[Illustration: A SLAVE FATHER SOLD AWAY FROM HIS FAMILY. ]

THE CHILD'S ANTI-SLAVERY BOOK

CONTAINING A

Few Words about American Slave Children. 

AND

STORIES OF SLAVE-LIFE. 

TEN ILLUSTRATIONS. 

CONTENTS. 

A FEW WORDS ABOUT AMERICAN SLAVE CHILDREN

LITTLE LEWIS--THE STORY OF A SLAVE BOY

MARK AND HASTY

AUNT JUDY'S STORY--A STORY FROM REAL LIFE

ME NEBER GIVE IT UP

Illustrations. 

A SLAVE FATHER SOLD AWAY FROM HIS FAMILY. 

LITTLE LEWIS SOLD. 

WHIPPING A SLAVE. 

HUNTING RUNAWAY SLAVES. 

HASTY'S GRIEF. 

AUNT JUDY'S HUSBAND CAPTURED. 

HANDCUFFING JUDY'S HUSBAND. 

WAITING TO BE SOLD. 

AUNT JUDY. 

"ME NEBER GIB IT UP!"

A FEW WORDS ABOUT AMERICAN SLAVE CHILDREN. 

Children, you are free and happy. Kind parents watch over you withloving eyes; patient teachers instruct you from the beautiful pages ofthe printed book; benign laws, protect you from violence, and preventthe strong arms of wicked people from hurting you; the blessed Bible isin your hands; when you become men and women you will have full libertyto earn your living, to go, to come, to seek pleasure or profit in anyway that you may choose, so long as you do not meddle with the rights ofother people; in one word, _you are free children_! Thank God! thankGod! my children, for this precious gift. Count it dearer than life. Askthe great God who made you free to teach you to prefer death to the lossof liberty. 

But are all the children in America free like you? No, no! I am sorry totell you that hundreds of thousands of American children are _slaves_. Though born beneath the same sun and on the same soil, with the samenatural right to freedom as yourselves, they are nevertheless SLAVES. Alas for them! Their parents cannot train them as they will, for theytoo have MASTERS. These masters say to them:

"Your children are OURS--OUR PROPERTY! They shall not be taught to reador write; they shall never go to school; they shall not be taught toread the Bible; they must submit to us and not to you; we shall whipthem, sell them, and do what else we please with them. They shall neverown themselves, never have the right to dispose of themselves, but shallobey us in all things as long as they live!"

"Why do their fathers let these masters have their children? My fatherwouldn't let anybody have me, " I hear one of my little free-spiritedreaders ask. 

Simply, my noble boy, because they can't help it. The masters havebanded themselves together, and have made a set of wicked laws by whichnearly four millions of men, women, and children are declared to betheir personal chattels, or property. So that if one of these slavefathers should refuse to let his child be used as the property of hismaster, those wicked laws would help the master by inflicting cruelpunishments on the parent. Hence the poor slave fathers and mothers areforced to silently witness the cruel wrongs which their helplesschildren are made to suffer. Violence has been framed into a law, andthe poor slave is trodden beneath the feet of the powerful. 

"But why did those slaves let their masters bring them into this state?Why didn't they fight as our forefathers did when they threw off theyoke of England's laws?" inquires a bright-eyed lad who has just risenfrom the reading of a history of our Revolution. 

The slaves were not reduced to their present servile condition in largebodies. When our ancestors settled this country they felt the need ofmore laborers than they could hire. Then wicked men sailed from Englandand other parts of Europe to the coast of Africa. Sending their boatsashore filled with armed men, they fell upon the villages of the poorAfricans, set fire to their huts, and, while they were filled withfright, seized, handcuffed, and dragged them to their boats, and thencarried them aboard ship. 

This piracy was repeated until the ship was crowded with negro men, women, and children. The poor things were packed like spoons below thedeck. Then the ship set sail for the coast of America. I cannot tell youhow horribly the poor negroes suffered. Bad air, poor food, closeconfinement, and cruel treatment killed them off by scores. When theydied their bodies were pitched into the sea, without pity or remorse. 

After a wearisome voyage the survivors, on being carried into some port, were sold to the highest bidder. No regard was paid to theirrelationship. One man bought a husband, another a wife. The child wastaken to one place, the mother to another. Thus they were scatteredabroad over the colonies. Fresh loads arrived continually, and thustheir numbers increased. Others were born on the soil, until now, afterthe lapse of some two centuries, there are nearly four millions of negroslaves in the country, besides large numbers of colored people who invarious ways have been made free. 

You can now see how easy it was for the masters to make the wicked lawsby which the slaves are now held in bondage. They began when the slaveswere few in number, when they spoke a foreign language, and when theywere too few and feeble to offer any resistance to their oppressors, astheir masters did to old England when she tried to oppress them. 

I want you to remember one great truth regarding slavery, namely, that aslave is a human being, held and used as property by another humanbeing, and that _it is always_ A SIN AGAINST GOD _to thus hold and me ahuman being as property_!

You know it is not a sin to use an ox, a horse, a dog, a squirrel, ahouse, or an acre of land as property, if it be honestly obtained, because God made these and similar objects to be possessed as propertyby men. But God did not make _man to be the property of man_. He nevergave any man the right to own his neighbor or his neighbor's child. 

On the contrary, he made all men to be free and equal, as saith ourDeclaration of Independence. Hence, every negro child that is born is asfree before God as the white child, having precisely the same right tolife, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, as the white child. The lawwhich denies him that right does not destroy it. It may enable the manwho claims him as a slave to deprive him of its exercise, but the rightitself remains, for the wicked law under which he acts does not andcannot set aside the divine law, by which he is as free as any childthat was ever born. 

But if God made every man, woman, and child to be free, and notproperty, then he who uses a human being as property acts contrary tothe will of God and SINS! Is it not so, my children?

Yet that is what every slaveholder does. _He uses his slaves asproperty_. He reckons them as worth so many dollars, just as your fathersets a certain money value on his horse, farm, or merchandise. He sellshim, gives him away, uses his labor without paying him wages, claims hischildren as so many more dollars added to his estate, and when he dieswills him to his heirs forever. And this is SIN, my children--a verygreat sin against God, a high crime against human nature. 

Mark what I say! the sin of slavery does not lie merely in whipping, starving, or otherwise ill-treating a human being, but in using him asproperty; in saying of him as you do of your dog: "He is my property. Heis worth so much money to me. I will do what I please with him. I willkeep him, use him, sell him, give him away, and keep all he earns, justas I choose. "

To say that of a man is sin. You might clothe the man in purple, feedhim on manna from heaven, and keep him in a palace of ivory, still, ifyou used him as your property, you would commit sin!

Children, I want you to shrink from this sin as the Jews did from thefiery serpents. Hate it. Loathe it as you would the leprosy. Make asolemn vow before the Saviour, who loves the slave and slave children astruly as he does you, that you will never hold slaves, never apologizefor those who do. As little Hannibal vowed eternal hatred to Rome at thealtar of a false god, so do you vow eternal enmity to slavery at thealtar of the true and living Jehovah. Let your purpose be, "I willrather beg my bread than live by the unpaid toil of a slave. "

To assist you in carrying out that purpose, and to excite your sympathyfor poor slave children, the following stories were written. Thecharacters in them are all real, though their true names are not alwaysgiven. The stories are therefore pictures of actual life, and are worthyof your belief. 

D. W. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration: LITTLE LEWIS SOLD. ]

LITTLE LEWIS:

The Story of a Slave Boy. 

BY JULIA COLMAN. 

"A, B, C, " said little Lewis to himself, as he bent eagerly over aragged primer. "Here's anoder A, an' there's anoder, an' there's anoderC, but I can't find anoder B. Missy Katy said I must find just so manyas I can. Dear little Missy Katy! an' wont I be just so good as ever Ican, an' learn to read, an' when I get to be a man I'll call myselfwhite folks; for I'm a most as white as Massa Harry is now, when he runsout widout his hat; A, B, C. " And so the little fellow ran on, thinkingwhat a fine man he would be when he had learned to read. 

Just then he heard a shrill laugh in the distance, and the cry, "Lew!Lew! where's Lew?"

It was Katy's voice, and tucking his book in his bosom, he ran aroundthe house toward her with light feet; for though she was often cross andwillful, as only daughters sometimes are, she was the only one of thefamily that showed him even an occasional kindness. She was, withal, a frolicsome, romping witch, and as he turned the corner, she camescampering along right toward him with three or four white children ather heels, and all the little woolly heads of the establishment, numbering something less than a score. 

"Here, Lew!" she said, as she came in sight, "you take the tag and run. "

With a quick movement he touched her outstretched hand, and he wouldhave made the others some trouble to catch him, for he was the smartestrunner among the children; but as he turned he tripped on a stone, andlay sprawling. "Tag, " cried Hal, Katy's cousin, as he placed his feet onthe little fellow's back and jumped over him. It was cruel, but what didHal care for the "little nigger. " If he had been at home he would havehad some little fear of breaking the child's back, for his father wasmore careful of his _property_ than Uncle Stamford was. 

Before Lewis could rise, two or three of the negro boys, who were alwaystoo ready to imitate the vices of their masters, had made the boy astepping stone, and then Dick, his master's eldest son, came down uponhim with both knees, and began to cuff him roundly. 

"So, you black scamp, you thought you'd run away with the tag, did you!"Just then he perceived the primer that was peeping out of Lewis's shirtbosom. "Ha! what's here?" said he; "a primer, as I live! And what areyou doing with this, I'd like to know?"

"Missy Katy give it to me, and she is teaching me my letters out of it. Please, massa, let me have it again, " said he, beseechingly, as Dickmade a motion as if to throw it away. "I would like to learn howto read. "

"You would, would you!" said Dick. "You'd like to read to Tom and Sam, down on a Louisiana plantation, in sugar time, when you'd nothing elseto do, I suppose. Ha, ha, ha!" and the young tyrant, giving the boy avigorous kick or two as he rose, stuffed the book into his own pocket, and walked off. 

Poor Lewis! He very well knew the meaning of that taunt, and he did notopen his mouth. No threat of a dark closet ever frightened a free childso much as the threat of being sold to a Southern plantation terrifiesthe slave-child of Kentucky. 

Lewis walked slowly toward the kitchen, to see Aunt Sally. It was to herhe used to go with all his troubles, and sometimes she scolded, andsometimes she listened. She was very busy dressing the vegetables fordinner, and she looked cross; so the little fellow crept into thechimney corner and said nothing; but he thought all the more, and as hethought, the sad tears rolled down his tawny cheeks. 

"What is the matter now, little baby?" was Aunt Sally's tender inquiry. 

Lewis commenced his pitiful tale; but as soon as Aunt Sally heard thatit was about learning to read, she shut him up with "Good enough foryou! What do you want of a book? Readin' isn't for the likes of you; andthe less you know of it the better. "

This was poor sympathy, and the little fellow, with a half-spitefulfeeling, scrambled upon a bench near by, and tumbled out of the window. He alighted on an ash-heap, not a very nice place to be sure, but it wasa retired corner, and he often hid away there when he felt sad andwanted to be alone. Here he sat down, and leaning his head against theside of the house, he groaned out, "My mother, O my mother! If you ain'tdead, why don't you come to me?"

By degrees he calmed down, and half asleep there in the sunshine, hedreamed of the home that he once had. His mother was a noble woman, sohe thought. Nobody else ever looked so kindly into his face; he was surenobody else ever loved him as she did, and he remembered when she wasgay and cheerful, and would go all day singing about her work. And hisfather, he could just remember him as a very pleasant man that he usedto run to meet, sometimes, when he saw him coming home away down theroad; but that was long ago. He had not seen him now for years, and hehad heard his mother say that his father's master had moved away out ofthe state and taken him with him, and maybe he would never return. ThenLewis's mother grew sad, and stopped her singing, though she worked ashard as ever, and kept her children all neat and clean. 

And those dear brothers and sisters, what had become of them? There wasTom, the eldest, the very best fellow in the world, so Lewis thought. Hewould sit by the half hour making tops, and whistles, and all sorts ofpretty playthings. And Sam, too! he was always so full of fun andsinging songs. What a singer he was! and it was right cheerful when Samwould borrow some neighbor's banjo and play to them. But they were allgone; and his sad, sweet-faced, lady-like sister Nelly, too, they wereall taken off in one day by one of the ugliest negro-drivers that everscared a little slave-boy's dreams. And it was while his mother was awayfrom home too. How she did cry and take on when she came back and foundthem all gone, and she hadn't even the chance to bid them good-by! Shesaid she knew her master sent her off that morning because he was goingto sell her children. 

