ink they are well enough off now?"

"O, but, papa, if anything should happen to you, what would become of
them? There are very few men like you, papa. Uncle Alfred isn't like
you, and mamma isn't; and then, think of poor old Prue's owners! What
horrid things people do, and can do!" and Eva shuddered.

"My dear child, you are too sensitive. I'm sorry I ever let you hear
such stories."

"O, that's what troubles me, papa. You want me to live so happy, and
never to have any pain,--never suffer anything,--not even hear a sad
story, when other poor creatures have nothing but pain and sorrow, an
their lives;--it seems selfish. I ought to know such things, I ought to
feel about them! Such things always sunk into my heart; they went down
deep; I've thought and thought about them. Papa, isn't there any way to
have all slaves made free?"

"That's a difficult question, dearest. There's no doubt that this way
is a very bad one; a great many people think so; I do myself I heartily
wish that there were not a slave in the land; but, then, I don't know
what is to be done about it!"

"Papa, you are such a good man, and so noble, and kind, and you always
have a way of saying things that is so pleasant, couldn't you go all
round and try to persuade people to do right about this? When I am dead,
papa, then you will think of me, and do it for my sake. I would do it,
if I could."

"When you are dead, Eva," said St. Clare, passionately. "O, child, don't
talk to me so! You are all I have on earth."

"Poor old Prue's child was all that she had,--and yet she had to hear it
crying, and she couldn't help it! Papa, these poor creatures love their
children as much as you do me. O! do something for them! There's poor
Mammy loves her children; I've seen her cry when she talked about them.
And Tom loves his children; and it's dreadful, papa, that such things
are happening, all the time!"

"There, there, darling," said St. Clare, soothingly; "only don't
distress yourself, don't talk of dying, and I will do anything you
wish."

"And promise me, dear father, that Tom shall have his freedom as soon
as"--she stopped, and said, in a hesitating tone--"I am gone!"

"Yes, dear, I will do anything in the world,--anything you could ask me
to."

"Dear papa," said the child, laying her burning cheek against his, "how
I wish we could go together!"

"Where, dearest?" said St. Clare.

"To our Saviour's home; it's so sweet and peaceful there--it is all