Papa to remember me."
So we think of you every night, Willie
By the camp-fire's fitful gleams,
Until the war shall be over,
Let us mingle still in your dreams.

A. L. Y.

CHAPTER XI.

The Atrocities of Slavery -- The Beauties of the Peculiar
Institution -- A few Well-substantiated Facts -- Visit to
Gallatin, Tennessee.

THE ATROCITIES OF SLAVERY.

A late number of the _Atlantic Monthly_ gives the following in
relation to General Butler and his administration in Louisiana:

Among the many personal anecdotes are the following, which are almost
too horrible to be published, but for the impressive lesson they
convey. One of the incidents was related more briefly by the General
himself, when in New York, in January last. We quote from the writer
in the _Atlantic_.

Just previous to the arrival of General Banks at New Orleans, I was
appointed Deputy Provost-Marshal of the city, and held the office for
some days after he had assumed command. One day, during the last week
of our stay in the South, a young woman of about twenty years called
upon me to complain that her landlord had ordered her out of her
house, because she was unable longer to pay the rent, and she wished
me to authorize her to take possession of one of her father's houses
that had been confiscated, he being a wealthy rebel, then in the
Confederacy, and actively engaged in the rebellion.

The girl was a perfect blonde in complexion; her hair was of a very
pretty light shade of brown, and perfectly straight; her eyes a clear,
honest gray; and her skin as delicate and fair as a child's. Her
manner was modest and ingenuous, and her language indicated much
intelligence.

Considering these circumstances, I think I was justified in wheeling
around in my chair, and indulging in an unequivocal stare of
incredulous amazement, when, in the course of conversation, she
dropped a remark about having been born a slave.

"Do you mean to tell me," said I, "that you have negro blood in your
veins?" And I was conscious of a feeling of embarrassment at asking a
question so apparently preposterous.

"Yes," she replied, and then related the history of her life, which I
shall repeat as briefly as possible:

"My father," she commenced, "is Mr. Cox, formerly a judge of one of
the courts in this city. He was very rich, and owned a great many
houses here. There is one of them over the