Lewis shuddered as he thought of that dreadful night. It was hardly twoyears ago, and the fearful things he heard then burned into his soulwith terrible distinctness. It seemed as if their little cabin wasdeserted after that, for Tom, and Sam, and Nelly were almost grown up, and the rest were all little ones. The next winter his other sister, Fanny, died; but that wasn't half so sad. She was about twelve yearsold, and a blithesome, cheerful creature, just as her mother had been. He remembered how his master came to their cabin to comfort them, as hesaid; but his mother told him plainly that she did not want any suchcomfort. She wished Nelly was dead too. She wished she had never had anychildren to grow up and suffer what she had. It was in vain her mastertried to soothe her. He talked like a minister, as he was; but she hadgrown almost raving, and she talked to him as she never dared to dobefore. She wanted to know why he didn't come to console her when shelost her other children; "three all at once" she said, "and they're tentimes worse than dead. You never consoled me then at all. Religion?Pooh! I don't want none of _your_ religion. "

And now she, too, was gone. She had been gone more than a year. It wassaid that she was hired out to work in another family; but it wasn't so. They only told her that story to get her away from the childrenpeaceably. She was sold quite a distance away to a very bad man, whoused her cruelly. 

Ned, who was some two years younger than Lewis, and the only brother hehad left, was a wild, careless boy, who raced about among the otherchildren, and did not seem to think much about anything. Lewis oftenwished he could have somebody to talk with, and he wondered if hismother would ever come back again. 

Had he been a poet he might have put his wishes into verses like thefollowing, in which Mrs. Follen has given beautiful expression to thewishes of such a slave boy as Lewis:

THE SLAVE BOY'S WISH. 

 I wish I was that little bird, Up in the bright blue sky, That sings and flies just where he will, And no one asks him why. 

 I wish I was that little brook, That runs so swift along, Through pretty flowers and shining stones, Singing a merry song. 

 I wish I was that butterfly, Without a thought or care, Sporting my pretty, brilliant wings, Like a flower in the air. 

 I wish I was that wild, wild deer, I saw the other day, Who swifter than an arrow flew, Through the forest far away. 

 I wish I was that little cloud, By the gentle south wind driven, Floating along so free and bright, Far, far up into heaven. 

 I'd rather be a cunning fox, And hide me in a cave; I'd rather be a savage wolf, Than what I am--a slave. 

 My mother calls me her good boy, My father calls me brave; What wicked action have I done, That I should be a slave?

 I saw my little sister sold, So will they do to me; My heavenly Father, let me die, For then I shall be free. 

So talking to himself he fell into a doze, and dreamed about his mother. He thought her large serious eyes were looking into his, and her longblack hair falling over his face. His mother was part Indian and partwhite, with only just enough of the black to make her hair a littlecurly. It don't make much difference what color people are in the slavestates. If the mothers are slaves the children are slaves too, even ifthey are nine-tenths white. 

From this pleasant dream Lewis was roused by a splash of cold water, andAunt Sally, with her head out of the window, was calling, "Here you lazynigger! come here and grind this coffee for me. " And the little boyawoke to find himself a friendless orphan, in a cold world with acruel master. 

The next morning Lewis was playing about the yard with as good a will asany of the young negroes. Children's troubles don't last long, and tosee him turning somersets, singing Jim Crow, and kicking up a rowgenerally, you would suppose he had forgotten all about the lost primerand his mother too. 

He was in the greatest possible glee in the afternoon, at being sentwith another boy, Jim, to carry a package to Mr. Pond's. Then he wastrusted, so he put himself on his dignity, and did not turn more thantwenty somersets on the way. In coming back, as they had no package tocarry, they took it into their heads to cut across lots, though it wasno nearer than the road. Still it made them plenty of exercise inclimbing fences and walking log bridges across the brooks. While doingthis they came in sight of some white pond-lilies, and all at once itoccurred to Lewis that it would be right nice to get some of them forMiss Katy, to buy up her good-will, for he was afraid she would be veryangry when she found that he had lost the primer. So he waded andpaddled about till he had collected quite a handful of them, in spite ofJim's hurrying up, and telling him that he would get his head broke, formissus had told them to be quick. 

When he had gathered a large handful he started on the run for home, stopping only once or twice to admire the fragrant, lovely flowers; andhe felt their beauty quite as much, I dare say, as Miss Katy would. 

When they were passing the quarters, as the place is called where thehuts of the slaves are built, Aunt Sally put her head out of the cabindoor, and seeing him, she called out, "Here, Lew, here's your mother. "

The boy forgot his lilies, dropped them, and running to the door, he sawwithin a strange woman sitting on a bench. Was _that_ his mother? Sheturned her large dark eyes for a moment upon him, and then she sprang tomeet him. His little heart was ready to overflow with tears of joy, andhe expected to be overwhelmed with caresses, just as you would if youshould meet your mother after being separated from her more than a year. 

Imagine his terror, then, as she seized him rudely by the wrists andexclaimed, "It's you, is it? a little slave boy! I'll fix you so they'llnever get you!"

Then she picked him up in her arms and started to run with him, as ifshe would throw him into the well. The little fellow screamed withfright. Aunt Sally ran after her, crying at the top of her voice, "Nancy, O Nancy! don't now!" And then a big negro darted out of thestables, crying "Stop her there! catch her!"

All this hubbub roused the people at the house, and Master Stamfordforthwith appeared on the verandah, with a crowd of servants of allsizes. Amid the orders, and cries, and general confusion that followed, Nancy was caught, Lewis was taken away, and she was carried back to thecabin, while the big negro was preparing to tie her. As she entered thecabin, her eye caught sight of a knife that lay there, and snatching itup, she gave herself a bad wound with it. Poor woman, she was tired ofher miserable life. I don't wonder that she wanted to die. 

Was it right, you ask, for her to take her own life? Certainly not. Butlet us see what led to this attempt. 

For a long time she had been separated from Lewis and Ned, the last ofher children that remained to her. To be sure, the other three wereprobably living somewhere, and so was her husband. But she only knewthat they had gone into hopeless servitude, where she knew not. Indeed, she did not know but that they were already dead, and she did not expectever to hear, for slaves are seldom able to write, and often notpermitted to when they can. If there had only been hope of hearing fromthem at some time or other she could have endured it. But between herand those loved ones there rested a thick cloud of utter darkness;beyond that they might be toiling, groaning, bleeding, starving, dyingbeneath the oppressor's lash in the deadly swamp, or in the teeth of thecruel hounds, and she could not have the privilege of ministering to theleast of their wants, of soothing one of their sorrows, or even droppinga silent tear beside them. If she could have heard only _one_ fact aboutthem it would have been some relief. But she could not enjoy even thispoor privilege. And then came the dead, heavy stillness of despaircreeping over her spirits. 

Do you wonder that she became perfectly wild, and beside herself attimes? How would you feel if all you loved best were carried off by acruel slave-driver, and you had _no hope_ of hearing from them again inthis world?

During these dreadful fits of insanity she would bewail the living asworse than dead, and pray God to take them away. Then she would curseherself for being the mother of slave children, declaring that it wouldbe far better to see them die in their childhood, than to see them growup to suffer as she had suffered. 

She lived only a few miles from her old home; but her new master was anuncommonly hard man, and would not permit her to go and see herchildren. He said it would only make her worse, and his slaves shouldlearn that they were not to put on airs and have whims. It was theirbusiness to live for him. Didn't he pay enough for them, and see thatthey were well fed and clothed, and what more did they want? This hecalled kind treatment. Very kind, indeed, not to allow a mother to goand see her own children! But when she was taken with those insanespells, and would go on so about her children that she was not fit towork, indeed could not be made to work, it was finally suggested to himthat a visit to her children would do her good. 

This was the occasion of her present visit, and it was because she wasinsane that she attempted to take her own life. The wound, however, wasnot very deep, and Nancy did not die at this time. After the doctor hadbeen there and dressed her wound, and affairs had become quiet, Lewisstole to the door of the cabin. He was afraid to go in. He hardly knew, any of the time, whether that strange wild woman could be his mother, only they told him she was. There was blood spattered here and there onthe bare earth that served as a floor to the cabin, and on a strawmattress at one side lay the strange woman. Her eyes were shut, and nowthat she was more composed, he saw in the lineaments of that pale facethe features of his mother; But her once glossy black hair had turnedalmost white since she had been away, and altogether there was such awild expression that he was afraid, and crept quietly away again. 

He then went to find his brother, who, of course, did not remember somuch about her. But it was touching to see the two little lone brothersstand peeping in wonderingly at their own mother, who was so changedthat they hardly knew her. Then they went off behind the kitchen to talkabout it, and cry over it. 

The strange big negro was Jerry, who belonged to the same master withNancy, and he had come to bring her down. He was afraid that his masterwould be very angry if he should go back without her; but the doctorsaid the woman must not be moved for a week, and he wrote a letter forJerry to carry borne to his master, while Nancy remained. 

The next day, as they gained a little more courage, the brothers creptinside of the cabin. Their mother saw them, and beckoned them to herbed-side. She could scarcely speak a word distinctly, but taking firstone and then the other by the hand, she said inquiringly: "Lewis?""Lewis?" "Ned?"

They sat there at the bed-side by the hour that day. Sometimes she wouldhold their hands lovingly in hers; then again she would lay her handgently on the heads of one and the other, and her eyes would wanderlovingly over their faces, and then fill with tears. 

After a day or two little restless, fun-loving Ned grew tired of this, and ran out to play; but Lewis stayed by his mother, and she was soonable to talk with him. 

She showed him her wrists where they had been worn by the irons, and herback scarred by the whip, and she told him of cruelties that we may notrepeat here. She talked with him as if he were a man, and not a child;and as he listened his heart and mind seemed to reach forward, and hebecame almost a man in thought. He seemed to live whole years in thosefew days that he talked with his mother. It was here that the fearfulfact dawned upon him as it never had before. _He was a slave_! He had nocontrol over his own person or actions, but he belonged soul and body toanother man, who had power to control him in everything. And this wouldnot have been so irksome had it been a person that he loved, but MasterStamford he hated. He never met him but to be called by some foulepithet, or booted out of the way. He had no choice whom he would serve, and there would be no end to the thankless servitude but death. 

"Mother, " said the boy, "what have we done that we should be treated somuch worse than other people?"

"Nothing, my child, nothing. They say there is a God who has ordered allthis, but I don't know about that. " She stopped; her mother's heartforbade her to teach her child infidel principles, and she went on in abetter strain of reasoning. "Perhaps he allows all this, to try if wewill be good whether or no; but I am sure he cannot be pleased with thewhite folk's cruelty toward us, and they'll all have to suffer for itsome day. "

Then there was a long pause, when both mother and son seemed to bethinking sad, sad thoughts. Finally the mother broke the silence bysaying: "Well, here we are, and the great question is how to make thebest of it, if there is any best about it. "

"I know what I'll do, mother, " said Lewis earnestly, "I'll run away whenI'm old enough. "

"I hope you may get out of this terrible bondage, my child, " said themother; "but you had better keep that matter to yourself at present. Itwill be a long time before you are old enough. There is one thing aboutit, if you're going to be a free man, you'll want to know how to read. "

Lewis's heart was full again, and he told his mother the whole story ofthe primer. 

"And did Missy Katy never ask about it afterward?" inquired the mother. 

"No, she never has said a word about it. "

"O well, she don't care. There are some young missies with tender heartsthat do take a good deal of pains to teach poor slaves to read; but sheisn't so, nor any of massa's family, if he is a minister. He don't careany more about us than he does about his horses. You musn't wait for anyof them; but there's Sam Tyler down to Massa Pond's, he can read, and ifyou can get him to show you some, without letting massa know it, that'llhelp you, and then you must try by yourself as hard as you can. "

Thus did the poor slave mother talk with her child, trying to implant inhis heart an early love for knowledge. 

But the time soon came when Nancy was well enough to go back to hercruel servitude. This visit had proved a great good to little Lewis. Theentire spirit of his thoughts was changed. He was still very oftensilent and thoughtful, but he was seldom sad. He had a fixed purposewithin, which was helping him to work out his destiny. 

His first effort was to see Sam Tyler. This old man was a veryintelligent mulatto belonging to Mr. Pond. For some great serviceformerly rendered to his master, he was allowed to have his cabin, andquite a large patch of ground, separated from the other negroes, and allhis time to himself, except ten hours a day for his master. His masterhad also given him a pass, with which he could go and come on business, and the very feeling that he was trusted kept him from using it to runaway with. 

Mr. Pond was very kind to all his servants, as he called them, and amore cheerful group could not be found in the state. It would have beenwell if the Rev. Robert Stamford and many of his congregation hadimitated Mr. Pond in this respect, for his servants worked morefaithfully, and were more trustworthy than any others in the vicinity. There was one thing more that he should have done; he should have madeout free papers for them, and let them go when they pleased. 

When Lewis mentioned his wish to Sam Tyler, the old man was quitedelighted with the honor done to his own literary talent. "But you see, "said he, "I can tell ye what is a sight better; come over to MassaPond's Sunday school. I'd 'vise ye to ask Massa Stamford, and then yecan come every Sunday. "

Lewis had a notion that it would not be very easy to get his master'spermission, so the next Sunday he went without permission. 

It was a right nice place for little folks and big ones too. Nearly allMr. Pond's servants were there punctually. It was held an hour, and Mr. Pond himself, or one of his sons, was always there. He read the Bible, taught them verses from it, sung hymns with them, and of late, at theirurgent solicitation, he had purchased some large cards with the lettersand easy readings, and was teaching them all to read. 

The first day that Lewis went he crept off very early, before his masterwas up, telling Aunt Sally where he was going, so that if he should beinquired for she could send Ned after him. Aunt Sally remonstrated, butit was of no avail; he was off, and she really loved him too well tobetray him. 

