red people that I feel almost well. Why, there's a
wedding!" said she. "Driver, do stop! Uncle, please let us go in."

They left me, and went into a meeting-house, where a black bridegroom,
in a blue broadcloth suit, white waistcoat, kid gloves, patent-leather
shoes, and white hose, and an ebony bride, in white muslin caught up
with jessamines, and a myrtle wreath on her head, had gone in, followed
by a train of colored people. The white people, invited guests, it
seems, were already assembled. The sexton told your Uncle that the
parties were servants, each to a respectable family. This was a new
picture to Hattie. She said that in looking back to the steamboat, an
hour ago, the revelations made to her by what she had seen and heard, in
that short time, all new, all surprising and delightful, afforded her
some idea of the sensations of a soul after it has been one hour within
the veil. We sat in the carriage, and saw the procession pass out, when
the choir, who had been in the church before the wedding, practising
tunes, resumed their singing.

"Now the idea," said Hattie, after we had listened awhile, "that they
can forget that they are slaves long enough to meet and practise
psalm-tunes!"

"You evidently think," said your Uncle, "that they would not sing the
Lord's songs, if this were to them a strange land."

"They certainly have not hung their harps upon the willows by these
rivers of Babylon," said Hattie.

"Why, some of our people at the North are to-day writhing in anguish,
because of these slaves, and are imprecating God's vengeance, and
praying that the slaves may get their liberty, even by violence, while
the slaves themselves are practising psalm-tunes!"--

"And getting married," said your Uncle.

"Yes, Sir," said Hattie, "and this week our ---- paper will come to us
from New York loaded with articles about 'bondage' and 'sum of all
villanies,' and 'poor, toil-worn slaves.' Toil-worn! I never saw such a
lively set of people. Do see that little mite of a round black child, in
black jacket and pants; he looks like a drop of ink; Oh, isn't he
cunning! Little boy! what is your"--

"Come, come!" said your Uncle, "you are getting too much excited; you
will pay for all this to-morrow with one of your headaches."

But a new surprise awaited us. The driver stopped opposite a large,
plain-looking building, and told us that we had better step in. On
entering, we involuntarily started back, for I never saw a ho