But now she was to go beyond the barrier; she was to see the world, and she could hardly wait for the time to start. At last the day came and the journey was begun, first on horseback and then by a lumbering stage coach. In due time they reached the city, and what she saw filled her with wonder and surprise. But when she woke in the morning and heard no singing of birds, but instead the din and roar of the street; and when she looked out and saw no lovely valley, no stately hills, no La Belle, its waters sparkling in the sun, but instead row upon row of great buildings, she sighed--she hardly knew why. The next day when her father showed her around the city she said, "It's all very wonderful, papa, but it isn't like home. The houses are not as beautiful as the hills, and even the great river does not sing as sweetly, and its waters are not clear and sparkling like La Belle." One day Mr. Chittenden told Grace there was to be an auction of slaves, and he would go and try to get one for a housekeeper. The little girl was eager to go with him, but he would not allow it. She wondered why and rebelled, but her father was obdurate and left her crying. Grace's slightest wish was generally law to her father, and to be refused and left alone was to her a surprise. She did not realize that her father did not wish her to see the distressing scenes which often took place at an auction of slaves. In due time Mr. Chittenden returned, accompanied by a comely mulatto woman about forty years of age. The woman's eyes were red with weeping, and now and then her bosom would heave with a great sob which she would in vain try to hold back. "This is Tilly, Grace," said her father. "She is said to be a good housekeeper and a famous cook." "Why do you cry?" asked Grace. "Papa is a good man; he will use you well." "It's not that," sobbed the woman: "it's mah honey chile, mah little Effie. I'll neber see her moah." And she broke down and sobbed piteously. Grace turned with a distressed countenance. "Did Tilly have a little girl?" she asked. "Y-e-s," answered Mr. Chittenden, rather reluctantly. "Why didn't you buy her too?" she asked indignantly. "What if someone should take me from you?" Mr. Chittenden winced. "That is different, child," he answered. "As for Tilly's child, a trader from New Orleans bought her, paying an enormous price. She was nearly white, and gave promise of becoming quite a beauty. Rich people give large prices for such for maids. I could not afford to buy her. As it was, I had to pay a big price for Tilly." Grace said no more, but from that time new thoughts entered her mind, and when alone with Tilly she tried to comfort her.