basket a piece," said Tom, compassionately.

"Why should ye?" said the woman. "I don't want no help."

"You seem to be sick, or in trouble, or somethin'," said Tom.

"I an't sick," said the woman, shortly.

"I wish," said Tom, looking at her earnestly,--"I wish I could persuade
you to leave off drinking. Don't you know it will be the ruin of ye,
body and soul?"

"I knows I'm gwine to torment," said the woman, sullenly. "Ye don't
need to tell me that ar. I 's ugly, I 's wicked,--I 's gwine straight to
torment. O, Lord! I wish I 's thar!"

Tom shuddered at these frightful words, spoken with a sullen,
impassioned earnestness.

"O, Lord have mercy on ye! poor crittur. Han't ye never heard of Jesus
Christ?"

"Jesus Christ,--who's he?"

"Why, he's _the Lord_," said Tom.

"I think I've hearn tell o' the Lord, and the judgment and torment. I've
heard o' that."

"But didn't anybody ever tell you of the Lord Jesus, that loved us poor
sinners, and died for us?"

"Don't know nothin' 'bout that," said the woman; "nobody han't never
loved me, since my old man died."

"Where was you raised?" said Tom.

"Up in Kentuck. A man kept me to breed chil'en for market, and sold 'em
as fast as they got big enough; last of all, he sold me to a speculator,
and my Mas'r got me o' him."

"What set you into this bad way of drinkin'?"

"To get shet o' my misery. I had one child after I come here; and I
thought then I'd have one to raise, cause Mas'r wasn't a speculator. It
was de peartest little thing! and Missis she seemed to think a heap on
't, at first; it never cried,--it was likely and fat. But Missis tuck
sick, and I tended her; and I tuck the fever, and my milk all left me,
and the child it pined to skin and bone, and Missis wouldn't buy milk
for it. She wouldn't hear to me, when I telled her I hadn't milk. She
said she knowed I could feed it on what other folks eat; and the child
kinder pined, and cried, and cried, and cried, day and night, and got
all gone to skin and bones, and Missis got sot agin it and she said 't
wan't nothin' but crossness. She wished it was dead, she said; and she
wouldn't let me have it o' nights, cause, she said, it kept me awake,
and made me good for nothing. She made me sleep in her room; and I had
to put it away off in a little kind o' garret, and thar it cried itself
to death, one night. It did; and I tuck to drinkin', to keep its crying
out of my ears! I did,--and I will drink! I will, if I