If you should take the cars in Richmond and ride though—what States?—till you came to Florida, you would pass through miles and miles of pinelands scattered all along. Set right in among the pine trees are little log cabins, the homes of many of these people. Owning little farms, raising their rice and corn, cotton and sweet potatoes, they seem very happy indeed. I heard snatches of “Hold the Fort” coming from within one of these cabins, and remembered seeing a little church not far away, so I think they must have Sunday-school, and use the “Gospel Hymns,” don’t you? Stopping over one train in a Southern city, and inquiring for the homes of the colored people, you will be directed to almost any lane. Shall I tell you about one I visited? Clara told me where to find her. Hunting around among many houses which were nearly alike, I suddenly saw a face at a window which I knew must be that of Clara’s mother. I crossed the street and knocked at the door. It was old and weather-beaten, and fairly creaked as I rapped. A little old woman, with a white turban bound about her head, opened the door. With a courtesy and warm greeting she offered me a chair. The floor was uncarpeted, but as clean as frequent scrubbings with soap and water could make it. Two sticks were burning in the open fire-place, before which stood a half dozen flat-irons. Mrs. —— apologized for “bein’ a ironin’ on a Saturday,” and after giving a few finishing touches to a piece on the board sat down to tell me about Clara. “My husban’ is dead, an’ it is very hard to get an hones’ livin’ an’ keep Clara in school. She ain’t strong, ma’am, Clara ain’t, an’ can’t do much hard work, but she love’ her books an’ want to teach. She was graduate’ las’ year, but nothing would do but I mus’ sen’ her this year. It is mighty hard to get the money, you know, ma’am, but I never can give her nothing but an education. I never had none myself, but, Clara, she is right smart in her books, ma’am. I wants her to be educated.” The same story oft repeated, “the children, the children they mus’ be educated.” Do you know, now, why those mothers were so happy when listening to the songs and recitations of their children? Can you realize how proud they are when they find that Nehemiah and Charles Henry can read and write like any white boys? Who will hunt up nine others and be one of ten to save ten cents each month to pay the tuition of one of these children? * * * * * RECEIPTS FOR AUGUST, 1883. * * * * * MAINE, $222.07.