d good
are not dead--that some good people are alive, and that the
demonstrations of to-day are fully equal to the mistaken theories
of the past.

_Question_. How are you getting along with Delaware?

_Answer_. First rate. You know I have been wondering where Comegys
came from, and at last I have made the discovery. I was told the
other day by a gentleman from Delaware that many years ago Colonel
Hazelitt died; that Colonel Hazelitt was an old Revolutionary
officer, and that when they were digging his grave they dug up
Comegys. Back of that no one knows anything of his history. The
only thing they know about him certainly, is, that he has never
changed one of his views since he was found, and that he never
will. I am inclined to think, however, that he lives in a community
congenial to him. For instance, I saw in a paper the other day
that within a radius of thirty miles around Georgetown, Delaware,
there are about two hundred orphan and friendless children. These
children, it seems, were indentured to Delaware farmers by the
managers of orphan asylums and other public institutions in and
about Philadelphia. It is stated in the paper, that:

"Many of these farmers are rough task-masters, and if a boy fails
to perform the work of an adult, he is almost certain to be cruelly
treated, half starved, and in the coldest weather wretchedly clad.
If he does the work, his life is not likely to be much happier,
for as a rule he will receive more kicks than candy. The result
in either case is almost certain to be wrecked constitutions,
dwarfed bodies, rounded shoulders, and limbs crippled or rendered
useless by frost or rheumatism. The principal diet of these boys
is corn pone. A few days ago, Constable W. H. Johnston went to
the house of Reuben Taylor, and on entering the sitting room his
attention was attracted by the moans of its only occupant, a little
colored boy, who was lying on the hearth in front of the fireplace.
The boy's head was covered with ashes from the fire, and he did
not pay the slightest attention to the visitor, until Johnston
asked what made him cry. Then the little fellow sat up and drawing
on old rag off his foot said, 'Look there.' The sight that met
Johnston's eye was horrible beyond description. The poor boy's
feet were so horribly frozen that the flesh had dropped off the
toes until the bones protruded. The flesh on the sides, bottoms,
and tops of his feet was swollen until the ski