Mrs. Jennings verified her promise to Hasty, and soon after her death purchased Fanny.  But her whole soul revolted at a system which could cause the suffering she had seen; and in the course of a few months she prevailed upon her husband to close his business in St. Louis, and remove to Chicago, where she is an active worker among the anti-slavery women in that liberty-loving city.  She has instilled the principles of freedom for all men into the minds of her children, and recently wrote the following verses for them on the occasion of the celebration of the Fourth of July: 

    “Little children, when you see
      High your country’s banner wave,
    Let your thoughts a moment be
      Turned in pity on the slave.

    “When with pride you count the stars,
      When your hearts grow strong and brave,
    Think with pity of the scars
      Borne in sorrow by the slave.

    “Not for him is freedom’s sound;
      Not for him the banners wave;
    For, in hopeless bondage bound,
      Toils the sad and weary slave.

    “All things round of freedom ring—­
      Winged birds and dashing wave;
    What are joyous sounds to him
      In his chains, a fettered slave?”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  AUNT JUDY’S HUSBAND CAPTURED See page 133]

AUNT JUDY’S STORY: 

A STORY FROM REAL LIFE.

BY MATILDA G. THOMPSON.

CHAPTER I.

“Look! look! mother, there comes old Aunt Judy!” said Alfred, as an old colored woman came slowly up the gravel walk that led to the handsome residence of Mr. Ford, of Indiana.

The tottering step, the stooping back, and glassy eye, betokened extreme age and infirmity.  Her countenance bore the marks of hardship and exposure; while the coarse material of her scanty garments, which scarcely served to defend her from the bleak December wind, showed that even now she wrestled with poverty for life.  In one hand she carried a small pitcher, while with the other she leaned heavily on her oaken stick.

“She has come for her milk,” said little Cornelia, who ran out and took the pitcher from the woman’s hand.

“Let me help you, Auntie, you walk so slow,” said she.

“Come in and warm yourself, Judy,” said Mrs. Ford, “it is cold and damp, and you must be tired.  How have you been these two or three days?”

“Purty well, thank ye, but I’se had a touch of the rheumatiz, and I find I isn’t so strong as I was,” said Judy, as she drew near the grate, in which blazed and crackled the soft coal of the West, in a manner both beautiful and comforting.

Mrs. Ford busied herself in preparing a basket of provisions, and had commenced wrapping the napkin over it, when she paused and leaned toward the closet, into which she looked, but did not seem to find what she wanted, for, calling one of the boys, she whispered something to him.  He ran out into the yard and down the path to the barn; presently he returned and said,