That day young master Pond was in the Sunday school, and he spoke verykindly to Lewis, commending his zeal, and asking him to come again. Butwhen he told his father that one of Mr. Stamford's boys was there, Mr. Pond's reply was that "this matter must be looked into. "

Mr. Pond was there himself on the next Sunday, and though he spoke verykindly to the boy, yet he told him very decidedly that he must not comethere without a written permission from his master. "Well, then, I can'tcome at all, sir, " said Lewis sorrowfully. 

"Ask him, at any rate, " was the reply. "I'd like to have you come verywell; but I'm afraid he will think I want to steal one of his boys, if Iallow you to come here without his consent. "

It was with much fear that Lewis made known his wish to his master, andhe was received, as he expected to be, with abuse. 

"You would like to be a smart nigger, I suppose; one of the kind thattalks saucy to his master and runs away. I'll make you smart. I'm smartenough myself for all my niggers; and if they want any more of thestuff, I'll give them some of the right sort, " said he with vulgar wit, as he laid his riding-whip about the shoulders of poor Lewis. 

But when Mr. Stamford found that Lewis had already been to Mr. Pond'sSunday school, he made a more serious matter of it, and the poor boyreceived his first severe flogging, twenty-five lashes on his bare back. 

"I hope now, " said Aunt Sally, while dressing his welted and woundedback with wet linen, "that you'll give up that silly notion of your'n, that of learnin' to read. It's of no use, and these 'ere learned niggersare always gettin' into trouble. I know massa'd half kill one, if he had'im. Now, if you belonged to Massa Pond 'twould be different. " And soshe went on; but the more she talked the more firmly Lewis made up hismind that he would learn to read if he could, and the words of hismother came to his mind with authority: "If you're going to be a freeman you'll want to know how to read. "

About two months after this he paid another visit to Sam Tyler. Sam'splot of ground and cabin was near the division line between the twofarms, and Lewis took his time to go down there after dark. He asked Samto teach him to read. 

"I should think you'd got enough of that, " said Sam. "I shouldn't thinkit would pay. "

"What would you take for what you know about readin'?" asked Lewis. 

"Well, I can't say as I'd like to sell it, but it would only be a plagueto you so long as you belong to Massa Stamford. "

By dint of coaxing, however, Lewis succeeded in getting him to teach himthe letters, taking the opportunity to go to him rainy nights, or whenMr. Stamford was away from home. That was the end of Sam's help. He hadan "idea in his head" that it was not good policy for him to do thiswithout Massa Stamford's consent, after what Mr. Pond had said aboutLewis's coming to Sunday school. Sam was a cautious negro, not sowarm-hearted and impulsive as the most of his race. He prided himself onbeing more like white folks. 

Lewis was soon in trouble of another sort. He had found an oldspelling-book, and Sam had shown him that the letters he had learnedwere to be put together to make words. Then, too, he managed to get alittle time to himself every morning, by rising very early. So far sogood, and his diligence was deserving of success, but the progress hemade was very discouraging. C-a-n spelled sane, n-o-t spelled note, andg-o spelled jo. "I sane note jo;" what nonsense! and there was no onethat could explain the matter intelligently. He perseveres bravely for awhile, finding now and then a word that he could understand; but at lasthis book was gone from its hiding place; he knew not where to getanother; and in short he was pretty much discouraged. These difficultieshad cooled his ardor much more than the whip had done, and by degrees hesettled down into a state of despondency and indifference that Mr. Stamford would have considered a matter of the deepest regret, had itbefallen one of his own children. 

Years passed on--long, dreary, cheerless years. Lewis was now a boy ofseventeen, rather intelligent in appearance, but melancholy, and notvery hearty. In spite of repeated thinnings out by sales at differenttimes to the traders, the number of Mr. Stamford's slaves had greatlyincreased, and now the time came when they must all be disposed of. Hehad accepted a call from a distant village, and must necessarily breakup his farming establishment. 

It was a sad sight to see these poor people, who had lived together solong, put up at auction and bid off to persons that had come from manydifferent places. Here goes the father of a family in one direction, themother in another, and the children all scattered hither and thither. And then it was heartrending to witness their brief partings. Bad as hadbeen their lot with Mr. Stamford, they would far sooner stay with himthan be separated from those of their fellow-slaves whom they loved. 

A lot at a time were put up in a row, and one after another was calledupon the block, and after a few bids was handed over to a new master, tobe taken wherever he might choose. 

Ned and Jim and Lewis stood side by side in one of those rows. Ned hadgrown up to be a fine sprightly lad, and the bidding for him was lively. He was struck down to a Southern trader. Lewis listened despondentlywhile the bidding for Jim was going on, expecting every moment to hearhis own name called, when suddenly a strong hand was laid upon hisshoulder from behind, and he was drawn from the row. After a thoroughexamination by a strange gentleman, in company with his master, he wasbid to step aside. From some words that he heard pass between them, heunderstood that he had been sold at private sale, bartered off for apair of carriage-horses. 

The animals, a pair of handsome bays, were standing near by, and heturned to look at them. "Suppose they were black, " said he to himself, "would they be any meaner, less powerful, less valuable, less spirited?I do not see that color makes much difference with animals, why shouldit make so much difference among men? Who made the white men mastersover us?" He thought long and deeply, but there came no answer. 

"Then, too, they are larger than I am, and there are two of them! Whatmakes the difference that I should be higher priced? Ah, I have a_mind_, and it's my mind that they have sold, " he added, with a suddengleam of thought. "And what have I of my own? Nothing! They buy, andsell, and control soul and mind and body. "

Lewis had yet to learn that even the poor slave may with all his soulbelieve on Jesus, and no master on earth could hinder him. Mr. Stamfordhad never given his slaves any religious teachings, and perhaps it wasjust as well that _he_ did not attempt anything of that kind, for he issaid to have taught his white congregation that it was no more harm toseparate a family of slaves than a litter of pigs. His new master, whosename was Johns, lived about thirty miles distant, and nearly as much asthat nearer the boundary line between Ohio and Kentucky, an item whichthe boy noticed with much satisfaction. On their way home Mr. Johns tookspecial pains to impress on the mind of his new property the fact, thatthe condition of his being well treated in his new home would be hisgood behavior. "It's of no use, " he says, "for my boys to go to showingoff airs, and setting themselves up. I can't stand that. But if they arequiet and industrious, I give them as good allowances and as goodquarters as anybody. "

What Mr. Johns called good behavior in servants, was their doingpromptly and precisely just as he told them to, without venturing tothink for themselves anything about it. If any of them did venture anopinion before him he shut them up with a cut of the whip or a sharpword, so that the utmost extent of their conversation in his presencewas a strict answer to his questions, and "Yes, massa, " in reply tohis commands. 

Lewis was destined to assist in the garden. Mr. Johns was very fond ofhorticulture, but to have had his head gardener a slave, would haveinvolved the necessity of talking with him, and consulting him too muchto consist with his views of propriety. The slaves of families in thefar South are not usually treated in this manner, but Mr. Johns was bybirth an Englishman. The gardener, then, was a free white man namedSpencer, and Lewis found him a very pleasant master. It was notdifficult for him to find his way into his good graces, so that Lewisdid not suffer so much by the change as he expected. His heart wasalready hardened by the loss of so many friends, that he took this withunexpected indifference. But he did miss his brother Ned. More thanonce, in his dreams, did he hear him crying for help; but after a whilehe heard, through a fellow-slave, that Ned was serving as waiter in ahotel at Louisville. This was the last he ever heard of him. 

Besides this, Lewis loved his new work. It was so delightful to see theshrubs, and trees, and plants flourish, and the flowers putting forththeir gorgeous displays; and Spencer's kindness made the heaviest workseem light. It is very easy to serve a man that governs by kindness, butLewis thought it would be much harder to serve Spencer if he had feltthat he was his _owner_. 

One morning, going earlier than usual to the garden, he found Miss Fordthere, the governess of the children. She was promenading one of thewide alleys, and pensively reading a favorite author. This occurredmorning after morning, and Lewis thought he would be so glad if shewould only spend a few minutes teaching him to read! He knew that shewas from the free states, where they did not keep slaves, and hethought, perhaps, if she knew his desire to read she would help him. Butmorning after morning passed, and she seemed to take very little noticeof him. Finally, he one day observed her looking at a beautiful magnoliablossom, the first that had come out. It was quite on the top of thetree. She evidently wanted it, and Lewis drew near, hoping that shewould ask him to get it for her, and so she did. Lewis was delighted, she thanked him so kindly. After this he found occasion to say: "I thinkmissus must be very happy, she can read. "

The lady looked surprised, and then pitiful. "And would you like toread?"

"Indeed, there is nothing in this world would make me more happy, " saidLewis. 

"It is a pity so simple a wish cannot be gratified, " said she toherself. "Perhaps I could find time; if I thought so I might rise alittle earlier. Could you come here by sunrise every morning?"

"O yes, missus, indeed I could. "

"Come, then, to-morrow morning. "

That was a happy day for Lewis. His first lesson was quite a success. Hehad not forgotten all his letters. After this he went on prosperously, having a half hour lesson every fair morning. 

Lewis studied very hard, and made excellent progress. The difficultiesthat formerly troubled him now disappeared, for he had a teacher whom hecould consult upon every word. Miss Ford gave him a few pence to buycandles with, and all his evenings were spent in assiduous devotion tohis new task. 

The thoughts of his new acquisitions made him so happy that he workedmore diligently, and appeared far more cheerful than formerly. Mr. Johnsobserved it, and remarked that the boy had turned out "a better bargainthan he expected. "

When it was known in the house that Miss Ford was teaching Lewis, therewas some consultation about it, and Mr. Johns approached the lady with along face, to talk the matter over. However, she had altogether theadvantage of him, for she laughed most uncontrollably at his concern, assured him that this was her intellectual play, and that she enjoyedthe matter very much as she would teaching tricks to a parrot or monkey. "Surely, now, you would not deprive me of such an innocent amusement, "said she, with mock lamentation. 

"No; but my dear Miss Ford, " said the gentleman, trying to appearserious, "it is not best for these people to know too much. "

"O, that is too good!" she replied, with a laugh. "Do you expect him torival a Henry Clay or an Andrew Jackson?" and then she went on tellingsome such funny mistakes and ludicrous blunders of the boy, that Mr. Johns could resist no longer, and he joined in the laugh. There wasevidently no such thing as pinning her fast to serious reasoning on thesubject, and as she stood very high in Mr. John's good graces, heconcluded he might about as well let her do as she liked. 

She had been a long time in the family, and as they had seen noultra-abolition traits, they thought her "sound at heart" on thatsubject. And so she was; for had she known the true situation of theslaves, all the better feelings of her noble soul would have risen up inrebellion against the groundwork of the abominable "institution. " But asthe slaves were kept very much apart from the family, and by theirmaster's peculiar training had very little to say when they did maketheir appearance, she had very little opportunity to study the workingsof the system, if she had been disposed to do so, and very little toexcite her curiosity about it. 

As Lewis by degrees gained the good opinion of his teacher, andflattered her by his rapid progress, so she gradually became interestedin his early history, and especially in his early failures in learningto read. She was quite indignant at the opposition he had experienced, and her expressions of surprise at the treatment he received, led him totell of greater cruelties that he had seen practised on others, and soon to the story of his mother. She took a deep interest in all hisdetails, and he was never at a loss for something to tell. 

Could it be that slavery was so bad, that she was surrounded by thesesuffering creatures, and was doing nothing for them? She made inquiriesof others prudently, and found that it was even so, and more too; thateven she herself was not at liberty to speak out her sentiments aboutit. But she could think, and she did think. The great law of human, God-given _right_ came up before her, and she acknowledged it. Thesepoor creatures had a right to their own personal freedom, and shethought it would be doing God and humanity a service if she could helpthem to obtain that freedom. She did not know that in doing thus shewould be sinning against the laws of her country, (!) and perhaps shewould not have cared much if she had, for she was one of thoseindependent souls that dare to acknowledge the law of right. 

For months were these convictions gaining strength, but no opportunityoccurred to assist any of them. Meanwhile she grew pensive and silent, oppressed by the helpless misery which she saw around her on every side. 

One evening when Lewis came for his lesson he brought her an anonymousnote. The writer professed to take a deep interest in the intelligentyoung slave Lewis, and asked the question if she would be willing to doanything to advance his freedom. 

She unhesitatingly replied that she would be very glad to do so. Lewisknew where to carry the note, and she soon had an interview with thewriter, Mr. Dean, of whom she had heard as the worst abolitionist in theneighborhood. Arrangements were soon made for running off the boy. 

Miss Ford was to get leave of Mr. Johns to send Lewis to a neighbor ofMr. Dean's on an errand for herself in the evening. As this would keephim quite late, and he was to report to her on his return, no one elsewould be likely to miss him until morning. He was to proceed at once toMr. Dean's house, whence, with face and hands dyed, and his clotheschanged, he was to go with Mr. Dean in the capacity of a servant toCincinnati, and he should then run his own chance of escape. In its mainfeatures the plan worked well, and Lewis escaped. 

