g lady _stamp upon her with her
feet;_ and the only remark her mother made was, 'I am afraid Evelina
is too _much_ prejudiced against poor Mary.'"

General WILLIAM EATON, for some years U.S. Consul at Tunis, and
commander of the expedition against Tripoli, in 1895, thus gives vent
to his feelings at the sight of many hundreds of Sardinians who had
been enslaved by the Tunisians:

"Many have died of grief, and the others linger out a life less
tolerable than death. Alas! remorse seizes my whole soul when I
reflect, that this is indeed but a copy of the very barbarity which
_my eyes have seen_ in my own native country. _How frequently_, in the
southern states of my own country, have I seen _weeping mothers_
leading the guiltless infant to the sales with as _deep anguish_ as if
they led them to the slaughter; and _yet felt my bosom tranquil_ in
the view of these aggressions on defenceless humanity. But when I see
the same enormities practised upon beings whose complexions and blood
claim kindred with my own, _I curse the perpetrators, and weep over
the wretched victims of their rapacity._ Indeed, truth and justice
demand from me the confession, that the Christian slaves among the
barbarians of Africa are treated with more humanity than the African
slaves among professing Christians of civilized America; and yet
_here_ [in Tunis] sensibility _bleeds at every pore_ for the wretches
whom fate has doomed to slavery."

Rev. H. LYMAN, late pastor of the free Presbyterian Church, Buffalo,
N.Y. who spent the winter of 1832-3 at the south, says:--

"In the interior of Mississippi I was invited to the house of a
planter, where I was received with great cordiality, and entertained
with marked hospitality.

"There I saw a master in the midst of his household slaves. The
evening passed most pleasantly, as indeed it must, where assiduous
hospitalities are exercised towards the guest.

"Late in the morning, when I had gained the tardy consent of my host
to go on my way, as a final act of kindness, he called a slave to show
me across the fields by a nearer route to the main road. 'David,' said
he, 'go and show this gentleman as far as the post-office. Do you know
the big bay tree?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Do you know where the cotton mill is?'
'Yes, sir.' 'Where Squire Malcolm's old field is?' 'Y--e--s, sir,'
said David, (beginning to be bewildered). 'Do you know where Squire
Malcolm's cotton field is?' 'No, sir.' 'No, sir,' said the enra