le boy?"

"I cannot," said Jack, sighing.

"It is good to sigh if you are sorry," said the negro, cententiously.
"If the poor world could not sigh, the poor world would stifle!"

As he spoke, he threw a blanket on the bed next to Jack.

"Do you sleep there?" asked the child, astonished that a servant should
occupy a bed in the dormitory of the pupils. "But there are no sheets!"

"Sheets are not good for me, my skin is too black." The negro laughed
gently as he said these words, and prepared to glide into bed, half
clothed as he was, when suddenly he stopped, drew from his breast an
ivory smelling-bottle, and kissed it devoutly.

"What a funny medal!" cried Jack.

"It is not a medal," answered the negro; "it is my _Gri-qri_."

But Jack had no idea what a Gri-gri was, and the other explained that
it was an amulet--something to bring him good luck. His Aunt Kerika had
given it to him when he left his native land,--the aunt who had brought
him up, and to whom he hoped to return at some future day.

"As I shall to my mamma," said little Barancy; and both children were
silent, each thinking of the one he loved most on earth.

Jack returned to the charge in a few minutes. "And your country--is it a
pretty place? Is it far off? and what is its name?"

"Dahomey," answered the negro.

Jack started up in bed.

"What! Do you know him? Did you come to this country with him?"

"Who?"

"Why, his royal Highness,--you know him,--the little king of Dahomey."

"I am he," said the negro, quietly.

The other looked at him in amazement. A king! this servant, whom he had
seen at work all day making fires, sweeping the corridors, waiting on
the table, and rinsing glasses!

The negro spoke the truth, nevertheless. The expression of his face grew
very sad, and his eyes were fixed as if he were looking into the past,
or toward some dear, lost land. Was it the magical word of king that led
Jack to examine this black boy, seated on the edge of his bed, his white
shirt open, while on his dark breast shone the ivory amulet, with new
interest?

"How did all this happen?" asked the child, timidly.

The black boy turned quickly to extinguish the lantern. "M. Moronval not
like it if Madou lets it burn." Then he pulled his couch close to that
of Jack.

"You are not sleepy," he said; "and I never wish to sleep if I can talk
of Dahomey. Listen!"

And in the darkness, where the whites only of his eyes could be seen,
the little neg