The next morning, when Lewis was missed at the house of his master, suspicion immediately fell upon Miss Ford. The plot was so simple thatthe truth could not well be concealed; but nothing was said about ituntil they might find some tangible evidence, and this was soon affordedby the imprudence of Dean. Two mornings after this he came to the gardenfence by the arbor where she usually spent the morning, and threw over anote containing the words, "All right, and no suspicion. "

But he was mistaken about the "no suspicion. " He himself would have beenarrested at the moment of his return, for one of his neighbors had seenand recognized them in Cincinnati; but they waited and watched to see ifby some chance Miss Ford might not also be implicated. And it was done. There were more observers than he dreamed of, and Miss Ford, who fromher window saw the note fall, saw it picked up a moment after by Mr. Johns himself. Mr. Dean was arrested before he reached home again, andboth he and Miss Ford were sent to jail. Complaints were preferredagainst them, but many months passed before they were brought to trial. When at last the trial came off, Mr. Dean was sentenced to imprisonmentfor ten years, and five thousand dollars fine. Miss Ford's sentence wasfive years' imprisonment, but the governor finally granted a reprieve ofthe last two years. 

After many adventures Lewis reached Boston, where he still lives, foraught I know, with a nice little woman of his own color for a wife, andthree smart little boys. He labored so diligently in the cultivation ofhis mind that he became qualified for a teacher, and has been for a longtime engaged in that pleasant and profitable occupation. But best ofall, he has become a sincere Christian, rejoicing in the privilege ofworshiping God according to the dictates of his own conscience, withnone to molest nor make him afraid. He has heard once more from hisparents. His father's master had returned to the neighborhood where hismother was, and they were again living together. His mother's mind wasrestored to sanity. She was more "like herself" than she had been beforesince the early days of their married life. In her later years she wasbrought to taste of the "liberty wherewith Christ has made us free, " andwent to her home above to be comforted after all her sufferings, whileher cruel masters who enjoyed their ease here shall be tormented. 

 * * * * *

[Illustration: WHIPPING A SLAVE. ]

[Illustration: HUNTING RUNAWAY SLAVES. ]

MARK AND HASTY;

OR, SLAVE-LIFE IN MISSOURI. 

BY MATILDA G. THOMPSON. 

PREFACE. 

The facts narrated in the following pages occurred in St. Louis a fewyears ago. They were communicated to the author by a friend residingtemporarily in that city. 

MARK AND HASTY. 

CHAPTER I. 

On a bright and pleasant morning in the month of November, Mrs. Jenningsand her children were sitting in one of the bedrooms of a handsomedwelling in St. Louis. It was evident that preparations were being madefor a long journey. Two large trunks, strapped and corded, stood in thecenter of the room, while folded and unfolded articles of clothing layin confusion on the floor and chairs. 

"Katy, " said Mrs. Jennings to a colored girl, who had just entered theroom, "I wish you would bring in the other trunk, so that it will beready for the children's clothes when Hasty comes. "

"Yes, missus, " said Kate, and then, as she was leaving the room, sheturned and said: "There's Hasty comin' in de gate, though she aint gotde clothes wid her; 'pears to me she looks awful sorrowful. "

"Why, Hasty, what is the matter?" inquired Mrs. Jennings, as a pretty, but sad-looking mulatto woman made her appearance at the door. 

"O missus!" she said, "you must please 'scuse me, kase I hasn't declothes done; but I'se been so nigh distracted dis week, dat I aint hadheart nor strength to do anything. My husband has been sold down South, and I specs I'll never see him again if he once get down dar, kase deynever gets back. "

"Why, how did that happen, Hasty?" asked Mrs. Jennings. "Mark has alwaysbeen such a trusty servant, and has lived so long in the family, that Ithought nothing would have induced Mr. Nelson to part with him. "

"Yes, missus, I knows all dat. Mark has been the faithfulest sarvant dathis massa ever had. But ye see, on Saturday night when he cum down tosee me, little Fanny was berry sick, and I had been out washin' all day, and Mark wanted me to go to bed, but I didn't; and we both sat up allnight wid de chile. Well, early de next morning he started for hismassa's, and got dere about church time, kase he had a good piece towalk. Den he hauled out de carriage, and fed de horses, and while deywas eatin', de poor crittur fell asleep. And after bit, Massa Nelson gotmighty uneasy, kase he had to wait for de carriage, so he sent one of demen out to see whar Mark was; and dey found him asleep and went in andtold his massa. Den he sent for Mark to cum into de parlor, and when hewent in Massa Nelson axed him what right had he to go sleep, when it wastime for de carriage to be round. And Mark said dat his chile had beensick, and he had sat up all night wid it, and dat was what made him sosleepy. Den Massa Nelson said he had no right to sit up, if it was gwineto interfere wid his work. And Mark stood right up and looked MassaNelson in de face, and said: 'Massa Nelson, I think I hab as much rightto sit up wid my sick chile, as you had to sit up de other night widlittle Massa Eddie. ' O my sakes alive! but Massa Nelson was mad den; hesaid: 'You, you black nigger, dare to talk to me about rights;' and hestruck Mark over de face wid de big carriage whip, and said 'he'd 'tendto him in de mornin'. '"

"And did Mark say nothing more than that?" inquired Mrs. Jennings;thinking that Hasty, like any other wife, would endeavor to hide herhusband's faults. 

"No, missus, dat was every ting he said, and just went away and got decarriage round for Massa Nelson to go to church. Well, de next mornin'Massa Nelson told him to put on his coat and follow him, and he totedhim down to old M'Affee's pen, and sold him to go down some river waydown South; and I have cum dis mornin', " she said, looking upinquiringly into Mrs. Jennings's face, "to see if you, Missus, or MassaJennings, wouldn't do something for him. "

"Well, Hasty, I'm sorry, very sorry for you, " said Mrs. Jennings; "butdon't be down-hearted; I will postpone going East this week, and seewhat can be done for you; and if my husband can't buy Mark, he probablyknows some one who wants a trusty servant, such as I know Mark to be. However, Hasty, you may be assured that I will do all in my power toprevent your husband from going. "

Hasty dried her tears, and with many thanks took her departure, feelingmuch comforted by the confident tone with which Mrs. Jennings spoke. 

After Hasty had gone, Mrs. Jennings pondered, as she had never beforedone, on the evil effects of slavery. She thought of Hasty's grief, aspoignant as would have been her own, had her husband been in Mark'splace, and which had changed that usually bright countenance to onehaggard with suffering. She thought of the father torn from his wife andchild; of the child fatherless, though not an orphan; of that child'sfuture; and as it presented itself to her, she clasped her own littlegirl closer to her heart, almost fearing that it was to share thatfuture. Ah! she was putting her "soul in the slave soul's stead. "

CHAPTER II. 

Mrs. Jennings, true to her promise, acquainted Mr. Jennings with thetransaction, and entreated him to make an effort immediately to rescueMark from his fearful doom. 

"Well, my dear, " he answered, "it appears that the boy has beenimpudent, and I don't know that it would be right for me to interfere, but Mark has always been such a good servant that if I had been hismaster I would have overlooked it, or at least would not have punishedhim so severely. However, I'll go down to M'Affee and see about him. "

Accordingly, the next morning, he went down to the slave "pen" to seethe trader. He found him at the door of his office, a sleek, smiling, well-dressed man, very courteous and affable, having the appearance of agentleman. 

"Good morning, Mr. Jennings, " said the trader, "what can I do for youto-day?"

"Why, M'Affee, I called down to see about a boy named Mark, one ofNelson's people. I heard you had him for sale, and as he is a good sortof a fellow, I wouldn't mind buying him, if you are reasonable. "

"Want to keep him in St. Louis?" inquired the trader. 

"O! certainly, I want him for a coachman; ours gets drunk, and my wifewill not allow him to drive her. "

"Well, Mr. Jennings, I am very sorry, but the fact is, Mr. Nelson wasvery angry at Mark, and pledged me not to sell him in the State. You seehe was impudent, and you know that can't be allowed at all. I am rightsorry, but I dare say I can suit you in one quite as good. There'sHannibal, one of Captain Adam's boys, he is a--

"No matter, I don't want him, " interrupted Mr. Jennings; "I am notparticular about purchasing this morning. I only wanted him to please mywife; she will be very much disappointed, as she has his wife washingfor her, and she will be in great distress at parting with her husband. "

"Yes, yes, I see! It's a pity niggers will take on so. I am sorry Ican't accommodate Mrs. Jennings. If you should want a coachman, I shouldbe glad if you would call down, as I have a good stock on hand ofstrong, healthy boys. "

"Yes, when I want one I will give you a call. But do you really thinkthat Mr. Nelson would refuse to have him remain even in the State? Ireally would like to keep the poor fellow from going down South, if Ipaid a hundred or two more than he is worth. "

"O! there is no chance for him. Mr. Nelson was positive in hisinstructions. I don't think you need take the trouble to ask him, as Iam almost sure he will refuse. "

"Then I suppose nothing can be done. Good morning, " said Mr. Jennings. 

"Good morning, sir; I am sorry we can't trade. "

Mr. Jennings went home, and acquainted his wife with the result of hismission. She was a kind mistress to her slaves, and had seen but littleof the horrors of slavery. To be sure, she had heard of instances ofcruelty, but they had made but little impression on her, and had soonbeen forgotten. But here was a case which outraged every womanly feelingin her breast, a case of suffering and wrong, occurring to persons inwhom she was personally interested, and she was aroused to thewickedness of the system which allowed such oppression. 

In the evening Hasty came up to see if anything had been done for herrelief. As she entered the room, the sorrowful expression of Mrs. Jennings's face brought tears into her eyes, for she felt there wasno hope. 

"O poor Hasty!" said Mrs. Jennings. 

"Don't say no more, missus, I see what's comin'. Poor Mark will go downSouth. Seems to me I knowed it would be so from de fust. O dear! it'llgo nigh breaking me down. Tears like I can't stand it no how, " saidHasty, sobbing aloud. 

Mrs. Jennings waited till the first burst of bitter grief was over, andthen tried to comfort her as well as she was able, but she felt how hardit was to assuage such grief as this. She spoke to her of the hope ofseeing her husband again in this world, and of the certainty at least, if both tried to do the will of God, of meeting in heaven. But herefforts were unavailing, and her consoling words fell on a heart thatwould not be comforted. 

CHAPTER III. 

When Mrs. Jennings awoke the next morning, her first thoughts were ofHasty, and she determined that the day should not pass over without hermaking another effort for Mark. Accordingly, after breakfast she orderedthe carriage, intending to make a visit to Mr. Nelson's. 

"Where are you going, Maggie?" inquired Mr. Jennings of his wife, as heheard her give the order. 

"I am going to Mr. Nelson's about Mark, " she answered. 

"Why, my dear, I told you what M'Affee said, that Nelson was implacable. And besides, I am afraid he will think it impertinent in you to meddlewith his affairs. "

"I shall make an apology for my visit, " she answered, "but I cannot restsatisfied until I hear a direct refusal from his own lips. His conducttoward Mark seems more like revenge than punishment. I do not think hecan persist in it. "

"Well, I give you credit for your perseverance, " he said, laughingly, "but I am afraid you will come home disappointed. "

"If I do, " she replied, "I shall feel less conscience-stricken than if Ihad remained at home, knowing that I have done all in my power toprevent his going. "

As Mrs. Jennings rode along she felt that she had a disagreeable duty toperform, but, like a true Christian woman, she shrunk not, but grewstronger as she approached the dwelling of the lordly oppressor, and sheprayed to God for strength to be true to him and to the slave. When shearrived, she entered the house of Mr. Nelson with strong hopes, but, much to her disappointment, was informed that he had left the city, andwould be absent for some weeks. Her next thought was to see his wife, ifshe was at home. The servant said that his mistress was at home, butdoubted if she could be seen. 

"Present my card to her, " said Mrs. Jennings, "and say to her that Ihave called on business, and will detain her but a few moments if shewill see me. "

The servant retired with the card, and in a few moments returned, sayingthat Mrs. Nelson would be glad to see her in the sitting-room. When Mrs. Jennings entered the room she apologized for the intrusion to ahandsome, though slightly careworn lady, who arose to receive her. 

"Madame, " said Mrs. Jennings, "I have called on you this morning inrelation to your servant Mark. I hope you will not think it impertinentin me to interfere in this matter, but I am very much interested in him. His wife has been my laundress for several years, and is exceedinglydistressed at the idea of being separated from him. She came to meyesterday, and told me that he had been impertinent, and that Mr. Nelsonintended selling him down South. I promised to use what influence I hadto keep him in the city. And I have called this morning to see if Icould persuade Mr. Nelson to overlook this offense, pledging myself forhis future good conduct, for I really think that this will be a lessonto him that he will never forget. "

"I can appreciate and sympathize with your feelings. " said Mrs. Nelson, "for I have myself endeavored to change my husband's determination. Buthe is a rigid disciplinarian, and makes it a rule never to overlook thefirst symptom of insubordination in any of the servants. He says if aservant is once permitted to retort, all discipline ceases, and he mustbe sold South. It is his rule and he never departs from it. O! Isometimes feel so sick when I see the punishments inflicted that seemnecessary to keep them in subjection. But we wives can do nothing, however great our repugnance may be to it. The children have begged meto take them to see Mark before he goes. I heard from one of theservants that his owner intended starting to-morrow, so that this willbe the only opportunity they will have to see him, and I think I willgratify them and let them go. "

Mrs. Nelson rang the bell, and in a few moments Sally had the childrenready. 

