IN NORTH CAROLINA over a century ago lived Mr. John Payne, a wealthy planter, descended from an earl’s daughter. He and Thomas Jefferson, who afterwards became President of the United States, both loved the same beautiful girl, Mary Coles. She preferred young Payne, and married him, and became the mother of Dolly, the wife of President James Madison, one of the most beloved women ever in the White House.

Dolly was an uncommonly beautiful child, and her fond mother, lest the sun should tan her face, used to sew a sunbonnet on her head every morning, and put long gloves on her arms when she went to school.

Mr. Payne, her father, a Quaker, became convinced that slavery was a sin, and sold his plantation, freed his slaves, and moved to Philadelphia in 1786. This was just after the Revolutionary war, and the money of the country had become depreciated.

John, his oldest son, was travelling in Europe, and came home to help his father start in business. Neither knew much about close economy, or business methods, or the dishonesty of some of their competitors. After a time Mr. Payne failed, and the rich family was reduced to poverty.

The father sank under his misfortune. A wealthy young man by the name of Todd, of excellent habits, had befriended Mr. Payne in his pecuniary troubles. He wished to marry Dolly, but she did not love him well enough.

The father called the young beauty of nineteen to his dying bed and told her his wish that she should accept John Todd. Dolly consented, and thus made her father’s last days happy. Mr. Todd proved a devoted husband, but died of yellow fever three years after their marriage, leaving Dolly with two little children, one a baby of three weeks, who died soon after. Two years later she married James Madison.

Mr. Payne and his beautiful wife, Mary Coles, had always been kind to their slaves, so much so that some refused to leave them, and came to Philadelphia to live in their house.

One poor slave, called “Mother Amy,” when freed, went out to service. She saved all her money carefully; nobody could guess for what purpose. She was unlettered, but she had the gratitude and devotion characteristic of her race.

For herself she could endure poverty and not mind it. She did not need or care for fine clothes, but she could not bear that the woman who was once her lovely owner should be in reduced circumstances.

When death came for “Mother Amy” after all the hard years of labor, she left five hundred dollars, which she had struggled all the years to save, to Mrs. Payne, her widowed mistress.

One does not have to look in elegant mansions, or among the educated only, for the noble virtues of self-sacrifice. No character is fine or beautiful without it. “Mother Amy” left a name and example worthy to be remembered.