prised his neighbor if he had known of
them. He was "a chip of the old block."

I resolved to give him no cause to accuse me of being too much of a lady,
so far as work was concerned. I worked day and night, with wretchedness
before me. When I lay down beside my child, I felt how much easier it would
be to see her die than to see her master beat her about, as I daily saw him
beat other little ones. The spirit of the mothers was so crushed by the
lash, that they stood by, without courage to remonstrate. How much more
must I suffer, before I should be "broke in" to that degree?

I wished to appear as contented as possible. Sometimes I had an opportunity
to send a few lines home; and this brought up recollections that made it
difficult, for a time, to seem calm and indifferent to my lot.
Notwithstanding my efforts, I saw that Mr. Flint regarded me with a
suspicious eye. Ellen broke down under the trials of her new life.
Separated from me, with no one to look after her, she wandered about, and
in a few days cried herself sick. One day, she sat under the window where I
was at work, crying that weary cry which makes a mother's heart bleed. I
was obliged to steel myself to bear it. After a while it ceased. I looked
out, and she was gone. As it was near noon, I ventured to go down in search
of her. The great house was raised two feet above the ground. I looked
under it, and saw her about midway, fast asleep. I crept under and drew her
out. As I held her in my arms, I thought how well it would be for her if
she never waked up; and I uttered my thought aloud. I was startled to hear
some one say, "Did you speak to me?" I looked up, and saw Mr. Flint
standing beside me. He said nothing further, but turned, frowning, away.
That night he sent Ellen a biscuit and a cup of sweetened milk. This
generosity surprised me. I learned afterwards, that in the afternoon he had
killed a large snake, which crept from under the house; and I supposed that
incident had prompted his unusual kindness.

The next morning the old cart was loaded with shingles for town. I put
Ellen into it, and sent her to her grandmother. Mr. Flint said I ought to
have asked his permission. I told him the child was sick, and required
attention which I had no time to give. He let it pass; for he was aware
that I had accomplished much work in a little time.

I had been three weeks on the plantation, when I planned a visit home. It
must be at night, after every body was i