ugh the half-opened door, across the room, and
a fervent kiss is laid on the little velvet cheek.

Who is the intruder? Ah, who cares to watch and smile over a sleeping
infant, save its mother? Here, in this rude cabin, is a mother's
heart,--tender with its holy affections, and all aglow with delight, as
she gazes on the beautiful vision before her.

We must call the mother Annie. She had but one name, for she was a
slave. Like the horse or the dog, she must have some appellation by
which, as an individual, she might be designated; a sort of appendage
on which to hang, as it were, the commands, threats, and severities that
from time to time might be administered; but farther than that, for her
own personal uses, why did she need a name? She was not a person, only a
thing,--a piece of property belonging to the Carroll estate.

But for all that, she was a woman and a mother. God had sealed her such,
and who could obliterate his impress, or rob her of the crown he had
placed about her head,--a crown of thorns though it were? Her heart was
as full of all sweet motherly instincts as if she had been born in a
more favored condition; and the swarthy complexion of her child made
it no less dear or lovely in her sight; while a consciousness of its
degradation and sad future served only to deepen and intensify her love.
She knew what her child was born to suffer; but affection thrust far
away the evil day, that she might not lose the happiness of the present.
The babe was hers,--her own,--and for long years yet would be her joy
and comfort.

Annie had other children, but they were wild, romping boys, grown out
of their babyhood, and so very naturally left to run and take care of
themselves. She had not ceased to love them, however, and would have
manifested it more, but for the idol, the little girl baby, which had
now for nearly a year nestled in her arms, and completely possessed
her heart. When they were hungry, they came like chickens about her
cabin-door, and being mistress of the kitchen, she always had plenty of
good, substantial crumbs for them; and when they were sick, she nursed
them with pitying care; but this was about all the attention they
received.

The baby engrossed every leisure moment she could command. Many times a
day she would pause in her work to caress it. She would seat it upon the
floor, amid a perfect bed of honeysuckle blossoms, and bring the bright
orange gourds that grew around the door for its