"I intended to go down myself, " said Mrs. Jennings, "and if you have noobjections, I will take the children down in my carriage, as it iswaiting at the door. "

"O, I thank you, that will suit me very well, " said Mrs. Nelson, "as myengagements this morning will hardly permit me to go, and I was almostafraid to trust them with any of the other servants, now that Markhas gone. "

Mrs. Jennings and the children immediately entered the carriage anddrove to the yard. As the carriage drew up before the door, Mr. M'Affeecame out and assisted the party to alight, and on hearing the business, summoned Mark to them. 

"O! Massa Eddie and Missy Bell, " said he joyfully, "I'se so glad you cumto see poor Mark; I was afeard I would never see you again. "

"O yes, " said Eddie, "we came as soon as mamma told us about it. You seewe didn't know it until yesterday, when we went out to ride, and thatcross old Noah drove us, and we couldn't tell what it meant; so as soonas we came home Bell asked mother about it, and she said that you hadbeen naughty, and papa sent you away. But I don't care; I think pa mightforgive you just this once. "

"Yes, so do I, " broke in Bell; "pa ought to let you stay, because littleFanny won't have any father to come and see at our house, and I like herto play with me. "

"I'se afeard Fanny won't play any more, " said Mark sadly. "She is berrysick; de doctor said it was de scarlet fever, and the oder night, when Iwas up home, she was out of her head and didn't know me. "

"Why, is she sick?" asked Bell; "I didn't know that; I'll ask mamma if Ican't go and see her when I get home. But mamma says maybe you'll comeback one of these days. Won't you, Mark?"

"No, honey, I don't ever 'spec to get back; and if I do, it will be along, long time. It's so far down where I'se sold to, down the Arkansasriver, I believe. "

"Are you sold there, Mark?" inquired Mrs. Jennings. 

"Yes, missus, and I don't know what'll come of poor Hasty when she knowsit. She was here dis morning, and said that you had gone to MassaNelson's, and was going to try to get me off; but I knowed how it wouldbe; but I couldn't bar to cast her down when she was so hopeful like, soI didn't tell her I was sold. O Missus Jennings! do please comfort depoor soul, she's so sick and weak, she can hardly bar up. I used to giveher all the arnings I got from people, but I can't give her any more. OLord! it comes nigh breakin' me down when I think of it, " said Mark, thebig tears coursing down his face. 

"Don't cry, Mark, " said little Bell, "Eddie and I will save up ourmoney, and by the time we are big, we'll have enough to buy you; thenI'll send Eddie down to bring you home. "

"Yes, " said Eddie, "and mamma will give us many a picayune, when we tellher what it's for. "

Mrs. Jennings had been an interested spectator of the scene, and wouldhave remained longer with Mark, to comfort him; but as it was after thedinner hour, she feared Mrs. Nelson would be anxious about the children, so she told them it was time to go, and that they must part with Mark. 

"Well, Mark, if we _must_ go, " said the children, throwing their armsaround his neck, "Good by. "

"Good by, dear children, " he said, "and please be kind to my poor littleFanny, that will soon have no father. "

"We will, " they answered, as they sadly passed from the yard. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The following morning that sun rose warm and bright. All was bustle andexcitement on the levee. Its broad top was crowded with drays and cabsconveying the freight and passengers to and from the steamboats, thatlay compactly wedged together at its edge. 

About ten o'clock the bell of the "Aldon Adams" announced that its timefor starting had come. The cabs threaded their way through the piles ofgoods and bales of cotton to the plank, and delivered their loads oftravelers flitting to the sunny South. The last package of freight wasbeing carried aboard, and everything was ready for the start. But allwho are going have not arrived. A sad procession is marching down to theboat. It is M'Affee's gang! the men handcuffed, the women and childrenwalking double file, though not fettered. A little apart from the restwe recognise Mark, and by his side walks Hasty. Little is said byeither, but O! they feel the more. At last they reached the plank thatwas to separate them forever, yes, forever. 

At that same spot farewells had been exchanged; farewells, sad andtearful. Yet amid these tears, and with this sadness, hope whispered ofa glad meeting in the future--of a joyful reunion. But here there was nosuch hope. Each felt that for them all was despair. Hark! the shrillwhistle and the impatient puffing of the steam, tell them they mustpart. The rest have taken their places on the deck, and they too arestanding on the levee alone. 

[Illustration: HASTY'S GRIEF. ]

"Come, come, quit your parleying. Don't you see they are hauling in theplank! Jump aboard, Mark, and don't look so glum. I'll git you anothergal down in Arkansas, " said the trader. 

Had he seen the look which Hasty cast upon him, he might have beenadmonished by those words of Oriental piety; "Beware of the groans of awounded soul. Oppress not to the utmost a single heart, for a solitarysigh has the power to overturn a world. "

She turned from the trader, and, with a sob, as though the heart springswere snapped, she threw herself into her husband's arms. Again, andagain he pressed her to his heart, then gently unclasping her hands, hetottered along the plank, and nearly had he ended his saddened life inthe rolling stream below, but the ready hand of his owner caught him, and hurried him aboard. 

The plank was hauled aboard, and in an instant the boat was moving outinto the stream. The passengers congregated on the hurricane deck, cheered, and waved their handkerchiefs to friends on shore, and her crewanswered the shouts of those on the other boats as she rapidly passedthem. Few saw, and those who did, without noting, the sorrowing woman, who, leaning against a bale of goods, with one hand shading her eyes, and the other pressed hard upon her heart, watching the receding boat, until it turned a bend in the river, and was hidden from her sight. Yetno watcher borne away upon the boat, nor any sorrowing one left upon theshore, turned away, as the last traces of the loved ones faded, with aheavier heart, or a feeling of such utter loneliness as did poor Hasty. Despairingly, she turned toward home. No tears, no choking sobs; butonly that calm, frozen look to which tears and sobs would have beena relief. 

The light, elastic step of but a week before was gone. She stopped notnow to gaze into the gay windows, or to watch the throng of promenaders;but, with an unsteady pace, wended her way slowly to her humble home inthe lower part of the city. 

"Stop, Aunt Hasty, " said a colored woman belonging to Mrs. Nelson, "missus gave me leave to cum down here dis afternoon to go home withyou, kase she said you would take it so hard parting with your ole man. "

Hasty looked up as she heard the well known voice of the kind-heartedSally. 

"O! Sally, " she said, "I'se got no home now; they has taken him awaythat made me a home, and I don't keer for nothing now. "

"You mustn't be down-hearted, Hasty, " she said, "but look right up to deLord. He says, Call on me in de day of trouble, and I will, hear ye; andcast your burden on me, and I will care for ye. And sure enough dis isyour time ob trouble, poor crittur. "

"Yes, " she answered, "and it has been my time of trouble ever since Markwas sold, and I has prayed to de Lord, time after time, to raise upfriends to save Mark from going; but ye see how it is, Sally. "

"Yes, I sees, Hasty, but ye mustn't let it shake your faith a bit, kasede Lord will bring it all right in his time. "

Thus talking, and endeavoring to console her, Sally accompanied Hasty toher now desolate home. As she entered the room, the low moan of herchild fell upon her ear, and awoke her to the necessity of action. Itwas well that there existed an immediate call on her, or her heart wouldhave sunk under the heavy burden of sorrow. She went hastily to the sideof the little sufferer, and passing her cold hand over the burningforehead of her child, whispered soothing words of endearment. 

"Is father come?" asked Fanny. "Ise been dreamin', and I thought forsure he was here. 'Aint this his night to come home, mother?"

"No, honey, dis is Friday night, " answered Hasty. "But never mind aboutfather now, but go to sleep, there's a good girl. "

And sitting down by the side of her child, Hasty, with a mother'stenderness, soothed her to sleep. All that long night she sat, but nosleep shed a calm upon her heart; but when morning came exhausted naturecould bear up no longer, and she sank into a short but troubled slumber. 

 By the sick bed of her child, In her cabin lone and drear. Listening to its ravings wild, Dropping on it many a tear, Sat the mother, broken-hearted; Every hope was in its shroud. From her husband she'd been parted, And to earth with grief she's bow'd. Now within her ear is ringing Drearily hope's funeral knell, And the night wind wild is singing Mournfully, the word _farewell_. 

Day broke, and still mother and child slept on. Hasty's over-chargedheart and brain were for the first time, for some days, lulled toforgetfulness. If this relief had not come, without doubt one would havebroken, and the other been lost in madness. Fanny was the first toawake. The crisis of the disease had passed; the fever no longerscorched her veins, and her mind no longer wandered. She was, however, as weak as an infant, and as incapable of attending to her wants. Forthe first time for many days she felt a desire for food, and raisingherself partly up, called to her mother to get her breakfast. 

The voice of her child roused Hasty from her dreams of peace, to thedread realities of her bereavement. For a few moments she could notrecall her scattered senses, but soon the remembrance of yesterdaycrowded upon her mind, and the anguish depicted upon her face showedthat they had lost nothing of their intensity during theirshort oblivion. 

"Why Fanny, child, is you awake? And de fever all gone, too? How is yerdis mornin', dear?" asked Hasty. 

"O! I feel a heap better, mother, " answered Fanny; "and I think I willbe pretty near well by the time pappy comes to-night. "

Every word her child uttered fell as a leaden weight upon her heart. Hermind instinctively reverted to the last time her husband had been there. Then no thought of separation clouded their minds, but together theywatched beside their sick child, beguiling the long hours of the nightwith hopeful and loving converse. Then she thought of the incidents ofthe week as they followed each other in quick succession, the news ofhis sale, the trader's pen, the parting; all, all seemed burned upon herbrain in coals of living fire, and with a moan of agony she sankinsensible upon the bed. 

A few moments after Mrs. Jennings entered the room. Ever since visitingMark, and witnessing his anguish, she had constantly thought of Hasty, and longed for an opportunity of consoling her, and rendering her anyassistance in her power. Feeling this morning uneasy at not hearing fromher, she determined to go and see her. After some difficulty she at lastfound her, and, as we have seen, arrived very opportunely. Instantly, upon seeing the state of affairs, Mrs. Jennings ordered her coachman togo for a physician, while she and her maid, whom she had brought withher, used every means to restore Hasty to consciousness, and in a shorttime they succeeded in their efforts. 

The doctor arrived shortly after, and advised rest and quiet as the bestrestoratives to her shattered nerves. The wants of Fanny were alsoattended to, and the cravings of her appetite satisfied from a basket offood which the thoughtful care of Mrs. Jennings had provided. Mrs. Jennings's next thought was to procure a nurse for Hasty. Here she hadno difficulty, for the neighbors of Hasty willingly offered theirservices. Selecting one who appeared thoughtful and tidy, Mrs. Jenningsreturned home with a heart lightened by a consciousness of duty wellperformed. 

For some days Hasty lay in a kind of stupor, without taking any noticeof transpiring events, or seeming to recur to those of the past. She wasdaily supplied with various little dainties and luxuries suitable to aninvalid, and received many other attentions from the kind-hearted Mrs. Jennings. Fanny's health improved each day, and, as the buoyancy ofyouth threw off the remains of disease, she regained her strength, andat the end of the following week she was able to take almost the entirecharge of her mother. Hasty's eyes followed every movement of her childwith the in tensest eagerness, as if fearing that she too would betaken from her. 

When Fanny was fully recovered she learned the fate of her father. Shedid not weep, or sob, or complain, but for the first time she realizedthe shadow that slavery had cast over her; and the change wasinstantaneous, from the mirthful, happy child, to the anxious, watchfulslave girl. Hereafter there was to be no trusting confidence, nocareless gayety, but this consciousness of slavery must mingle withevery thought, with every action. 

One day, about a week after Hasty was taken sick, her mistress enteredher room. This lady was the widow of a Frenchman, one of the earlysettlers of St. Louis, who had, by persevering industry, gained acompetency. Before he had an opportunity of enjoying it he died, andleft his property, consisting of a dwelling, five or six negroes, anda good sum in the stocks, to his widow. Mrs. Le Rue, on breaking uphousekeeping, allowed Hasty to hire her time for two dollars a week, on condition that at the end of each month the required sum was to beforthcoming, and in the event of failure, the revocation of thepermission was to be the inevitable consequence. 

The monthly pay-day found Hasty prostrated on a bed of sickness, and ofcourse it passed without the payment of the stipulated sum. This was theimmediate cause of her visit. 

The anxiety depicted in the countenance of Mrs. Le Rue did not arisefrom any sympathy for the emaciated and suffering woman before her, butonly from that natural vexation with which a farmer would regard thesudden falling lame of a valuable horse. The idea of commiseratingHasty's condition as a human being, as a sister, never for a momentoccurred to her; indeed, the sickness of the little poodle dog, whichshe led by a pink ribbon, would have elicited far more of the sympathiesof her nature. In Hasty she saw only a piece of property visiblydepreciated by sickness. 

