I recollect that Malinda and myself came from the field one summer's day at noon, and poor little Frances came creeping to her mother smiling, but with large tear drops standing in her dear little eyes, sobbing and trying to tell her mother that she had been abused, but was not able to utter a word.

Her little face was bruised black with the whole print of Mrs.
Gatewood's hand.

This print was plainly to be seen for eight days after it was done.

But oh! this darling child was a slave; born of a slave mother.

Who can imagine what could be the feelings of a father and mother, when looking upon their infant child whipped and tortured with impunity, and they placed in a situation where they could afford it no protection.