word, I asked him if he did not want the flowers to carry to his home,
and put them into his hand; and when I had come up with the
school-girls, who had run away when they saw him coming, I looked after
him, and he was still standing by the road-side, with the flowers in his
hand, watching us as we went up the street. Perhaps he was resting a
little, for it is a long way to the low home over the commons."

"Quady, my dear, no doubt feels that he is alone in the world, for he is
the only one that is left of a large tribe of Indians; all of his kind
are gone, and are buried, no one but himself knows where. He does not
look upon the pale faces as brothers, though they treat him kindly. He
feels that wrong has been shown his ancestors at their hands. I am glad,
my child, that you were kind to the Indian."

"Yes, mother, I love everybody; but I think I love those best who look
as if no one cared for them. I suppose everybody loves poor Quady, only
they forget to let him know it."

"You like dat old Ingin, Sea-flower? why, he almost as black as Bingo
hesef."

"Do you think I do not love you, Vingo, because you are black? You are
always good to me, and what would I do without you to take me to the
shore, whenever I like to go?"

"O, little missy, I tink you can sympetize wid old black Bingo; but den,
ebry body not like you; you's one ob de Lord's chilen hesef."

"We are all the Lord's children, Vingo," said Mrs. Grosvenor; "and we
should walk in the paths of righteousness, that we may be worthy of his