"I've been south, and I must say I think the negroes are better off than they would be to be free." "In some respects, some of them are well off, I grant," said the lady to whose remark she had answered.

"The most dreadful part of slavery, to my mind, is its outrages on the feelings and affections,--the separating of families, for example." "That _is_ a bad thing, certainly," said the other lady, holding up a baby's dress she had just completed, and looking intently on its trimmings; "but then, I fancy, it don't occur often." "O, it does," said the first lady, eagerly; "I've lived many years in Kentucky and Virginia both, and I've seen enough to make any one's heart sick.

Suppose, ma'am, your two children, there, should be taken from you, and sold ?" "We can't reason from our feelings to those of this class of persons," said the other lady, sorting out some worsteds on her lap.
"Indeed, ma'am, you can know nothing of them, if you say so," answered the first lady, warmly.

"I was born and brought up among them.

I know they _do_ feel, just as keenly,--even more so, perhaps,--as we do." The lady said "Indeed!" yawned, and looked out the cabin window, and finally repeated, for a finale, the remark with which she had begun,--"After all, I think they are better off than they would be to be free." "It's undoubtedly the intention of Providence that the African race should be servants,--kept in a low condition," said a grave-looking gentleman in black, a clergyman, seated by the cabin door.