The kindness of certain slaveholders might be mere favorably considered if it were productive of any permanent practical benefits to the slave; but while it leaves him in the depth of his wretchedness,--exposed to all the horrors of the worst form of slavery, it is a meritless thing--unworthy the name of kindness. The kind slaveholder knows that when he dies his slaves will be sold at auction together with his horses, cattle, and plantation. What avails his fancied kindness when he knows the horrible chances to which he subjects his helpless victims. And how deeply guilty is he in the sight of God for refusing to break every yoke when he has the opportunity! To illustrate this thought and show the sequel of kind slaveholding we will subjoin a sketch of a woman's history who was the property of a _kind_ slaveholder. "A kind slave-master, in one of the Carolinas, had a large family, of various colors, some enslaved, some free. One of the slaves was his favorite daughter, and much accomplished. Dying, he willed his heir, her brother, to provide for her handsomely, and make her free. But her brother was a slave-master, and she was a slave. He kept and debauched her. At the end of four years he got tired of her; and that notorious slave-dealer, Woolfork, coming down to collect a drove, he sold his sister to him. "There is her cottage," said he to Woolfork; "she is a violent woman. I don't like to go near her; go and carry her off by yourself." Woolfork strode into the cottage, told her of the fact and ordered her to prepare. She was dreadfully agitated. He urged her to hasten. She arose and said, 'White man, I don't believe you. I don't believe that my brother would thus sell me, and his children. I will not believe unless he come himself.'--Woolfork coolly went, and required her brother's presence. The seducer, the tyrant came, and, standing at the door, confirmed the slaveholder's report. 'And is it true? and have you sold me?' she exclaimed. 'Is it really possible? Look at this child! Don't you see in every feature the lineaments of its father? Don't you know that your blood flows in its veins? Have you, have you sold me?' The terrible fact was repeated by her master. 'These children,' said she, with a voice only half articulate, 'shall never be slaves.' 'Never mind about _that_,' said Woolfork, 'go and get ready. I shall only wait a few minutes longer.' She retired with her children. The two white men continued alone. They waited. She returned not. They grew tired of waiting, and followed her to her chamber. There they found their victims beyond the reach of human wickedness, bedded in their blood."--(Anti-Slavery Record.)