ownership of poultry.

In the seventies I had an eight-year-old boy as help in my family.
He had that beauty of face very common in young negroes who have an
admixture of white blood, added to which were eyes of such depth and
clearness that, but for his color, he would have made a first-class
angel for a medieval painter.

One evening my little daughters had a children's party, and Zeke
was placed as attendant in charge of the room in which the little
company met. Here he was for some time left alone. Next morning a
gold pen was missing from its case in a drawer. Suspicion rested on
Zeke as the only person who could possibly have taken it, but there
was no positive proof. I thought so small and innocent-looking a
boy could be easily cowed into confessing his guilt; so next morning
I said to him very solemnly,--

"Zeke, come upstairs with me."

He obeyed with alacrity, following me up to the room.

"Zeke, come into this room."

He did so.

"Now, Zeke," I said sternly, "look here and see what I do."

I opened the drawer, took out the empty case, opened it, and showed
it to him.

"Zeke, look into my eyes!"

He neither blinked nor showed the slightest abashment or hesitation
as his soft eyes looked steadily into mine with all the innocence
of an angel.

"Zeke, where is the pen out of that case?"

"Missr Newcomb," he said quietly, "I don't know nothin' about it."

I repeated the question, looking into his face as sternly as I could.
As he repeated the answer with the innocence of childhood, "Deed,
Missr Newcomb, I don't know what was in it," I felt almost like a
brute in pressing him with such severity. Threats were of no avail,
and I had to give the matter up as a failure.

On coming home in the afternoon, the first news was that the pen had
been found by Zeke's mother hidden in one corner of her room at home,
where the little thief had taken it. She, being an honest woman,
and suspecting where it had come from, had brought it back.

There was a vigorous movement, having its origin in New England,
for the education of the freedmen. This movement was animated by
the most philanthropic views. Here were several millions of blacks
of all ages, suddenly made citizens, or eligible to citizenship,
and yet savage so far as any education was concerned. A small army
of teachers, many, perhaps most of them, young women, were sent south
to organize schools for the blacks. It may be feared that there was