such scruples trouble her if any of her people are in need. She
never hesitates to call upon her kind friends in Auburn and in
other places for help when her people are in want. At one time,
when some such emergency had arisen, she went to see her friend,
Governor Seward, and boldly presented her case to him.

"Harriet," he said, "you have worked for others long enough. If
you would ever ask anything for yourself, I would gladly give it
to you, but I will not help you to rob yourself for others any
longer."

In spite of this apparent roughness, we may be sure Harriet did
not leave this noble man's house empty handed.

And here I am reminded of a touching little circumstance that
occurred at the funeral of Secretary Seward.

The great man lay in his coffin. Friends, children, and admirers
were gathered there. Everything that love and wealth could do had
been done; around him were floral emblems of every possible shape
and design, that human ingenuity could suggest, or money could
purchase. Just before the coffin was to be closed, a woman black
as night stole quietly in, and laying a wreath of field flowers
_on his feet_, as quietly glided out again. This was the simple
tribute of our sable friend, and her last token of love and
gratitude to her kind benefactor. I think he would have said,
"This woman hath done more than ye all."

While preparing this second edition of Harriet's story, I have
been much pleased to find that that good man, Oliver Johnson, is