No. 84 and No. 85 are placed upon the stand. Tom, field hand, about 48 years, and Old Betsy, his wife, three years older than Tom. Tom is a very honest-looking man. Perhaps he is a cousin to the celebrated ‘Uncle Tom,’ well known by the brilliant pen of that truth-loving writer, MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. Tom dares not to look up, for he feels dreadfully ashamed to be put up at auction, like a mule or a dog. He suffers from hernia, a complaint which he contracted while catching a barrel of molasses, which, rolling down from a hill, endangered the life of a white infant child. Tom is therefore entitled to a reward for saving human life, and particularly white life. Entitled to a reward? O, yes! There stands Tom upon the platform of a slave-auction room, and enjoys his reward--to be sold to the highest bidder for $250! I have seen a valuable mule, which, by kicking, caused the death of a child. This animal was afterwards sold at auction for the sum of $375, fully $125 more than our generous Tom! No. 85. Who is No. 85? Ay, there we find poor old Betsy, kind old soul! She labored more than 40 years in her master’s house. She had sung and cradled the children to sleep, carefully protecting them from all harm. She watched over those children like a mother; and if there were some particularly fine, golden oranges hanging over the porch, she had to get them down for her darling boy, her master’s child. And this very child, now a full-grown man, is selling her to-day at auction for $100. No. 86. John Jones, field hand, (suffers from slight hernia,) 23 years old, and No. 87. Anna Kentuck, 22 years, and No. 88. Her little boy, Armstead, 3 years. All together were sold for $1950. But the stranger who had the last bid is not able to give the requisite security, nor is he in possession of cash; and the poor family is placed again upon the platform, to be resold. The torture begins anew; they have again to feel the mortification of being placed in the same category with cattle. Armstead, the poor little boy, will give you the best proof that even little children can feel the atrocity of being thus sold. He begins to cry most pitifully, and hides his face under the white apron of his weeping mother. No. 89. Louisa, and No. 90. Her child, a babe.