"Our black Mary was one of the most pitiable objects you ever saw. She was treated shamefully, and was put here in jail, where she lay three months, and was so sick and thin there wouldn't any body buy her. I felt so sorry for her I used to take her something she could eat, and I had her clothes changed and washed, or I reckon she would have died. She begged me to buy her, and I told Mr. Buckner that if she was treated half decent I believed she would get well. So I bought her and paid only four hundred dollars; and now you see she looks hale and hearty, and I wouldn't take double that for her. But there is poor black Sally, just four weeks ago today she was sold to go down the river in a gang, and I never saw any poor thing so near crazy as she was. She was sold away from her seven children. As I heard her screams I threw my bonnet and shawl on and followed her to the river, and she threw herself down on her face and poured out her whole soul to God to relieve her great distress, and save her poor children. Oh how she cried and prayed. I tell you no heart, not made of stone, could witness that scene and not melt. Many shed tears over poor Sally's prayer. A man standing by went to the trader and bought her, and went and told her that he lived only eight miles away, and had bought her, and she should come and see her children occasionally. She thanked him as he helped her to stand up, for she seemed weak. But in just two weeks from that day she died, and the doctors examined her, and said she died of a broken heart. They said there was no disease about her, but that she seemed to sink from that day, growing weaker and weaker until she died. That was just two weeks ago to-day." Her eyes frequently filled with tears as she related this sad incident, and yet she could cheerfully say, "Oh, Mrs. Haviland, go with me into the kitchen to see my nigger baby." As we entered the kitchen there stood the mother by her fat, laughing baby, bolstered up in his rude cradle of rough boards. "There, isn't that a fine boy? he's worth one hundred dollars. I could get that to-day for him, and he's only eight months old; isn't be bright?" "He is certainly a bright little fellow." As I looked at the mother I saw the downcast look, and noticed the sigh that escaped a heavy heart, as she listened to the claim and price set upon her little darling. It's mother, Mary, was ebony black, her child was a light mulatto, which was in keeping with the story of abuse to which she was compelled to submit, or else lay in jail.