kled, old lips, from which I had heard few sounds,
save those of prayer and praise, were closed by a cruelty perfectly
incomprehensible in its unconscious debasement. Our hostess was a
leading member of the Fourth St. M.E. Church, the other feminine fiend a
Presbyterian.

I promised the Lord then and there, that for life, it should be my work
to bring "deliverance to the captive, and the opening of the prison to
them that are bound," but all I could do for Martha, was to give her
such medical treatment as would restore her sight and save her from the
whipping-post, and this I did.

While I lived on that dark and bloody ground, a man was beaten to death
in an open shed, on the corner of two public streets, where the sound of
the blows, the curses of his two tormentors, and his shrieks and
unavailing prayers for mercy were continued a whole forenoon, and sent
the complaining air shuddering to the ears of thousands, not one of whom
offered any help.

A brown-haired girl, Maria, the educated, refined daughter of a Kentucky
farmer, was lashed by her brutal purchaser, once, and again and again
for chastity, where hundreds who heard the blows and shrieks knew the
cause. From that house she was taken to the work-house and scourged by
the public executioner, backed by the whole force of the United States
government. Oh! God! Can this nation ever, ever be forgiven for the
blood of her innocent children?

Passing a crowded church on a Sabbath afternoon, I stepped in, when the
preacher was descanting on the power of religion, and, in illustration,
he told of two wicked young men in that state, who were drinking and
gambling on Sunday morning, when one said:

"I can lick the religion out of any nigger."

The other would bet one hundred dollars that he had a nigger out of whom
the religion could not be licked. The bet was taken and they adjourned
to a yard. This unique nigger was summoned, and proved to be a poor old
man. His master informed him he had a bet on him, and the other party
commanded him to "curse Jesus?" on pain of being flogged until he did.
The old saint dropped on his knees before his master, and plead for
mercy, saying:

"Massa! Massa! I cannot curse Jesus! Jesus die for me! He die for you,
Massa. I no curse him; I no curse Jesus!"

The master began to repent. In babyhood he had ridden on those old bowed
shoulders, then stalwart and firm, and he proposed to draw the bet, but
the other wanted sport and would