"What is the matter with you, girl? Why have you not come to pay me mymoney?" she asked harshly, as she took the seat that Fanny had carefullydusted off. 

"O missus! I'se been too sick to work dis two weeks; but I'se got fivedollars saved up for you, and if ever I get well I kin pay you therest soon. "

"Pay the rest soon! Yes, you look very much like that. You are justmaking a fool of yourself about your husband; that is the way youniggers do. You are just trying to cheat me out of the money. I'll neverlet one of my women get married again. "

While the much-injured lady was delivering this speech, the poodle, whohad been intently watching the face of his mistress, and thinking someone must be the offender, sprang at Fanny, viciously snapping at herfeet. She, poor girl, had watched every expression in the face of hermistress, with the same anxiety as the courtiers of the sultan watchthat autocrat, who holds their lives and fortunes in his hand; andsurprised at this assault from an unlooked-for quarter, she jumpedaside, and in doing so trod upon the paw of her tormentor, and sent himhowling to the lap of his mistress. 

This was the last drop that caused the cup of wrath to overflow. Withoutheeding the protestations of Fanny, she seized her by the arm, and boxedher ears soundly. 

"What did you tread upon the dog for, you great clumsy nigger? I'llteach you what I'll do, if you do anything of the kind again; I'll giveyou a good whipping. "

Then turning to Hasty, whose feeble nerves had been intensely excited bythis scene, she said: "I want you to get to work again pretty soon, andnot lie there too lazy to work. You need not think I am going to lose mymoney by your foolishness. I shall expect your month's payment as usual, and if I don't get it, I will hire you out like the rest. And there isanother thing I have to say; you are not going to keep this lazy girlhere to hinder you, and to spend money on. A lady I know wants just sucha girl to go to the door, and to wait on her, who will give me twodollars a month for her, and it is quite time she was doing something. Iwill not take her away now, but next week do you tidy her up and sendher to me. "

CHAPTER V. 

Hasty was dying. She knew that it was to be so. For herself it was arelease which she hailed gladly; but the thought of leaving her childrent her heart with anguish. She could see what the lot of that poorwaif of childhood, cast upon the sea of Southern despotism, would be, and she longed to protect her from it. Yet what is a slave mother'sprotection to her child? What blow can she arrest? What temptationavert? None. Even a mother's claim is unrecognized, and the child'saffection unregarded. Hasty's strength gradually declined until Sunday, when, feeling that death was near, she sent Fanny for Mrs. Jennings, forthe purpose of bidding her farewell, and asking her protection for herdaughter. Mrs. Jennings, on learning from Fanny the condition of Hasty, immediately complied with the request. On entering the room she wassurprised and shocked at the ravages that mental and bodily sufferinghad made on the once handsome woman. Seating herself by the bedside, Mrs. Jennings inquired in what way she could ease the mind of the dyingmother. With earnestness did Hasty plead that her child might be rescuedfrom her present condition. She entreated Mrs. Jennings to buy Fannyfrom Mrs. Le Rue, and bring her up in the fear of God, and beyond thereach of a slave girl's perils. 

All this Mrs. Jennings promised, and with many a word of comfort shesmoothed the passing of the immortal spirit into the unknown country. She pointed to the Saviour, and told of his wondrous love, of theequality of all in his sight, and of the saving power of his graceextended to all, whether bond or free. 

Just as the sun threw his last rays upon the spires of the city, Hasty'sspirit was released, and she was _free_. Fanny gave herself up to achild's grief, and refused to be comforted. To the slave, the affectionsare the bright spots in his wilderness of sorrow and care; and as anArab loves the oasis the better that it is in the midst of the desert, so the slave centers the whole strength of his nature in his loved ones, the more so that he is shut out from the hopes of wealth, the longingsof ambition, and the excitements of a freeman's life. 

Mrs. Jennings verified her promise to Hasty, and soon after her deathpurchased Fanny. But her whole soul revolted at a system which couldcause the suffering she had seen; and in the course of a few months sheprevailed upon her husband to close his business in St. Louis, andremove to Chicago, where she is an active worker among the anti-slaverywomen in that liberty-loving city. She has instilled the principles offreedom for all men into the minds of her children, and recently wrotethe following verses for them on the occasion of the celebration of theFourth of July:

 "Little children, when you see High your country's banner wave, Let your thoughts a moment be Turned in pity on the slave. 

 "When with pride you count the stars, When your hearts grow strong and brave, Think with pity of the scars Borne in sorrow by the slave. 

 "Not for him is freedom's sound; Not for him the banners wave; For, in hopeless bondage bound, Toils the sad and weary slave. 

 "All things round of freedom ring-- Winged birds and dashing wave; What are joyous sounds to him In his chains, a fettered slave?"

 * * * * *

[Illustration: AUNT JUDY'S HUSBAND CAPTURED See page 133]

AUNT JUDY'S STORY:

A STORY FROM REAL LIFE. 

BY MATILDA G. THOMPSON. 

CHAPTER I. 

"Look! look! mother, there comes old Aunt Judy!" said Alfred, as an oldcolored woman came slowly up the gravel walk that led to the handsomeresidence of Mr. Ford, of Indiana. 

The tottering step, the stooping back, and glassy eye, betokened extremeage and infirmity. Her countenance bore the marks of hardship andexposure; while the coarse material of her scanty garments, whichscarcely served to defend her from the bleak December wind, showed thateven now she wrestled with poverty for life. In one hand she carried asmall pitcher, while with the other she leaned heavily on heroaken stick. 

"She has come for her milk, " said little Cornelia, who ran out and tookthe pitcher from the woman's hand. 

"Let me help you, Auntie, you walk so slow, " said she. 

"Come in and warm yourself, Judy, " said Mrs. Ford, "it is cold and damp, and you must be tired. How have you been these two or three days?"

"Purty well, thank ye, but I'se had a touch of the rheumatiz, and I findI isn't so strong as I was, " said Judy, as she drew near the grate, inwhich blazed and crackled the soft coal of the West, in a manner bothbeautiful and comforting. 

Mrs. Ford busied herself in preparing a basket of provisions, and hadcommenced wrapping the napkin over it, when she paused and leaned towardthe closet, into which she looked, but did not seem to find what shewanted, for, calling one of the boys, she whispered something to him. Heran out into the yard and down the path to the barn; presently hereturned and said, "There are none there, mother. "

"I am very sorry, Judy, that I have not an egg for you, but our henshave not yet commenced laying, except Sissy's little bantam, " saidMrs. Ford. 

Now Cornelia had a little white banty, with a topknot on its head andfeathers on its legs, which was a very great pet, of course; and Sissyhad resolved to save all banty's eggs, so that she might hatch only herown chickens. "For, " said she, "if she sets on other hen's eggs, whenthe chickens grow big they will be larger than their mother, and thenshe will have so much trouble to make them mind her. "

Now, when she heard her mother wish for an egg, the desire to give oneto Judy crossed her mind, but it was some moments before she could bringherself to part with her cherished treasure. Soon, however, herirresolution vanished, and she ran quickly to her little basket, andtaking out a nice fresh egg, she laid it in Judy's hand, saying, "There, Judy, it will make you strong. "

Mrs. Ford marked with a mother's eye the struggle going on in the mindof her daughter, but determined not to interfere, but let her decide forherself, unbiased by her mother's wishes or opinions. And when she sawthe better feeling triumph, a tear of exquisite pleasure dimmed her eye, for in that trifling circumstance she saw the many trials andtemptations of after life prefigured, and hoped they would end as thatdid, in the victory of the noble and generous impulses of the heart. 

When the basket was ready, and Aunt Judy regaled with a nice cup of tea, one of the boys volunteered to carry it home for her, a proposal whichwas readily assented to by Mrs. Ford, whose heart was gladdened by everyact of kindness to the poor and needy performed by her children, and whohad early taught them that in such deeds they obeyed the injunction ofour Saviour: "Bear ye one another's burdens. "

CHAPTER II. 

Several weeks had passed away since Judy's visit, when, one day, asCornelia stood leaning her little curly head against her mother'sknee, she said:

"Mother, who is Judy? Has she a husband or children?"

"I do not know of any, my daughter. She may have some living; but youknow Judy was a slave, and they have probably been sold away from her, and are still in slavery. "

"In slavery, mother! and _sold_? Why, do they sell little children awayfrom their mothers?"

"Yes, Cornelia, there are persons guilty of such a wicked thing; mothersand children, and whole families, are often separated from each other, never, perhaps, to meet again!"

"So Judy was a slave, mother?"

"Yes, Cornelia, she was: and from all I have learned of her history, Iam sure she has led a very unhappy and sorrowful life. "

"O! now I understand what you meant when you said that she had a thornypath through life. Have you ever heard her history, mother? if you have, won't you tell it to us?"

"Yes, do, mother, do!" exclaimed the children together. 

"I should like very much to gratify you, my dear children, but it is notin my power to do so, as I am not very well acquainted with her history. But I will tell you how we can arrange it. Judy will he here to-night, as, I promised to give her some Indian cakes, of which she is very fond, and I have no doubt that she will tell you the story of her sad life. "

The idea of hearing Judy's story occupied the mind of the children allthe afternoon, and the evening was looked forward to with greatimpatience by them. 

It was twilight, and Mrs. Ford and the children had gathered around thewarm, comfortable grate to await the return of papa. The wind whistledwithout, and the snow-flakes fell silently and steadily to thefrozen ground. 

"Mother, can't I bring in the lights?" asked Cornelia, who was getting alittle impatient; only a little, for Cornelia was remarkable for hersweet and placid disposition. 

"Yes, dear, I think you may. Hark! yes, that is his footstep in thehall. Go, Alfred, and tell Bessie to bring up the tea. And you, Cornelia, bring your father's dressing-gown and slippers to the fire. "

"Yes, wife, let us have some of Bessie's nice hot tea, for I am chilledthrough and through; and such a cutting wind! I thought my nose wouldhave been blown off; and what would my little girl have said if she hadseen her papa come home without a nose? Would you have run?" askedMr. Ford. 

"No, indeed, papa, if your nose were blown off, and your teeth allpulled out, and you were like 'Uncle Ned, ' who had 'no eyes to see, andhad no hair on the top of his head, ' I would just get on your lap as Ido now; so you see you could not frighten me away if you tried ever sohard, " said Cornelia, laughingly. 

Supper was hastily dispatched, by the children, who were eager andimpatient for the coming of Aunt Judy. 

"O mother! _do_ you think she will come?" asked Alfred, as his motherarose from the table to look at the weather. 

"Well, indeed, Alfred, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I think thereis little probability of seeing Judy to-night. "

"Why, no, mother, I thought that as soon as I saw what a stormy night itwas; and although it will disappoint us very much, I hope she will notcome, " said little Cornelia. 

"Why, how you talk, sis! _Not come_, indeed! Humph! I hope she _will_, then. This little snow wouldn't hurt me, so it wouldn't hurt her, " saidthe impetuous Alfred. 

"You must remember, my son, that Judy is old and infirm, and subject, asshe says, to a 'touch of the rheumatiz. ' But I am sorry that she has notcome to-night. She may be sick; I think I will call down and see herto-morrow, " said Mrs. Ford, drawing out the table and arranging theshade on the lamp, so that the light fell on the table and the faces ofthose around it. They were cheerful, happy faces, and everything aroundthem wore the same look; and from the aspect of things, it seemed as ifthey were going to spend a pleasant and profitable evening. 

"Dear papa, tell us a story with a poor slave in it, won't you? and Iwill give you as many kisses as you please, " said Cornelia, twining herarms around her father's neck. 

"No, no, papa, not about the slave, but the poor Indian, who has beenfar worse treated than the slave was or ever will be. Only to think ofthe white people coming here, plundering their villages, and building ontheir hunting grounds, just as if it belonged to them, when all thewhile it was the Indians'. Now, if they had bought it and paid for it, honorably, as William Penn did, it would have been a different thing;but they got it meanly, and I'm ashamed of them for it, " said Alfred, his eyes flashing and his cheeks glowing with indignation. 

"All that you have said is true, my son, but the Indians were alsoguilty of great cruelty toward the white people, " said Mr. Ford. 

"But, papa, don't you think the Indians had good cause for their hatredto the whites?" asked Harry. 

"Why, Harry, they had no reason sufficient to justify them in theircruel and vindictive course; but they did no more than was to beexpected from an entirely barbarous nation, and I am sure they had nogood example in the conduct of the white people, from whom much betterbehavior might have been expected. "

"Well, papa, what were some of the wrongs that the Indians endured!"

"The Indians regarded the whites as intruders, and maddened by some actsof injustice and oppression committed by the early settlers, theyconceived a deadly hatred, which the whites returned with equalintensity; and for each crime committed by either of them, the oppositeparty inflicted a retribution more terrible than the act which provokedit, and the Indian, being less powerful, but equally wicked, wasthe victim. "

"Well, although I think the Indians were very wicked, I pity them, but Ifeel a great deal more for the poor slave, " said little Cornelia. 

"I think they were very cruel, sis, but I still think that they werevery badly treated, " said Alfred. 

