I had not been there a week before the neglected，devil-may care expression in many of the faces about me，seemed an urgent appeal to leave nursing white bodies，and take some care for these black souls.Much as the lazy boys and saucy girls tormented me，I liked them，and found that any show of interest or friendliness brought out the better traits which live in the most degraded and forsaken of us all.I liked their cheerfulness，for the dreariest old hag，who scrubbed all day in that pestilential steam，gossipped and grinned all the way out，when night set her free from drudgery.
The girls romped with their dusky sweethearts，or tossed their babies，with the tender pride that makes mother-love a beautifier to the homeliest face.The men and boys sang and whistled all day long；and often，as Iheld my watch，the silence of the night was sweetly broken by some chorus from the street，full of real melody，whether the song was of heaven，or of hoe-cakes；and，as I listened，I felt that we never should doubt nor despair concerning a race which，through such griefs and wrongs，still clings to this good gift，and seems to solace with it the patient hearts that wait and watch and hope until the end.
I expected to have to defend myself from accusations of prejudice against color；but was surprised to find things just the other way，and daily shocked some neighbor by treating the blacks as I did the whites.The men would swear at the "darkies，"would put two gs into negro，and scoff at the idea of any good coming from such trash.The nurses were willing to be served by the colored people，but seldom thanked them，never praised，and scarcely recognized them in the street；whereat the blood of two generations of abolitionists waxed hot in my veins，and，at the first opportunity，proclaimed itself，and asserted the right of free speech as doggedly as the irrepressible Folsom herself.
Happening to catch up a funny little black baby，who was toddling about the nurses'kitchen，one day，when I went down to make a mess for some of my men，a Virginia woman standing by elevated her most prominent features，with a sniff of disapprobation，exclaiming：
"Gracious，Miss P.！how can you？I've been here six months.and never so much as touched the little toad with a poker.""More shame for you，ma'am，"responded Miss P.；and，with the natural perversity of a Yankee，followed up the blow by kissing "the toad，"with ardor.His face was providentially as clean and shiny as if his mamma had just polished it up with a corner of her apron and a drop from the tea-kettle spout，like old Aunt Chloe，This rash act，and the anti-slavery lecture that followed，while one hand stirred gruel for sick America，and the other hugged baby Africa，did not produce the cheering result which I fondly expected；for my comrade henceforth regarded me as a dangerous fanatic，and my protegénearly came to his death by insisting on swarming up stairs to my room，on all occasions，and being walked on like a little black spider.
