The Story of a Slave Boy.


BY JULIA COLMAN.


"A, B, C," said little Lewis to himself, as he bent eagerly over a
ragged primer. "Here's anoder A, an' there's anoder, an' there's anoder
C, but I can't find anoder B. Missy Katy said I must find just so many
as I can. Dear little Missy Katy! an' wont I be just so good as ever I
can, an' learn to read, an' when I get to be a man I'll call myself
white folks; for I'm a most as white as Massa Harry is now, when he runs
out widout his hat; A, B, C." And so the little fellow ran on, thinking
what a fine man he would be when he had learned to read.

Just then he heard a shrill laugh in the distance, and the cry, "Lew!
Lew! where's Lew?"

It was Katy's voice, and tucking his book in his bosom, he ran around
the house toward her with light feet; for though she was often cross and
willful, as only daughters sometimes are, she was the only one of the
family that showed him even an occasional kindness. She was, withal,
a frolicsome, romping witch, and as he turned the corner, she came
scampering along right toward him with three or four white children at
her heels, and all the little woolly heads of the establishment,
numbering something less than a score.

"Here, Lew!" she said, as she came in sight, "you take the tag and run."

With a quick movement he touched her outstretched hand, and he would