'll prove a good boy, and worthy
of such a mother.'

'Oh, he will dat, massa; he'm a good chile; but heah'm ten dollar more
massa, it'm de good gemman's, an' he say I kin gib it ter 'on fur Ally.'

Preston laughed: 'I heard what he said. I can't take it, Dinah. You need
it to buy some winter clothes. I'll take the risk of what you owe me.'

The shopkeeper then said:

'Take it, Mr. Preston; I'll let Dinah have what she needs out of the
store; she knows her credit is good with me.'

'Well,' said Preston, taking the money, 'this makes one hundred and
thirty-seven dollars and thirty cents. You need not pay any more--Ally
is yours _now_.'

'Oh! am Ally _free_, massa? Am de chile FREE? she exclaimed, taking him
in her arms, and bursting into a hysterical fit of weeping.

Every eye was wet, but no one spoke. At last Dinah said:

'But, massa Preston, I wants 'ou ter take de chile. I wants 'ou ter
fetch him up. I karn't larn him nuffin. I doan't know nuffin massa. He
kin git larnin' wid 'ou.'

'But he's all you have. He'll be a help and a comfort, to you at home.'

'I doan't want no help, massa. He'm FREE now--I doan't want no help no
more.'

'Well, aunty, I'll take him, and pay you twenty dollars a year, till
he's fifteen. He's ten now, isn't he?'

'A'most ten, massa, a'most; but 'ou needn't pay me nuffin; jess gib de
chile what you likes. And massa, 'ou'll speak ter Boss Joe 'bout him,
woan't 'ou? 'Ou'll ax him ter see Ally gwoe ter de meetin's an' larn out
ob de books, woan't 'ou, massa? I wants him ter know suffin, massa.'

'Yes, I will, Dinah, and I'll keep an eye on him myself.'

'Tank 'ou, massa; an' p'raps' ou'll leff de chile come ter see him ole
mammy once'n a while?'

'Yes, he may--once a month. Come now, Dinah, get into the wagon; we go
right by your house.'

We entered the vehicle, and drove off. When we reached the shanty, the
negress got out, and, amid a shower of blessings from her, we rode on to
the plantation. For four long years she had worked fifteen hours a day,
and denied herself every comfort to buy her child; and when at last she
had secured his freedom, she was willing to part with him that he might
'larn suffin out ob de books.' Who that reads this truthful record of a
slave mother's love, will deny to her wretched race the instincts and
feelings that make _us_ human?

It was a clear, cold, sunshiny day--one of those days so peculiar to the
Southern climate, when the blood hounds th