"There is no doubt of that, " answered his father; "but, my son, when youbegan the argument you said that you thought the Indians were moredeserving of compassion than the Africans. Now this is the difference. The Indians were always a warlike and treacherous race; their mostsolemn compacts were broken as soon as their own purposes had beenserved. And they were continually harassing the settlers; indeed theyhave not ceased yet, for at the present time they are attacking andmurdering the traders who cross the plains, if they are not well armed, and in sufficiently large companies to keep them in check. Now theAmericans had never this cause of complaint against the Africans, for, although like all heathen, they were debased, and were cruel and warlikeamong each other, they never annoyed us in America. And the Americanshad not, therefore, even this insufficient excuse for enslaving them. The Indians were robbed of their lands, and driven from their homes; butthe Africans not only lost their country, but were compelled to work inslavery, for men to whom they owed no allegiance, in a differentclimate, and with the ever-galling thought that they were once free. Itargues well for their peaceable disposition, that they have not long agorevolted, and by a terrible massacre shaken off their yoke as they didin St. Domingo. Now, which was the worst used in this case?"

"O! the slave, papa. I willingly surrender, " said Alfred, laughing. 

"Well, if you have finished, I move we go to bed, and thence to the landof dreams, " said Mrs. Ford, rising and putting away her sewing. 

It was unanimously agreed that this was the best plan, and, after givingthanks to God for his many mercies, they retired. 

CHAPTER III. 

"Good morning, father, " said Alfred; "I have been thinking that Isurrendered too soon last night; I did not bring out all my forces, because I forgot something I heard that old Baptist minister say when hewas lecturing here a few days ago. He said that the Creek Indians wouldnot send the poor fugitives back to their masters. It is true they madea treaty with our government to do so, but they had too much humanity tokeep it; and for not doing so, the government withheld two hundred andfifty thousand dollars, which was due to the Indians for some lands, andused it to pay the masters. But that made little difference to them, forthey still persisted in disobeying the 'Fugitive Slave Law. ' Now don'tyou think _that_ was a good trait in their character?"

"Yes, Alfred, I do; they manifested a very generous and humanedisposition. "

"Well, but I think it was very dishonorable for them to break anytreaty, " said Harry. 

"You see, Harry, there is where you and I differ. I think it a greatdeal better to break a bad promise than to keep it, answered Alfred. 

"Come into breakfast, papa, " said Cornelia, peeping her little curlyhead in at the door, "Mamma wants you to come right away, because shehas to go to Judy's. "

"Very well, we will go now, and not keep mother waiting. Just look atthe snow! How it sparkles! Jack Frost has been here, for the windows areall covered and the water in the pitcher is frozen. "

"Yes, papa, and see what funny shapes the icicles are in, and the treesand bushes look as if they had their white dresses on, " saidlittle Cornelia. 

"It will be a splendid morning for a sleigh-ride. Would you like to takeone, mother?" asked Harry, after their breakfast was over and familyprayer ended. 

"Yes, my son, I should; I have to go to Judy's this morning; so we cantake the children to school first, and then pay my visit. I should liketo have the sleigh at the door pretty early, as I have several places togo to after coming from Judy's. "

"Very well, mother, you shall have it immediately. Now bundle sis upwarm, for there is a cutting wind, and I think it looks like snowingagain. And O! mother, I had nearly forgotten it, there was a poor Irishfamily coming off the boat last night, who seemed destitute of bothclothing and food. If we have time this morning, won't you go andsee them?"

"Perhaps I will, " said his mother; and Harry ran off, but soon returned, calling, "Come, mother, the sleigh is waiting, and the horse looks as ifhe was in a hurry to be off. "

"Yes, Harry, I am coming; I only went back to get a little milk forJudy; she is so weak that I think she needs it. "

"O mother!" said Alfred as they drove along, "what is more enliveningthan the merry jingling of the sleigh bells on a clear frosty day?"

"It is, indeed, very pleasant, Alfred; but while we are enjoying ourpleasant winter evenings, and our many sleigh rides, the thought comesto our minds that however much we may like the winter time, there arehundreds in our city who think of its approach with fear and trembling, and who suffer much from cold and hunger, until the pleasant spring timecomes again. But you were telling me, Henry, about those poor people, and I was too much occupied to attend to you. Do you know where theylive?" asked Mrs. Ford. 

"Yes, just along the bank, mother; it is a wretched-looking house, andvery much exposed. Poor things! I pitied them very much; they appearedso destitute, and even the children had a care-worn look on theirthin faces. "

"What! in that old house, Harry?" exclaimed Alfred. "Why the windowshave hardly any panes in them, and there are great holes in the walls. "

"Yes, Ally, that is the place, and it is, as you say, a rickety oldhouse; but I suppose it is the best they can get. But here we are atschool, Ally; you get out first, and I will hand sissy out to you. Takehold of her hand, for the path is slippery. "

The children alighted, and then Harry and his mother, after a pleasantride round the city, drove up to Aunt Judy's cottage. 

"O Miss Ford! am dat you? Now who'd a thought on't? I'se sure you's debest woman I ever see'd; now jist tell me what you cum'd out on sich aday as dis for!" asked old Judy as Mrs. Ford entered the cottage. As forHarry, he drove the horse hack to the stable until noon, when he was tocall for his mother on his way from school with Ally and Cornelia. 

"Why, Judy, we came to see you; I thought that if you were sick, I couldperhaps comfort you. "

"Wal, I _has_ been sick wid de rheumatiz. O marcy! I'se had sich orfulpains all through me, and dats de reason I didn't cum last night. But, bless us! honey, here I'se been standing telling you all my pains andaches, and letting you stand in your wet feet; now come to de fire, my child. "

"My feet are not wet, Auntie, only a little cold. Harry brought mearound in the sleigh, and we were well wrapped up. Now, Judy, here are afew things for you, some tea and sugar, a loaf of bread, and a bitof bacon. "

"Thanks, Missy Ford, I'se so glad to see a little tea; it's so longsince I tasted any. And a bit of bacon too! Wal, now I _will_ havea dinner!"

"Do not wait till dinner time, Judy; I want you to make a cup of teanow, and rouse yourself up, and try to recollect all that has passed andhappened to you since your childhood, for I promised the children that Iwould tell them your history. "

"Yes, missy, I'll try, " said Judy, taking her little cracked earthenteapot, and making her tea. 

After it was made, and Judy was refreshed with a good breakfast, shebegan and told Mrs. Ford the history of her sorrows and troubles, whichwe will let Mrs. Ford tell to the children herself. It was quite a longnarrative. 

CHAPTER IV. 

Judy had just finished speaking when they were interrupted by theentrance of Harry, who had returned for his mother. Judy followed themto the sleigh, for she said she "must cum out and see de chil'en, spiteof her rheumatiz. "

"Auntie, " said little Cornelia, "have my little banty's eggs hatchedyet?" Cornelia had sent the little banty and her eggs to aunt Judy, thatthe chickens might be hatched under her care. 

"Laws, yes, honey, I'll go in and get 'em for you to see; but I thinkyou had bettor not take them home yet, till they get bigger, " said Judy, going back into the house. In a little while she appeared with a littlecovered basket in her hand. She unwrapped the flannel from around thebasket, and there lay six beautiful little white banties. 

"O mamma! look at the little things! Are they not little beauties?" saidCornelia, picking up one of them, and laying its soft feathery head toher cheeks. 

"Yes, my dear; but you must give them back, and not keep Auntie waitingin the cold. "

Cornelia hesitated a little while, and then was giving it backreluctantly, when her mother gently said, "Cornelia!" and she instantlyreturned the basket to Judy. 

After they were all seated in the sleigh, and Harry had touched thehorse with the whip, they heard some one calling after them, and onlooking behind there was poor old Judy carrying two hot bricks inher hand. 

"Get out, Ally, and take them from her, and do not let her come so farin the snow. "

But while he was getting free from the entanglement of the buffalo skin, Judy had come up, and, handing them to Mrs. Ford, said:

"Here, Missy, is these ar bricks. I heated 'em for you, and forgot 'emtill you was gone; take 'em honey; you's got more than a mile to go, andI knows you will be cold. "

Mrs. Ford thanked her, but gently reproved her for exposing herself. They watched her as she trudged back in the snow, and then waving theirhands to her as she disappeared in the turn of the road, Harry touchedthe horse, and in a few minutes they seemed as if they were actuallyflying over the frozen surface. 

When they arrived at home Bessie had a smoking dinner on the table forthem, which they partook of with great relish. After they had finishedtheir dinner, their mother said that as they had but one session atschool, they would have ample time to perform their tasks beforetea-time. Harry was to chop the wood, while Alfred was to pile it on theporch; and Cornelia would finish the garters that she was kniting as aChristmas present for papa. And after that they were to study theirlessons for the next day, so that they would be at leisure in theevening. All cheerfully obeyed, and before tea-time their tasks were allperformed and lessons learned. 

After the tea-things had been removed, "Now, " said Mr. Ford, 'Stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtain, and wheel the sofa round, '"

"And be ready for Aunt Judy's story, " added Alfred. "Come, mother, come;we are all waiting. "

"Have a little patience, my son, I will be there in a few minutes. "

She soon reappeared, and was greeted with "three cheers" from thechildren, and seating herself in the large comfortable rocking-chair, she began:

"On the eastern side of the beautiful Roanoke was the residence of Mr. Madison, and here the first few years of Judy's life was passed. She hada kind master, and, while in his service, had a very happy time. Shehad, like most of her race, a strong native talent for music, and wasfrequently called upon to exercise it by singing songs, and dancing, forthe amusement of General Washington and the other officers of theRevolution who visited at her master's house. Judy was then quite young, and greatly enjoyed a sight of the soldier's gay uniform. 

"Her master died when she was a child. Her mistress was then in very illhealth, and little Judy spent most of the time in her room, inattendance upon her. One day her mistress was seized with a violent fitof coughing. Judy ran to her assistance, and finding that the cough didnot yield to the usual remedies, called for help, but before aid wasobtained, Mrs. Madison was dead! She died with her arms around the neckof her faithful attendant. 

"Mrs. Madison had made provision for the emancipation of Judy, and afterher death she received her free papers, which she carefully guarded. 

"After her mother's death, the daughter of Mrs. Madison determined toremove to Kentucky, and Judy, being much attached to her and the family, accompanied them. 

"Soon after her arrival there, Judy married a slave on the plantation ofMr. Jackson, which was several miles distant from that of Judy'smistress. John's master was very cruel to him; he would not allow him toleave the estate, nor was Judy permitted to come to see him; and thusthey lived apart for several months; but the brutal treatment of hismaster at last rendered John desperate, and he determined to run away. It was a fearful risk, but if he succeeded, the prize, he thought, wouldbe sufficient compensation. 

"One morning he had a pass from his master to go to a neighboring townon business, and he thought this a good opportunity to execute theproject he had so long entertained. He started, and traveled all night, and lay concealed in the woods all day, and on the third day after hehad left home he ventured on to the estate of Judy's mistress. He wentinto one of the hen-houses, and it was not long before he saw Judy comeout to feed the poultry. She was very much frightened when she saw him, and thought of the consequences that might arise from his master's rageif he found him. However, she hid him in the barn, supplying him withfood at night. He stayed there more than a week, intending to leaveKentucky after his master's pursuit should have ceased. But one morninghis master came to the house, and told Judy's mistress that one of hisslaves was concealed on the place, and asked permission to hunt him, which was granted. He soon found him by the aid of one of the slaveswho had noticed Judy carrying food to the barn, and watched her till hehad discovered her husband, and then informed against him. "

"O how mean to betray him!" exclaimed Alfred. 

"Yes, Ally, it was; but I suppose it was the hope of reward that inducedhim to be guilty of such a base act. "

"And _was_ he rewarded?" asked Cornelia, "for I am sure if he was he didnot deserve it. "

"I do not know that he was, my daughter, " answered Mrs. Ford. "John wastaken to jail and locked up until his master should return home. Judyobtained a permit to enter the jail, and stayed with him in the cold, damp cell, cheering him with her presence. She could not bear thethought of being again separated, and determined to accompany him, letthe consequences be what they might. Her husband was taken to ablacksmith's shop on the next day after his recapture, and a heavy pairof handcuffs placed upon him, and a chain (having at the end a largeiron ball) was then fastened to his leg to prevent him from running, andin this condition they started for home. They walked for six days, shewith her infant in her arms, and he, heavily loaded with irons. And shetold me that often her dress was one cake of ice up to her knees, thesnow and rain being frozen on her skirts. Her husband's shoes soon gaveway, and his feet bled profusely at every step. Judy tore off her skirt, piece by piece, to wrap them in, for she loved him tenderly. But theanguish of their bodies was nothing in comparison with that of theirminds. Fear for the consequences of the attempt, and regret that it hadnot been successful, filled their hearts with grief, and they journeyedon with no earthly hope to cheer them. 

"Just think, my children, what they must have suffered through thoselong dreary days, John going back to slavery and misery, and Judy notknowing what her own fate might be. But she had comforted herself withthe thought that when John's master saw what a condition he was in, hewould relent toward him. But she was sadly mistaken, for he took him, weary, sick, and suffering, as he was, and whipped him cruelly, and thenleft him in an old shed. "

[Illustration: HANDCUFFING JUDY'S HUSBAND]

"O mamma!" said little Cornelia, burying her face in her mother's lap, and sobbing aloud, "Do they do such wicked things?"

