give the child to him. The mother tremblingly obeyed. He took the child
by one arm, as you would a cat by the leg, walked into the house, and
said to the lady,

"Madam, I will make you a present of this little nigger; it keeps such a
noise that I can't bear it."

"Thank you, sir," said the lady.

The mother, as soon as she saw that her child was to be left, ran up to
Mr. Walker, and falling upon her knees begged him to let her have her
child; she clung around his legs, and cried, "Oh, my child! my child!
master, do let me have my child! oh, do, do, do. I will stop its crying,
if you will only let me have it again." When I saw this woman crying for
her child so piteously, a shudder,--a feeling akin to horror, shot
through my frame. I have often since in imagination heard her crying for
her child:--

"O, master, let me stay to catch
My baby's sobbing breath,
His little glassy eye to watch,
And smooth his limbs in death,

And cover him with grass and leaf,
Beneath the large oak tree:
It is not sullenness, but grief,--
O, master, pity me!

The morn was chill--I spoke no word,
But feared my babe might die,