alth
She read and prized her Bible true,
Above this poor world's pride or wealth,
And loved her blessed Saviour too.

And she like him was kind to all,
And pity on poor Topsy had,
Because the rest would scold and call
Her names, for being black and bad.

So Eva strove to make her good,
And told her, of all tales the best,
How Christ came down to shed his blood,
That sinners might be saved and blest.

Poor Topsy tried to understand--
None ever taught her so before--
And brought the sweet flowers in her hand,--
The negro girl could do no more.

But Eva's proud mamma comes in
With scornful look and frown severe,
She cries, "begone, you nasty thing!
In all the world what brings you here?"

"Oh mother dear, let Topsy stay,"
Says Eva in her gentle mood,
"She brought such pretty flowers to-day,
Indeed she's trying to be good."

"I'm going fast, where there will be
No difference, but in sins forgiven,
And mother it might chance that we
Would bring poor Topsy flowers in heaven."

[Illustration: DEATH OF EVA.

Oh, swift and sad were the tears that fell,
As her gifts among them passed,
And Tom, he got the first fair curl,
And Topsy got the last.]

THE DEATH OF EVA.

There is peace on Eva's wasted brow,
And a soft light in her eye;
But her father's heart grows hopeless now,
For he knows that she must die.

Yet the thought is kind and the trust is true,
As she takes him by the hand,--
Dear father I will look for you
In the light of God's own land.

"Oh let them cut the long, long curls
That flow about my head,
And let our poor kind negroes come
For a moment round my bed.

"They have smoothed and stroked it many a day
In their kindly sport, and care,
And it may be they will think of me
When they see that curling hair."

The negroes loved her, young and old,
With a fond and deep regard,
For Eva's look was never sour,
And her words were never hard.

And her old n