"I wish I had hold of him, " said Alfred, "wouldn't I give it to him?"

"I should feel very much grieved if I saw you harm him in any way, Ally. Do you forget what our blessed Saviour said about returning good forevil?" asked his mother. 

"Well, but mother, I am sure it would have been no more than fair justto give him a good cowhiding, so as it did not kill him. "

"No more than he deserved, perhaps, but, my son, you should rememberthat Jesus taught us that we should forgive the greatest injuries. 

"After this cruel treatment of John, Judy, with the aid of one of theother slaves who sympathized with her and John, carried him to a littlehut that was not so much exposed as the one in which he had previouslylain. He had a razor with which he had attempted to kill himself, butJudy came in at that moment, and as he was very weak, she easily took itfrom him; but he said:

"'O let me die! I would rather be in my grave, than endure this overagain. '

"He was sick and helpless a long time, but he would have suffered muchmore if Judy had not been free, and had it in her power to nurse him. There is many a poor slave that has fallen a victim to this kind ofbarbarity, with no eye to witness his distress but his heavenly Father's. 

"To add to John's misery was the brutal treatment of a little brother; asmart active child of eight years of age, who was owned by the same man. Mr. Jackson was a great drunkard, and when under the influence of liquorno crime was too great for him. One day, for some slight offense, hetook the child, marked his throat from ear to ear, and then cut the rimsof his ears partly off and left them hanging down. A little while afterthis, a gentleman, who had been in the habit of visiting at the house, rode up, and noticing the child's throat, asked him how it happened. Hesaid, "Massa did it. " The gentleman was so enraged, that he immediatelymounted his horse, rode away, and had him arrested. 

"When John was able to leave his bed, his mistress, a kind and humanewoman, whose slave he had been before her marriage, took him and hid himin a cave that was on the plantation, and supplied him with food, intending to send him away as soon as she could do so safely. 

"He was there several weeks, and his master supposed he had againescaped, and was hid somewhere in the woods, but he had become so muchdissipated that he took no interest in his business affairs, and neverexplored the hiding-places on his own plantation. One day a gentleman bythe name of Mr. Lawrence, of Vincennes, came to Mr. Jackson's topurchase a servant to take with him to Indiana. 

"Why, mother, I thought that they would not allow any one to hold slaveshere, " said Ally. 

"No, they do not, my son, but this gentleman was to take him as a boundservant for a term of years, and he probably supposed that poor John'slegal rights would not be very carefully examined. John was sold in thewoods for a small sum. After the bargain was concluded, Mr. Lawrenceasked if the slave had a wife on the plantation, and was told that hehad. Judy was pointed out to him. He asked her if she knew where herhusband was, and she told him that she did; for she thought it wasbetter for him to leave his cave, as it was damp and comfortless. Sothat night, with new hope in her heart, Judy went to his lone and drearyhiding-place, and told him of the bargain. Any change was a relief tohim, and he came willingly out, and made preparations for going with Mr. Lawrence. He waited until his master was in bed, and too deeplystupefied with liquor to heed what was passing, and then came to theplace appointed. Mrs. Jackson gave him some clothes, and made whatprovision she could for his comfort on the way. John had a horse givenhim to ride upon, but Judy was taken no notice of; yet she determined towalk the three days' journey, rather than be separated from John. 

"Mr. Lawrence, when he perceived Judy was following them, tried topersuade her to return, for she had a young child with her, and he wasafraid she would be troublesome. He told her that after her husband wassettled in Vincennes, he would send for her, but she had learned toplace no confidence in promises made to a slave; so she resolved shewould go, believing if she lost sight of her husband she would never seehim again. 

"They had to cross the Ohio in a ferry boat, and Judy strained everynerve to reach it before them. She did so; and hurrying up the stairswith her baby, she clasped the railings, resolved to stay there, unlesscompelled by violence to leave the boat. But no one noticed her, and shearrived safely on the other side. After walking some miles, poor Judybecame tired and weary, and her strength failed her, and she was afraidthat after all she had gone through, for the sake of her husband, shewould be left at last. But she thought she would make another effort, soshe told Mr. Lawrence that if he would buy her a horse to ride upon, shewould bind herself to him for six months after they arrived in Indiana. He agreed to do so, and bought her a horse. After they reachedVincennes, and Judy had worked out her six months, she again boundherself to him to serve out her husband's time, for he was very weak andfeeble, and was suffering with a severe cough, and Judy longed to seehim own his own body. But God freed him before the year was out. He hadsuffered so much from severe whipping and abuse of every kind that hewasted away and died of consumption. 

"After his death Judy remained with his master for some time, but shefinally became dissatisfied, and longed to go back to Mrs. Madison'sdaughter, and see her home once more. She mentioned this to Mr. Lawrence, but he took no notice of it until, one day, he came to herand said:

"'Judy, I want you to come down to the auction rooms, I have bought afew things to-day, and I want you to carry them home; and you might aswell bring little Charley along with you, he can help you. '

"The little Charley here spoken of was a smart child of five or sixyears of age. Judy and Charley accompanied Mr. Lawrence to the rooms. When they arrived there Judy observed a number of strange-looking menwho appeared to be earnestly conversing on some subject which interestedMr. Lawrence deeply. But Judy suspected nothing, and had begun arrangingthe things so that she could carry them more conveniently, when hermaster turned round to her and said:

"'Judy, you have become dissatisfied with me, and I have got you a newmaster. '

"Judy was frightened, and attempted to run, but one of them caught her, and dragging her to a trap door, let her down. Little Charley, notknowing what had become of his mother, began to cry, but one of the menheld him and told him to stop making such a noise. 

"Judy remained in the cellar until a vessel came along, and she was thentaken out, and a handkerchief tied tightly over her mouth to prevent herfrom screaming or making any noise. She was then hurried on board of theboat, with a cargo of slaves bound for the far South. It seemed now asif her 'cup of bitterness was full. ' As she was on the deck, in griefand terror, she heard some one calling 'Mother! mother!' and on lookingup, there was her darling boy. She asked him how he came there;he answered:

"'A naughty man that put you down in the cellar carried me to his house, and locked me up, and then brought me here. '

[Illustration: WAITING TO BE SOLD. ]

"Poor Judy! she knew in a moment that both were to be sold, and nolanguage can describe her anguish; her free papers were left behind, andanother one of her children, her little daughter Fanny. She did not knowwhat would become of her, or where she was going. After sailing forseveral weeks, they arrived at a place which she thinks was calledVicksburg; here they were taken off the boat, and carried to the auctionrooms, where a sale was then going on. In a little while after they camein, a gentleman walked up to them, and after looking at little Charley, placed him on the block. Poor Judy's heart was almost bursting; but whenshe saw a man buy and carry away the pride and joy of her heart, shebecame frantic, and screamed after him, but he was picked up and carriedfrom her sight. It was too much for her; all was a mist in a moment, andshe sank senseless to the floor. When she revived she found herselflying on an old pile of cotton in one corner of the auction rooms. Theauctioneer, seeing that she had arisen, bade her stand in the pen, alongwith the other negroes. Judy mechanically obeyed, and took her placewith the others, and was sitting like one in a dream, when she wasaroused by a man slapping her on the back. 

"'Come, look spry, old woman, ' said he. 

"'Could you look spry, massa, if your child, your son you loved as wellas your life, was torn away from you? O God!' said she, burying her facein her hands, 'have mercy on me, and help me to be resigned. '

"'Yes, I'll make you resigned, ' said he, sneeringly, slapping her acrossthe back. 'Now you follow me, and don't let me hear a word out ofyour head. '

"Judy obeyed, and after arriving at the wharf, they went on board avessel that was bound for New Orleans. In about a week after they hadstarted, they arrived at Mr. Martin's plantation, where Judy saw aboutone hundred and fifty slaves at work in the field. Without being alloweda moment to rest herself, after her long walk from the boat, she wasgiven a basket and ordered to the field. Poor Judy's head was achingseverely, and when she was exposed to the scorching rays of the sun ofthe south, her temples throbbed wildly, and O! how she longed for somequiet shady place, where she could bathe her fevered brow and rest herweary limbs. But she must not think of stopping a moment to rest, forthe eyes of the brutal overseer were upon her, and the thought of thestinging lash, the smart and pain, came across her mind, and urged heron, and made her work with greater swiftness than before. At last theweary, weary day drew to a close, and it was getting quite dark, and thedew was beginning to fall, and Judy was expecting every moment to hearthe order for them to return home. But still they worked on, and hourafter hour passed, until it was almost midnight, and not till then didthe joyful summons come for them to stop. "

"Why, mamma, do they make them work so late as that?" asked Cornelia. 

"Yes, my daughter, in the busy season the poor slaves are often kept outvery late. After they had received the order to return home, Judy, withaching limbs, joined the other slaves who were wearily wending their wayto the little out-house where the overseer was weighing their cotton. Asthey presented their baskets to be weighed, they watched eagerly to seeif their baskets were approved of. Judy gladly heard that hers was thefull weight, and after ascertaining where she was to sleep, andreceiving her allowance of corn, she went to the shed pointed out toher. She made her cakes for her supper and for the next morning, andthen laid down upon her bed, or rather on a pile of straw with an oldpiece of sheet spread over it. Judy was much exhausted, and soon fellasleep, notwithstanding the roughness of her bed. But it seemed asthough she had scarcely closed her eyes before the plantation bell rang, and called them to another weary day's work. 

"Thus many, many months passed, of toiling from day to day, and frommorning till night. One morning they saw one of the house servantsrunning toward them; he told them that their master was dead. He haddied suddenly from a fit of appoplexy. The tidings were received by Judywith joy. You must pardon her, my children, for this man had been acruel master to her, and she thought that, as he had neither wife norchildren, his slaves would be sold, and perhaps she would get farthernorth, and in the neighborhood of her old home, and might meet with someof her old friends who would prove that she was free. 

"A few days after Mr. Martin's funeral there was a meeting of his heirs, and they determined to sell the slaves. Accordingly the next morningthey were marched down to the wharf, where they found a boat at anchor, and all went on board. We will pass over the wearisome trip of severaldays, and imagine them to be at the end of their journey at Memphis. Here they were taken off the boat, and placed in jail until auction day. In a few days they were again taken out and tied in couples, and takento the auction. Judy was sitting very disconsolate, thinking of her pastmisfortunes and coming sorrows. The hope of seeing any of her oldfriends, or of being reunited with her children, she had almost givenup. The auctioneer called to her, and she stepped on the block. Herstrong and well-proportioned figure, and comely, though dejected and sadappearance, instantly raised a dozen bids. First here, now there, mightbe heard the voice of the competitors; the noise of the hammer ceased, and Judy was the property of Mr. Carter. After his purchase Mr. Carterwas taking Judy to the boat, when she felt some one catching hold of herarm; she turned around and immediately recognized the person as agentleman whom she had known while living with Mrs. Madison's daughter. He said to her:

"'Why, Judy, where are you going?'

"She answered in a kind of wicked despair:

"'To hell, I believe. '

"This gentleman inquired about her condition, and finally rescued her, and sent her to Vincennes, where she labored for many years and foundsome good friends, but she never felt safe after she had been stolenaway from there. She made inquiries about her children, but neverlearned anything of them. Not having anything to attach her toVincennes, she left and came to Terra Haute, where she resided a littlewhile, and then came further into the interior of the state. 

"Her children are scattered, and gone she knows not where; and after along life of toil and suffering she is here, old, infirm, and a beggar. Every wrinkle on her brow could tell a tale of suffering; her youth isgone; her energies are all spent, and her long life of toil has beenfor naught. "

Mrs. Ford ceased, her tears were falling fast, and the children weresobbing around her. The fire, from neglect, had gone out, and there wereonly a few smoking embers left in the fire-place, reminding them of thetime that had been spent in hearing "AUNT JUDY'S STORY. "

[Illustration: AUNT JUDY. ]

 * * * * *

[Illustration: "ME NEBER GIB IT UP!"]

"ME NEBER GIB IT UP!"

"Please, massa, teach me to read!" said an aged negro one day to amissionary in the West Indies. 

The missionary said he would do so, and the negro became his scholar. But. The poor old man, trained in ignorance through threescore years, found it difficult to learn. He tried hard, but made little progress. One day the missionary said:

"Had you not better give it up?"

"No, massa, " said the negro, with the energy of a noble nature, "meneber gib it up till me die!"

He then pointed to these beautiful words in his Testament: "God so lovedthe world that he gave his only begotton Son, that whosoever believethon him should not perish, but have everlasting life. " "There, " he added, with deep feeling, "it is worth all de labor to be able to read _dat onesingle verse_!"

Noble, godly old man! Though once a slave he had a freeman's soul, andrichly merited that freedom which England so righteously gave to herWest Indian slaves some years ago. Let us hope the time is not fardistant in which the colored people of our own happy land will also allbe free, all able to read the Bible, all possess that soul freedom withwhich Christ makes his disciples free. God has many dear children amongthe slaves, many of whom feel that slavery is worse than death. May hein his wisdom provide for their early deliverance from the terrible yokewhich is about their necks!

THE END. 

18 April, 1860