Knowing by long experience the utter futility of attempting to convince Aunt Comfort that she was in the wrong, by anything short of a miracle, the teacher wisely skipped over the obnoxious letter, then all went smoothly on to the conclusion of the alphabet.

The lesson having terminated, Miss Cass looked up and discovered standing near her a coloured boy, who she correctly surmised was sent as an addition to her class.  “Come here, and sit down,” said she, pointing to a seat next Aunt Comfort.  “What is your name?”

Charlie gave his name and residence, which were entered in due form on the teacher’s book.  “Now, Charles,” she continued, “do you know your letters?”

“Yes, ma’am,” was the answer.

“Can you spell?” she inquired.  To this also Charlie gave an affirmative, highly amused at the same time at being asked such a question.

Miss Cass inquired no further into the extent of his acquirements, it never having entered her head that he could do more than spell.  So handing him one of the primers, she pointed out a line on which to begin.  The spirit of mischief entered our little friend, and he stumbled through b-l-a bla—­b-l-i bli—­b-l-o blo—­b-l-u blu, with great gravity and slowness.

“You spell quite nicely, particularly for a little coloured boy,” said Miss Cass, encouragingly, as he concluded the line; “take this next,” she continued, pointing to another, “and when you have learned it, I will hear you again.”

It was the custom of the superintendent to question the scholars upon a portion of Bible history, given out the Sabbath previous for study during the week.  It chanced that upon the day of which we write, the subject for examination was one with which Charlie was quite familiar.

Accordingly, when the questions were put to the school, he answered boldly and quickly to many of them, and with an accuracy that astonished his fellow scholars.

“How did you learn the answers to those questions—­you can’t read?” said Miss Cass.

“Yes, but I can read,” answered Charlie, with a merry twinkle in his eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me so before?” she asked.

“Because you didn’t ask me,” he replied, suppressing a grin.

This was true enough, so Miss Cass, having nothing farther to say, sat and listened, whilst he answered the numerous and sometimes difficult questions addressed to the scholars.

Not so, Aunt Comfort.  She could not restrain her admiration of this display of talent on the part of one of her despised race; she was continually breaking out with expressions of wonder and applause.  “Jis’ hear dat—­massy on us—­only jis’ listen to de chile,” said she, “talks jis’ de same as if he was white.  Why, boy, where you learn all dat?”

“Across the Red Sea,” cried Charlie, in answer to a question from the desk of the superintendent.

“’Cross de Red Sea!  Umph, chile, you been dere?” asked Aunt Comfort, with a face full of wonder.