wonder if de Englis be all so mighty fond ob questions ?"

Amy laughed.

Well, den, I tell you," said Frances, after a few moments' silence

66

My ole man be what dey call jealous. Em got de hart complaint ob desease, and mak em feel bery bad."

"Who is he jealous of, Frances?"

My ole mistress."

"Your mistress, Aunty?"

Aunt Frances moved assent, then wiping her fast-falling tears aside, said

"Em say "You go way; you lub your old mistress an' dat der white chil', Harry, more den me or dese children ob our own.''

"And do you love Master Harry better than your own children?"

"I don't know zactly. I do lub my babies; but den dey only be little niggers anyhow I fix em, an Massa Harry Carlton he be a beautiful white child, de joy ob em Aunty hart. So when I hear tell dat ole Massa be come from Ole Virginny State to Galveston, I just pack up an' come along and see my old mistress."

"And how comes it to pass, Aunty, that you do not stay in her service?"

The poor creature moaned and rocked herself to and fro, as if in grief, and then said—

"Hard times now, for fine ole families dey lose dere niggers, an' be bery poor. Missie Carlton no could help Frances, so I wash for Missie Brooklyne and other ladies, an' have my own cabin near to ole Miss's house, so can go and fix up for her once in a spell, and 'tend to my beautiful Massa Harry. Em lub his foster mammy."

"Poor Aunt Frances!"

"No say poor; me mighty well off, if only my ole man be reasonable, an' hear what I' say about siderations." "So you were happy as a slave?”

66

Yah, I say so once fore. Till I be free, I got plenty to eat, plenty fine clothes, and nothing to pay; but Massa got my work, and he call my children his property."

Frances," said Ida, after a few minutes' silence, "do not your people I mean the coloured people-respect the English?"

Aunty Frances looked up with a broad smile, and responded

"Dat be a fact. De darkies be bound to stan' by de Yankee, an' de Yankee an' de Englis be all one fixing, dey all say-nigger free."

"Then would you not do something to please your white friends?"

"Specs I would."

Aunty, please go back to your husband and your poor

little children."

Wat, lebe young Massa Harry. He cry for his foster mammy, he be my chil'-mighty pretty chil'."

"But, remember your husband."

"Lor, Miss Ida, em dare say got anudder wife fore now; for em were so mean at me coming long see me ole mistress, when em say em were sick at home; lor, em were mean."

'Oh, Frances! do go back."

"Can't," said Frances, with decision, "de big storm wash railway bridge all away. Wonder Miss Ida talk so.

"In the steam-boat?

How I

Dere

"An' get drown. Catch your Aunty a doing dat. be ober many poor nigger toss into water by bad massa at de break-up, radder dan let em be free. No, coloured women not care to venture on great Gulf; dey prefer to stay here, where dey be safe."

The sound of voices interrupted further conversation.

Mrs. Brooklyne entered the room, accompanied by her three children and two gentlemen, whom she introduced as Captain de Vere, of Virginia, and Major Homes, a native of Scotland, both soldiers of the Confederacy.

In the personal appearance of the Major there was little or nothing striking; he was simply a pleasant, good-tempered looking man. De Vere was far otherwise, tall and erect in his bearing, handsome, dark, and haughty in features, the thorough aristocrat, long accustomed to command, and seldom stooping to obey. It needed but a glance to read Alfred de Vere to be in disposition open, enthusiastic, generous, and proud.

"Well, Amy, how have you passed the evening," inquired Mrs. Brooklyne, then turning towards Major Homes, before time was given for reply, said—

'My sisters have been to the negro church."

May I ask who was their escort ? "

"Aunt Frances."