g him to
see you? He's real nice."

"Does he live in the hotel?" asked Charley's mother, who had never heard
of him.

"Oh yes," replied Charley, "and he and I have a _love-aly_ kitten--we
take care of it."

"Well, bring him in--the kitten too," said the good Judge; "that is, if
your mother consents."

"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Lee.

So Charley rushed down the narrow stairs, and found George playing with
the kitten, and looking as neat and clean as a new pin.

"Come, George, come up with me to mamma's parlor. Judge Spencer is
there; he wants to see you, and the kitten too."

They went up stairs, and softly opening the door of the parlor, and
holding George's hand tightly, Charley walked quickly up to the Judge
and said, "Here's my friend; he can't help being black!"

For one moment astonishment kept Charley's mamma and the Judge silent.
Then the good man held out his hand to the black boy, and taking Charley
on his knee kissed him tenderly. That warm, loving kiss told Charley
that the Judge understood it all. His face grew radiant, his eyes rested
affectionately on his friend, and then he leaned toward George, and put
the beloved kitten in his arms. "You hold it now," he said.

With a cautionary wave of his hand, the Judge prevented Mrs. Lee from
reproving Charley for his choice of a friend; then he sent them into the
next room, and had a long talk with the widow, the result of which was
that, after inquiring about George, and finding how good his "raisin'"
was, as Juliet called it, Charley was still permitted to play with him.
And to this very day (for all this has happened within a few months) if
you ask Charley Lee who George Washington Johnson is, he will answer at
once, "_He's my friend._"

[Illustration: THE LITTLE GOSSIPS.--DRAWN BY H. P. WOLCOTT.]

[Illustration: SUSPENSE.-DRAWN BY J. E. KELLY.]

THE SOLEMN OLD LADY.

BY W. L. PETERS.

There was once a wee boy
With an excellent face.
Who was seen every Sunday
At church in his place;
And there this wee boy was accustomed to stare
At a solemn old lady with lavender hair,
Who used to sit opposite to him.

But when the long service
Was over at last,
He would wait at the
Vestibule door till she passed;
And then she would stop on her way from the pew,
And propound a conundrum, which he never knew,
For she asked him the "drift of the sermon."