As she walked on she discovered that the child she carried in her arms had fainted. She paused not for consideration, but observing a light in a small cabin near by, she hurriedly bent her steps towards it, and entered through the half opened door. It was the home of an aged negro woman, and who looked up much surprised at the intrusion. "Here, auntie," Mrs. Wentworth said hastily, "give me some water quickly, my child has fainted." "Goodness, gracious, what could ha' made you bring dem children to dis part of de town dis time o' night," exclaimed the old negress, as she hastened to do the bidding of Mrs. Wentworth, who had already placed the inanimate body of Ella on the negro's humble bed. The water being brought, Mrs. Wentworth sprinkled it upon the face of the child, but without avail. Ella still remained motionless, and to all appearances lifeless. "Great Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, "my child cannot be dead!" "Top a bit, mistis, an' I will fix de little gal for you," said the old negro, hobbling, to the bedside, with a small bottle filled with camphor in her hand. "Dis stuff will bring her to. Don't be afeard, she ain't dead." Pouring out some of the stimulant in one hand, the kind-hearted old woman bathed Ella's face with it, and held the bottle to her nostrils, until a sigh from the child showed that she still lived. After a few seconds she opened her eyes, and looked up to her mother, who was, bending with anxious countenance over her. "Dar now," said the old negro in a tone of satisfaction, "did not I tell you dat de sweet little child was libbing." "Thank you, old woman, God in Heaven bless you!" exclaimed Mrs. Wentworth, as she clapped the old woman's hand in her own. "Berry well, berry well," was the answer of the negro, "you welcome misses." There, in the cabin of that good old slave, the soldier's wife heard the first voice of kindness that had greeted her ears for months. From the hands of a servile race she had received the first act of charity, and in a land like this. In the performance of that kindness, the old slave had done more to elevate herself than all the philanthropists and abolitionists of the North could have done. Could the cursed race, whose war upon the South have seen this act, they would have conceded to her people the justice of their right to slavery, when such a slave as this existed. "What make you come to dis part ob town to-night, missis," asked the negro, after a few moments of silence. "Nothing, nothing, my good woman," replied Mrs. Wentworth hastily. She could not let a slave know of her trials and misery. "Poh ting!" ejaculated the old woman in a compassionate tone, but too low for Mrs. Wentworth to hear her. "I 'spec her husband been treatin' her bad. Dem men behave berry bad sometime," and with a sigh she resumed her silence.