step of a queen among her trembling slaves, they should have beheld her on
her death-bed!"]

Surrounded as she was with every elegance and luxury that wealth could
procure, she lay shrieking out her prayers for a short respite, a short
lengthening out of the life she had spent so unprofitably; her eyes
wandering restlessly about the apartment, and her hands continually
clinching the air, as if to grasp something that would prevent her from
sinking into the embrace of death! There was not a slave present, who
would have exchanged places with her. Not one of those over whom she had
ruled so arbitrarily would have exchanged their rough, lowly cabin and
quiet conscience, for all the wealth and power she had ever possessed.

Nothing of all she had enjoyed in life, nor all that she yet called her
own, could give her one hour of life or one peaceful moment in death!

Oh! what a scene was that! The wind blew, and great drops of rain fell on
the casements. The room lighted only with a single taper; the wretched
wife mingles her dying groans with the howling of the storm, until, as the
clock struck the hour of midnight she fell back upon her pillow and
expired, amid the tears and cries of her family and friends, who not only
deplored the loss of a wife and mother, but were grieved by the manner in
which she died.

The slaves were all deeply affected by the scene; some doubtless truly
lamented the death of their mistress; others rejoiced that she was no
more, and all were more or less frightened. One of them I remember went to
the pump and wet his face, so as to appear to weep with the rest.

What a field was opened for reflection, by the agonizing death of Mrs.