was an unutterable relief when
those shrieks of agony were hushed by the awful silence of death.

To us, there came an added burden of care as we realized how many of
this people are still in bondage to these heathenish customs and
superstitions. Nothing but the light of a pure gospel and the elevating
influences of education, will lift them out of their degradation. It
will take years of time, and patient labor, and will cost something; but
these souls are precious to God. They are "the heathen at our door."
There are _millions_ of them! They will soon be a mighty power for good
or evil in our nation. Which shall it be?

* * * * *

A CALL FROM AUNT MARY.

Aunt Mary is a member of one of our colored churches--a genuine daughter
of Africa--possessing characteristics belonging rather to the rougher
than the softer sex--a peddler by occupation; peddling cast-off clothing
(which she gets from white folks) among her colored sisters.

This business, together with her masculine performances and her
qualification in plantation melodies, makes her exceedingly popular with
the colored people of the town.

"Hello! Hello!" rang out from the highest key-note one morning just
after breakfast. Going to the door to see who it was, aunt Mary was
standing at the gate; she had come to make us a social and business
call.

"Dog bite?" she asked. "Yes," was the reply, "but he won't bite you,
open the gate." Aunt Mary opened it and entered the yard. "Mornin'"
(again at a high key). "Good morning, walk in." "I come roun ter see you
all dis mornin'; I dun know if I am 'ceptable." "Certainly, aunt Mary,
you are, walk in and take a seat by the fire."

Aunt Mary walked in, took a seat before the fire, placed her bag and an
old hat-box on the floor by her side and for a moment looked around the
room, noticing everything. Then she took up the poker, commenced poking
the fire, as if she wanted more heat to enable her to explain the chief
object of her visit. The heat is now up to the degree required, the
poker is laid aside, the old hat-box is in her lap, and aunt Mary is
ready to talk business. Opening the box, she said to Mrs. R., "Sister, I
have something har I want ter show you; dun know if you want ter see
it." "What is it?" Mrs. R. enquired. Here she pulled out a second-hand
bonnet trimmed in high colors. "A lady," she said, "give me dis last
night to sell. I aint show it to no body yet; she say to tak