Ye war an angel wid white shiny wings.

Bress de Lord! 'T war Him dat sent yer .-- An' now, Missy Flory, de Lord bress yer! Ye war allers good to poor Chloe, down dar in de prison-house.

Let me gib yer a kiss, little Missy." Flora threw her arms round the bended neck, and promised to go and see her wherever she was.
When the carriage rolled away, emotion kept them both silent for a few minutes.

"How strange it seems to me now," said Mrs.Delano, "that I lived so many years without thinking of the wrongs of these poor people! I used to think prayer-meetings for slaves were very fanatical and foolish.

It seemed to me enough that they were included in our prayer for 'all classes and conditions of men'; but after listening to poor Chloe's eloquent outpouring, I am afraid such generalizing will sound rather cold." "Mamita," said Flora, "you know you gave me some money to buy a silk dress.