"To-day is Thursday: next Tuesday I leave this city With General
Butler for a land where, thank God! such wrongs as yours can not
exist; and, as General Banks is deeply engrossed in the immediate
business at head-quarters, he will hardly hear of my action before the
ship leaves--so I am going to give you the house."

I am sure the kind-hearted reader will find no fault with me that I
took particular pains to select one of the largest of her father's
houses, (it contained forty rooms,) when she told me that she wanted
to let the apartments as a means of support for herself and her
children.

My only regret in the case was that Mr. Cox had not been considerate
enough to leave a carriage and a pair of bays on my hands, that I
might have had the satisfaction of enabling his daughter to disport
herself about the city in a style corresponding to her importance as a
member of so respectable and wealthy a family.

And this story, that I have just told, reminds me of another, similar
in many respects.

One Sunday morning, late last summer, as I came down-stairs to the
breakfast-room, I was surprised to find a large number of persons
assembled in the library. When I reached the door, a member of the
staff took me by the arm and drew me into the room toward a young and
delicate mulatto girl, who was standing against the opposite wall,
with the meek, patient bearing of her race, so expressive of the
system of oppression to which they have been so long subjected.
Drawing down the border of her dress, my conductor showed me a sight
more revolting than I trust ever again to behold. The poor girl's back
was flayed until the quivering flesh resembled a fresh beefsteak
scorched on a gridiron. With a cold chill creeping through my veins, I
turned away from the sickening spectacle, and, for an explanation of
the affair, scanned the various persons about the room.

In the center of the group, at his writing-table, sat the General. His
head rested on his hand, and he was evidently endeavoring to fix his
attention upon the remarks of a tall, swarthy-looking man who stood
opposite, and who, I soon discovered, was the owner of the girl, and
was attempting a defense of the foul outrage he had committed upon the
unresisting and helpless person of his unfortunate victim, who stood
smarting, but silent, under the dreadful pain inflicted by the brutal
lash.

By the side of the slaveholder stood our Adjutant-General, his face
livid with alm