e, my little man," said he, "don't take it so much
to heart. Cheer up--you may find some other person willing to employ you.
Come, walk on with me--where do you live?" Charlie dried his eyes and gave
him his address as they walked on up the street together.

Mr. Burrell talked encouragingly, and quite succeeded in soothing him ere
they separated. "I shall keep a look out for you," said he, kindly; "and if
I hear of anything likely to suit you, I shall let you know."

Charlie thanked him and sauntered slowly home. When he arrived, and they
saw his agitated looks, and his eyes swollen from the effect of recent
tears, there was a general inquiry of "What has happened? Why are you home
so early; are you sick?"

Charlie hereupon related all that had transpired at the office--his great
disappointment and the occasion of it--to the intense indignation and grief
of his mother and sisters. "I wish there were no white folks," said
Caddy, wrathfully; "they are all, I believe, a complete set of villains and
everything else that is bad."

"Don't be so sweeping in your remarks, pray don't, Caddy," interposed
Esther; "you have just heard what Charlie said of Mr. Blatchford--his heart
is kindly disposed, at any rate; you see he is trammelled by others."

"Oh! well, I don't like any of them--I hate them all!" she continued
bitterly, driving her needle at the same time into the cloth she was
sewing, as if it was a white person she had in her lap and she was sticking
pins in him. "Don't cry, Charlie," she added; "the old white wretches, they
shouldn't get a tear out of me for fifty trades!" But Charlie could not be
comforted; he buried his head in his mother's lap, and wept over his
disappointment until he made himself sick.

That day, after Mr. Burrell had finished his dinner, he remarked to his
wife, "I saw something this morning, my dear, that made a deep impression
on me. I haven't been able to get it out of my head for any length of time
since; it touched me deeply, I assure you."

"Why, what could it have been? Pray tell me what it was."

Thereupon, he gave his wife a graphic account of the events that had
transpired at Blatchford's in the morning; and in conclusion, said, "Now,
you know, my dear, that no one would call _me_ an _Abolitionist_; and I
suppose I have some little prejudice, as well as others, against coloured
people; but I had no idea that sensible men would have carried it to that
extent, to set themselves up, a