"Why not?" asked the listening children.

"They are slaves--they are negroes!" replied Mrs. Chilton.

"It is a shame; it is wicked," cried Frank and Harry, and all the
rest.

"When you are men and women," said Mrs. Chilton, "you may do much
for the poor slaves. Remember them then, and do not forget them now.
All can do something for them, even little children.

Now I will tell you a story that was related to me by a gentlemen
who knew it to be true. I knew, he said, a little boy, who was one
of the best little fellows that ever lived. He was gentle and kind
to his companions, obedient to his parents, good to all. His home
was in a small country village, but he was very fond of wandering
into the neighboring fields, when his tasks were all over. There, if
he saw a young bird that had fallen to the ground before it could
fly, he would pick it up gently, and put it back in its nest. I have
often seen him step aside, lest he should tread on an anthill, and
thus destroy the industrious little creatures' habitation. If a
child smaller than he was carrying a heavy bundle or basket, Harry
would always offer to help him. Was any one hurt, or unhappy, Harry
was quick to give aid and sympathy; ever ready to defend the weak,
feared not the strong. For every harsh word, Harry gave a kind one
in return. I have known him to carry more than half his breakfast to
a little lame boy whose mother was very poor. Harry was brave and
true; he would confess his own faults, he would hide those of
others. He had a thirst for knowledge. He got all his lessons well
at school, and he stood high in his class. But what he was