sion of a human form and the power of speech. Most of
her qualities seemed to be negative--if we may say so. She was
obviously not unamiable; she was not unkind; and she was not sulky,
though very silent. In fact, she seemed to be the nearest possible
approach to a human nonentity. She may be described as a black
maid-of-all-work, but her chief occupation was the pounding of roasted
coffee-beans. This operation she performed in the pit in the floor
before mentioned, which may be described as a hole, into which you
descended by four steps from the front room. As the front room itself
was below the level of the street, it follows that the "pit" penetrated
considerably deeper into the bowels of the earth. In this pit Sally
laboured hard, almost day and night, pounding the coffee-beans in an
iron mortar, with an iron pestle so heavy that she had to stand up and
use it with both hands. She had got into the habit of relieving herself
by an audible gasp each time she drove the pestle down. It was not a
necessary gasp, only a remonstrative one, as it were, and conveyed more
to the intelligent listener than most of the girl's average conversation
did. This gasp was also one of the disagreeable sounds which had
saluted the ears of Hester on her first entrance into the new home.

"Mrs Lilly is very kind," said Hester, as she sat down at a small table
beside her fellow-slave.

Sally stopped eating for a moment and stared. Supposing that she had
not understood the remark, Hester repeated it.

"Yes," assented Sally, and then stopped the vocal orifice with a huge
wooden spoonful of rice.

Judging that her companion wished to eat in undisturbed silence, Hester
helped herself to some rice, and quietly began supper. Sally eyed her
all the time, but was too busy feeding herself to indulge in speech. At
last she put down her spoon with a sigh of satisfaction, and said, "Das
good!" with such an air of honest sincerity that Hester gave way to an
irresistible laugh.

"Yes, it is very good indeed. Did you cook it?" asked Hester, anxious
to atone for her impoliteness.

"Yes. I cook 'im. I do all de cookin' in dis yar ouse--an' most ob de
eatin' too."

"By the way, Sally, what is it that you keep pounding so constantly in
that--that hole off the front room?"

"Coffee," answered Sally, with a nod.

"Indeed! Surely not the household coffee. You cannot drink such a
quantity!"

Sally stared for a minute; then opened he