ann had another hired slave woman living with her,
called Patterson's Fanny, she belonged to a Mr. Patterson; she had a
young babe with her, just beginning to creep. One day, after washing,
whilst a tub of rinsing water yet stood in the kitchen, Mrs. Mann came
out in haste, and sent Fanny to do something out of doors. Fanny tried
to beg off--she was afraid to leave her babe, lest it should creep to
the tub and get hurt--Mrs. M. said she would watch the babe, and sent
her off. She went with much reluctance, and heard the child struggle
as she went out the door. Fearing lest Mrs. M. should leave the babe
alone, she watched the room, and soon saw her pass out of the opposite
door. Immediately Fanny hurried in, and looked around for her babe,
she could not see it, she looked at the tub--there her babe was
floating, a strangled corpse. The poor woman gave a dreadful scream;
and Mrs. M. rushed into the room, with her hands raised, and
exclaimed, 'Heavens, Fanny! have you drowned your child?' It was vain
for the poor bereaved one to attempt to vindicate herself: in vain she
attempted to convince them that the babe had not been alone a moment,
and could not have drowned itself; and that she had not been in the
house a moment, before she screamed at discovering her drowned babe.
All was false! Mrs. Mann declared it was all pretence--that Fanny had
drowned her own babe, and now wanted to lay the blame upon her! and
Mrs. Mann was a white woman--of course her word was more valuable than
the oaths of all the slaves of Missouri. No evidence but that of
slaves could be obtained, or Mr. Patterson would have prosecuted for
his 'loss of property.' As it was, every one believed Mrs. M. guilty,
though the affair was soon hushed up."

Extract of a letter from Col. THOMAS ROGERS, a native of Kentucky, now
an elder in the Presbyterian Church at New Petersburg, Highland co.,
Ohio.

"When a boy, in Bourbon co., Kentucky, my father lived near a
slaveholder of the name of Clay, who had a large number of slaves; I
remember being often at their quarters; not one of their shanties, or
hovels, had any floor but the earth. Their clothing was truly neither
fit for covering nor decency. We could distinctly, of a still morning,
hear this man whipping his blacks, and hear their screams from my
father's farm; this could be heard almost any still morning about the
dawn of day. It was said to be his usual custom to repair, about the
break of day, to the